Chapter Text
"It's just for a few hours, Jason. You'll be fine." Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose, tired of this conversation already.
"It's demeaning, B." Jason pulled at the collar of his dress shirt, loosening his tie slightly. "God, I can hardly breathe in this thing."
"Welcome to my world," Bruce chuckled, straightening Jason's tie. "And I doubt your helmet is less restrictive than a suit. Just stick with me, shake some hands, and smile."
Jason flashed a mocking, overdramatic smile before rolling his eyes. "You have a dozen more children who would be thrilled to be here. Doesn't Tim practically run your company?"
"He's busy. And he needs sleep. Besides,” Bruce gave a genuine smile. “This is what happens when you’re alive. You end up around people.”
Jason huffed, running his fingers through his hair, ruining the tamed style Alfred had helped him with, making it stick up as it always does.
The driver pulled up to the door of the event hall, and someone outside opened the door on Bruce’s side. Cameras were flashing immediately, and Brucie Wayne came out like a werewolf under a full moon. He smiled like a sleaze, giving the paparazzi some great looks, winking at certain ladies who giggled in return.
Jason was a bit less photogenic. He squinted instinctively at the bright flashes, grimacing. Bruce put a hand on his back and whispered, “Just act like you could buy the world.”
Jason clenched his jaw as they walked into the hall. It was massive, ceilings seeming to reach the clouds with delicate crystal chandeliers just big enough to fill the void of space. Everything was white or gold or some expensive color. The floors were marble, so polished that Jason could see his reflection in them. There were long tables artfully laid out with food, the only source of real color in the room other than the clothes. And the clothes, god. Men were in suits, but somehow all very unique and individual. The women wore stunning dresses, most of them probably tailor-made for them specifically. Everyone’s face was stretched into the same perfect smile. Everything dripped with wealth. Jason was in hell.
“Just be nice, that’s all I’m asking of you,” Bruce muttered as a foxy young woman in a navy blue, skin-tight gown approached him.
“Thought you were gonna give me a call, Mr. Wayne.” The woman must have on at least a pound of makeup. Her face hardly moves when she talks.
Fake, Jason thinks, assuming that this word applies to more than just her face. He quickly stopped himself before his thoughts could become too disrespectful.
“I’m a busy guy, Marjorie. Some of us have companies to pretend to run.” Bruce kissed her hand, lingering a little longer than a casual greeting. “You look good, should’ve made that call…”
“Not too late,” Marjorie winks. Her eyes then settle on Jason, who puts up a valiant effort to hide his deep disgust at this conversation. “And who’s this fine young man?”
Jason quickly snapped out of his daze and focused on her. “This is my son, Jason.”
Jason gives a quick nod. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Marjorie laughs, that subtle, rich lady laughs, making Jason bite into his tongue.
“Well, aren’t you a treat? The resemblance is really there; you look so much like Bruce did when he was young. God, it’s like being sent back in time. The old and the new right here in front of me…” Her eyes linger over his face, then down to his body.
Both Bruce and Jason furrow their eyebrows in confusion, making their faces even more identical. “Actually, he’s not my-”
“So, Bruce,” she grabbed his arm as she rattled on about something Jason had no interest in hearing about.
“I’m gonna meander around for a bit, try to find something to drink. A whole bottle if they’ll give it to me.” Bruce nods at him quickly before going back to pretending to care about Marjorie’s botched trip to Paris.
Jason weaves his way through the crowded room, which is not an easy task for a big guy. No one stops him to ask how he’s been, what he’s up to. If he had ever known these people, it was a long time ago. He was a different person now. Without Bruce by his side, he was just some guy. Practically invisible. What a treat.
He made his way to the tables of food, locating a champagne flute not filled nearly enough for his liking. He picked it up, noting how delicate the stem of the glass was as he raised it to meet his lips. It’s sweet, way too sweet, but alcoholic, so it’ll have to do. He scanned the room as he sipped on the overly bubbly drink. These people have so much, too much, and he’d been living on the streets. He supposed they were rich enough not to care. Money makes monsters, that’s what he’d always told himself.
