Jason stops with a spoon full of ice cream midway to his mouth. It's 3AM and isn't exactly being ninja-quiet, but he figured someone who slept through like, decades of great music and the fucking moon landing would sleep through him getting up to grab a late night snack.
"Neapolitan," Jason says. "Didn't they have that back in 1914?"
Steve crosses his arms, half-annoyed and half-amused. He looks all disheveled and sleepy-eyed, which – hm.
"Not the ice cream," he says. Jason takes a bite, then offers Steve a spoonful. He shakes his head. "I meant in the freezer. Is that –"
And Jason would step in front of him, but Steve's about three times stronger and a good bit taller than him, and anyway, it's his apartment they're crashing at tonight, so –
"Jay," Steve asks. "Why is there a set of knives in your freezer?"
Jason thinks about this while he eats a couple more spoonfuls of ice cream, making sure to combine all three flavors with each bite. The short answer is, of course, there are knives and other weapons everywhere around this place – and around Steve's place, and either one of their bikes, and –
He likes to be prepared, okay? He may not have been a boy scout, but he was Robin.
The longer answer, well. "I mean," Jason says. He offers Steve the ice cream again, and this time Steve takes it. He's shirtless, and Jason can see the goosebumps run down his skin from the cold. "You never know when you're going to be in the kitchen, getting a snack, and –"
"Bad guys come to steal your ice cream?" Steve suggests. Jason scowls at him, and Steve smiles and leans down and kisses him, his mouth sticky and sweet. He maneuvers the carton of ice cream out of Jason's hands, followed by the spoon. Jason's hands are cold when he runs them over Steve's big fucking arms, and he feels Steve shiver under him, and for second there he forgets all about what woke him up to begin with –
bad dreams, clawing his way through wood and dirt and the sound of horrible, gleeful laughter waiting for him at the top –
and just clings a little. It's okay to do that, sometimes, with Steve. He lets Steve guide him back to bed, and the next time they stay the night at his place, there's a gallon of ice cream waiting for him in the freezer.
fill
Jason stops with a spoon full of ice cream midway to his mouth. It's 3AM and isn't exactly being ninja-quiet, but he figured someone who slept through like, decades of great music and the fucking moon landing would sleep through him getting up to grab a late night snack.
"Neapolitan," Jason says. "Didn't they have that back in 1914?"
Steve crosses his arms, half-annoyed and half-amused. He looks all disheveled and sleepy-eyed, which – hm.
"Not the ice cream," he says. Jason takes a bite, then offers Steve a spoonful. He shakes his head. "I meant in the freezer. Is that –"
And Jason would step in front of him, but Steve's about three times stronger and a good bit taller than him, and anyway, it's his apartment they're crashing at tonight, so –
"Jay," Steve asks. "Why is there a set of knives in your freezer?"
Jason thinks about this while he eats a couple more spoonfuls of ice cream, making sure to combine all three flavors with each bite. The short answer is, of course, there are knives and other weapons everywhere around this place – and around Steve's place, and either one of their bikes, and –
He likes to be prepared, okay? He may not have been a boy scout, but he was Robin.
The longer answer, well. "I mean," Jason says. He offers Steve the ice cream again, and this time Steve takes it. He's shirtless, and Jason can see the goosebumps run down his skin from the cold. "You never know when you're going to be in the kitchen, getting a snack, and –"
"Bad guys come to steal your ice cream?" Steve suggests. Jason scowls at him, and Steve smiles and leans down and kisses him, his mouth sticky and sweet. He maneuvers the carton of ice cream out of Jason's hands, followed by the spoon. Jason's hands are cold when he runs them over Steve's big fucking arms, and he feels Steve shiver under him, and for second there he forgets all about what woke him up to begin with –
bad dreams, clawing his way through wood and dirt and the sound of horrible, gleeful laughter waiting for him at the top –
and just clings a little. It's okay to do that, sometimes, with Steve. He lets Steve guide him back to bed, and the next time they stay the night at his place, there's a gallon of ice cream waiting for him in the freezer.