prodigaljaybird: (Comics - Creep.)
Jason moves away from the hut at a jog, face masked in casual expectation for the day ahead while his heart threatens to beat right out of his chest. His steps are easy, eyes fixed only on the path, and the instant the trees swallow him Jason doubles back at a dead run.

Something's wrong with Bucky. Something is wrong, and even without knowing what it is, Jason has seen enough to know that when things are wrong with Bucky, people die.

He slips right through Steve's window, trusting that this man, at least, won't kill him just for startling him. "Steve," Jason calls, voice pitched just loud enough to carry inside these four walls.

God, please be home. "Are you here?"
prodigaljaybird: (Comics - Bitchface.)
Jason's lungs feel like they're trying to turn inside out.

He takes a rattling breath through his teeth, gives up and curls his lip, lets the air blossom full and sweet in his lungs. It serves to stay the faint buzzing between his ears, but he's still dizzy, frustration and rage and a hurt he's too keyed up to realize is childish warring in his head and heart.

Fucking Batgirl. Fucking Robin. It's bad enough that Tim is gone and they're on the island instead, creeping in his periphery far more often than his temper can endure, and now she's in his class? Both of them, with Bucky? Jason could have pulled the parallel bars down with his bare hands this morning. He settled for oneupping her in every exercise he could, and in cardio, running harder, faster, better, pushing himself to the point of exhaustion and then harder still.

He can't tell if she's impressed or not. He doesn't care, and it doesn't mean a damn thing that he keeps looking at her, that he can't hold any expression on his face that isn't a sneer or snarl. She can't touch him in class, not in combat or in quality, and if she thinks she can come in just to spy on him, to see if he's 'doing anything she has to stop,' she's fucking wrong.

Fury renewed, Jason unfurls his hands and takes a step over the sand, eyes on Steph where she's detached from the rest of the dispersing students.
prodigaljaybird: (Comics - Red hoodie.)
He's taken food from the Winchester.

It's not stolen, not today, and he even took the time to sweet talk the tall, pretty blonde in the kitchen into a custom order. He hadn't even had to help, just promised an extra boar or two the next time the Winchester needed meat, showed up when the food was ready, and that was that. And so it is that when Jason shoulders through the hut door, it's with a roast, a casserole, and an honest to god apple pie in his arms.

"Bucky!" he bellows, plunking everything on the table right away. He thinks the roast might be boar shoulder, it's hard to tell through all the gravy, and the bean casserole has enough cheese on it to make Jason ponder eating an actual vegetable. He sticks them side by side, unrolling the dinnerware tied into the cloth thrown over his shoulder. Food, plates, silverware...the table has never looked so civilized.

Jason twists to look over his shoulder. "I got food!"
prodigaljaybird: (Comics - Worry.)
Jason's barely set Tim's feet in the direction of the Compound before he's off again, flying through the trees with his tail between his legs.  He almost falls more than once, too much anger, too many rattled nerves diverting his thoughts from where they should be, and by the time he reaches Bucky's hut he's carrying another set of cuts and bruises.

He doesn't feel them beneath the sting of the mace, and between the swollen, chemical red painting his features and his own angry flush, they're nearly invisible on his skin when he lands, walks the short distance to Bucky's porch and slumps down.

He hadn't made a conscious decision to come here, but he leans against the support post easily enough, comforted by the fact that while Bucky will probably bark at him or make him run some more, he can't make his face hurt any worse than it already does.  Sanctuary thusly claimed, Jason settles in to lick his wounds, rubbing his aching eyes until a fresh stream of moisture helps to flush the last of the mace away.

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Jason Todd

September 2014

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