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“of course! thanks again for having us.” your smiling voice floated into the car as you opened your door.
he couldn’t quite catch what the host said in response, but he knew your laugh was out of politeness rather than humor as you slid into the passenger side.
you waved happily as he pulled away from the curb, keeping the facade up until he turned the corner- at which point you dropped the act entirely and slumped back against the seat with a tired sigh.
it, oddly, made fondness bubble up in his chest.
listen, jason knew masks. he was incredibly, disastrously familiar with them.
and seeing you drop yours in his car, just the two of you? letting yourself breathe and feel and express and be, right in front of him?
that was trust. you were trusting him with yourself, and that fact blew him away every single time it hit him.
it was one thing for him to trust you with his masks. the harsh, violent red hood, obviously, but also the uncertain brother and son; he was still trying to figure out what either of those words meant to him now, what ‘family’ could be and where- if- it could fit into his life. but in the meantime, he had you.
it was one thing for him to trust you to see behind them. to see the broken, bleeding, damaged young man underneath, and the caring, affectionate person you brought out in him with more ease than anyone he had ever met.
none of it had been easy, but it was you. he knew, deep down, that he never really stood a chance.
there was something about you that just tugged the truth out of him, made him want to drop his guard completely.
an urge he hadn’t had in a lifetime.
but to have you drop your mask in front of him again and again, let him in past the polished public view and to knowingly, purposefully hand him a front-row ticket to the show that was you? that was another thing entirely.
to have you trust him, bloody hands and messy head and all, to see the thinking, feeling, vulnerable person you really were?
the only thing that kept him from reaching across the center console and kissing the rest of the tension and exhaustion out of you, replacing it with as much love and comfort as he could manage, was the fact that he was driving.
even then, he seriously, seriously considered pulling over.
“i cannot wait to get into bed,” you mumbled, which was more than enough to have him begrudgingly reign in his want and focus on the road.
“you did good, baby.” he slid a hand onto your forearm, gently rubbing his thumb over the back of your wrist. “you definitely deserve a good night’s sleep.”
“you do too, mister. i know that wasn’t exactly your idea of a good time.”
apparently, you saw right under his 'pfft, i’m not super tired, what are you talking about’ mask, too.
that wasn’t new. it was, however, frustrating, especially when he was trying to take care of you, dammit.
“i’ve had worse, trust me,” he scoffed lightly. “you should have seen the events bruce used to drag me to.”
you hummed in amusement, and out of the corner of his eye he saw your head roll to watch him. “well, i appreciate you coming to this one. i felt much better with you there.”
“yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, trying (and failing) to bite back the smile that tugged at his lips and the swell of pride in his chest. “don’t make it a whole thing.”
you slid your arm back and twisted it so that you could lace your fingers through his and gently squeeze them three times.
he repeated your little code, not bothering to say the words and instead taking advantage of his maskless state by pulling your hand up to his lips and feeling the warmth of your skin.