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The wind raging outside the apartment pelts sleet into the windows, and Jason is secretly thrilled that the job he and Roy picked up had cancelled on them last minute. He’d done enough time braving bad weather to recognize that no amount of money would have been worth the numbness in his thighs.
Instead of dismantling an arms deal, as was the plan, Jason finds himself nestled under two warm blankets with their gas fireplace toasting the room and re-runs of the X-Files playing in the background. In his hands is his most recent knitting project: a sweater for Lian’s fourteenth birthday.
Jason has always had a hard time sitting still, always wanting to have something on the go, and knitting is his most recent attempt at a new creative outlet. He’s pretty sure this hobby is going to stick though, unlike needlepoint, or guitar, or gardening (how he gardened in a small brownstone apartment was a feat in creativity). He likes that there’s a pattern to follow, that there’s a rhythm to it, and that it gives him something to do with his hands instead of assembling and disassembling his guns, which was his previous fidget. Knitting is much safer to do around the apartment, and it has the added bonus of ending up with something he can hold in his hands at the end to say ‘I created this’.
For someone who’s spent most of the years since his resurrection destroying things, there’s a magic to creation for a change. Plus, he secretly likes feeling the soft yarn under his fingertips.
The first few projects (some dish towels and a lopsided scarf) were mostly for practice, but something had clicked after the hat he made for Biz. Since then, he’d knit Damian and Bruce matching scarves for Pride, Dick a hat with a giant pom pom, and Kori a shawl in his first attempt at lace stitch. Alfred was the proud owner of a new pair of socks, and Steph, Cass, and Tim each had matching chunky mittens. He’d also made himself a soft maroon sweater out of a merino wool blend that he only wore around the house—not because he is embarrassed about making it, but because he isn’t entirely happy with the tension, even though the fabric is incredibly soft.
This new sweater for Lian is his first attempt at knitting cables and his first time knitting someone else a sweater. The other gifts feel small in comparison.
He’d gone with Lian to the craft store to pick out the yarn, and he hadn’t been surprised when she’d chosen a soft, blue synthetic yarn that matched her hair-dye. She’d insisted that it was all part of her image, and he could relate to having a colour scheme to follow. He’d taken measurements off of one of her favourite sweaters to compare against patterns, then her actual measurements. A tension gauge swatch was next (because he was learning from his mistakes), and then it was just following the pattern. The mystery that was garment construction faded away as he got more confident.
The back panel had taken him a few weeks, only working when Lian wasn’t home so she could act surprised when she opened it, but the front panel…
While the cables make the pattern slightly more interesting to work with, it’s just taking so goddamned long. He’d vowed about halfway through the first two repeats that he would never knit something again, or at least if he did, it would have to be with thicker needles and a heavier weight yarn. Or tiny and child-sized. But that was probably just the frustration talking.
Even though it’s long and tedious watching the weaving cables come together, Jason loves the chance to lose himself in secret daydreams. While he knits, he imagines that this quiet domestic life—a life where his only concern is knitting (his) Roy’s daughter a sweater—could be his forever. Each time he picks up the sweater, he imagines that he has a claim to this family he’s crept his way into and that he isn’t just some freeloader who’s pathetically in love with his best friend.
To the tune of the storm outside and Mulder and Scully’s recent case on the TV, Jason gets to work, finding where he’d left off in the pattern. Three rows to the next cable. Not too bad. The repetitive motions give him focus, and he loses himself in daydreams, stitches, and aliens.
A couple rows in when he’s finally deep in his rhythm, Roy ambles into the room with freshly blow-dried hair and a plush red robe tied loosely around his bare chest. He’s still flushed from the shower, and Jason has to force his eyes away from the faint hint of a treasure trail dragging his eyes down his best friend’s abs.
Get it together Todd. You chose this hell when you decided to move in with him.
“Hey,” he says (like a normal person, instead of a horny creep) and goes back to the knitting. It’s an easy row, just a repetitive alternation between knits and purls. Not too much counting, especially with the little archery themed stitch markers Roy bought him for “No reason — just because I saw them and thought you might like them.”
