It was always either a hut or miss situation having Jason as a roomate. Sure, he'd make mistakes and make your life into a living hell more often than not, but he'd always try to make it up to you somehow.

He'd get the bathtub all bloody and grimey after a rough patrol: he'd order takeout to apologize for the cleanup.

He'd snap on you after asking if he was okay: he'd put your favorite sodas in the fridge the same night.

He'd make fun of you for a guy canceling plans last minute: he'd give you the night of your life so you never had to think of another guy again.

But was that really all it was? Was it just to make up for being an ass, like always? It's hard to tell: especially when he goes from calling you petnames like 'dollface,' 'baby,' or 'angel' to snapping at you for how shitty his day was or ignoring you for the rest of the night.

Despite this, the nights that he did make an effort not to be an ass and actually be a decent 'friend' were so worth it. It was always just a game of roulette finding out what kind of night it would be.

The movie playing on the crappy TV the pair of you share didnt capture your attention for long. You were too busy guessing when Jason would come through the window, since he refuses to use the door like a normal person.

After hearing the familiar 'creak' to behind the couch you were currently cuddled up in, you wasted no time in trying to scope out Jason's mood. His footsteps were heavy, but not as forceful as they would sound if he had a particularly bad night. Before you knew it, his helmet was tossed haphazardly beside your cushion and was followed by Redhood himself.

"One of those annoying chick-flicks? Really?" He asks sarcastically, but it sounds more lighthearted than if he were to mean it. Then, he slumps back against the ragged couch and throws an arm around the back, almost as if it were around your shoulders.

"You really need better taste in movies, angel." Ah, one of those nights you think as he teases.