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Sometimes, Clark really wished he could read Jason’s mind.
Not in a creepy way- actually, maybe a little bit in a creepy way, but also because he really wanted to know everything that Jason did.
He liked the idea of them being the same. If they could mold together, become one entity, Clark would do it in a heartbeat. He wanted to feel what Jason felt. He wanted to hear his thoughts, wanted to know him to the bone, completely and undeniably. He wanted to be everything Jason needed him to be, and then even more.
They’re sitting in Jason’s living room now, Clark’s legs thrown over Jason’s, comic book in his hand while Jason flips through the pages of his own book. It feels… domestic, somehow. Strange, but not abnormal. Moments like this between them are becoming more frequent these days. He likes that, likes them.
He realized a long time ago that he wanted it all the time. It’s a physical thing, sitting in the middle of his chest. It aches when Jason’s not there, and sometimes when he is. He hasn’t really figured out why, yet.
“What?” Jason murmurs. He tilts his head quizzically, and it’s one of those things that makes his chest clench. He blinks belatedly, realizing he was staring at him, and it’s such a fucking cliche he can’t help but grin.
“Nothing,” he mumbles back. He doesn’t look away, though. He studies Jason’s face, the softness that remains there, even after everything, and the scars. A lot of people like to make it seem like he’s older than he is. Jason is only in his early twenties, around the same age as Clark. It’s easy to see that here in this room, the lights warm and dim.
Jason is unconvinced. “You’re looking at me funny.”
Clark huffs a laugh, shifting. “You’re funny looking.”
He’s not. Not at all. He likes how he looks a lot, actually. Jason gives him a wry look, going back to his book.
He leans his head back against the arm of the couch, closing his eyes to think. Jason’s arms are resting on Clark’s legs. He can feel a slight shift every time Jason turns the page of his book. He sneaks another glance, notes the small furrow between his brows in concentration, the way his lips are slightly pursed, the way his hair is starting to curl around his ears, and drops his head back down.
He comes to the very abrupt realization that he is absolutely, categorically, fucked.
Clark is… well. Clark is a little bit in love with him.
He probably should have realized sooner.
It’s obvious, now. That feeling in his chest, the ache straight through his heart, the itching he feels under his skin is all Jason. He'd somehow wormed his way inside, made himself at home. He’s become a part of him, so ingrained into everything he does, every choice that he makes. When Clark wakes up in the morning, he thinks of Jason, and it’s the same before he falls asleep. He thinks about him when he brushes his teeth, when he works, when he reads. Somehow, he hadn't noticed that Jason was there, through every single thing that he does. Somehow, he hadn’t realized that the feeling he gets, tight and uncomfortable and stubborn, was because of him. It was because he only ever wanted him around, because he wanted to be near him all the time. It was because he wanted Jason more than almost anything he’d ever wanted before.
Jason shoves his legs off his lap, standing and stretching his arms, a slight pop from his shoulders as he flexes. Clark greedily drinks in the strip of skin exposed from the movement, tipping his head to watch as Jason makes his way into the kitchen. He feels suddenly dizzy, overwhelmed and restless and so, so confused.
There’s this ease about him here, too. Jason is in sweats and a t-shirt, he looks soft and warm. Unguarded. It feels like a gift to even be in his presence now, for him to feel so comfortable having him around. He takes it, keeps it close, holds it right by the space where everything feels wound up and tight. Right where everything else about him resides. He has no idea how he hadn’t realized before.
He needs to move. He needs to not feel so still, needs to be closer than he is. He floats over to him easily, hovering above Jason in the kitchen as he fills a glass of water, throwing Clark a can of soda that he knows Jason only has around for him. It feels unbelievably thrilling to think that he’s made himself a home inside of Jason just as he has in him. That he thinks about him when he’s not around. He imagines Jason while he’s shopping, stopping to think of how often Clark had been around lately, if he’d have to restock his fridge.
Jason continues moving around, grabbing a bag of popcorn out of the microwave that Clark hadn’t even noticed he was making. He shakes it out, empties it into a bowl, and sets it down, looking up at Clark with a raised brow, crossing his arms against his chest. He swallows, his throat feeling suddenly dry, and the Jason part of his chest clenches tight.
“You’re hovering,” he huffs. Clark’s eyes fell to his lips before quickly meeting his eyes. Which is somehow so much worse.
He floats a little higher, smiling lazily. “I’m not. You are.”
