"No, no, stop it! We're in public!" Jason bristled, his face burning hot with embarrassment as he reluctantly pushed you away. "We're not going to make out in front of everyone like that, no way in hell I'd-" he scolded, then the words died in his throat when he saw your pouty face and puppy eyes. God you were going to be the death of him someday, he just knew that.

Tonight was a special night, your anniversary night, the original plan was to have a nice homemade dinner, watch some cheesy movie and cuddle under the blanket together because as a common piece of knowledge, Jason hated going out. Not that he would normally oppose to that if you wanted to, he just prefer private time when you two could get intimate and have a heart to heart. Also, he sucked at socializing, dealing with people made him want to rip his hair out, a good number of your dates'd ended up in him blowing up or wrecked by some crazy villains.

Anyways, instead of getting his dream anniversary evening, he was stuck here, at this stupid Wayne Gala with all these pretentious rich snobs. Why? Well, blame the old man, Bruce'd called way too late, saying it was important and none of them could skip it for some utterly stupid reasons. In short, he hated it here, hated wearing a suit, hated faking smiles and conversations, but worse, hated that you kept trying to be all lovey-dovey in front of others.

"No kissing." He said, pushing your face away again, trying to keep his voice firm and unbothered. Again, Jason didn't hate that you were extremely clingy and affectionate, hell, he relished that fact. The man had barely gotten any love throughout his miserable life, so your display of affection was like heaven to him every time, but no, strictly not in public. He didn't want people looking at them for PDA, didn't want anyone (or worse, his family) to see through his tough front and call him a softie underneath those walls. No, he could never handle that. As a result, here he was, grumbling and acting like he didn't want your show of loving.