Chapter Text
Fuck was the first thought when Jason came to. His head was sporting a raging headache and his entire body was sore, sinking into a bed that was much too soft to be his. Despite the rising tension of being in a bed he didn’t recognise, he didn't (more like couldn't) open his eyes. They felt as if they had been glued shut, refusing to budge and weighing more than a ton.
Jason moved to wipe them open, but with one tug of his arm, he quickly discovered that his hands were bound to the bed headboard. That wasn’t good.
This time, there was a whole sling of curses being thrown around in his head. Enough to fill the swear jar twice over if this were back at the manor.
He tried to calm himself down, inhaling deeply through his nose and applying every trick Bruce had ever taught him. Okay, Jason, he told himself, try to remember last night. It was pointless, and none of the techniques were helping stalling the rising anxiety. All he could recall was that the Outlaws had taken the night off, going to this new bar downtown that had a promotion of 50% off on drinks. Then Jason vaguely remembered Dick joining them at some point, which was surprising.
While he was on decent terms with the Bat family now, he wasn’t that close to Dick Grayson. They never hung out or really did much talking, usually only working together on cases or when Batman called for Red Hood’s aid when one of the prisons had a breakout. So when Dick had joined them, Jason had been too surprised and too tipsy at that point to shoo the man away. Plus, he had a sinking suspicion that Roy had been behind it, considering how happy the redhead was to see the man.
So happy in fact that he had forced everyone to partake in a few rounds of shots. And by that, Jason meant many rounds of shots.
And then there was nothing. Not a single memory that could possibly help Jason figure out what happened next.
He had to have been captured by some enemy considering he was tied up, and if the fact that he was tied to a bed wasn’t bad enough, he was certain that he wasn’t wearing any clothes. The startling realisation was enough to force Jason’s eyes snap open, cringing at the sharp rays of sunlight that slipped through the curtains. An unfamiliar white ceiling with a chandelier and a crown greeted him, and his heart beat wildly in his chest.
Jason dropped his chin, peering down his naked body. Hickeys and bite marks and long lines of scratch marks covered his body. His ankles were surprisingly left unbound, which indicated that he hadn’t been kidnapped. None of his enemies were stupid enough to leave Red Hood unattended and untied like that. Not that that made this situation any less problematic and confusing.
Then, much to his horror, Jason felt something wet between his cheeks and it was only then that he realised how sore his hole was.
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
Never in Jason’s twenty-five years of life had he ever expressed the desire to sleep with a man. And to think he actually bottomed, too. Those were big no-nos in his book. That kind of stuff would have gotten you killed in Crime Alley back when Jason had been a street urchin. So how the fuck did this happen? There had to be an explanation, there was no way he would willingly sleep with a man.
Jason twisted in his bounds until the silks finally gave away and he pulled himself free.
He scuttled off the bed, his movements stiff and slow. His ass was sore in a way it never had been before, an active reminder of the drunken tryst he had no recollection of or much less understand the why or how it had occurred. Heat painted his cheeks when he felt thick liquid drip down his inner thighs and he snatched the edge of the blankets before wiping between his legs without as much as looking down. He refused to acknowledge what his stupid drunk self had done. And he refused to feel any guilt at the ruined sheets, no doubt costing more than anything he had owned (the belongings of Red Hood not counting).
Jason snatched one of the bathrobes that hung on the door of the adjoining bathroom and hastily shrugged it on. He ignored the way his stomach churned as he stumbled toward the double white doors. He sure as fucking hell hoped that he wasn't the one who paid for this suite, it was far too fancy to be in his price range. The door opened without a sound and Jason was stunned by the sight that greeted him.
He really hoped he wasn't the one paying for this suite.
What he suspected had been a once beautiful and tidy living room was now in tatters. Empty bottles of liquor were scattered across the floor along with clothes and shoes and shards of glass. More puzzling yet were the numerous red and white rose petals that decorated the floors and furniture, giving an air of wild romance. But given that this was one fancy suite, would it really be that far fetched if they gave the guests large bouquets of roses?
Fortunately, there were no tears to be found in the pillows and fabric of the furniture. Though he couldn’t say the same for the shattered coffee tables that laid there, split into two. It hurt Jason’s head to even attempt to decipher what had happened, the hangover not helping in the slightest.
His eyes scanned the rest of the room and Jason paused. He blinked, his static filled brain slowly processing the sight. Was that… was that a goat ?? The aforementioned goat was standing idly by the window, chewing on the half-eaten curtain. The following thoughts that raced through Jason’s panicked mind were perhaps not his proudest and most sophisticated of thoughts, but given his state, could one really blame him?
Jason’s irritated eyes narrowed on the animal, and he gripped the door tightly. He swallowed, biting back his anxiety. There was no possible way he could’ve fucked a goat right? But the soreness in his ass told a different tale and his face paled at the horrifying thought. Did the goat fuck him …?! Was it even a male goat?? How did one distinguish between a male and female goat again?! His mind was blank, offering no useful information. However, Jason did know that goats couldn’t possibly tie knots… could they?
Jason hastily shut the door and locked himself in the bedroom again as though it would chase away all his fears. The goat would still be there and he couldn’t hide himself forever. Sooner or later, the staff would come and that would be another complete shit show.
In the peak of his hyperventilating session, there was a glint in his peripheral vision and he looked down. Jason was certain that he had died a second time then and there. There was no way that his heart hadn’t stopped beating. Around his finger was an antique looking golden rose band with a small, deep purple stone. It was beautiful, but Jason never wore jewelry. And no matter how many times he told himself in that moment that perhaps drunk Jason had taken up a sudden interest in rings, it wasn’t very convincing. There was no denying it. That was a wedding ring.
What in the ever loving fuck actually happened last night?!