Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Hey, pretty boy, that guy over there has been staring at you since we started eating."

Dick almost didn't want to respond to the meddling inmate beside him. In fact, he was starting to think that going undercover in prison with Jason was a complete and utter failure. Don't get him wrong, the mission had just begun, but in some ways, he began to wonder about an alternative possibility. One that didn't involve being undercover with Jason—his boyfriend.

He shot Jason a quick glance and rolled his eyes. He looked away, knowing Jason was doing the same. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. You know, that guy's with the Red Hood. Look at the tattoos! You don't wanna mess with gang affiliates, not in here." The scrawny, talkative man next to him was Jasper, a cigarette peddler inside the prison. "Then why are you sitting next to me if you're so scared of the Red Hood?" Dick asked, sidelong.

"I just like watching the show," Jasper shrugged, "and guessing how many days it'll take before you become his bitch."

Our relationship is a lot closer than you think, Dick thought. But what he said was, "Then shut up and sit here, or get lost."

Jasper just shrugged again.

Dick glanced at Jason once more and found him lowering his head to bite into an apple. Given the current situation, neither of them had any leads on the Viper. Once again, whose bright idea was it to pretend not to know each other? He had to create an opportunity for their paths to cross, making it look like a coincidence.

Dick watched as Jason got up to leave. He immediately picked up his tray and hurried after him, deliberately bumping into him and smearing the leftover, unappetizing mashed potatoes onto his back.

"Sorry," Dick said, utterly unapologetic, flashing a provocative smile.

Jason turned to look at him, his expression caught between "Really, Dick? What the hell?" and "Is this part of the plan?" But he quickly cooled down, furrowing his brow and glaring at Dick, maintaining the reaction a normal person would have after being bumped. The other inmates seemed excited by the commotion. A few gathered around, watching like it was a contest. Jason was taller than Dick and looked burlier. And Dick's looks had already earned him a hundred whistles from the inmates. This was indeed a visually appealing standoff.

Jason grabbed Dick by the collar. Dick took the opportunity to throw his tray on the floor, creating a loud crash. Dick swallowed; he needed to convince himself that finding Jason hot in this situation was a bad idea. Jason moved his face close to Dick's. "The hell, Richard." Dick raised his hands and whispered, "I need you to hit me hard. In the face."

Jason let go of Dick, his expression hard to read, seeming somewhat amused.

He then punched Dick on the cheekbone.

"Damn!" Jasper muttered.

---

"Does it still hurt? I hope I didn't hit you too hard," Jason said, his fingers gently tracing the bruise on Dick's face. "I hate this method."

"It's not the worst thing I've been through. Don't let your feelings for me affect you, Jay. Wait, I should call you Jeff, Jeff Peters. Such a cute name." Dick laughed.

"You're really one to talk, Richard. Good god." Jason snorted mockingly.

"A perfectly decent name."

"This 'perfectly decent' person decided to give my back a graffiti makeover with leftover food in the cafeteria today and then had me punch him in front of everyone and the guards."

Dick shrugged. "You know, if we want to get to know each other quickly, someone had to play the instigator."

"Or we find some poor sap to be the middleman. You pick a fight with him, I beat him up. At least that way you probably wouldn't get hurt. The outcome would be the same." He paused for a moment. "But I would enjoy being the instigator, since you're usually the one picking fights at home and at 'work'." He made air quotes when he said "work."

"Trying to guide you to quit smoking doesn't count as picking fights." Dick leaned against the wall, casually putting his hands in his pockets.

Jason stood in front of him, very close. "Speaking of cigarettes, what did that weasel-looking guy next to you say at lunch?"

Dick reached out to straighten Jason's collar. "You look pretty good in orange. You could paint your mask orange. Can you believe it? The guy kindly warned me to be careful of you, said you're with the Red Hood." Dick placed his hands on Jason's shoulders.

Jason let out an unexpected, uncharacteristic giggle. "That's the funniest thing I've heard all week, babe. What's he in for?" Jason's hands slid down to rest on Dick's hips.

"Fraud."

"He can get cigarettes, probably in cahoots with the guards. Since he's willing to talk to you, chat him up more. The faster we gather intel, the better. This place is a testosterone-fueled hell." Jason pressed the tip of his nose against Dick's.

