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Jason knew before he even unlocked the door that Peter was up to no good.
It was the laughter that gave him away. Insidious enough to ooze through the front door, it was a gremlin-esque snicker, interspersed with mad-villain cackling that set Jason’s teeth on edge. The last he’d heard such a sound, Peter had decided to ‘booby trap’ the apartment with his natural webs and set himself up in the corner—on the ceiling, mind—to watch Jason struggle like an exceedingly unfortunate fly.
So. Not the kind of laughter that inspired any confidence. In fact, the only confidence Jason felt as he paused, key in hand, was that he was unlikely to enjoy whatever Peter had lying in wait for him on the other side.
Should go back and get the flame thrower.
But no. Jason wasn’t keen on setting things alight on a Thursday afternoon—accidental or otherwise. Maybe he should just turn around. Head back down the stairs and crash at Babs’ place. With any luck, by the time Jason returned, Peter would have lost interest and Jason could pretend his ridiculous boyfriend hadn’t been plotting his downfall.
In the end, Peter was the one to break the stand off.
“Just come in already, Jace! Heheh—I know—heheee!—I know you’re home!”
Yes. Not reassuring at all.
Feeling not unlike a man on death row, Jason reluctantly unlocked the door. It swung open with more vigor than usual—no surprise, Peter was on the other side, grinning broadly with nothing but evil intent in his big brown eyes.
“Hi!”
Peter made to launch himself at Jason and he held his hand up, glaring with suspicion. The move did little to deter Peter’s delight.
Red flags abound.
“Petey,” Jason said, looking over his boyfriend carefully. No gossamer golden threads. No chaos of books or Frankensteined electronics. No weird choices costumes on Dog or Gary… all was well.
Well—Duke was also there, but at this stage in Jason’s life, that was par for the course. Now they were in the journalism club together at college, Peter and Duke were practically attached at the hip (although… Jason was half-convinced Duke’s frequent appearances in their apartment had more to do with Jason’s cooking than Peter’s company, but he knew when to keep his opinions to himself).
Satisfied Peter was unlikely to unleash chaos upon him so soon, Jason lowered his hand. His arms were immediately full with Peter, warm and joyful and heavy—Christ—Jason staggered and smoothly covered his stumble with a twirl that had Peter laughing all the more. Sincerely, this time, right against Jason’s expectant mouth.
Jason was grinning too when they parted.
“Hey, baby.”
“Hi. How was school?”
Jason hummed. Peter had been awfully put out when none of their classes fitted neatly this semester. In truth, Jason was too. He missed their shared bus rides, bodies pressed close, pocketed by the swell of humanity as they shared their music together through a single pair of earphones. Jason usually had to confiscate the phone after Peter skipped song number five halfway through. He found a special, secret joy in teasing Peter with his own music choices instead.
“Fine. Only picked one fight with Cooke.”
“Aww. Good job!”
Peter kissed Jason again in reward: because Jason did deserve a reward. Cooke was a pretentious dick whose very voice grated on the nerves—nevermind his opinions. Guy thought it he nailed the supercilious drawl, he could get away with any asinine views he came up with. Keeping himself civil was a daily struggle when Cooke was in the room. And somehow, he always seemed to be in the damn room.
“You should get him something,” Duke piped up, suddenly reminding them both that he was, in fact, still there. His tone certainly implied it: bored and exasperated and a little spiteful, all at once. “For—y’know—being the bigger guy.”
Peter burst into an inexplicable peal of laughter and Jason’s arms were no longer full of his menace of a boyfriend. He shot a glare at Duke for the distraction and immediately did a double take.
Duke slouched into the couch, a coffee resting on one thigh, fingers wrapped around the red ceramic. His other arm cupped something very round that had not been there when Jason left that morning.
“Peter.”
“Yes?”
“What the hell is that?”
Peter bounded over to the couch and plucked the round thing out of Duke’s lazy grip. For a moment, he held it up to the heavens. Jason was reminded of the opening scene of the Lion King, only there was no ocean of animals to watch… unless you counted Jason, Duke, and the spiders that liked to hide in every nook and cranny of the apartment.