Before the thought could make him too angry, he heard someone bump into the table behind him. It wasn’t aggressive enough to move anything, just as if they had stumbled. He turned around to see if the person needed help. What he met with was the most perfect-looking woman he had ever encountered in his life.
She had short, black hair that curled semi-tightly just above her shoulders. Not the kind of curls you got from an iron, even Jason could tell that. Just… real. She was in a light green dress that flowed down to her mid-calf, with little fabric flowers littered across the skirt. She wasn’t thin, she had some good curves, and it suited her so well, as if she was carved by the Gods themselves. What caught his attention most of all was the white, almost glossy look of her eyes. She seemed to be staring in no particular direction, and feeling lightly over the table.
Ah.
When he finally managed to speak, Jason asked timidly, “Ma’am, do you need some help?”
“Please tell me there’s alcohol somewhere over here.” Her voice wasn’t like the other rich lady’s, all smooth and elegant. It was much more human, not nearly as New Jersey as Jason’s was, though.
“Y-yeah, here.” He handed her a flute, making sure she had a good grasp on it before letting go. She took a sip, immediately making a dissatisfied face.
“God, I hate this stuff. Oh, thanks though, probably should have said that already.”
“Yeah, it’s all I’ve found so far.”
“Good luck finding anything else; it’s all that these people will drink. But hey, alcohol is alcohol.” She took another sip, grimacing.
So she hated these things too. Great. He could work with that. She looked young, probably some business owner’s daughter. Not that a young, gorgeous woman couldn't be successful or anything like that. He really needed to stop thinking so much.
“I’m Violet, by the way.” It felt a bit odd to Jason, having her look in a completely different direction as she talked to him. “Violet Cordin.”
“Jason Todd.”
“Wait, I know that name. I don’t know a Todd family, who are you with?”
“Bruce Wayne.”
Violet looked taken aback. “Oh shit. I thought you died or something.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Long story.”
“I bet.”
The two stood in silence for a minute, just sipping at their champagne. Jason’s mind was running a million miles an hour, trying to figure out how to not lose this chance, whatever that even meant. Should he compliment her? Should he ask her about herself? He hadn’t exactly had a lot of experience with relationships, especially with normal people.
“You look nice.”
“Good to know.”
Fuck.
“Oh, s-sorry, I didn’t-”
“Could you tell me what time it is, please?” Violet chuckled, clearly amused at his embarrassment.
Jason looked down at the Rolex he had borrowed from Bruce. It was nice, really nice. Jason thought he might keep it.
“It’s 9:08, why?”
Violet finished her champagne, holding the glass out for Jason to take, which he immediately did when he caught on.
“Well, my dad has definitely forgotten I came with him by now, and I need a cigarette. Want to join me?”
Jason’s mouth went dry because of fucking course he wanted to join her, and a cigarette sounded like heaven right now.
“If that’s alright, I’d love to,” he sighed. “I need to get out of this room.”
Violet giggled, extending her arm. “Lead the way, then.”
He hesitantly placed her arm around his, being as gentle as possible. He led her cautiously through the crowd.
“Your arms are massive, wow.”
He cleared his throat, trying to think of anything other than her hands on the rest of him. This wasn’t like him; he did get sheepish like this. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this way about a woman; he had much more pressing things on his mind. Goddamn Bruce for making him come here.
“This might be wrong to ask, but why don’t you have a cane or something?”
“They’re not classy, they look dingy in a place like this.” Jason could see her bite the inside of her cheek.
“Jesus.”
Once they’d almost reached the door, he saw Bruce a few yards away from them, covered in women. He looked over at Jason, a confused expression on his face as he gestured towards Violet. Jason shrugged, making Bruce grin.
“Fuck, it’s cold out here.” Violet was shaky as soon as they made it out the doors. It’s December in Gotham, not exactly weather for the small amount of sleeve her dress has provided. Jason quickly took off his jacket, putting it over her shoulders.
“Is that okay?”
“Didn’t peg you as a gentleman.” She gripped his arm tighter. “Okay, seriously, is all of you this big?”
