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quillpunk: screenshot of Aaravos (who is smirking in full evil mode) from The Dragon Prince cartoon (aaravos1)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M, Gen
  • Fandom: DCU
  • Relationship: Ra's al Ghul/Jason Todd
  • Characters: Ra's al Ghul, Jason Todd
  • Additional Tags: Ficlet, Fake Dating, Age Difference, Fluff
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 1082
  • Series: Part 1 of Flufftober 2021
  • Published on AO3: 2021-10-08

Notes: Flufftober 2021: Day 1 - Winning a Teddy for the Other

Disclaimer: I do not own the DCU franchise or any associated characters, trademarks etc.


"Here you go," Jason says and tosses the teddy bear he just won to Ra's al Ghul. He's pretty sure the (much) older man wants to murder him for it, but as it's not currently an option, the man just smiles at him and accepts.

Jason should probably go underground for a few months when this mission is over, huh.

But that's a problem for future Jason. Right now, he's got another game to win. There's a booth not far off offering even bigger teddy bears and hell, he's already dug his grave, might as well go all out. So Jason sidles up to Ra's and curls his hand around the older man's arm, hanging his weight onto him and steering him in the direction of the next booth.

Ra's eyes narrow on Jason's hand but he doesn't say anything, so Jason cheerfully pretends that he doesn't notice. When they get to the new booth, he parks Ra's in the corner next to it and picks up the toy gun. He weighs it in his hands, takes aim, and fires.

It's a hit.

Grinning, Jason hits again and again, racking up points. Or maybe not. He doesn't really know how amusement parks works, but it sounds logical enough.

The man in the booth gives him the biggest bear on the shelf. Jason, already doomed and thus having nothing to lose, walks over to Ra's and holds it out. "For you, my love," he says, trying to sound smooth and suave and in love. It must work, because he can see more than a few people nearby smiling indulgently at him. Then looking more uncertain when they see Ra's properly and realize how big the age difference is. It's kind of funny.

"Thank you, beloved," Ra's al Ghul, the arrogant fucker, says easily. There's not a hint of deception on him, not so much as a smidgen of deceit.

Jason narrows his eyes. He throws his arm around Ra's' waist and hugs him, feeling their body's align. It's unfair that he's shorter than Ra's, but he can still throw his bulk around. Though Ra's is pretty bulky too, but—anyway, Jason isn't going to let his one chance to enjoy life slip away from him. He's sure that when the mission is over, he's going to be murdered very violently, so he'd like to take this opportunity.

During the course of trying out all the booths, they've successfully gotten much closer to the employee only area of the amusement park. Where the mission details account for some pretty nasty stuff going down. And Jason is ready.

He brought some fucking fabulous guns.

"Come on, I'll win you," Jason squints, trying to read the tiny text on the last booth they need to hit. He's left cameras and bugs on every booth so far, but he doesn't think there was anything useful from them. Or this charade would have ended already; probably with his decapitation. Finally, he gives up and just says, "I'll win whatever they've got there, I'm sure it's super romantic."

Ra's chuckles and damn if that doesn't make Jason shiver. He keeps the reaction contained but Ra's probably already noticed since he's, well, Ra's. And a super ninja-slash-assassin. "I'm sure it will be worth it," Ra's says, and Jason tries to edge away from him.

Unfortunately, he's still got a grip on the other man's waist and Ra's hand clamp down on his, squeezing tightly. Jason is pretty sure it cuts off his blood for a bit before the grip eases just enough that it's not painful. Ra's smile at him, so perfectly loving that it's just creepy, and says, "Careful dear, wouldn't want you to get lost."

How many trackers has Ra's already placed on Jason? Ah, it doesn't matter, he should burn everything just to be safe. And maybe get a full-body scan to check for trackers planted inside his body...

Pulling up his most flirtatious smile, Jason grins at Ra's and says, "Not to worry, love, I would find you no matter how far we part."

Ra's leans toward him, slowing their pace even further, thus allowing the goons of the amusement park's boss to better surround them. Jason pretends not to notice, and instead keeps his eyes locked on Ra's face. This far on the amusement park's edge, the lighting is much less obtrusive. It flickers in Ra's eyes, and—Jason is not going to go there. Nope. He'd like to think he has some survival instincts, thanks.

Ra's is looking at him, too, though. Which is—fine. It's fine. The goons are getting closer, which means Jason is soon gonna be able to (work out some frustration) shoot people.