(It’s moments like that which make him think maybe—just maybe—Roy might return his feelings, but he tries to remind himself that it’s just wishful thinking. Someone as good as Roy would never go for someone like him. He’s lucky just to have their friendship, their partnership. Plus, the relationship they have is not any less meaningful just because it doesn’t have everything he secretly wants. He’s grateful, truly, to have what he does.)
He feels rather than sees Roy approach from behind him on the couch, leaning over his shoulder to peer down at the project. The ghost of Roy’s breath on his neck makes him skip a breath and drop a stitch. He quickly picks it back up before he loses it and has to get out a crochet hook—crochet is still foreign territory but practically a necessity for dropped stitches.
“You’ve gotten really good at that, Jay,” Roy’s rich tenor sounds from over his ear.
“Of course I have,” he replies without looking up. “I’m good at everything.”
Roy laughs, playful and teasing. “The botched clay bowl and half painted Warhammer minis in the living room beg to differ.”
“Low fuckin’ blow, Harper.”
Jason looks up from his stitches to turn and face Roy, intending on jokingly pushing him away. His hand hesitates a moments when he realizes how close their eyes, mouths, lips are. And then his hand is just resting on Roy’s plush robe for a beat too long. Roy has beautiful eyes. He swallows and makes himself follow through on the light push, and thankfully, Roy doesn’t call him out on the weirdness, allowing himself to be moved, a smirk on his face.
“You know I only screwed that up because there was an emergency in the Bowry,” continues Jason as if the moment hadn’t happened, “and the bowl dried before I was finished. Also, I’m going to finish painting those minis as soon as I finish this project.”
Roy laughs. “Sure, that’s what you said before you started this project—”
“And I’ll get to it!”
“—and before bought all the ingredients to make mead—”
Jason scoffs. “As if you’ve been complaining about all the honey.”
“—and before you killed the sourdough starter.”
“Hey, you were on that off world mission with me!” he protests.
“I was also the one who helped you get rid of the smell when we got back,” and Jason decides to petulantly ignore that comment to go back to finishing the row.
He is determined to finish the entire sweater to give to Lian for her birthday, and he knows the festivities over Christmas (and missions which are unpredictable) will eat into his knitting time. With Lian spending the weekend with Jade, having some much-needed mother-daughter time while she’s in the country, it’s the perfect opportunity.
Roy pivots around the loveseat to scooch himself in next to Jason on the cushion, their thighs and shoulders pressed close, to watch the show. He tucks himself under the blankets and reclines against the back. The smell of Roy’s woody aftershave is distracting. The warmth of his muscled thighs is distracting. The occasional chuckle and comment on the show is distracting. Roy is distracting.
He turns his work and focuses on the cabling. This row means counting and using his cable needle. He needs to focus. Knit, knit, slip two, knit, knit, back to the cables…
He keeps having to glance back at the pattern, even though he knows it will say the same thing as what his head knows, but he just isn’t confident in his ability to fix a mistake and he’s in too deep to frog it.
Why did he choose a pattern with different sized cables? Why couldn’t he have stuck to something simple?
He slips the stich marker over.
“Since you’ve gotten so good…” Roy’s voice interrupts his thoughts. “Is my sweater next?”
He’s so focused on the pattern that he hardly even registers Roy’s question.“Mmm?” he sounds, with the cable needle in his mouth.
“Isn’t that what knitters do?” Roy continues, while Jason counts in his head (purl 1, purl 2, knit 1…), only half paying attention to the words to avoid losing his spot. “You’ve knit something for the rest of the Outlaws, your family, now Lian… You know I would wear it every day. If you’re on a mission without me, I could put on your sweater and think of you. I’d take good care of it, I promise.”
“I can’t knit you a sweater,” Jason replies without thinking, trying to focus on not dropping the cable needle that still feels awkward in his hands. Knit 1, knit 2, back to the cables…
“Why not?”
“The sweater curse.”
Obviously.
“The what now?”
Jason rolls his eyes and turns to Roy. “The sweater curse. It’s this curse that…”
A metaphorical bucket of ice is dumped on him as Jason comes back to the present, thanking all the gods that he hadn’t finished his sentence. He’d been about to ruin everything all because of his own stupidity and the need to count. He stares, open mouthed in horror, at Roy — Roy who’s staring at him in suspicion.
“That what?” Roy prompts.
