Cuddly Is A Word

January 24, 2019:

After the shootout at the Big Belly Burger, Jason and Lena have some talks.

Jason's Hideout

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions: Jigsaw Deadshot Batman Catwoman

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

"You're crazy." She hisses at him from under the weight of his arm, her hand against his hip, the other arm circling around his lower back to keep him up and steady. "We can go to a hospital this time. You /need/ to go to a hospital before it's too late. You didn't start this, some psycho was shooting up a diner and you, all American that you are, went to defend everyone inside. You got hit. Go. To. The. Professionals." A pause, she swallows. "I ate all your cherries."

*

"I don't exist," Jason growls, wincing slightly. "I died. I have no files and no presence. It would create too many problems." He sighs, attempting to take some weight off of his lady. "Its a graze. Not an actually pierce." He flexes the fingers on his left hand. "No nerve damage so far." He gives her a playful look. "All of them?"

*

"Fake name it. We'll get out once it's done, talk about not having any ID, it's at home…whatever. You didn't start this." Watching him work at his fingers, assessing the damange, she growls as well, glaring up and toward his face, even as her fingers dig in and she keeps moving with him. "Every last one." She answers.

*

"See if I take you out for ice cream again," Jason playful grumbles. "Steal my cherries, will you…" He chuckles and then grunts again. "I just need a good dressing on it to stop the bleeding. Something to give it an opportunity to heal."

*

"Gotham is a good few miles away. More so on foot. can you even drive your bike like this?" She worries, following his second example, but glancing around with a hint of concern. "Do you have a kit in your saddle bags?" A pause, "Hey, you were busy. Didn't want to let those pretty lil things to go to waste."

*

"Thats-what-she-said," Jason chuckles again. "Yeah. Just need to get back to my bike." He gives her a grin. "Wanna drive a suped up bike?"

*

"I might crash." She warns and shrugs. "Why the hell not?"

*

Jason reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key ring. There is only one key on it; a heavy duty motorcycle key. "Any experience driving a two wheeled vehicle, or is this your first time?" He moves forward, looking for the place he parked the bike. "Left side bag. First Aid kit."

*

Lena takes the key and, for now, slips it down the front of her shirt. "My first time. I'm not worried, baby, I know you'll be gentle." Smirking, she keeps him going before moving to rest him against a wall. Back to the bike, she digs for the kit and returns to him. "Ok, let me see…"

*

"Unless you don't want me to be," Jason growls, smirking again. He may be putting a brave face on it, but Lena would be able to catch the body language Jason is displaying. He is in considerable pain, and trying to hold it back.

*

Lena works at peeling up the sleeve, checking over the dig of the passing bullet. Tsking, she sets the kit down and digs through it. "I'll have to do this correctly back at your place. For now, this is all we can do." She explains, cleaning him off and patching him up as best she can with the supplies he has on hand. "At least it didn't go through you. That would have fucked up your shoulder real good."

*

Jason winces again as Lena does her work. His arm shakes, the skin obviously cold from the weather and the lack of blood. "Field Dressings are fine," Jason says with a nod. "If you are around me longer…" Jason stops himself, realizing what he is saying. "…Lena, this is going to keep happening. I'm going to keep getting hurt. There is no way I can stop that."

*

"Figured that." She presses down the last slip of tape before pulling his sleeve back into place. With the kit down, she goes to help him ease back into his jacket. "Doesn't mean I'll be ok with it as time passes."

*

Jason reaches out to touch her. "I'm sorry," He says gently. Jason sounds very sincere in this, more sincere than she has ever probably heard him before.

*

"Why? You're you. I'm me, remember? We talked about this already. What we do isn't safe." Standing before him, she zips up the leathers and buttons them securely. "You need help with your helmet?" She asks, pulling away from his touch and going for the waiting headpiece on the bike.

*

"No," Jason says, shaking his head. "I can manage it." He stands and walks over to the bike, carefully and rather awkwardly, fitting the helmet over his head. "Tada!" He says, his voice muffled from inside.

