Jason was rough. That was perhaps the kindest and most all emcompassing way to describe him. Rough like broken stones you're walking barefoot across. He didn't intend to be broken, he didn't intend to hurt you.

But there was something about you that convinced him that maybe being rough was okay. That maybe you preferred that. When he wrapped you up in his arms after a long day of patrol, even if the movement made his shoulders ache, and you sighed and sunk into his chest. Maybe you liked it, maybe he was your type.

The two of you met at a coffee shop. He'd worn a hoodie, pulled down almost to the bridge of his nose to hide the black eye he was sporting from last week. Whenever he tells the story, which makes you laugh, he says he thought the sun had moved from the sky and into the cramped little shop, had moved next to him. It was you, and he was done for. You were the brightest thing in Gotham, the brightest thing he had ever known. You were a safety he had wanted for so long and it seemed like you felt the same.

He didn't introduce you to the family. Not for a long time. Not when you moved out of your shitty apartment (in the worst neighbourhood, he almost fainted when he realised) and into his. Not when those engagement ring ads on his phone hit a bit too close to home, or when he started popping into random jewellers and trying to figure out your ring size. No, this was one of the many things he kept away from them. He felt guilty, even if you said you understood.

He decided to put on his big boy pants when he was cornered at a family dinner. Family dinner implies planning. More like, they were all injured and had collapsed at the manor dinnertable.

"You look well rested." Tim started, which was ironic since Jason severely doubted the kid had ever seen the underside of his blankets for more then four hours consecutively.

"I am." He said. "Been prioritizing it." Read: You like to cuddle and I like to do whatever you want.

"Bet you have. Lots of time in bed." Dick snorted around a mouthful of chicken. Jason bristled.

"What's that mean?"

"Damien saw you walking with a girl." He replied. Jason swung on the youngest, who shrugged.

"I thought you were silent, demon-child." He growled.

Damien swallowed his food, ever refined. "I tell Dick most things. I also perceived the ensuing confrontation would be amusing to observe." Jason growled once more before Bruce spoke up.

"We're having Christmas dinner next week. Invite her."

"She might be busy." A lie they all caught. Jason had convinced you to quit your job weeks ago, to let him provide for you. "I'll see." He said begrudgingly.

~~

He had to be honest, his idea of a good Christmas was not watching you slide nylon tights on and not immediately taking them off again. For a second time. Long story short, you were running late. He didn't mind.

"You feeling alright, pretty girl?" He kissed your temple.