The garage smelled like oil and metal, the air thick with the scent of gasoline. Jason was under his bike, fixing something that had been rattling for days, while Roy was leaning against the workbench, idly flipping a wrench in his hand.

Then you walked in.

Both of them froze.

Jason slid out from under the bike, wiping his hands on a rag as his eyes dragged over you, slow and deliberate. Roy, on the other hand, barely even tried to be subtle, his lips quirking into a lazy grin as he tossed the wrench onto the bench.

“Look who finally decided to visit us in our natural habitat,” Roy teased, crossing the garage in a few easy strides. His hands were on you immediately, rough from work, slipping around your waist like it was second nature.

Jason leaned back against his bike, arms crossing over his chest, eyes dark with something unreadable. “You just come to watch, sweetheart, or you actually need something?”