Notes: Random Bruce/Jason kissing snip.

*

He forgets.

Not the important things, like the feel of the jumpline or all those flips he'd
needed to learn to avoid serious road-burn when some skel or another
knocked him off his bike. Jason's spent a lot of time *thinking* about
long tights, but he's never going to actually say it, even to joke.

Because Bruce would totally hook him up. He probably already *has*
some made, because he already has everything else, and...

It would make sense. It would be *completely* practical for him to have
long tights.

It just wouldn't look like the Robin suit anymore, and anyway, Dick
did this stuff for *years* without complaining and was perfect and
fuck that. He can deal.

He can *so* deal, especially...

Well, it's one of the things he forgets. The *big* thing. Because Bruce
is Batman, and it's not like this is some kind of summer job that
starts at the same time every day and *stops*.

Bruce can be Batman even when they're all eating breakfast, or at
some stupid charity ball. Anytime, anywhere. It's just that he can
also be *Bruce*.

Like he is right now, staring into Jason's eyes like there's something
there as important as anything else, cupping his face so fucking
gently and then kissing him so *hard*. Again.

Again.

He forgets, not because it doesn't happen often enough (thought it
*couldn't* happen often enough, as far as he's concerned), but
because he doesn't think he can wrap his head around it.

He remembers the first time he broke his arm -- the sound, and
the *look* on the stupid fucker's face like he'd gotten away with
something cool right before Batman had swung in and knocked
half the teeth out of his head -- but he doesn't remember the feel.
Because it was too much, and too shocking, right up until the
painkillers Bruce made him take kicked in, and by then he was
already in one of Alfred's casts.

("The human mind makes arrangements of its own.")

And this is just.

Bruce's tongue in his mouth, licking his teeth and tasting him and
*telling* him things, important things that he won't actually forget
even after he's forgotten *exactly* what it is that's making him
moan right now. It's the cool, slick side of the Batmobile against
the backs of his thighs and all of Bruce's heat pressing him up
hard to it.

It's the sound Bruce makes into his mouth, soft and small and
devastating, when Jason hitches one knee up to Bruce's waist
and *bucks*.

It's the trail of soft kisses over his cheek and down to his throat
that almost, almost make him lose the feel of Bruce's bucking
right *back* under the wave of distraction and --

"Jay..."

Bruce whispering, Bruce shoving a hand into his hair and
*pulling*.

Bruce making him shoot pre-come into his jock, because right
here, right now, Jason can't remember anything else. Not the girls,
not the cars, not the weirdly *alive* way a jumpline will whistle
through the air right before the grapple locks.

Nothing else is left, and nothing else matters. Just. "Bruce --"

All over him, and all through him. Splitting Jason down the middle
between memory and feeling, between reality and... fucking
*props*.

Just like Bruce.

Bruce bites his throat hard, and Jason throws his head back for
it.

And grins.

*