“This is our son!”
“Our son.”
“Isn’t he a beauty?”
Jason was lost for words. ‘Beauty’ did not factor into his opinion on the matter.
In Peter’s clever hands was an over-sized plushie. Round like a beach ball, but without any of the appropriate patternings. No… someone had decided they’d take his old Red Hood costume and stick a bike pump in it, blowing it up into comical proportions.
In mute disbelief, Jason returned the vacant, bug-eyed stare of his dopplegänger… If you could even call it that. He hadn’t worn the full helmet and leather combo in years…
It was so round. It’s little arms and legs stuck out of the overstuffed body and wobbled as Peter shook the plush with glee. If Jason stuck a pin in it, would the whole thing explode in a gush of poly-fil stuffing.
“You love it,” Peter declared, tugging the toy close so he could wrap his arms around its circumference. The thing was made of a suede or velvet or something, and the short pile bore every mark of its manhandling.
The perfect texture to draw dicks in.
“It’s not even—” The colour of his helmet was all wrong. Too dark a red, where Jason had always preferred hot-rod crimson. The red bat on the chest however, was unsettlingly accurate. “Where did you get this?”
Duke was taking pictures of the whole thing—because of course he was, unofficial documenter of the Peter and Jason show for the family—and wheezing quietly with laughter. The group chats were probably already spammed with Jason’s reaction. If Duke wasn’t straight up filming it.
Peter shrugged “Found it.”
“You found it?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Where? How?” Who in the hell was making plush toys of the Red Hood? He was barely a step up from a gangster, for fucks sake! And though the toy did look pretty huggable—as Peter happily demonstrated—it was also unnervingly accurate for a suit Jason was fairly certain hadn’t been documented very much.
He frowned in suspicion. “Did you get this made?”
“I didn’t!” Peter crowed, without an ounce of defensive indignation. That was enough to convince Jason he wasn’t lying. “It was for sale in that thrift store—the one by the bus stop.”
The thrift store by their bus stop was one of Peter’s favourite places to shop. They refused to raise their prices to match the price creep going on in other parts of Gotham, and their oddball collection of graphic tees seemed curated specifically to appeal Peter’s eccentric tastes. A couple of months back, Jason had to institute a ‘one in, one out’ rule. If he didn’t, Peter’s closet would be crammed full of tees with weird shit on them like cats shooting lasers from their eyes while riding dinosaurs (which was a real shirt in Peter’s collection. On more than one occasion, Jason had thought of ‘disappearing’ it on the trip down to the washers in the basement).
On occasion, their range of weird shit extended beyond clothing, as proven by the spherical monstrosity now gracing Jason’s living room.
“I knew as soon as I saw it that we had to have it,” Peter said. He squeezed the plushie, and snickered as its little arms and legs poked out in protest. “He’s our son.”
“He is not our son.”
“He’s son-shaped!”
“He’s soccer ball shaped. Perfect for punting out the fucking window.”
“Jason!” Peter’s wounded cry was overblown and unconvincing. He pressed his hands to the toy’s head, where ears might’ve been. “Not in front of Junior!”
This man. This goddamn, ridiculous man. If Duke hadn’t been around, Jason would’ve stalked right up to Peter, yanked that stupid plushie out of his grip, and hauled Peter in for a kiss. To shut Peter up, or just to express how much he loved Peter even at his most absurd. Then again…
Duke caught on to Jason’s train of thought. “Ho, don’t do it.”
Just for that, Jason took a step forward.
“Do what?” Peter asked, chin picking up from it had dropped onto the top of the toy. He glanced warily between Jason and Duke, then hugged the plushie even tighter. “Don’t hurt him!”
Another step.
“I ain’t gonna hurt him.”
“Then don’t hurt me,” Duke begged. “C’mon, man. I—I told him not to! He wouldn’t listen—he’s a madman! He can’t be reasoned with!”
“Hey!” Peter rounded on Duke, betrayed. “You were literally the one who saw it!”
Jason’s smile was wide. Duke cringed. “Give me the toy, Petey.”