"You look beautiful tonight, beloved," Ra's says.

Jason grins, "Thank you, love," and surreptitiously palms one of his tiny knives. He rolls it between his fingers, waiting until he senses someone approaching from behind him and, when Ra's doesn't react, flings the knife over his shoulder.

"Fuck!" somebody screams.

Jason grins wider, delighted that it worked. Then he frowns, "Wait, what happened to the stuff I won you?"

"Ubu retrieved it," Ra's answers. And Jason didn't even notice.

He frowns harder. Luckily, there's a band of goons surrounding them so Jason can put it out of his mind in favor of kicking their ass. Thankfully, Ra's lets him go for this part. It would have been pretty difficult to fight otherwise.

The fight makes his adrenaline surge, the goons actually being very good at fighting. It's invigorating and takes his mind off certain other things he's been trying not to think about. He loses himself in the battle, throws his whole body in it, and lets it take over. It's been a while, after all. He's been too busy with investigations to really let loose. And these guys certainly deserve it.

When the fight's over, Jason stands still. He breathes, his head tilted back to take in the stars. It's nice night falls so early here, it leaves fewer people here. Doubtless, they heard the sounds of gunfire, but it should have just driven them off. But it's silent now, the stars twinkling, the night heavy, the air colder still. It's quiet, and still, and calm.

Jason breathes, and turns to Ra's al Ghul, and stares. Ra's is quiet too, his gaze calm on Jason. The silence would be worrying, if the mission wasn't still ongoing.

Jason wonders idly how quickly he'll get murdered once it's over.

quillpunk: digital portrait sketch of an imaginary guy who might or might not (not) be me (Default)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M
  • Fandom: DCU
  • Relationship: Slade Wilson (Deathstroke)/Jason Todd
  • Characters: Slade Wilson (Deathstroke), Jason Todd
  • Additional Tags: Age Difference, Bodyguard Slade Wilson, First Meetings, Pre-Slash, Pre-Relationship
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 3238
  • Series: Part 1 of SladeRobin Week
  • Published on AO3: 2021-10-18

Notes: SladeRobin Week 2021: Day 1 - Bodyguard Slade

Disclaimer: I do not own the DCU franchise or any associated characters, trademarks etc.


Okay, so maybe he'd fucked up.

In his defense, he'd planned for everything, had had fourteen contingencies and had established a prior relationship with the relevant people to smooth over any feathers that he might ruffle. His cover had been well-established and squeaky clean. Every precaution had been taken, every gun and goon accounted for.

He just hadn't expected fucking Deathstroke the Terminator to be there.

So yeah. He'd fucked up.

"Shit!" Jason Todd swore as he rounded the last corner, throwing a smoke bomb behind him as he turned and pulled up his guns. As the smoke began to clear, he was already shooting.

Again, in his defense, his contacts said that Deathstroke was supposed to be on the other side of the planet right now. But no, no; now he was standing squarely behind the leader of the human trafficking ring that Jason had been after for five months. The guy was smart, Jason'd give him that, but how the fuck he'd managed to convince Deathstroke's current client to loan him out for the night, Jason didn't know.

He frankly could not care less. The point was; he wasn't getting another shot like this. All his planning went to shit the moment Deathstroke recognized him, and his contingencies (and they were fucking beautiful) were beyond ruined. That left only one option.

Go in guns blazing, distract Deathstroke with a lot of flashy shit, and—somehow—kill the dickface in the chaos.

Awesome. He was already off to a great start.

Rolling his eyes at his own sarcasm, Jason nudged the last goon he'd downed. The guy wasn't dead, but he sure as hell would wish he was when he woke up. Threat neutralized, at least. Now it was time to find some other assholes to smoke.

Jason proceeded through the hotels long, long hallway until he found the stairs. He kept the AK-47 propped against his shoulder as he moved up toward the top-floor, where the shitface he planned to violently murder (hey, he was setting an example) was hiding with fucking Deathstroke playing bodyguard. Those were just cruel odds, but Jason was willing to bet he could convince Deathstroke he was an idiot long enough for his new plan to work.

It wasn't like they'd ever gone toe-to-toe before. Deathstroke probably already knew most everything about Jason's fighting style that could be found if one went digging, but Jason prided himself on his ability to adapt. And shoot somebody in the face until they flinched, whichever came first.

