dove in the darkness ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ⋘ jason todd ⋙

•Chapter 7•

~Hazel's~

Let's just say, Jason cooking in the morning was not what I expected when I woke up.

"What are you doing?" I ask, just shocked he knew how to turn on the stove. Not because of any of the gender role stuff that has been going around the news-and I have nothing better to do besides watch the news recently- but because he didn't seem like that type of person.

He seemed to be the type that only cared about going to the gym and eating protein shakes and stuff like that. Well, if he wasn't a vigilante twenty-four seven.

"I'm playing hopscotch." He says dryly,"What does it look like?"

"Sorry, it's just-" I pause for a second then shrug, adding,"I'm usually awake in time to see you leave."

"Well, a storm is coming in, and I would go out but there are too many heroes out today." He says, his back still facing me.

I glance to the window from where I am standing, which is at the threshold of the kitchen opening that connects it to the living room.

You wouldn't even know it was day time, the clouds seem to only know how to produce one color, that color being a dark gray. The kind of gray that you would see when you looked out at night and the moonlight was reflecting off of the clouds in an attempt to keep the darkness out.

"When did that roll in?" I ask, noticing that his hair was slightly still dripping, and his helmet, which rested on the table, was also covered in rain drops.

"About three- four- hours ago."

"When did you get home?" I realized how weird I sounded as soon as the words passed through my lips.

Home.

When did I start calling his apartment a home? When did I start being ok with being here? Was it last night? When we promised to try and understand each other? Maybe sooner?

He doesn't react verbally. If he did catch it, he didn't react. He simply replies,"An hour ago."

"You were out there that long? In the rain?" I question, my eyebrows drawing together.

"It seems so."

"Go change." I say, stepping up to take care of the food.

He opens his mouth to protest, but I am already taking the spatula from his hand,"Go, you are soaking wet. I can handle a few eggs."

He runs a hand through his hair before rolling his eyes and muttering under his breath as he turns and walks out of the room.

I turn my attention back to the food and finish making it before he comes back.

I put the two plates on the table and pick up his helmet, silently wondering how many stories this one item in his life could tell me. My hand runs over the metal, the red color warning my brain away from it, away from everything, like a stop sign warning people to stop or they will wreak.

My eyes meet his as he walks in, his drying hair now hanging messily over his eyes.

I feel taken aback when I realize that he was not wearing what he usually wore; he was wearing plain clothes.

He brushed passed me, grabbing the helmet from my grip with a muttered,"Sorry, I didn't know where to sit it."

"It's ok." I give him a small smile before sitting down,"Did you find Black Mask the other night?"

"Some of his goons. Didn't say anything about you. They didn't really say much." He says, taking a bite out of a strip of bacon.

I fight back the hopeless feeling starting to grow in my stomach. He must have seen the look on my face because he adds,"Don't worry, maybe they weren't close enough to Black Mask to know."