"He said something else pretty interesting too." Dick tilted his head back against the wall, indulging Jason as he explored his lips.

"He said he was waiting to see when I'd become your bitch."

Jason narrowed his green eyes, his smile showing teeth. "What did you say?" He leaned back slightly, wanting to see the expression on Dick's whole face.

Dick pulled Jason down and gently brushed his lips against Jason's. "I told him to piss off." Jason smirked noncommittally.

"Since what he said has already come true, maybe I should take some actual action." His hands slid further down, squeezing.

"Or you should at least limp back, so they all know what happened."

"You really can't control your mouth, can you? Look where we are." Dick gasped, struggling free. He paused for a moment. "We should head back. Be careful, Jay."

Jason looked at him, uncertainly clenching his hands at his sides. Dick had an annoying habit of appearing whenever he felt insecure. Like now, he was always the first to cut their moments short. He was giving himself more time to adapt to the environment. Jason knew Dick was just putting on a brave face against the intense stares during this prison undercover operation. But Jason was never truly at ease during undercover work; he was just imitating. He wasn't like Dick. Dick was an actor.

"You too," Jason said curtly.

"One more thing." He stopped Dick.

"Don't ask me to hit you again. I don't have a habit of domestic violence."

---

"Got a smoke?"

Jasper looked up lazily and saw Jason standing next to him, arms crossed. "It's you," he said, not moving. Jason sat down beside him, eyes fixed straight ahead. Jasper openly scrutinized Jason, from the white streak in his hair to the tattoos on his arms, down to his dust-covered shoes.

"You're with the Red Hood," he stated calmly.

"Yeah, everyone can see that. You got a smoke or not?" Jason said sarcastically.

"Don't use that tone with me, kid," Jasper replied impatiently. "What are you in for? Stealing an old lady's purse?" Jason turned to him, revealing an elegant smile. "Oh, I kill people. Lots of people." That was somewhat ambiguous; he hadn't done it much lately. But at least in the past, he had that phase.

"Half the people here have killed lots of people. Maybe you're just bluffing." He casually rested a cigarette on his lower lip.

"What about you? You kill people?"

For the first time, Jasper's eyes met Jason's. Jason stared into his gray eyes, lips pressed together. Jason even thought he might be furious, but was being cautious due to their size difference. Jasper just took a light drag from his cigarette and slowly exhaled.

"In here, I don't need to get my own hands dirty to take you out, if that's what you're asking. In this godforsaken place, some would kill for a single Adderall."

He turned his head away, staring at a small pebble on the ground. Jason knew this guy was a jerk, but in here, you deal with jerks. He pondered whether to ask him directly about Jefferson. This droopy-eyed man would definitely play dumb. If Dick had already been asking around, their cover could be blown. Regardless, he asked: "You know Jefferson? A tall white guy."

Jasper glanced around inconspicuously. Jason saw his eyes quickly dart towards a group of people with exaggerated tattoos. He took a deep breath, irritably waving the cigarette in Jason's direction. "Listen, kid. I'm getting out soon, and I'm advising you not to stir up trouble. I don't know where you heard that name, but I'll pretend you never said it. You better not ask anyone else either. Others aren't as good-natured as me."

"So, a mysterious, unmentionable person."

"You're young, probably want to live a few more years. You're a greenhorn. Stop asking."

For some reason, Jason suddenly thought of Damian, that prickly little boy. Damian never let anyone treat him like a child, even if he took the toy from the kids' meal.

"Being young isn't always a bad thing."

"Young means inexperienced. Just like that pretty boy you hit yesterday. You better watch out. With looks like that, he's a prime target."

"You told him he'd be my bitch. You just love talking to the new fish, huh?"

Jasper turned to him sharply. "I don't like either of you. But there's something about you two that feels completely different from the others, makes me unable to stop talking to you. Maybe it's because you're both frighteningly young. I'll say it again, stop asking questions."

After this long speech, he forcefully crushed his cigarette on the ground. He stood up to leave, throwing out a line he thought would shut Jason up:

"Unless you are the Red Hood, you don't have what it takes to handle this business."