There were more goons on the other floors, guarding the elevators and the stairs' entrances, and Jason knocked around the cheap knock-offs until they dropped. He barely even had to use his guns, which was good since he still needed the pure firepower. As he got to the higher floors, the goons did get markedly better, but they still weren't on his level.

Sad for them.

"Okay, boys," Jason drawled as he pulled a gun out of its thigh-holster and leveled it at a goon. Behind his mask, he was already smirking. "Get out of the way, and you live."

They did not get out of the way.

The top floor didn't look any different from the lower floors, really. This was a fancy hotel, and even the smaller rooms were still elegant. Jason would know, he'd been staying in one for a whole week now, kicking back and relaxing while he monitored his prey. Well, he'd been relaxing. Until Deathstroke had definitely spotted him while Jason was going back up from the restaurant, about half-an-hour ago.

Jason wasn't in the business of being foolishly optimistic; Deathstroke knew what Jason looked like and he was damn good at his job. Even if he wasn't usually playing bodyguard, Jason had no doubt that he'd be flawless at this, too. So then there was no more relaxing.

And then there was fighting.

Amongst the smoke and the shrill ringing of the fire alarm, Jason stalked toward the classy suit his unfortunate victim was holed up in. The two goons guarding it yelled when they saw him, raising guns and shooting point blank. Well, he'd give them points for initiative but it was pretty unimaginative.

Get low, get in close, punch them, knock them out. Nothing complicated about it—sometimes the simple tactics worked best.

And it was time for the show's highlight.

Jason kicked the door open and started shooting.

Wildly, with absolutely no thought about it, he kicked in some smoke bombs while he was still shooting, snorting behind his helmet as guards yelled at him. He moved further in through the smoke, dropped another smoke bomb from his pocket, and spun in a circle, shooting every shadow he saw.

When the smoke cleared, there were a lot of dead people. Jason waited to see if he'd feel bad about it, but these goons weren't like the ones downstairs. These guy had some of the leader's trust, which meant they'd done some bad shit. And Jason was glad they wouldn't be able to hurt anyone else.

The lectures he'd inevitably get when he got back to Gotham would be super annoying, though. Oh well. Some things were worth a little pain.

He kicked another door open—the one his victim was hiding behind the last time Jason looked at his video feed—and promptly got shot.

In the head.

"Ow," he deadpanned, starting to grin behind his mask. "That hurt."

The goon who shot him looked at him, horrified. Jason rose an eyebrow, uncaring that the guy couldn't see it. The guy gulped and rose his gun, starting to shoot again. Jason used the age-old tactic of getting in too close for a gun to be effective and knocking him out. And then he was through the doorway.

And the fuckface that was his target was on the other side of the room.

With fucking Deathstroke standing beside him.

"So," Jason drawled, tilting his head in Deathstroke's direction. "You come to places like this often?"

"It's been known to happen," Deathstroke answered, voice flat.

The target Jason was going to kill was almost shaking in his boots, but he still managed to smirk and gloat, "You're out of luck, assassin! I have Deathstroke the Terminator protecting me," and strut out from behind his desk. What an idiot.

Jason snorted, "If you don't know who I am, you're the one who needs luck."

With that, Jason aimed the AK-47 straight at his target and pulled the trigger. No bullets hit him, obviously, but it was very cathartic to feel the gun's kickback in his hands and listen to the bullets ripping the furniture apart. Scraps of sofa and desk flew through the air as he continued to shoot at the target being carted around like a rag doll by Deathstroke.

He dropped a smoke bomb (damn, he only had two left now, he hadn't packed for fucking Deathstroke) and then dropped a stink bomb right after. The AK-47 was now out of bullets, so he threw it out the window—it was cool, he had more—and pulled out his other other guns.

Spinning around wildly, he started shooting as soon as he caught sight of Deathstroke. He backed away with every shot, eventually having to just vault over a couch to get out Deathstroke's hand-to-hand combat range. Then Deathstroke pulled out his own guns and yeah, this was not gonna be pretty.

The next several minutes were a blur. Quick movements, jumping to stay out of close combat range, ducking bullets and angling himself so he could still take shots at the target. This was a ruse, after all. He needed to make Deathstroke think this battle was do or die.

