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Jason waves a thin, fake leather wallet in the air. “We’re going shopping.”
Prime lifts his head from the bed.
Their apartment is a dingy, sad thing. Jason keeps it as clean as possible, and Prime personally thinks he’s pretty good at keeping it that way. There’s a bed, a chair, the most rickety table of all time, a small kitchen, and a door to the tiny-ass bathroom. That’s it. Their clothes sit in a folded pile in the corner.
“Out of cigs?” Prime asks, slow and dazed. Be nice, he was dead asleep before Jason barged in. And from the looks of things, the sun has barely risen.
“No. We’re not buying cigs.” Jason steps forward and shakes Prime’s leg, poking out from under the thin duvet.
Prime hisses and rips his leg away. “Your hands are cold!”
“I got paid!” Jason snaps. “We’re going shopping! Get up!”
Got paid is enough to boost Prime into sitting up properly, his hair a poofy mess on his head. “Wait, without me? You went out and did a job without me?”
“You were sleeping,” Jason says simply. “We’re going shopping now. It'll open soon.”
“Convenience stores are 24 hours.”
“I said we aren’t buying cigs.” Jason scrubs a hand into Prime’s scalp, brushing his hair slightly, but Prime shoves his hand away before he gets noogied.
“Fine! Fine! Lemme put on pants. And a shirt.”
Jason steps back. Prime slowly gets up and looks at the chair for the jeans he yanked off before passing out. As expected, Jason put them there.
It's easy to think this whole thing would be weirder, because Jason sleeps naked, and Prime sleeps shirtless, and they share a bed. But it’s not, because Prime wakes up floating, and Jason sleeps so close to the edge of the bed Prime wonders how he doesn't slip off in his sleep.
Prime pulls on the jeans and looks around in the Clean Clothes Corner for a shirt. The only one he finds that’s his is a stupid Batman shirt Jason bought as a joke. Prime had rolled his eyes so hard it almost gave him vertigo. He’s pretty sure Jason only bought it because he knew the only person it’d piss off more than himself was Prime.
“Whatever,” Prime mutters, and grabs one of Jason’s shirts instead. Serves him right. He pulls it on, the dull gray tee that cost five dollars at a thrift store, and spins around. “Okay, let’s go.”
Jason turns back to face Prime, and squints. “Isn’t that mine?”
“Not anymore.” Prime sticks his tongue out. “Where are you dragging me?”
Jason sighs. “Just follow me. And—” He jabs a finger in Prime’s chest. “No flying, got it? I’m sick of finding new apartments.”
Prime rolls his eyes. He hovers a bit off the ground, just to be taller than Jason, and Jason slams a hand against his shoulder and pushes him back to the ground.
It’s true that the last three times they moved it was because someone saw Prime using his powers out of costume. It’s also true that not once has Jason even threatened to kick him out.
Technically, they’re both felons. Technically, they’re both on the run. Technically, Jason would be better off if he called up Supes and told him hey that guy who killed Superboy? I have him. Right here. Come and get him, please. Maybe then, Batman would forgive him for everything.
Jason’s never done that, though, and Prime doesn’t really get it, but he rolls with it anyway. It’s probably because when Jason’s tired, he just throws Prime on whatever job they got, and it’s over within five minutes.
It doesn't matter right now, anyhow, because that's all Prime and Red Hood, and not Jason and Clark.
They go out the door, and Jason locks it. They only have one key. It lives in Jason’s pocket.
Why’re we doing this?
Doing what?
You know. The… the jobs. We’re hurting people.
Yeah. I know. We’re good at it.
I don’t want to be good at hurting people! I want to be… I want to be good in general, you know. I want to be a hero.
Who says you’re not?
I hate it when you try to play tricks on me.
…Sorry.
They walk. On their feet. Jason tries to act like Prime only flies everywhere but that’s not true, he’s perfectly respectful when he doesn’t have to walk on the gross, dirty streets of Gotham. Like right now. In other words, Prime is in a bad mood because Jason is making him use his normal, innocent shoes on the grimy sidewalk in a grimy city.
They walk past that convenience store that doesn’t ask Jason for an ID, and further and further into the center of Gotham. They pass a few clothing stores, a sex toy shop, three restaurants, a fancy-pants looking tea place, and a Wayne Inc building, to end up at—
“A bookstore?” Prime asks, sending a glance at Jason. “You dragged me out of bed for a book?”
“I’ll let you choose one,” Jason says, like it's the kindest thing he’s ever done for someone. He checks his watch, which happens to be one of the fancier things they own. “They opened two minutes ago.”
“You woke me up. At seven-something in the morning. For books.” Prime stares at the glass doors, baffled.
Jason fidgets with his hand in his pocket. At this point, Prime’s known him long enough to know that Jason’s itching to smoke but is trying not to. “Yeah. I did. Good morning, by the way.”
“Jerk.”
Jason turns his head toward Prime. “I figured you'd be the one guy who'd understand. I’m just trying to help you improve your vocabulary a little, and this is how you treat me? I’m hurt, Prime. You’re hurting me.”
Prime huffs, and petulantly follows Jason into the store. Instantly, the musty smell of old books and way-too-strong coffee hits him and he scrubs his nose in a futile attempt to get rid of some of the overwhelming feeling. The bookstore isn’t too large, not even on the inside, and it looks and feels old and rickety.