Jason rolls his eyes. It looks so much fonder than it used to. He’s still staring up at him, and it makes him feel hot all over. Jason has a way of looking at people like he can see straight through them. His face is so expressive. Sometimes he feels like he knows everything about him. Like Jason can hear Clark’s thoughts, maybe that’s part of the reason why he wants to know Jason so badly, because it feels like Jason already knows all of him.
“What’s going on?” He asks. Jason has a slight accent. He wonders if the writers always had that in mind, or if it’s just another natural part of Jason. He likes it either way.
Clark almost gulps, and for once he really doesn’t know what to say. All he knows is that he kind of wants to kiss him. He really wants to kiss him. “I think I just realized my new character arc.”
Jason rolls his eyes again, Clark vaguely thinks he should stop doing that unless he wants them to get stuck. “Yeah? And what’s that?”
He floats closer, standing in front of Jason now, hovering just a few inches off the ground. Jason tips his head back slightly, eyes soft, despite the fact that he was trying to act annoyed. Again, very expressive face. Clark likes that about him.
“I’ve just… been thinking. Lately. Or- actually, not lately. For maybe five minutes. I realized on the couch,” he declares.
Jason blinks. “Okay?”
Clark sighs, his feet touching the floor. They’re more eye to eye, here. Jason’s eyes are kind of weird. They’re really blue sometimes, and other times they’re a deep green. Clark swears that they were brown a few weeks ago. He wonders if that’s his fault, from when he brought him back. He’s the reason that they’re even open right now. It’s sometimes strange to think about.
“I’m a little annoyed that I didn’t realize it sooner. First of all, you have to know this is one of the most cliche things to happen to me, which is actually kind of awesome. But I’m also pretty frustrated with myself. I feel like I should’ve known how this would play out,” he emphasizes.
Jason just stares at him, unimpressed. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m in love with you. I think,” he blurts.
Jason immediately tenses, tilting his head slightly and furrowing his brows again. “You- what?”
“I’m- I think- no- yeah, I am. I’m in love with you.”
He tilts his head more. He looks… almost confused. Which in itself is confusing.
“Can you say something please?” Clark asks feebly.
“I don’t know what to say,” Jason huffs, shaking his head. “Jesus- okay. Yeah, okay. I think I might love you, too.”
The words come out, no louder than a mumble. Jason eyes are flicking all over his face, hands twitching at his sides. He looks like he’s on the verge of doing something. Clark hopes that something involves their mouths. Maybe the couch.
“That’s so cool,” Clark whispers.
And Jason rolls his eyes again, but he’s smiling. He’s really smiling, and then his hands are gripping Clark’s waist, and he’s pulling him in, and then they’re kissing. Which is really great.
Jason’s hands move to his neck, keeping him close while Clark’s hands move to grip the counter behind Jason, leaning in close so there’s no point where they’re not touching.
Jason’s nose moves against his and his tongue flicks over his lips, and Jason tastes really good. Like cigarettes and a hint of mint. He thinks if he did this and nothing else for the rest of his life, he’d be okay with it.
Jason pulls back for air, and Clark does not have that necessity, so he trails his lips down Jason’s jaw, tasting him. It’s really fucking good.
Jason laughs, just slightly, pushing him back. “What do you want out of this?”
Clark tilts his head, questioning. “What do you mean?”
Jason huffs again, his fingers gripping Clark’s t-shirt. “You know what I mean.”
Clark thinks about it some more. He does, he supposes. “At the risk of sounding really lame, I honestly just want you. I don’t need anything else.”
He doesn’t really care how he sounds, it’s true. And he just made out with Jason Todd, so. He feels like he could fly. Or, he feels like if he couldn’t fly, he would be able to, now.
Jason nods, fingers tightening on his shirt slightly before relaxing, breathing in deeply. “I can work with that.”
Clark grins, taking off his glasses and placing them behind Jason onto the counter. “That’s good. Can we kiss again?”
Jason can’t even hide the fondness in his eyes, leaning up and kissing Clark. He’s definitely never going to get tired of this. He already knows it.
He wants to keep this close. He wants it to stay with him everywhere he goes. Jason Todd loves him. He feels the way it nestles its way into his chest as they kiss, unclenching the tightness, leaving a tingling feeling that spreads all the way to the tips of his fingers.
“Stop thinking,” Jason mumbles against his lips.
Clark nods, leaning closer, mumbling “Yessir.”
He moves his hands to Jason waist, pulls him in closer, and grins.