Peter was still dubious but he reluctantly handed it over. Up close, Jason could see the marks of an amateur in the toy. Some crooked seams. No safety warning tags. It was denser, too, than most stuffed toys you’d buy from the store.
“It’s like a cat inspecting a new kitten!” Peter stage-whispered to Duke, who promptly choked.
Jason rolled his eyes. The petty bitch in him was tempted to toss the thing right back just for that. But it did feel nice in his hands. The short pile was soft, like Dog’s ears.
With a little bit of the devil in him now, Jason copied Peter, hugging the stuffed toy and propping his chin on top.
“Who do you love more?” Jason crooned. “Me, or Junior?”
Raw delight burst across Peter’s face. “Jace, you can’t ask me to pick favourites!”
“That means it’s me,” Jason whispered to the plushie. “Sorry, Junior. Do better.”
“How could you say that? You’ll give him a complex!” Laughing, Peter wrestled the toy away from Jason, only to pause as he caught Jason’s expression.
It was always a wonder, watching desire take over. Peter’s cheeks pinked. His long-lashed eyes fluttered, pupils resizing. And to be held under that dark gaze? To be seen and judged desirable?
Fuck, it was the best fucking feeling.
“Take this—”
“What? Aw, no, c’mon guys, don’t—mmpf!”
Peter had shoved Junior into Duke’s unwilling arms, inadvertently (and probably deliberately) muffling the rest of Duke’s protests. Then Jason’s willing arms were full of Peter once more, practically vibrating with anticipation.
The kiss was light, at first, and punctuated with Duke’s groans of complaint that were soundly ignored. Jason deepened the kiss and Peter’s breath mingled with Jason’s. He let his hands migrate southwards while Peter’s travelled north, ending up twined in Jason’s hair and tugging out ripples of goosebumps when Jason opened his mouth with invitation.
“Naw, man!” Duke cried. “Think of the child!”
Peter’s arm shot out to catch something—upon their breaking, Jason realised Duke had thrown the plushie right back. He glared at them defiantly, but Jason merely smirked and looked back to Peter.
“Y’know Pete, if you wanted to make a baby,” Jason said, deliberately loud enough to traumatise, “you coulda just asked.”
“Nope!” Duke all but shrieked, and stormed past them. Peter cackled in Jason’s arms but made no attempt to leave. “No way am I staying now, you freaks! Thought I’d get a good laugh and some lasagne, but no pasta’s worth this!”
“Bye, Duke!” Peter tossed Junior onto their armchair. It landed face down with his usual unerring aim. “So he can’t see,” he whispered to Jason. Then, louder to Duke, “Thanks for coming!”
“Fuck you!” was all Duke said, and shut the door behind him.
The laughter was immediate, rattling out of both of them until Jason’s cheeks ached and his eyes watered. All the while, Peter never let go, leaning heavily into Jason as he expelled his mirth into Jason’s neck. The heat of his breath filled Jason’s nooks and crannies with warm goo. When he finally got a hold of himself, he picked Peter up. Strong legs wrapped around his waist and Jason palmed Peter’s ass, chuckling as Peter’s own dying laughter hitched and caught.
“I love you,” Jason told him, unable to stop himself. Not that he ever wanted to—not anymore.
Peter made a soft sound—maybe Jason’s third favourite sound, after Peter’s laughter and the ragged moans he made while in bed—and surged into Jason.
Their kiss was desperate now, and super-charged with need. Peter’s mouth was soft but his tongue was urgent and needy—not that Jason was likely to be any better. The warmth of their shared breaths sank and pooled in his gut and Jason squeezed Peter’s ass with greater intent.
Gasping, Peter broke off the kiss. No worries there: his eyes were blown wide and his grin was hungry.
“I believe, Mr Todd,” Peter breathed, “you said something about making a baby?”
“I believe I did,” Jason agreed. With even, deliberate steps, he walked them to the couch. “I think it’s worth a shot, right?”
“Oh, absolutely. And if it doesn’t work… try, try again, right?”
“Sounds like a stellar plan, Mr Parker.”
They sank onto the couch. Jason made extra sure Junior couldn’t watch them by tossing Peter’s shirt right over it.