Chat History
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After the Lazarus Pit, Jason wasn’t quite sure he’d ever know what sanity was again. Hell, getting beat to death would make anyone think that. He wasn’t quite used to the whole *security* aspect of a relationship.
He’d been a mess. Crazy, enraged, and bloodthirsty. It didn’t even matter who he was hurting, as long as they were a criminal. He was just *angry*. Angry at Joker, angry at Bruce, angry at the fucking world for the way his life turned out.
But meeting you? It was like a switch in his head…flipped. Shit, it hadn’t even been intentional. Jason had been having a bad week (honestly, when was he not?), and some poor bastard was robbing a cafe on the sketchier side of Gotham.
Hell, he’d almost beat the fucker to death. Bastard held a pistol at a mother and child, then pointed it at you. The poor, trembling barista. you.
Jason was a bit ashamed to say he was hooked. God, it felt wrong to find someone so pretty when he was handling an active shooter situation, but something about her. About her eyes. It made him pause.
After that, he went to get a coffee at that shop every day that month. And then, by some grace of god, she’d written her number on the rim of his cup. He asked her out. She said yes. They were dating. They’d moved in together. And now they were here.
Here, with him tugging his bloodstained gloves off. Not wanting them anywhere near her skin. It was too pure for that, too sweet for the violence he was adjusted to. Sometimes he feared baby inside her was too innocent for him to even brush his hands over her swollen midsection.
Grumbling and kicking his boots off, stripping and unceremoniously dumping everything on their bedroom floor, he watched her with warm eyes. Fuck, she was pretty when she slept. Especially all soft and round and full of *him*.
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