Jason clamps his mouth shut, looks back down at his knitting. He can feel his face heating up. He’s completely lost his spot, and now he’ll have to count back to the stitch marker. Fuck. Roy looks at him expectantly. Double fuck.
“It’s stupid.”
Roy, always too fucking perceptive, counters, “It doesn’t sound like it’s stupid. Not if you clearly care about it.”
“It doesn’t even matter. Would you just drop it?” he pleads, giving up on finding his spot, placing stoppers on the tips of his circular needles, and putting his project down on the coffee table. He stands up to go—because he always runs from his feelings like the coward he is—before a hand on his wrist stops him.
“Jason,” says Roy. “What’s the curse? Is it serious? Why can’t you knit me a sweater? Is it dangerous for Lian too?”
Jason sighs and lowers himself back onto the couch because he can’t deny Roy anything, not when he values him so much. Anyway, Roy would probably just search it up later if he doesn’t tell him, and at least this way, his embarrassment can be public and over with instead of an inevitable future embarrassment that he can’t even predict has happened yet.
Because Roy wouldn’t be cruel. He would never be cruel, especially not with Jason’s (very obvious) feelings for him. It was probably why he’d never said anything so far, not when it was obvious to everyone around them that Jason had been head-over-heels for years.
Swallowing his nerves, Jason leads his heart to the executioner’s block. “Knitters believe that if you knit your significant other a sweater before you marry, you’ll break up before it’s finished.”
Down came the axe as Roy’s eyebrows knit themselves in confusion. “But… we aren’t dating.”
“Fuck off.” Jason pulls himself back off the couch, face warm, heart pounding. He’d said his piece, and now he’s going. “That’s why I said it was stupid, and it didn’t matter. Obviously. Obviously, we aren’t dating.”
He’d just wanted to knit, goddamn it. Quiet night, X-Files, and working on his project, and now he’s going to have to dig himself back into his grave to never be seen again. Or maybe go for cremation this time, since the burial clearly didn’t stick. Fuck.
He’s halfway to the door when Roy’s voice stops him in his tracks. “You thought of me, though.”
He’s clearly imagining the hint of hope. Wishful thinking on his part.
“You’re in the goddamned room with me,” Jason grumbles, still facing away from Roy. “It’d be hard not to think of you.”
“Jay—” He hears Roy stand up, walk towards him. He holds his breath when Roy puts a hand on his shoulder, gently turning him, giving him every opportunity to move away. Jason allows himself be turned so they’re face-to-face once more, and he doesn’t think he’s imagining the hope this time. Roy’s eyes peer into his, and his heart beats heavily in his chest. “Why don’t you want to knit me a sweater?”
“Just— I, uh,” Jason swallows. “I like what we have is all, and I just… wouldn’t want to lose you over a stupid superstition. We both know I have enough bad luck as it is—don’t need to add on superstitions too.”
Jason feels the hand on his shoulder scorching him through his sweater as it trails down his arm to reach his hand. Roy’s calloused fingers interlock with his.
“Jaybird,” Roy’s eyes soften. “You could never lose me.”
“Now look who’s the fuckin’ sap.”
Roy’s lips quirk up at the sides. “You like what we have now?”
His heart feels like it’s going to burst of of his chest, and Roy’s thumb starts to draw patterns on the back of his hand. Each caress shoots straight too the kernel of hope growing beneath his ribs.
Jason tries to smile. “Don’t you?”
“Of course I do, darlin’,” Roy reassures. “But…”
Jason sees Roy’s Adam’s apple bob, clearly working himself up. Then there is a hand cradling his cheek, and he feels so incredibly cared for in a way that almost suffocates him—he can’t help but lean into the touch.
Roy shifts his hand, allows his thumb to graze Jason’s lip. Jason’s mouth opens. He breathes in. His heart thumps in chest.
“Tell me I’m reading this wrong,” Roy pleads.
Jason presses Roy’s thumb against his mouth, placing a kiss against the pad of his calloused finger tip.He hears Roy’s answering groan.
“You aren’t reading this wrong.”
There’s a moment where they stare into each other’s eyes, relishing in the shared hope and anticipation, years worth of almosts and maybes coming to a head.