Out of bullets again, Jason threw away the guns and pulled out two more. He continued to shoot, taking a running leap to get to the target and jumping, shooting in the air. Deathstroke successfully pulled the target out of the way. Jason clicked his tongue and threw his whole gun (now out of bullets, too) at the target.

The target shrieked and hid under a table.

Jason continued to his furious battle with what was widely regarded as the best mercenary in the world. Things got a little confusing for a bit there, as his mind took a backseat to good, old-fashioned muscle memory.

He ran out of guns and bullets, so those were thrown away. Out came the knives and then he and Deathstroke got to have some nice, sweet fun. It was exhilarating, fighting somebody who was so very, very deadly. Somebody who would, no hesitation, kill him at the slightest mistake. Jason was walking a tightrope here, and damn, he'd missed it.

Finally, the opportunity he'd waited for came. They were on the other side of the room from the target, the son of a bitch still hiding under that table, and Jason had his back to the target, was squarely between the target and Deathstroke. There was no way for Deathstroke to intercept anything in this position.

In one smooth motion, Jason pulled back one of his hands holding a knife, turned around and pushed back so that his back met Deathstroke's chest (to keep the man from stabbing him) and flicked his wrist.

The knife buried itself in the target's head.

Deathstroke's arms clamped down around him, holding him harshly, pushing his arms down to his sides. "There's no way he survived that," Jason said, slumping in the hold now that his job was done.

"No," Deathstroke agreed.

The arms tightened around him to the point it was painful and Jason grimaced, but made no move to escape. He had thrown literally everything he had at this man, so it wasn't like he had much choice, anyway.

"You're very good," Deathstroke said. Jason didn't know if that was supposed to be a compliment, but he was starting to have trouble breathing over here, so he just nodded in vague agreement. Deathstroke continued, "It's a shame we never fought when you were a bat, I bet we could have made some sweet memories."

Jason scoffed, "Yeah, no, you'd have destroyed me. I rather think this is a much more memorable first meeting."

"Well, you're right about that."

Abruptly, Deathstroke's grip was loosened enough for Jason to be spun around. It was a little unfair, how much bigger than him this man was. Jason was big himself, but he still felt like he was being towered over. It also maybe made his mouth water a little, but that was neither here nor there.

Face to face with Deathstroke, the other man grabbed him with one arm and used his other hand to pull off his own mask. Deathstroke looked just like he did in the pictures Jason had been shown years ago, when he was still Robin. White hair, eye-patch over one eye, beard as white as his hair. He really hadn't changed at all.

Deathstroke rose the visible eyebrow at him, literally looking down on him and wasn't that a bitch. Finally, after a tense staring contest, Jason shrugged and reached out with his suddenly free hand to pull off his helmet.

It clattered to the floor behind him. "Satisfied?" Jason asked, leaning back as much as he could while still caught in Deathstroke's grip, and gave the other man his most condescending expression. It was a work of art, in his opinion.

Deathstroke—real name Slade Wilson—snorted. "Very," he said and let go of Jason.

Jason narrowed his eyes. He quickly put some distance between them and glanced around the room. Everything was chaos. The furniture was just as torn to pieces as the people, bullets littering the floor and knives stuck in walls where they'd been thrown. But the target was dead. Jason had managed to kill him, had driven himself to the brink—but it was worth it.

He swayed a little on his feet, the adrenaline beginning to leave him. Frowning, he picked up his helmet and put it under his arm. Deathstroke had gone over to Jason's target and kicked at him, but he really was very dead.

"You've put me in a bind, kid," Deathstroke said, sheathing his sword.

Jason would have gulped, if he was still a kid. "Did you actually have a contract with him?" Jason hadn't heard anything about that, but if he had... well, Jason was fucked.

"No, my client was doing him a favor," Deathstroke said and walked back over to Jason. Jason narrowed his eyes and stood his ground, refusing to let himself be cowed just because this man had more experience than him. Jason was fucking lethal, okay.

"Then what's the problem?" Jason asked.

He shouldn't be sticking around like this, much less having an actual conversation with a renowned mercenary who wasn't known for appreciating people interfering with his contracts. Jason should have been out of here the second Deathstroke had let him go, should have taken the opportunity to jump out the window. It was already broken, anyway, so it would have been easy.

But—well, there was a lot of buts. Most importantly, he'd maybe missed going toe to toe with someone like that without it being personal. There was no personal stakes to that fight, not to either of them. Jason would have been pissed if he'd lost, sure, but then he'd probably also have been dead so what did that matter.

