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Patrol tonight had been successful, suffice to say.
Albeit the scrapes and bruises that he’d accumulated throughout the night, it was all worth it when they finally managed to bust a bunch of human trafficking rings in one go after many weeks of investigating.
(And if Artemis had slammed the ringmaster a little too hard against the concrete and Bizarro had left a few sick-headed goons in critical condition, well- that was for them to know.)
When they’d come back to their latest safehouse in the city (the last one got trashed amidst an Arkham breakout), Bizarro had immediately crashed in the room he’d claimed, Artemis went for a well-deserved shower, and Jason started to do his usual post-patrol routine of taking off his armor and weapons.
Now Jason sat on the living room couch in nothing but a shirt and sweatpants, an arm across the back of it as he smokes. The light dimmed so as to not give overstimulate his senses. God, did his muscles ache, but he couldn’t sleep- not yet, anyway. Insomnia had clung to him like a parasite.
Eyes closed, he listens as the door to the bathroom opens, the shower already turned off a few moments ago. Out steps Artemis, in her usual sports bra and sweatpants when she turns in for the night.
But it seems she has other plans because when Jason opens his eyes, she’s leaning on the doorframe with arms crossed, body faced towards him as if waiting for the man to acknowledge her presence.
“I’m surprised you haven’t slept yet. Changed your mind?”
“Nah, just didn’t feel like it still.”
Back to silence.
Jason takes a long, slow drag from his cigarette. Gaze steady, never breaking eye contact with Artemis.
In the low light, he can't see her eyes well. But he can feel her gaze; intense, teasing.
It's a silent challenge— an invitation.
And the next thing he knows she's walked the close distance and straddling his lap, one arm draped over a shoulder and the other has her hand taking the cigarette from his lips.
Jason is dazed enough by the bold move for her to lock their lips. When he comes to his senses a beat after, realizing what she's trying to do— he holds her by the hips and exhales. He gladly gives her what she wants. Artemis breathes it all in, smoke in her throat and the buzz beginning to form. When she pulls back the smoke circulates between both of them, creating a string that connects their lips.
"I thought you hated it when I smoke," Jason jests.
"Not this time," she looks at him through her lashes, "you looked a whole lot prettier tonight."
She's twice as towering over him, sitting like this. He shivers at her feather-light touch on his face, on his neck , on his stomach .
And fuck if that didn't make him pudding in her hands.
She puts back the cig between his lips, coaxing him to take another drag.
"Show me all your tricks."
As you wish, he thinks, taking a drag without missing a beat. She takes back the cigar and seals their lips once more
Although this time, with smoke exhaled through the nose, the kiss drags out into a passionate and heated make-out session. There’s no rush, no desperation in the ministrations. Just the act of it, want and need naked in the way they crave each other confidently.
His grip on her thighs tightens by a fraction. She grips his hair tighter in response. He smiles into the next kiss, loving the response, the stimuli, the way she knows exactly how to move.
And perhaps, this is where he gains the strength to utter words when he usually wouldn’t.
Jason breaks away from the kiss slowly despite still wanting to chase, to bite, to make Artemis’ lips plump and swollen. He caresses her cheek, rubbing his thumb along her jaw. Artemis makes a noncommittal noise of confusion yet leans into the touch nonetheless, her hand on his. Before she can speak, he’s already beaten her to it.
“ How do I love thee? Let me count the ways, ” he takes her hand slowly, placing a chaste kiss on her palm.
“ I love thee to the depth and breadth and height,” a kiss to the back of her hand.
“My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight,” a kiss along her arm.
“ For the ends of being and ideal grace ,” a kiss along her shoulder. At this point, he knows she’s looking at him with that intense gaze of hers yet again, amused, expecting, as he entices her with his prose and literary performance.
“ I love thee to the level of every day’s most quiet need, by sun and candle-light, ” a soft kiss along her collarbone, there whispered these words, now sounding more like a vow than a casual poem recital.
“I love thee with a love I seemed to lose with my lost saints,” a series of pecks, open mouth kisses on her neck. Artemis hums in satisfaction, pleased. He takes his time there, just a little bit, to treat himself.
And as he looks at her softly, eyes loving yet shining with a commitment and determination in league with his duty to his moonlight life, he recites the end like final words before death.
“ I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death. ”
The previous kisses they’d had felt incomparable to the one she’d give him immediately after his words.
Because this kiss was electrifying .
Electrifying enough to bring him back to life.
Make him feel alive .
And after he reciprocates the passion with much vigor, they pull back to take breaths, foreheads touching.
“So what do you say, sweetheart? Lovers?” Jason asks, hopeful. Because they’ve been walking on eggshells about where they stand on each other for a while now, and he’s tired of having to shy away from his own wants.
Romance was a thing he never had the chance of having before, a thing he missed out on during his missing years. And now that he had another chance at life, he might as well reclaim what he lost- or rather, yet to have in the first place.
“I love you too,” is all she says. She presses a kiss to his forehead, then wraps her hands around him as she leans her head on his shoulder. “It’s about time you asked.”
And they lay there for the rest of the night, content in having each other.
The night is young, and so are they.
Their responsibilities can wait till the morning.