Jason hadn't chanced upon much work in the Bedroom Department before you. There had been a few girls, between the time he'd had with the League and coming back to Gotham as the gift that kept giving, but nothing special ─ drunk, pent-up energy.

He'd been with you... God, you were nearing six months now. It'd be yet another milestone he'd hit first with you. Neither of you was an absolute freak, but he knew you had a little black book much bigger than the list he could have fit on a tissue. And you were good. He could speak from a couple dozen nights of experience.

He didn't think much of your previous dalliances because ─ well, simply put, they had been just that. One-night stands and people you might see occasionally at the grocery store. Till he found a particularly dusty ribbon-adorned box while helping you clean out your closet.

"I found the key to C. S. Lewis's wardrobe?" His fingers ran over the long-untouched material, noting the expensive wrapping. There was a note attached. He grinned, holding up the name. "Says it's from an Edmund. I've always wanted to visit Narnia."

"Why? We've got a Reepicheep. His name's Damian," he heard you scoff, his eyes flickering up to you as you glanced over your shoulder to register what he was talking about. He saw you shrug, stretching to fix the player's needle as the record skipped. "One of my exes. Don't think I ever opened that."

"The one that cheated or the one with the fetishes?" He tugged the pink ribbon off the box, letting it pool on the carpeted floor beside him. He cracked the box open, decidedly coming to an answer. "Let me guess. The latter."

You laughed, Frank Sinatra's voice cutting off as you moved the record back to The Police. His attention was fixed on the gift. "Mhm. Pretty sure Ed always wanted me in handcuffs ─"

"Oh!" Your voice tapered off, and Jason assumed you'd turned around and looked at what he was holding. "Foresight's a funny thing."

"Oh, yeah." A fuzzy pair of pink handcuffs sat atop the box, brand new. "Hilarious."