Sweet Disposition ➸ dc & marvel

jason todd ➸ raw knuckles

word count - 1,046.

warnings - language, mentions of violence?

prompt -it's really hard to explain without spoiling it, so let's just say you own a gym and Jason breaks into it, but you don't act the way he suspects you to. (does that even make sense?)

a/n - I know Jason has a temper and stuff, but I'm expecting that when he gets nervous around a person that he doesn't have sense in hurting, he would act the way I wrote him. ALSO I HAD NO IDEA HOW TO END THIS SO SORRY IF HALF WAY THROUGH THE STORY IT GETS AWKWARD. ALLLLLLLSSSO I WAS REALLY PROUD OF THE FIRST PART OF THE STORY, BUT THE REST SUCKS. >:(

My fist slammed into the leathery bag making a rather loud sound. Another fist bolted to make an impact on the bag, but was halted due to the sound of the rusted door opening in the front of the gym. Looking over my shoulder, I yelled loud enough to be heard by the late night intruder, "We're closed." I resumed hitting the bag, but stopped once I noticed I didn't hear the sound of the intruder leave. I turned my body around and started walking to the entrance of this small gym of mine. Right when I turned the corner my face was met with a broad chest that caused me to back up quickly.

"Holy shit!" we both yelled, startled by each other's presence.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I questioned the rather attractive man standing before me.

"I didn't think anyone was here, there usually isn't!" He exclaimed.

"What do you mean, 'there usually isn't', have you broken in here before?"

"Maybe once or twice," He protested with a small snicker. "This is the only time I can practice without feeling like everyone is looking at my scars." His voice got softer, quieter. "I am guessing you are in the same boat since you're here after hours too."

I could feel my facial features loosen up.

"Actually, I own this place." I scoffed. This place wasn't something you'd be proud to run, it was run down and not exactly in the best part of Gotham.

"Oh, I'm in big trouble then, right?" He mumbled scratching the back of his neck. He mumbled even quieter, "Shit."

I let a small smirk as I take place on my lips as I turned around and started walking to the punching bags across from where I was previously working out.

"Follow me."

It took a moment, but I eventually heard footsteps follow behind me.

"You can practice over here. If you need anything I'll be right across from you." I said turning around to go back to my workout area, but I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"You aren't going to call the cops?"

"Of course not." I said with a gentle smile, returning to my station.

I didn't hear him punch the punching bag immediately, instead I felt his steady blue eyes watch me cross back to the other side of the room. I then heard him rustle around. Finally, an extremely loud punch hit the bag and I looked over my shoulder to see him.

I stood there. I just stared. I didn't know what intrigued me the most; how fast he hit the sand filled bag, how chiseled and breathtaking his body was, or how many scars took place on his astonishing canvas of a body. I was dumbfounded, but I didn't want to make him uncomfortable, so I quickly went back to my own business. I then began hitting my bag, the sensation of the leather hitting my raw knuckles made me shiver. It was an enjoyable feel, but it stung like a bitch at the same time. It was a much better feeling then my knuckles colliding with human flesh and broken bones like it usually does. The result of living in this side of Gotham. You to find yourself in countless fights, it's the only way to live down here.

I snapped out of my thoughts when I felt how badly my knuckles were throbbing. I didn't hear the man, who I yet caught the name of, anymore. Maybe he left? How long have I been here? I was going to make my way to the water fountain to get a drink, but I turned to see the man standing in front of his punching bag, looking at me.

"What kind of dumbass hits a punching bag that hard for that long?"

I couldn't tell what emotion was behind his words, I was in too much pain to even care. I held my fists to my chest about to leave to get medical supplies, since I could see a hint of blood seep through the skin on my fragile hands.

"Stay." He said in a commanding tone. "Find somewhere to sit." He then exited the room.

I seated myself on the edge of the boxing pin in the back of the place and watched the door that lead to supply for his return. I saw his black hair edge around the corner of the frame. He was carrying various medical items in his muscular hands.

He sat down next to me, still shirtless might I add.

"Hands." The deep voice of his demanded.

I raised my hand to meet his. I expected him to harshly grab it based on the way is blunt attitude is, but instead he gently set it in his hand as he used his other hand to dab my knuckles with a cotton ball drenched in peroxide.

"Thank you, uh- sorry, but what is your name? I never got it."

"Jason."

"I'm (Name)." I said with a smile forming.

"Pretty name." He said without taking his eyes off my knuckles he was treating.

"Thanks." I huffed out.

He started to wrap my knuckles. Once he finished he stood up and walked over to get his shirt off the floor by the punching bag.

I stood up too and followed closely behind him.

"The pain should stop if you take aspirin, and they'll heal quickly, but they'll also probably be bruised." He said putting his article of clothing back on, sadly.

"Where are you going?" I asked curiously.

"Home."

"Oh."

I believe he noticed the disappointment in my voice, because he raised an eyebrow and wasn't so focused on leaving anymore.

"Thank you for letting me stay and practice instead of calling the cops, (Name)."

Oh god, I loved the way the sound of my name rolled off his tongue in his raspy, deep voice.

"No problem, Jason."

Damn. I have to admit, his name comes out of my mouth pretty smoothly too.

"May I practice here next week?"

"Sure!" My words were filled with excitement, I was happy I was going to see this lovely man again.

He smiled for a second and then made his way to the door.

"See you next week, (Name)."

a/n - please vote, notify me of grammar mistakes, and leave me feedback, it means a lot! also, I will take character (of any gender) requests, just not prompt requests.