---- Jason ----

In the silence of dawn, Jason sat on the corner of the bed. Dick's bed. His feet were planted firmly on the floor and the covers were pulled back just enough. The room had a slight chill to it and the scattered mess that came with the busy life of both a superhero and a cop. A small fan ran in slow half circles, blowing cold over the room, clothes lay scattered around at random, and the closet doors were left open, revealing somewhat clean clothes barely clinging to their hangers. Blinds, even though paired with open heavy curtains, failed to black out the room and early streams of light bled into the room, illuminating dust and last nights secrets. The floor was carpeted and soft so it was easy for Jason to blindly find his clothes, thrown at random by a pair of intoxicating hands hours before.

He slipped loose jeans over his hips and balled his t-shirt in his hands, afraid to move more and wake up the undoing sleeping at his back. Raking calloused hands through his mussed hair, Jason gave a quiet sigh and pulled away from the warm mattress and his secret. Just as he took the first step away, a soft hand slipped from under heavy covers and caught his wrist. He would deny it, but his breath hitched. The touch on his wrist was weak, but it burned and he didn't pull away, he could never pull away from Dick's touch. Forcing his eyes to lock on the dark wooden door in front of him, slightly ajar, old wood, sturdy- he remembered how it felt to have Dick pressed between his chest and the door and abandoned the train of thought, determined not to turn around.

He couldn't turn around- he couldn't- if he did he would see Dick staring up at him, his hair would be damp with sweat, his eyes would be half-lidded and he would fight to keep them open, his lips would be swollen and well-kissed, his cheeks flushed. Marks would litter his exposed collarbone. They would lock eyes, for only a single moment, and it would- in whole, entirely, and all at once, crumble Jason's resolve.

With a venomous urge in his chest and the temptation of feeling Dick's arms around him weaving through his mind, Jason kept his eyes trained on the door- his exit, his escape- and ignored the empty feeling in his soul as Dick's hand fell. With shuddering breaths, Jason listens to the way the covers shifted and the bed creaked as Dick rolled away from him, placing them back to back.

There was nothing stopping him now, he could easily walk away, open the door and leave. He didn't even have to come back. And Dick knew that, and Jason knew that, and Jason dropped his shirt to the floor and shifted until he could pull Dick flush against him, burning every inch of the moment into his broken mind.