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You were warm underneath his touch. Your sweater (it was his, but he didn’t mind when you wore his clothes) and t-shirt were pulled up to your shoulders, bare skin revealed to Jason. His hands, scarred and callused, were roaming all over your skin. Your skin was soft and moldable like wet clay to his touch, goosebumps forming where his hands touched. Your legs were parted with him in between them, your shorts riding up mid-thigh.
His hand ghosted over your bare chest, watching the way your chest rose and fell. Your eyes were wide open, staring up at him in awe and wonder. Jason wasn’t sure why, but he hated how much he liked it when you looked at him like that, staring at him like he was the reason the sun rose every morning. Your mouth was slightly parted, tiny huffs of breath leaving your lips. Your arms lay limp at your sides, hands clutching the hems of your sweater.
“Is this okay?” Jason asked, breaking the silence between him and you.
You nodded before quickly replying, “It’s okay.”
Jason let out a long sigh, one of relief, letting his hands roam once more. He placed his hands completely on your skin, cold skin meeting warm skin. He slides his hands down further towards your ribcage, then to your stomach. Your breath hitched, and you squirmed underneath his touch, hips wiggling.
Jason stopped and glanced up at your face, reading your expression. It wasn’t discomfort, not when your lips were pressed together to force back a smile.
“Ticklish there.” You muttered. “Forgot to tell you.”
“Forgot, or didn’t want to tell me?” Jason asked, his left eyebrow raised.
Jason squeezed the sides of your hips, chuckling when you squirmed again. He leaned down, pressing his forehead to your stomach. He closed his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. There was the familiar itch underneath his skin, a burning sensation that made his hands sting and his stomach twist and turn. His chest felt tight, and his head felt lightheaded as if someone had slammed his head against a pipeline.
There was an invisible pull of gravity urging him to pull away, but a desperate part of him wanted to stay clinging to you. You let him touch you, allowed him to sit over you, and feel your soft skin with his hands. He wanted to sink past your skin and live in your flesh and bones. It wasn’t enough to just touch you or smell your scent after being away for so long.
He didn’t mean to leave you alone all the time. There was a time that felt like centuries ago when he never stayed for too long. He made up every excuse to leave and stay far away when the walls around him started closing in on him. He was nasty and angry at you in the beginning, but not because he didn’t like you. It was because he did like you.
He liked your scent and the way you fed the strays outside your apartment building. He liked how you bought and collected felt animal keychains from Tina, the high schooler who lived with her mother down the hall, and clipped them to your work bag to show off because you thought Tina "deserved to have lots of customers buying her cute keychains". He liked how you cooked everything from scratch and learned how to make foods that wouldn’t unsettle his sensitive stomach.
You weren’t perfect by any means, but you were damn close, and Jason couldn’t handle it. In another life, if the Joker had never gotten his hands on him, maybe he wouldn’t be so afraid of you, of his feelings for you. He knew exactly how damaged he was. He knew it was better to stay far away from you and leave you out of harm's way. But he kept coming back, until he eventually stayed.
He hated leaving you for so long, but he loved seeing the look on your face when you’d come home and find him on your couch, your tired eyes lighting up. You’d hang up your bag and throw your shoes off and behind you before shamelessly sinking to your knees in front of him on the couch, staring up at him with a huge smile.
He opened his eyes when he felt your hand on top of his. He lifted his head, blinking a few times to readjust to the warm fluorescent light. Your sweater was still where he left it. You looked at him with a curious expression.
“You okay?” You murmured, rubbing the tips of your fingers across his knuckles.
He nodded, then found his voice. “‘M more than okay.”
With your other hand, you slowly lifted your hand to the side of his face. You paused briefly, letting him have the choice to pull away. Jason dropped his cheek into your hand, breath stuttering when his body involuntarily flinched as if the memory of the hot sting of iron came alive once more. He felt you begin to pull away and was quick to stop you, using his hand to press your hand against his face.
“Jason, wait—”
“Please, don’t stop,” Jason begged, closing his eyes. “Don’t go.”
He couldn’t see you, not with his eyes closed, but he knew you were hesitating. He heard you sigh, defeated. “Okay, I’ll stay. But you have to tell me if it gets to be too much for you. Don’t force yourself for my sake.”
“I won’t, I promise,” Jason said, opening his eyes just a little to look at you. You looked unsure, your hands still touching him. The light behind you created a warm, golden halo behind your head. He glanced down at your lips, a bit chapped and pretty.
In the whole time he’d known you, the thought of kissing you never crossed his mind. At least, not until recently. It was hard enough that he couldn’t even hold your hand on a good day. He’d seen people kiss before, but he never got the chance to do it before he was taken by the Joker. A lot of things he never got to do didn’t cross his mind until he met you.
Leaning down until his face was over yours with his hands placed on either side of your head, the tips of his and your nose brushed up against each other. Your pupils dilated, the black of your pupils completely taking over the color of your eyes. His eyes flickered back down to your lips, and when he looked back up, he noticed your stare directed to his own lips. Your gaze flickered back up to meet his. A shaky, embarrassed laugh left your lips, your gaze shifting away from his.
His fingers dug into the cushion of the couch, his breath short again. He wanted so bad to lean down and press his lips up against yours. To feel what your lips felt like, to see what would happen if he did kiss you.
He leaned down further, tilting his head to the side. His lips brushed up against yours, the slight brush of his lips and yours made his brain suddenly go scarily dark. His stomach lurched, nausea suddenly overcoming him. Then, it wasn’t you below him. It was him, but a younger and beaten version of him. His face was covered in fresh bruises and blood, while bloodshot, blue eyes stared past him.
Jason drew back, trying to slow down his breathing. To remember your voice through the memory of himself. To remember the timbre of your voice and to forget the voice of him in his ears scratching at the door of his mind. He slowly lowered himself on top of you, his head turned to its side, and his ear to your chest. Your arms wrapped around him, your hands running through his hair. He shivered, focused on the beating of your heart and the warmth of your body seeping into his completely.
“Sorry,” Jason muttered. “I don’t think I can… Not yet, but I want to. Some day. With you.”
“It’s okay,” You reassured, petting his head. “I’ll still be here even if you never want to.”
Tears stung at the corners of his eyes, one or two escaping down his cheek and onto your skin. You didn’t speak a word of protest at his tears making their home on your skin. You just held him and continued to pet his head.
“Please, stay,” Jason whispered into your skin, his voice breaking. “Please, don’t leave me.”
He felt your hands pause for a moment before resuming their previous ministrations. Your touch was as gentle, but just as profound as your next words.
“Not going to leave you,” You whispered, like a shared secret for only you and him to know. “I swear it.”