Deathstroke shrugged, "He'll probably try to kill me now."

Jason rose an eyebrow, beginning the process of retrieving his surviving knives. It didn't seem like Deathstroke planned to stop him, anyhow. "And that's my problem how?"

Deathstroke didn't move while Jason searched through the room, just standing still and staring at him. It would probably be unnerving, if Jason was a normal person. As it was, the unflinching attention just made his stomach tingle (almost on the edge of unpleasant). As soon as he was done, he parked himself across from Deathstroke and stared back. Let it never be said that Jason backed down from challenges.

"You gonna kill me?" Jason asked, biting the (figurative) bullet.

Deathstroke tilted his head, his eyes dragging over Jason's body. Jason just rose an eyebrow and waited him out. Finally, Deathstroke said, "It wasn't in my contract to keep him alive."

Jason chose to take that as a no.

"Well, this was fun," Jason said, just about done waiting around for... whatever it was he waiting for. He put on his helmet and began to walk in the direction of the door, taking the opportunity to kick his dead target while he was at it, and said, "We should do it again sometime," as he left.

And came face to face with a bunch of goons aiming guns at him.

Sighing, Jason brushed his hair out of his eyes. One of the goons actually shrieked at the motion and the guns wavered as they aimed at him. "Seriously?" Jason demanded, glad that he'd gotten his helmet on at least. Maybe he should have paid a little more attention to what was going on out here, but they'd seemingly done a good job of staying out of sight.

He threw himself back into the room he'd just left right as a rain of bullets befell his previous location. Quickly vaulting through the room, he called, "Change of plans," to Deathstroke just as he threw himself out the broken window.

And fuck, he was up high. It was exhilarating, free-falling through the air. It took a bit of twisting to get himself oriented right and then he pulled the trigger for his parachute, it unfolding perfectly.

He was close enough to the ground by the time a bullet tore a whole through the parachute that it didn't kill him. Lucky him. Dying really sucked.

At the ground, he took off in a sprint toward his get away vehicle (one of three), tearing through the group of pedestrians that were crossing the road. The fact that there were no cops around was a testament to something alright, but Jason was too busy running for his life to worry about that right now. No, he threw himself onto his bike, glancing behind and clicking his tongue irritatingly when he saw the person chasing after him.

Should he wait? Offer them a ride? It might get him some bonus points, but it might also get him killed.

Fuck it.

"Get on," Jason called out to Deathstroke, the other man not even waiting a second before he was climbing on behind Jason. Jason immediately drove off, the bike purring contently beneath him. It was a shame he couldn't keep it.

Deathstroke's arms curled around Jason's waist, the grip tight but not strangling. He moved in tandem with Jason when they took the corners at way faster speeds than recommended. The warmth against his back maybe affected Jason more than he'd expected, but it was workable. Jason was a wizard at pushing his desires aside in order to focus on the goal.

For some twenty minutes, Jason soared through the city, going in circles to throw off any followers. He was good at this, and it didn't take him long to be satisfied that he'd thrown off any trackers. So he turned the bike toward his safe-house, slowing down to a more cruising speed that wouldn't get them pulled over by the nonexistent cops.

Finally, he rolled to a stop in an alleyway. For a moment, nothing happened. Deathstroke sat still behind him, his grip tight and warm. Jason waited to see what the other man would do, his heartbeat speeding up slightly despite all of his attempts to stop it. A different kind of warmth curled tight in his belly.

"Thanks for the ride," Deathstroke murmured, his voice soft.

Jason clicked his tongue. "You getting off anytime soon?"

Slade laughed softly at that and it took a moment for Jason to make the connection, purely because he hadn't fucking meant it that way, you asshat. "You getting off with me?" Slade asked, and his hand spread over Jason's stomach and damn it, that was fucking unfair.

For about three point four seconds, Jason seriously contemplated stabbing this asshole in the kidney and leaving him here. It wasn't like it would kill him or anything, but it might let Jason ditch this city without much trouble. But—well, Slade was deadly. And stupidly attractive. And he apparently found Jason hot, too. So.

"Yes," Jason said. He cleared his throat and knocked his hand against Slade's. "I'll get off with you, now get off the bike, asshole."