Jason almost laughed out loud. "Alright, I'll take that as a life motto. You got a smoke or not?"

Jasper glared at him, pulled a crumpled cigarette pack from his pocket, and threw a cigarette at Jason. "Take it!" he said. "You want me to cover your shift this afternoon?" Jason lit the cigarette, laughing inwardly.

"God! Just stay away from me!" Jasper walked away quickly. Jason laughed behind him, enjoying the long-missed cigarette.

TBC

 

Chapter Text

Jason blew smoke right into Dick’s face. Dick frowned slightly.“This really fulfills some kind of fantasy for you, doesn’t it?”

“How should I put it—there aren’t many times I get to do something like this. Gotta take the chance.” Jason was chewing on the cigarette Jasper had angrily thrown at him.

Dick glanced around to make sure no one was nearby. A sudden urge rose in him—to slap the cigarette from Jason’s hand just to see that startled look on his face.
“Do that again, and you can forget about your last meal,” Dick said, placing his hand over Jason’s.

Jason sighed and reluctantly stubbed the cigarette out.

“You and Jasper seem to be getting along,” Dick said, his lower teeth grazing his upper lip. He tried to look nonchalant, absently rubbing the corner of Jason’s shirt between his fingers.

“More or less. He didn’t say much—whatever he did say sounded like the drunk ramblings of a sentimental middle-aged man to his son.” Jason leaned back against the stone wall. Watching Dick frown down at his shoes, he thought he looked cute. He’d gotten used to finding him cute in small, stupid ways—little gestures, fleeting details.

Dick said nothing, his lips jutting forward, still frowning. He looked like a kid who couldn’t figure out how to start the vacuum cleaner. Jason wasn’t exactly some mind-reading meta, but he had empathy. And right now, Dick looked uneasy—arms crossed over his chest, a sliver of wrist exposed. Jason’s gaze followed the sleeve as it slid upward.

“What’s wrong, babe? Something happen?” Jason rested a hand on Dick’s upper arm.

Dick glanced around again, brushing his thumb across Jason’s hand.
“It’s fine. I just feel a little… never mind. This place doesn’t exactly invite comfort.”

Jason kept watching his face, reading every flicker of expression. He’d been doing that since he was a teenager—studying the secrets on every face in the Batcave. Bruce was the silent but caring type; Alfred, calm and kind. But Dick—Dick had always been a mystery wrapped in trouble.

When Jason first met him, Dick had been like a storm. He’d argue with Bruce right in front of him. Back then, Jason paid more attention to Bruce’s expression than Dick’s—at least at first.

Later, he learned where to focus.

Back then, Dick was the rebel—the one with the cool friends, the one breaking Bruce’s rules and stealing cars. Jason used to think he’d grow up to be like him, though the constant comparisons between them annoyed him to no end.

And then there were those subtler, twisting, creeping feelings.

Like a bad cliché, Jason thought of that pivotal moment—when he died. After that came Tim, then Damian, and others. Yet every time they reunited, no matter the tension or chaos, his eyes always found the bluebird. Death hadn’t changed that.

From the arch of Dick’s brow to the twitch at the corner of his mouth, Jason had learned one thing: Dick Grayson wasn’t always honest.

Once upon a time, Jason would’ve pressed for answers—every detail, every angle. Especially when they first got together; he’d wanted to know everything. Dick had been the same. Now, he chose to trust him—to let go. Dick could handle himself. Jason could trust him with his back in a fight; they’d both been through worse. Maybe that was the biggest change between them.

“Alright,” Jason shrugged, pocketing the half-smoked cigarette.

Dick forced a crooked smile, something twisted and brittle, and Jason felt something heavy drop in his gut.
“I guess we should get our minds off this. Maybe sniff around about the Viper.” Dick rubbed his wrist, glancing away.
“Agreed. I’ll talk to the guys in our block—hopefully not another mute this time.” Jason was still speaking when Dick leaned in to kiss him quickly, giving his hand a tight shake.

“Anyone giving you trouble?” Dick asked.

Jason shook his head, concern darkening his eyes.

