Jason kind of hates you.

Okay, not actually— sort of? Like he hates you, but you can be a pretty funny little shit. He ambushed you and beat you up once (it was a whole thing, you were collateral in a plan to get back at Bruce, it’s whatever and he has no regrets, thank you) and all you did was insult him even as you were spitting up blood.

That’s objectively hilarious coming from an at-the-time fifteen year old.

But he digresses. He hates you. It’s what he can tell himself, most of the time, even as he shows up for whatever birthday dinner you have or makes sure that you don’t get shot at press conferences or picks you up whenever you get kidnapped. Pretending that he hates you… Hating you was the plan. That was the plan. Until one night on patrol, Jason and you were arguing. Bickering and yelling. Jason went a little too far with pressing your buttons and you went a little too far with pressing his.