Slade laughed again. He climbed off the bike in one smooth motion, pulling Jason with him. His hands settled on Jason's waist, the fingers drawing small circles over his shirt. Jason pulled his helmet off, letting it drop to the ground after a quick look around to make sure they weren't being watched.

Slade dragged him closer, and Jason pulled off Slade's mask, dropping it next to his own helmet. He looked at that face, felt his own breaths stutter in his throat at the intense gaze Slade was staring at him with. Licking his lips, Jason smirked when Slade's eyes followed the motion.

The kiss was warm, and the steady grip Slade had on him was scorching, and the heat in his belly spread like fire.

quillpunk: digital portrait sketch of an imaginary guy who might or might not (not) be me (Default)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M
  • Fandom: DCU
  • Relationship: Ra's al Ghul/Jason Todd
  • Characters: Ra's al Ghul, Jason Todd
  • Additional Tags: Ficlet, Fluff, Sneaking Out, Age Difference, Implied/Referenced Sex, Established Relationship
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 1117
  • Published on AO3: 2021-10-31

Notes: Flufftober 2021: Day 2 - Sneaking Out Together

Disclaimer: I do not own the DCU franchise or any associated characters, trademarks etc.


"Hurry up," Jason snapped, his foot tapping on the floor irritability.

Ra's al Ghul merely clicked his tongue and continued to get dressed in a snail-like pace. He was taking his sweet time just to mess with him, Jason knew it. Ra's was a fucking ninja, there was no way he wouldn't be so slow unless he wanted to. Which meant that it was probably a thinly veiled criticism of the way Jason was dealing with the situation, or something.

In his defense, the situation was Batman was on his way here. If they didn't hurry up and get the hell out of here, Batman was going to catch them. Them, as in Ra's al Ghul and Jason Todd. These two. Together. Without trying to kill each other.

Maybe Jason should get his gun and attack Ra's as soon as Batman was within sight. If he was vicious enough, he might be able to convince Bruce that no, he really didn't know what Ra's was doing here, it was a very unwelcome surprise, definitely. Maybe they could even team up against Ra's and Batman would be too distracted to realize why Jason was lagging.

Maybe— "How far out is my dear detective?" Ra's asked, adjusting his shirt in front of the mirror like a prima donna.

Jason rolled his eyes and said, "Ew."

"Don't be difficult," Ra's chided, voice still low and husky. Jason's gut churned a little when he thought about what they'd just finished doing, what they could have been doing right now. If only Batman hadn't decided that today was a great dayto visit Jason. Without prior warning.

If it hadn't been for Oracle, he might have been caught sans pants.

And any other clothing.

For... reasons.

"Batman is going to kill you," Jason snarked, going over to the window that lead to the fire escape down to the alley. Quickest way out, though it was annoyingly predictable. But this wasn't a safe house, this was his actual apartment, and he hadn't put in quite as many precautions as he should. Foolishly, he'd thought that Batman would respect his privacy and stay away.

"Oh, he can certainly try," Ra's laughed. He finally stepped away from the mirror and joined Jason by the window, glancing outside before he turned to Jason. His eyes were so steady and calm that it was almost frightening.

Jason sighed. "Come on, get out," he said and nodded to the window.

Ra's smirked. "You could join me," he drawled, his eyes shifting to look at the trail of hickeys on Jason's neck.

Jason pushed down the urge to blush. Then he actually thought about it; Bruce was breaking their unspoken deal not to intrude on each others homes. Oracle would have told him if what Bruce wanted was actually important, so there was really no reason for him to stick around. He didn't owe the man anything, just because they were on better terms now.

"I'll get my shoes," Jason said and immediately flew off to do just that. He turned off all the lights as he went, the only lighting in the apartment left being what steamed in through the windows. Being night, those were only city lights.

Returning to the window in the bedroom, Jason was met with the sight of Ra's sitting on the open window's ledge, his head tilted back against the window frame and his eyes half-lidded. Jason's steps faltered for the briefest seconds, his heartbeat loud in his ears, before he threw all those feelings into a box and locked it. And threw it down a deep, dark well, just to be safe.

Ra's turned his head and smiled, "Ah, ready to go?" he asked, and Jason nodded.

He crossed the room and stopped in front of the window, throwing out all his doubts in favor of focusing on the now. "Move it, old man," he said, raising an eyebrow.

Ra's' lips twitched, and he hummed. "Give me a kiss," he demanded, voice low.