Jason paused before stuttering through an almost response. “I, uh, well, I mean I’m pretty-”
He’s cut off as her hands travel to his chest, just feeling him. It’s weird, not sexy or pleasurable, it’s like she’s studying him, which he supposed she was. She rested her hands on his shoulders, having to stand on her tiptoes to reach his face comfortably. He didn’t know what to do when she gently ran her fingers over his jaw, his nose, his forehead, his hair.
Think of anything else, you freak, literally anything.
“You’ve got scars all over your face, Jason.”
He swallowed back his perverted thoughts. “Yeah, comes with the work.”
“What work?”
Just shut the fuck up already, man.
“Another story for another time.” He hoped he’d have another time with her. He’d have a good chance if he could follow his own advice.
“Hmm.” She brushed her fingers over his cheek, making his eyes flutter shut as he forced a sigh down his throat. “You’re rough.”
“You’re very soft.” What the fuck are you even saying?
Violet chuckled. “You must be lonely.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I’m sort of a last-ditch effort for human interaction.” Her hand fell back to his arm, and he hated how much he missed her touch on his skin.
“I don’t think so. Not sure there’s a single other person in there I’d like to be having a conversation with right now.”
“You’ve got quite a Jersey accent. You didn’t grow up with Mr. Wayne, did you?”
“No, no, I didn’t. I lived in Crime Alley until Bruce found me. I was almost 13 by then.”
“No wonder I’m the only person you talked to at a gala, you’re not one of them.”
“Not even close.” He so wanted to stroke her cheek, run his fingers through her hair, just feel her. “So what’s your deal? Why don’t you fit in with them?”
“Aside from the obvious,” Jason kicked himself for that, “My dad is Chester Cordin. He owns Cordin Industrial, the metalwork place.”
“I’ve heard of him.” Jason could recall a lot of shocking headlines about infidelity, scandals, and occasional misdemeanors that were not uncommonly tied to that name in the Gotham Gazette.
“Whatever you’re thinking about him right now is true. He’s scum, absolute scum of the Earth. He lies, cheats, and covers everything with his money. All of them do, every last one. They’re not people; they don’t care as people do. My father is infamously one of the worst, having no regard for anyone but himself and his money. He’s had a new woman in our house every week for as long as I can remember. My mother was killed, and he did nothing about it; that man still runs free to take more lives. No one did anything about it. He took my mother, he took my sight, and he’s free. And no one cares.”
Her nails were digging into his thin sleeve, the dull pain grounding him enough to understand every word.
“What man?”
After that whole speech, THAT is what you ask? You can’t just, Jesus, we’re never getting over this.
“The Scarecrow. He used one of his fear toxins at an event my parents were at. My mom was due to have me any day.” Her grip loosened exponentially. “Whatever it was hit my mother harder than anyone else, maybe because of me, maybe not. The doctors never figured it out. What they did figure out is that the toxins caused irreversible damage to an unborn child’s optic nerves.”
Jason tried to think of what to say. He knew the pain of having the person who took something from you go unpunished. He knew it all too well. He tried not to grit his teeth too much as he answered.
“It’s not fair.”
“Nothing is.”
“Don’t I know it.”
Violet sighed. "I don't know why I told you that. I'm sorry. I just get, I don't know, a little carried away about this stuff."
"Don't ever apologize for speaking your mind."
“I guess I’m pretty happy we ran into each other, then.” She smiled, and Jason could feel his heart stop for a moment. Her smile was perfect, just perfect. “We should sit in the car, I’m freezing out here.”
Jason found the Cordin's car with Violet’s help of a license plate number. The two sat in the back seats as Jason lit a cigarette. The two sat in silence as they passed the cigarette between them, Jason’s eyes locked onto her as she faced just away from him.
“You know,” Violet said between inhales, “you didn’t tell me earlier. If you’re lonely.” He held out the cigarette for him.
He hesitated before taking it. “I guess I am.”
"Why?"
Jason could think of a thousand different reasons why. "I'm not commonly described as an easy person. I'm pretty bad with people, to be honest with you." He took a long drag before handing her the cigarette, the smallest amount of contact from their fingers brushing, making him shiver. What a pussy. "Besides, life's a lot easier when you only have to look out for yourself."