*

Lena smirks and gives the helmet a slight shift. "There." Now it sets right. Zipping up her own coat, she slips on her helpmet and swings her leg over to straddle the bike. Waiting for him to join her, she lifts it, knocking back the kickstand and starting it up with the turn of a key. She stalls, at first, nervous perhaps, before revving the engine and shooting off down the street.

*

Jason throws his leg over the bike, sitting behind Lena. His hands wrap around her hips tightly. "This is a new experience," He grumbles to himself. "Not used to just riding." He holds her close as the bike leaps forward. The engine is touching…rabbity. There is alot of power in this bike.

*

It was powerful, but soon enough, she has a handle on it. Sweeping through traffic, she glances over her shoulder, but sees nothing but the side of her helmet. "I knew those guys." She admits now, speaking over the helmet's mic and speaker set up. "Not personally. Business." She clarifies.

*

"I had figured that," Jason says back. "They seemed to recognize you. One of them seems to even have a crush on you." His arms give her waist a squeeze. "The Tin Soldier one. Trying to convince his friends that you weren't important to him, yet you were."

*

"Heh, I doubt that. He's a walking, talking asshole. Pretty, but he knows he is and that's the problem. Met him and his on accident while pulling a job. He shot me, but I'm not dead." She shifts gear and starts to gain some ground, getting them more so out of New York and back toward Gotham. "Found him, what he did, and got some gear off him. Trust me. I hate him." Pause, "The other one? Ran into him while escaping another job. Almost literally ran into him. He was running, too. I didn't ask questions. Apparently, Russo was at that job, too. Funny, really." A smirk, "Got shot again. His boys are jumpy."

*

"You lead a pretty exciting life," Jason laughs in the mic. "How many times have you gotten shot?" He looks around them, watching the traffic and New York speed away. "He wants to impress you. Even if you don't like him. Or he wants to impress his boys. Probably both."

*

"Four times now. All in the back, but armor, yay. Least I've always worn something for my torso. I need to push out, though, get something more…protective for all of me. Slade is going to help me with that. Not for cheap, but hey…" She shrugs. "No reason to impress me. Best I've gotten out of him was the armor, though a bit bulky, and to slap the hell out of his face."

*

"Wish I was wearing my armor today," Jason replies, rolling the hurt shoulder. "Remind me to never leave home without it anymore." He peers over her shoulder, watching as she drives. "I need to let you drive more often. You are good at this. If you need armor, I can see what I can put together for you."

*

"Hey, we have to take off the armor and mask at some point, right?" She offers up, slipping through traffic until they reach the bridge that will righfully take them out of the city and feed them into another. Even from here, Gotham seems darker, foreboding, welcoming to their sort. "No, I…I don't want to bother you with it. I need this connection to Slade. He knew my dad."

*

"The excuse that you don't want to bother me is bullshit," Jason says, and she could probably hear the smirk in his voice. "However, the connection to Slade I will buy. After all, master thief has to have all the friends she can get right?" He looks forward. "There it is. Dark, Gloomy, and riddled with crime. Ahhh, home."

*

"Might have you help me fashion it. I do want to fiddle with your tech back in your, um…cave? Hideout?" She shrugs again, pressing forward and taking an off ramp, the engine rumbling steadily. "Guess when I came here I didn't realize how amazingly different these cities were to Central."

*

"Gotham is it's own beast," Jason replies. "Every city is unique, and Gotham is no exception. Never run out of work in Gotham for people like me." Jason squeezes her again. "You sure you want to do that? I might try to convince you to wear something like Wonder Woman."

*

Lena chuckles. "Y'know, I um…stole something from under her nose once. I don't know if she realized what I had done, but I did it." She smiles behind her helmet. "Nah, I need something that covers me. Something sleek, though. I'm not one for bulk. I need to move, and fast."

*

"You stole something from the Princess?" Jason asks incredulously. "I find that very hard to believe. Then again, if she could be distracted…" He shrugs. "You are a better thief than I thought." There is a long pause. "You make me feel like Batman, you know that?"