 

Dick Grayson—first Robin, former circus acrobat.
Stripped of everything, he braced a hand against the wall, letting the spray of hot water soak into him. His hair clung to his face. He touched the stubble he’d let grow for the disguise, cupped his hands over his face, and squeezed his eyes shut.

But when he opened them, the memory came rushing back.

He saw again the sticky walls of the laundry room, the way his fingers had dug into his palms.
It wasn’t the first time someone had shoved him against a wall, arms twisted behind his back. But he still hated the implication—the way that man’s hot breath had burned against his ear. He could feel that rough hand again, and with it came the image of Jason’s—so different, so unbearably gentle. He wasn’t even sure if thinking of Jason now was a kind of desecration.

Those hands had been on his neck, holding him down.

“Let me go. I said let go.” He could still hear the tremor in his own voice.

Dick drew a deep breath and turned the water hotter.

“Quit pretending, bitch.” Lance had laughed, smacking Dick hard across the ass. The others joined in with jeering laughter. “Saw you with Peters, didn’t I? What did you do for him, huh? Maybe you should let us have a turn.”

Dick didn’t know if the handprint was still there.

He opened his eyes and felt something trickle down his face—something that didn’t come from the shower. Tears.

His memory froze on the image of a guard pulling him off the floor, asking if he wanted to see the medic. He’d shaken his head and turned to vomit into a nearby bucket. In prison, this sort of thing wasn’t unusual. The guard had looked at him with pity, and Dick had wondered—was that the same face he used when talking to victims?

Then he’d realized something worse: in here, sex was power. If Lance had targeted him, it meant Lance would come for Jason next. Jason wasn’t alone—but that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. From the start, Jason’s reputation was that of a hardass. Jeff Peters,Red Hood’s man. A predator. That reputation had been their shared shield—but now, it was full of holes.

He knew the rules of survival here: stay silent, stay distant, project strength.
And if you strike back—make it fast and final.

Otherwise, the vultures descend.

“Richard?”

Dick turned sharply. Jason stood there shirtless, looking startled.

“You scared me,” Dick said, trying to sound steady, wiping his face. The last thing he wanted was for Jason to see him like this—to see his tears break open. Seeing Jason always brought back the warmth of his kisses, the comfort of his touch. He could almost feel them tangled in bed again, legs intertwined.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” Jason reached out, hesitating before touching him. Dick shut his eyes.He grabbed a towel, rubbed himself dry, and stepped out of the shower.

“I’m fine. Maybe I just can’t get into character. I’m fine.” He pulled on his clothes, the rough fabric making him shiver. He wasn’t ready to talk. Ever since that night on the rooftop in the rain, he’d thought he’d left the filth and fear behind.

Now it was dragging him back, forcing him into the role of victim again. He didn’t want that. He wanted to be stronger than this. He didn’t even know how to name what had happened.

“Richard,” Jason said softly. “What happened?”

Dick bit his lip until he tasted blood—proof he was still here, still in the room. He muttered something, fingers digging into Jason’s arm.

“What?” Jason asked gently.

Dick’s grip tightened. “Tonight,” he whispered. “Come see me tonight.”

Then he turned away, hand over his mouth, afraid he might vomit.

 

“You really afraid of Peters?” Jasper asked coolly.

“You’re gonna get yourself in trouble saying that, Jasper.” Dick kept his head down.

“I’d say you get in more trouble with that face than I do with my mouth.” Jasper tossed aside a dirty shirt. Dick looked up at him, exhausted. He wanted to shove him away, to shut him up.

“What the hell are you trying to say?” Dick snapped, weakly.

“So you have crossed paths with Lance and his crew. Poor bastard. They won’t let you off easy. Peters will probably throw you to them to be torn apart.”

“He won’t,” Dick said firmly, his tone like steel.

He knew he wasn’t alone—and he’d never been the kind to scare easy. A few prison thugs weren’t enough to break him. Not when Jason was with him.

“You knew him? Before you came in here?” Jasper’s gray eyes met Dick’s blue ones.

Dick said nothing.

“So you’ve known him for, what, a few days, and you think you’ve got him all figured out? Or are you just being stupidly optimistic about this whole thing? You know what happens to new fish who get noticed here? Like that guy Jefferson—shit.” Jasper bit his tongue, grimacing.

