things with jason are new, fun, romantic. like a dream come true, really. however, there is one thing you haven't quite warned him about. behind the door to your apartment are at least a dozen animals in your care, all of which have a tendency to scare off potential partners.
“you should know something about me.” you say, staring down very hard at jason’s shoes. they’re very nice, actually. black leather combat boots, fairly worn but not falling apart. the kind that are expensive, but not in the designer brand, frivolous, gucci coach the devil wears prada sort of way, expensive like the kind of boots that last ten years without a crack in the soles bought from a really respectable brand of cobbler.
you and jay have been on two dates so far, proceeded by eight months of awful flirting and excruciating pining taking place on both ends. he, the regular at your bar, constantly pressing you for information on your more… colorful clientele in a way he thought was subtle. you, a woman scorned by the brood of men produced by gotham, somehow finding yourself falling for a man who checks every box on your list of red flags.
and then, finally, after months and months of “you shouldn’t wear that unless you want guys to bother you,” and “do you visit all your informants this much?”, he asked you out.
well, he rescued you from an ill-fated encounter with a guy you over-served after closing, subsequently revealing his identity as red hood, making out with you, and then asking you out, insisting he did things “the proper way.”
the proper way meaning two incredible dates. like, take every perfect romcom moment and shoot them somewhere out past the moon because they have nothing on jason todd.
the funny thing is, the dates themselves aren’t a spectacle. coffee first, followed by walking around the market, and then dinner at a quaint thai food place with the best fried rice you’ve ever had. both events entirely unremarkable, and yet… you’ve never felt this way before. the conversation is so easy, it’s like talking to an old friend, but one that makes your stomach erupt in butterflies and oftentimes gives you the compulsion to squeeze your thighs together with a simple touch on your back or shoulder, or with the stupid things he says now that he isn’t afraid to flirt with you like a sailor on leave.
and now, following your dinner at the thai restaurant, you’re standing outside your apartment, staring down at his very nice boots, contemplating whether or not to let him in. because you really do want this evening not to end, but you’re afraid that what lies behind that door might freak him out.
not like, make him think you’re completely insane or desperately need to be institutionalized, but he will, at the very least, be concerned.
because, behind that door, he will find a small colony of cats, three hamsters, a rabbit, five kinds of fish, and two very old senior dogs.
your apartment is a zoo. you’re some kind of wannabe doctor doolittle. when he comes in, he’s gonna think you’re some kind of cracked— in the insane asylum sense of the word.
“what’s that?” he asks, his voice agonizingly gentle, but you can tell he’s at least a tad concerned about your mental state.
you take a deep breath, swallowing your pride and bringing yourself to meet his eyes. you suppose that the things you have to say would be better shown than spoken.
“okay, so,” you start, slotting the key into your lock, “before you make any judgements, just let me explain this first.” you say, chewing on your lip.
you open the door, just a crack as to ensure no wild animals in your care try to make an escape. you’re sure the smell hits him, while you have been long since desensitized to it, the crinkles of noses from neighbors past make you aware that it exists, and it is particularly pungent.
you grab jason’s hand, yanking him in before deaf and blind, your aptly named senior dobermans, come and poke their noses through the gap in the door.
an array of woofs and meows greet the two of you, with three of your five cats coming to meet the stranger standing awkwardly in your foyer.
you take a deep breath. “so,” you start, trying to gauge his reaction, but he expression is annoyingly unfazed. “i foster animals. a lot of them— well, not my fish, they’re harder to foster, but the cats and the dogs, they’re mostly senior, except two of the cats, which i found in the alley behind the bar. i have some hamsters too, but i’m doing my best to rehome them before they get eaten.”
he nods, not like what you’re saying is completely normal and everything is 100% okay, but like he isn’t running out the door yet.
you take a deep breath, kneeling down to pet comet, your newest cat, a jet black shadow who is as stupid as he is social.
“so, my apartment always has a minimum of ten animals. and most of them are really old and a couple of them wear diapers but i just really believe that these animals are deserving of end of life care— i mean, they would be getting put down in the pound right now because nobody takes in senior animals and they really need homes and i understand this makes me seem a little crazy—“
he smiles, leaning down to pet comet when he ditches your leg for the new guy’s. “—i like animals.” he says, quietly, looking up at you. “and i don’t think it makes you seem crazy. i’m really… wowed.”
you smile. “wow like, i need to get out of the insane asylum kind of wowed, or..?”
he leans back up sliding his hand against your side, pulling you closer. you hate how tall he is. no matter the position, it’s like he’s always towering over you, especially now, when he’s getting closer and closer and yet still so high above you.
“wow like, i’m amazed this incredible woman let me into her apartment.” he says softly, pressing a gentle kiss on your temple.
you blush like an idiot, trying your hardest not to make a complete fool of yourself. “aren’t we good at sweet talk?” you ask, placing your hand on his chest, lightly pressing on the firm muscle hidden underneath the fabric so cruelly covering his chest.
he leans down, pressing another kiss by your ear. “you make it easy.” he says, his voice soft and low. “if your biggest flaw is that you take care of animals,” he continues, kissing next to your opposite ear, “then i am one lucky guy.” his breath ghosts over your lips, warm and unbelievably enticing.
you grin, lifting yourself up on your toes to get just a bit closer. “you are a nice, nice man.” you mumble, bridging the gap between the two of you with a kiss so slow and gentle it rivals every rom-com kiss you’ve ever seen, in fact, it blows every single one of them out of the water.
you pull away first, only to come up for air. you’re almost too distracted to hear the kerplunck coming from across the room, followed by an array of angry meows that pull you both away— and just like that, your romantic evening lives on forever in infamy as the night your tabby found her way into your fish tank and massacred two goldfish and a good chunk of jason’s forearm.