Jason's eyes narrowed. He glanced out the window, but he couldn't see Batman anywhere. And he'd probably be coming from the other direction... damnit, why not? He'd lost a minimum of two days of sex thanks to Brucie's sudden desire to visit, so he should absolutely be comforted.

He shrugged. Leaning over, he placed a hand on Ra's muscled chest—his shirt so thin that it hid nothing—and pressed their lips together. Softly, he stayed put as he waited to see how Ra's would react, if he'd be getting a knife to his gut for his nerve. But Ra's merely pressed closer to Jason, his hand landing on his neck and curling around it.

Jason gulped, his eyelids fluttering, and allowed himself to be lost in the kiss for a moment. But only a moment. Batman was still headed here, after all.

Easing back slightly, though still within Ra's grip, Jason cleared his throat. "We should, ah, get going," he muttered, scowling when Ra's chuckled softly.

"As my Beloved wishes," Ra's murmured, voice soft. Jason cleared his throat again, and squared his shoulders back.

Sneaking out through the window was easy, despite Jason having to ignore everything his body was doing. How the hell they'd gotten to this point, he really couldn't tell. He was one-hundred percent certain that this was never what either of them wanted, or intended. But. Well, what the hell could be done about it now?

Scaling down the fire-escape at his top speed, Jason muttered mushily, "This is all your fault, old man."

Ra's laughed, and that he didn't just murder Jason when Jason said shit like that was... fucking unbelievable. "Don't worry, Beloved, I'll keep you safe from our dear detective."

Jason rolled his eyes, said, "I'd rather you'd quit saying bullshit like that," and dropped down to the ground. He glanced around, but so far it seemed like they were safe. Shoving his hair back, he stalked over to the motorcycle sitting under a dirty sheet with a sign on it saying property of Red Hood, steal at your own risk.

...He was maybe drunk when he'd done that. But hey, it worked.

Getting the bike started, he threw a bright pink helmet at Ra's. At the look of blatant disgust on the man's face, Jason snorted and said, "So the cameras won't recognize you."

Ra's lips thinned, his eyes narrowing, but he didn't say anything. Merely sat down behind him and curled his arms around Jason's waist, their bodies neatly lined up. The warmth traveled from his back all the way to his hands, his fingers tingling.

Jason clicked his tongue in annoyance, and they flew off into the night.

quillpunk: digital portrait sketch of an imaginary guy who might or might not (not) be me (Default)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M, Gen
  • Fandom: DCU
  • Relationship: Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne
  • Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne
  • Additional Tags: Ficlet, Fluff, Royalty AU
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 1190
  • Published on AO3: 2022-03-27

Notes: For BruJay Weekend 2022: Day 1 - Sex Worker!Jason · Royalty AU

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any associated trademarks.


It wasn’t like Jason didn’t vet his clients—he wasn’t fucking stupid. He had the leverage now, the position, security and money that allowed him to reject clients as he pleased, shoving them along to somebody else. He no longer even really needed to do this anymore; theoretically, he had enough to get out. He could move somewhere he won’t run the risk of running into old clients, maybe. Could go somewhere else and have a fresh start.

He didn’t really see the point, though. He was Gotham born and bred, and he wasn’t sorry about that.

So, having established that he wasn’t an idiot, he did go digging before he accepted B as a client. He asked around his usual people, he searched online; he used all the avenues available to him, basically. And nothing really came up. B wasn’t suspicious, and he didn’t have a track record of beating up sex workers, or whatever. So Jason, who’d maybe been a little too interested for a perspective client, had accepted him.

And now here he was.

In a fucking a castle.

(No, it really was an actual, honest-to-god castle.)

He flopped down on the bed, splaying out like a starfish on the comfy covers and the unfairly fluffy pillows. Staring up at the white ceiling, with not a single crack on it, too, he finally turned on his side and stretched out. He was in the middle of the bed, and he yet he couldn’t even reach the bed’s edge with his hand, that was how ridiculous this whole thing was.

He sighed, then sat up. His body was still pleasantly sore and tingly from their night of debauchery, and yeah, he hadn’t fought when B said he wanted to take him home. It had been... okay, he had been maybe just a little interested to know what kind of place B lived in. And they’d done stuff in the car the whole way over, too, so by the time they’d arrived, he hadn’t cared that it was a castle. He’d just wanted to fuck.