Then finally, they’re in each other’s arms, and it’s everything and not enough. Their first kiss is heated, a flame they’ve been tending gone up in a blaze. Roy’s wrapping his arms around Jason’s waist, and Jason is pawing at Roy’s robe to reach the warm skin beneath. Their mouths fit together, moving and pressing. He can’t get close enough to Roy.
“Fuck, Jaybird, the things you do to me—” Roy gasps, breathing heavy.
“You’re one to talk,” replies Jason, hands slipping under Roy’s robe to feel the panes of his muscled back. “Walking around in that robe, practically begging me to—”
“Aw darlin’,” Roy moans and leans his head back, exposing more skin at his neck for Jason to explore. “You’re one to talk with your arms—aw fuck—using these arms that could snap bones—mmm—to knit my daughter a sweater. You’re perfect, so perfect.”
He mouths kisses along Roy’s exposed collarbone. He can feel Roy’s pulse beneath his lips, and it’s beating as fast as his. He trails kisses up Roy’s throat, catching the sensitive part behind his ear to elicit more of those sounds—
Then they’re kissing again, their mouths fitting together as they were meant to. It’s wet, and messy, and perfect.
He just can’t believe this is actually happening—and over a stupid comment, of all things.
Roy presses into him, backing him into the wall to ravish him more fully. Roy’s knee pushes between his legs, and he grinds into it, enjoying the friction against his hardening cock. The moan that escapes him is rewarded with a pleased, “So perfect for me.”
When they finally part, Jason and Roy both out of breath, Roy leans his head on Jason’s shoulder while Jason’s head lolls against the wall.
“So,” Roy says, out of breath. “You can’t knit me anything until we’re married.”
The word “until” sends another surprise shock to his heart.
“Yeah, you’ve gotta make an honest man of me first.”
“Probably should take you on a date first,” Roy returns, the smile audible in his voice.
Jason chuckles. “That’d be a good start.”
Then they’re both laughing, pressed together, enjoying the space of until. Maybe his imagined place in the Harper family might have been living in Roy’s dreams as well, the two of them dancing around each other this whole time. What a pair of idiots they are.
The laughter dies down, and Jason uses the opportunity to wind his arms back around Roy’s waist. He slips his hands just beneath Roy’s boxers, feeling the curve of his ass, leans in, and whispers, “Or we could skip a few steps, and you could take me to bed.”
He arches up so their groins press together again, and Roy answers with a purr. “I suppose we are already living together.” He pressed his lips in promise to the base of Jason’s throat, then another to his lips. “That’s got to count for at least a few steps.”
“Definitely at least a few.” Jason slides his hands up Roy’s torso, along his chest. Using one hand to cup Roy’s cheek, just as he’d held Jason’s, he peers into Roy’s eyes. “We can count it for our first three dates, that way you don’t go thinking I’m easy.”
“Oh, I’d never call you easy. Me on the other hand—”
“You’re the worst,” Jason laughs.
Roy presses a single, simple kiss to Jason’s lips, a soft smile on his face. “Let me make love to you.”
Jason swallows. “Okay.”
And he does.
🧶🧶🧶
Lian loves the sweater when it’s finished. She insists that it’s actually pretty cool Jason made it, and she wears it constantly. In the following months to anyone who will listen, she explains that her dad’s boyfriend made it for her, and Jason’s heart melts every time he hears the pride in her voice.
As they’re approaching their one year anniversary, Roy revisits the question—he starts leaving knitting magazines out, half joking about patterns and colours. Jason catches on, but it’s Lian who takes her dad ring shopping, telling him to get on with it.
They get married at the Manor grounds, a small ceremony with both of their families, some ex-Titans, and the other Outlaws present. Kori officiates so that neither of them can claim her as their best man. Roy’s most important person, Lian, is his best man, and Damian takes his duty as Jason’s with utmost seriousness. Even with Dick stealing the show as flower girl with his fanny pack full of petals, the ceremony is beautiful.
They pronounce their love for each other in front of friends and family alike, saying vows they’ve been upholding since before their first kiss.
They spend their honeymoon on a beach, a vacation, the first for both of them in forever. They laugh, and dance, and fuck, and love—
And when they return home, with a ring securely on his finger, Jason starts to knit.