“Hi, welcome i- oh, it’s just you.” The tired-looking employee sitting at the front desk sighs and goes back to scrolling on her phone. She has brown hair in a shaggy cut, and doesn’t look much older than either of them. “Brought a friend this time, scary guy with a knife?” she asks, without looking up.
“Yep.” Jason vaguely gestures between Prime and the employee. “Scary guy without a knife, meet Milly.”
“Hi, Milly,” Prime says.
“Thanks for not having a knife,” Milly replies, flickering her eyes up for only a second. “Gotta say, Jason, this is a real cruddy spot for a date.”
“And a real cruddy time, too.” Jason looks at Prime. “Aren’t you lucky.”
“I’m tired,” he whines, leaning his whole body against Jason’s. “Go get your book and let’s go home.”
“I knew you’d be a bad boyfriend. Caleb owes me ten bucks.” Milly yawns. She waves the both of them off, and Jason pulls Prime further into the dusty store by the hand.
“They fuckin’ bet on me,” Jason mumbles, “and I'm a great boyfriend.” They slide into the section for young adults, and Prime pretends like he didn’t hear any of it.
Instead, he frowns at the books. This part of the store seems better lit and more colorful than the rest of it. “Aren’t these ones for kids?”
“It’s the young adult section, Prime,” Jason says lowly, maybe so no one can hear. Which is weird, because no one else other than them and Milly is here. “Hear that? Adult.”
“But Laurie used to read these.”
Jason shrugs. Prime, as per usual, gives up on trying to get whatever Jason’s hidden message is supposed to be.
“So why’re we here?”
“We’re picking two books,” Jason says, holding up a peace sign. “One for you, and one for… us. You pick whatever you want and I pick the other one.”
Look, Prime, what’s the point in being a hero? The world’s already got a Superman, and I thought you liked him. And you killed Superboy, so they’re not gonna be happy with you. It’s a lot of pain you’re gonna put yourself in for no reason.
Well, I’m not a bad guy! I don’t want to hurt people! I want to be a good guy! I am a good guy. They just don’t see it.
You’re a great guy to me.
You’re just saying that because when you say jump, I ask how high.
Yup.
Jerk! You suck! You’re the worst!
I know. But who else do you have?
They walk out of the bookstore with a compact comic that vaguely reminded Prime of Superman and a book with a red and white cover called The Catcher in the Rye.
“What’s that one about?” Prime asks, tilting his head to try to get a better look at the cover.
“Haven’t read it yet,” Jason answers. Liar. He waves the book a bit, the pages making a flop-flop sound. “That’s what we’re doing together this week. We’re reading this one.” Before Prime can protest, he continues, “didn’t you want to go home? I’m also fuckin’ tired, if you haven’t noticed.”
“Should I fly us back?”
“Don’t even think about it.”
I can see right through you, you know. You want to be a hero because you want people to like you again. But they won’t. There’s tons of heroes people don’t like. There’s tons of villains people do like. Lex god damn Luthor was President. You know how much it sucks to claw your way out of a grave and finding out that not only does your killer walks the Earth, he’s not even in prison, but also Lex fucking Luthor is President? Whatever. Not my point. My point is, people aren’t going to like you just because you pull some cats out of trees or stop a meteor or whatever.
…I…I…
It hurts, doesn’t it? Sorry. I tell you hard truths because I think you can handle it. I think you should handle it. Listen, are you going to go out there and be a good guy for people who hate you, or are you gonna stay here and hurt people, people who deserve it, by the way, with someone you know already likes you?
When they get back, the first thing Jason does is peel off his clothes without even caring that Prime is right there, not even a foot away from him. Prime pulls off his shirt and shoves off his pants and dumps it in the Kinda But Not Super Dirty Clothes Corner and by the time he’s done, Jason’s already naked and in bed.
Prime is too tired to even consider finding his pajama pants again, so he just jumps into bed next to Jason, who’s turning away and sticking to the edge again. After wriggling under the covers, Prime stares at Jason’s backside, from the soft curls at the top of his head to the slope of his nape to the expanse of his shoulder blades to the curve of his waist.
Jason always smells vaguely of gunpowder. Gunpowder, smoke, paper, and… vaguely floral. At least, to Prime, he does. Who knows if regular humans with their regular noses can tell?
Prime closes his eyes and focuses his hearing onto Jason’s heartbeat. It’s slower now.
Jason’s heartbeat is weird. It’s always so loud. People say their heartbeats are “pounding” but Prime (who is a pretty good choice for an expert on how heartbeats sound, by the way) would rather say they're “thudding.” Jason's heartbeat is a pound. It beats like his heart is trying to break his ribs. Like it's trying to tell Prime something.
It's weird, but it's comforting… kinda. It helps him find Jason in a crowd, at least. Or when Jason’s almost-but-not-quite-dead. Or that one time Jason wasn’t fully paying attention (Prime thinks he was sleep deprived, but Jason denies it) and got picked up, thrown into deep waters, and Prime had to go save him.
Sight. Smell. Hearing. This is how Prime falls asleep. Only sometimes does he need to touch, and he’s been too… respectful of Jason’s space to try taste.
(Scared. He’s scared.)
Despite feeling like he was about to pass out in the bookstore, he’s wide awake now, so he rolls over and weasels a hand under Jason’s waist to wrap him in a clingy hug. Jason barely stirs, letting out a small snuffle, and Prime presses his forehead into the back of Jason’s hair.
Jason… you already know my answer, don't you?
Yeah. I do. Because it’s the right one.