The fucking was good, though. Quite worth it, if no other complications arose as he figured out the way out of here.

He snagged a bathrobe as he walked out of the bedroom, throwing it over himself. Tying it loosely, he sauntered through the long, complicated hallways, absentmindedly eyeing the clearly expensive as fuck decorations and old paintings. At one point, he saw a hint of bookshelf peeking through a doorway and his fingers itched. But he kept control, throwing forlorn looks at it as he left it behind.

It took him awhile to see someone else, and when he did, he sped up. “Hey,” he called to the old man, probably a butler, walking that properly and all. “Hey, where’s B?” he asked, as the old man turned to him.

“Master Bruce is collecting breakfast for you,” the old man said. He didn’t appear perturbed at all that Jason was walking around with half his chest out, the bathrobe way too loose.

Jason blinked. “For me?” he asked, pointing at himself.

“Yes,” the old man said. “I’ll lead you to Master Bruce’s favorite terrace; it’s the best place to eat breakfast on a beautiful day like this.”

“Oh,” Jason blinked again. He switched which foot he was leaning his weight on, pondering if he should stay or just... skedaddle before he got pulled into whatever this was supposed to be. But—breakfast? He was fucking hungry. So he finally nodded, “Yeah, sure, breakfast.”

The old man looked at him with a disturbingly clear gaze for a moment, then smiled softly and began to walk. Jason, shrugging, followed him.

He was lead part of the way back from whence he’d come, but then they abruptly veered in another direction and the map he was drawing of this place in his head suddenly got some new sections. It was a pretty long walk, all things considered, too, but this was a castle. Castles were just all too big to make sense, so he’d be magnanimous and not complain about it.

At the castle, Jason flopped down on the first chair he found, then winced when his body disagreed with that motion. He glanced out at the garden the terrace overlooked as the old man vanished somewhere, and then he looked up at the empty, blue sky. It was plenty late in the morning, almost midday, and he felt sleep still clinging to his bones. He sank into the chair as time passed, basking in the bright sunlight.

He heard the footsteps first, then felt somebody approaching. Eyes opening, he stretched his neck out, displaying the hickeys in the process, and glanced over his equally mangled shoulder. B was carrying a tray, and looked at him with uncertainty for the barest seconds before he stepped closer.

“You met Alfred?” was what B eventually ended up saying, after he’d put the tray down and sat down on the chair beside Jason.

Jason rose an eyebrow. “You mean the old butler guy?”

“Yes,” Bruce nodded. He looked Jason over from head-to-toe, eyes lingering on the many marks he’d made, and then asked, “Did the bath help?”

Jason laughed, almost snorting. He picked up a cup of steaming coffee, taking a large sip and sighing as it went down his throat. He smacked his lips and finally deigned to answer B. “It was lovely,” he said, raising a judgmental eyebrow. He eyed B’s tense frame, the way he sat on the edge of the seat. Sighing, he rolled his eyes and asked, “Are you going to die of awkwardness now?”

B tensed momentarily, then seemed to relax all at once. He dragged a hand through his hair, and slumped against the chair. “No,” he said, beginning to smile. His eyes were kinder when he smiled, Jason noted.

Still, he couldn’t not add, “Even though you’re a king who paid for sex?”

Bruce Wayne’s, King of Gotham, eyes widened. He opened his mouth, closed it, and frowned. Finally, he said, “So you know.” Jason just snorted, rolling his eyes again. He wasn’t stupid, and he did actually have some good contacts. More importantly, Bruce’s face was always in the gossip mags; Jason liked reading those for the melodrama, sometimes. So obviously, he would recognize his own king.

Bruce was silent for a second, then he grimaced vaguely and said, “I apologize for trying to deceive you.”

Jason sipped at his coffee again, dragging out the time and visibly making B uncomfortable. Then, he obnoxiously smacked his lips and stretched out his body, drawing B’s eyes exactly where he wanted them. Cracking his neck, he grinned. “Wanna go again?”

Bruce stilled, eyes darkening, and said, “I assume you’re doubling your fee.”

“Oh, baby... I'm quadrupling it,” Jason drawled, a glint of amusement in his eyes. B’s answering huff was soft, too, so he called it a win. And really, this seemed like a pretty good deal to him. He was sure he could get lots of more out of B before the man came to his senses and really... why not?

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fanfiction by hoodwinked

November 2023

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