“I didn’t force you to say the name,” Dick said evenly, watching Jasper’s flustered face.

“I’m gonna get myself killed for you two!” Jasper muttered, slamming his back against the wall.

“You won’t die.”

“Don’t sound so damn sure—like you’ve got everything under control!” Jasper snapped, fidgeting.

Dick lowered his gaze and caught Jason watching him from across the yard. He sighed, silently wishing for luck—for both of them to get through this in one piece. Jasper still looked uneasy, wringing his hands. Dick almost pitied him. He looked at him with something dangerously close to compassion.

 

“Dick—” Jason began, but Dick shoved him against the wall.

With all the tension and exhaustion of the past days, Dick threw his arms around Jason’s neck and rose on his toes, closing the gap between them. His blue eyes locked onto Jason’s green ones—an overflowing lake.

He slipped silently, completely, into Jason’s space—like a meteor.
“Just kiss me. Don’t ask anything,” he whispered against Jason’s ear.

Jason’s hand slid to Dick’s waist, then up his back, supporting his weight. Dick moaned softly, desperate, pressing their mouths together. Jason’s lips parted, surprised to find himself the one being kissed. He brought his free hand to the back of Dick’s head, deepening the kiss—wet, soothing, full of quiet salvation.

Dick bit at Jason’s lip, moving closer, his body trembling against his. The sound he made sent heat surging through Jason’s veins, making him want to strip him bare, devour him whole.

Dick tilted his head back, exposing the line of his throat, giving Jason’s teeth and tongue room to explore. He wanted to turn all that pain and despair into something soft, something like the wave of love.

Jason’s mouth moved lower. Their positions shifted. He tugged at Dick’s collar, wanting more. His teeth grazed Dick’s collarbone, leaving dark marks. He was drunk on it—on uncovering every secret, every fantasy this bluebird held.

Then something cool and wet fell onto his face.

“Dick—Dick.”

Dick opened his eyes to find Jason watching him with concern, holding his arms. “Sorry,” Jason said quietly. “I shouldn’t have done that.” He brushed away the tears from Dick’s cheeks.

“What? No—I want you to.”

“You’re crying, baby. I think you’re not okay.”

Only then did Dick realize he was crying uncontrollably. “I’m sorry, J— I…” His voice broke. He turned away, tears spilling freely.

“What happened? Did someone do something to you?”

“No… why would you ask that?” Dick’s arms hung limply at his sides while Jason’s trembling hands wiped his tears away.

“Because,” Jason hesitated, “you look just like you did last time you cried. When we talked about Catalina.”

Dick turned his head, staring at a rust stain on the pipe. Then at the vent on the ceiling. For a moment, he wasn’t there anymore—his mind was crawling through the vent, escaping. Something hard was swelling inside him, from the inside out. Why me? Why does it always have to be me? Do I deserve this?

“It was Lance,” he said quietly.

He hadn’t meant to tell him. He’d wanted to handle it alone. But somewhere deep down, maybe he wanted Jason to protect him.That was so bad.

“Dick…”

“I told him to stop. He didn’t listen. I wanted to fight back, but I couldn’t move.”

They say telling someone you trust about your trauma helps you heal.
Dick only felt like he was throwing broken, ugly pieces of himself onto the floor between them.

“I’m sorry, Jay. I don’t want to be this—this weak victim. I should be stronger than this.”

“Don’t apologize.” Jason pulled him into a tight hug. “None of this is your fault. They’re the ones who should be ashamed.”

“It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. I’m right here. You don’t have to go through this alone. Nobody should have to blame themselves.”

He paused.

“You’re always the one people lean on, the one who holds everyone up. But it’s okay to let someone else hold you, you know? Especially me. In fact, I want you to. I want you to let yourself be vulnerable with me, Dickie.”

Dick opened his eyes and looked at Jason’s earnest face.

“Thank you, Jay. I’m really glad I’m not here alone. Having you with me… makes me feel safe.”

Then he kissed Jason again.

Jason had an idea that he knew Dick wouldn’t approve it.
TBC