*

"Eh, there was a convoy heading into Star City. I was walking that way, ut turned into an action movie thanks to Wonder Woman. I 'helped', meaning I wanted to see what was in the armor truck. Took some guys down, asked if it was worth it, took a back for myself. When she came over to see what I'd done, we made small talk and I backed away. She didn't stop me, so I got the hell out of there." Smiling, she chuckles. "I'm going to claim that as a win." A pause, "Batman? You sure you want to feel like him?"

*

"You ever heard of the Catwoman?" Jason asks. "The preimenent cat burglar of Gotham city. Batman and her….Well, they have a thing." He chuckles. "Probably telling you too much." He leaves a long pause of his own. "Sometimes…It might be easier…"

*

"Yeah? How does it work out for them?" Dipping a few more streets down, inching closer and closer to the entry point of his hideout. "If it helps, I don't want you to be Batman. I'd be in Black Gate by now if you were."

*

"I'd never throw you in Black Gate," Jason says, his voice very firm. "That hell hole isn't fit to contain humans." He watches the city slip past them. "It doesn't," Jason replies finally.

*

Lena falls silent now. The rumbling of the engine and the vibrations running through their body is all they ahve for a few long minutes. At length, she enters the safe place. She parks the bike and it goes silent once the key is turned. Setting the kickstand, she moves off and aids Jason should he need it. "Why would you want to be Batman then?"

*

Jason allows himself to be helped off the back of the bike. He breaths in the deep and dank hair of his Subway hideaway. "I like to refer to my place as the honeycomb hideout," Jason jokes, leaning on her again. "As to your question…" He is quiet again. "…Because he won't be around forever. Someone has to be if he can't be."

*

"That's what you want?" She doesn't question the why, her being someone dressed in the same style as her own father, filling his shoes because he was missing. "Were you saying I'm like Catwoman? If so…does that mean we won't work in the end?" Leading him to sit down, she removes his helmet and her own. All set aside, she starts at his jacket and claims a new, more extensive, med-kit.

*

With a grunt, Jason removes his own helmet. He sits, looking alittle pale but no worse for wear. "Neither of them are dead," Jason says with a shrug. "Therefore, it isn't the end. Who am I to say it will work out or not?" He looks over at Lena, attempting to catch her gaze. "I'm willing to work on this as much as I can. Maybe we will be the romance of the ages, or maybe we will break up tomorrow. Right now though, you make me very happy."

*

Lena swallows, considering his words in silence. Digging for his shirt, she starts to pull it up and over, exposing his skin, and the wound, properly. Washing off her hands with alcohol, she works at closing it up properly, before washing it again and covering it with fresh gauze. "You make me happy, too."

*

Jason sits in silence, watching her work. He cooperates as she cleans and redresses the wound in his shoulder. He winces as the disinfectent works on his wound and the new gauze is taped into place. "Did I say something to upset you?" He asks quietly.

*

"No." She answers, cleaning up the medical waste and tossing it out. Closing the box, she sets it aside, moving to a sink to clean off her hands. The water runs perhaps a bit longer than normal. "Told you I'm bad at this. Being happy is a weird construct for me. That's all."

*

Jason stands as she turns away to wash, his skin breaking out in goosebumps as the cold air rushes around him. He walks up to stand behind her, furrowing his brow slightly. "Can I hold you?" He asks, sounding alittle awkward.

*

"What's stopping you?" She smirks, drying off her hands with a towel. "Why would you start asking now?" Turning around, she faces him, head tilting to the side.

*

Jason chuckles to himself. "Sometimes when someone turns away and feels vulnerable, they don't want to be touched," Jason says blushing. "Sometimes they are just daring you to touch them." With the last part, he steps closer to her. Unless she moves, he stands less than six inches from her.

*

"Well, you heard me. If you want to hold me, do it. I'm not stopping you." Looking him over, she counts his scars and returns her gaze to his face. "You feeling a bit cuddly?"

*

Jason's arms reach out to wrap around her mid section again and pull her close to him. "Cuddly is a word," He says quietly. "Something about you just makes me want to touch you." He kisses her forehead.

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