"So you like being lonely?"
He thought for a moment. "Not exactly."
She nodded. “You don’t have to be.”
“What?”
She moved closer to him, hand on his thigh. For stability or something else, he couldn’t decipher. “Look, you’re pissed to be here, I’m pissed to be here, and now we’re alone. Do you want me or not?”
He was taken aback by just how forward she was. No hesitation, no beating around the bush. Man, was it hot.
“Ah, um, I…” He tried to answer, not even knowing what he wanted to say. Obviously, he wanted her, needed to touch her, to feel her. But something was holding him back. “Yes.”
“Then kiss me.”
It was like the world had stopped spinning. Slowly, hesitantly, he held her smooth face in his hands, turning it towards him. He wanted to look into those pale eyes for the rest of his life. Inch by inch, he moved closer to her until he could feel her breath on his lips.
For the love of God, don’t fuck this up.
Before he could muster up the courage to go through with it, Violet was leaning in, kissing him softly. Jason’s eyes shot open before relaxing, his thumb stroking her cheek gently. Everything was gentle, actually, and Jason loved every second of it. When you spend your nights getting beaten up and shot at and stabbed, kissing a girl was a very welcome change of pace.
The gentleness quickly ended with Violet deepening the kiss, pushing her tongue into his mouth. She climbed into his lap, legs on either side of his, and rested her hands on his shoulders.
Okay, wow, sure.
Jason wasn’t really sure of where his hands should be. Her waist? Her hips? His pants were getting pretty uncomfortable, and he prayed to whatever God would listen that she wouldn’t notice. After what was definitely way too much time, his hands lightly grazed her waist.
“Still trying to be a gentleman?” Her hands found his, moving them lower, and oh fuck.
Fuck.
He wasn’t gonna last. Nothing had even happened yet, and he wasn’t gonna last. Jason Todd, the Red Hood, man who had cheated death, was about to come in his pants like a horny teenager. For how much experience he lacked in relationships, he lacked about double that in his sex life. He wasn't a virgin, no, but had only had a few, very tame sexual encounters up to this point. His mind ran in circles, trying to distract himself, thinking of anything other than the absolute wet dream that was playing out for him in real time. Everything broke when she began to grind down in his lap, lips on his neck.
“Wait, wait.” He pushed her back with just enough force. She looked confused but paused the sweet movement of her hips.
“What’s wrong?”
Jason sighed. He could hardly look at her, choosing to seal his eyes instead. “Nothing, nothing’s wrong. I just…”
Think of an excuse. Come on, genius.
“We’re moving a little too fast here, this isn’t how I like to do things.”
Violet was silent for a moment, making Jason look at her. She was grinning in a sly way, clearly amused.
“So you really are a gentleman, then?”
“Where it matters, yes.”
Violet’s body relaxed, prompting Jason to do the same. She leaned forward a bit, mostly for comfort.
“So what, you need to take a girl out a few times before delivering the goods?”
He huffed out a laugh. “Preferably, yeah. At the very least.”
Violet chuckled. “You gonna ask me?”
That all-too-familiar nervousness hit Jason like a wall. Of course, he wanted to. There was something about this girl, something special, even if he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was yet. But did she have any interest in ever speaking to him again, let alone being in a relationship?
“Is that, um, something you’d be interested in?”
“What, exactly? Use your words.”
Damn.
He cleared his throat and focused on the perfect curl framing the side of her face, the dark color a perfect contrast to her light eyes. He fought every voice in his mind begging to feel it between his fingers. “Would you be interested in going out with me sometime?”
Of course, he knew it probably wouldn't last long once she got to know him, especially with him leading a double life, but it was nice to consider it. What can giving it a go hurt?
Violet got off his lap, sitting back down in the seat next to him. “I’ll have to think about it. Walk me inside?”
Jason’s mouth hung open, not sure of how to respond.
You really fucked this one up.
“Sure, yeah.”
And just like that, the big, bad antihero was tamed like a loyal little puppy.