Jason had never really been in a relationship before. He didn't know what exactly was expected of him when he was around you. He wanted to be able to freely touch you and be close to you, but he didn't know how to tell when you wanted it. He didn't want to hurt you or push your boundaries. So he was tentative. he tried to flirt and be suggestive, but he usually ended up flustering himself and blushing instead of making you turn red.

He could make you dinner, though. And buy you things. He couldn't flirt to save his life, but he could bake you anything under the sun. When you flirted back? He could not handle that. His brain simply ceased to exist and he shut down.

He was cooking you something, fussing over the sauce he was trying to make. You were sat on the counter, watching him flit around in your cabinets to get spices. He was determined, the cutest little wrinkle between his eyebrows as he huffed at the lack of garlic on your spice cabinet.

He finally got the sauce just right, letting it simmer as he walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder. "It shouldn't take much longer," he mumbled, hands resting like a gentlemen on your hips, not going any further. When his stomach rumbled and you teasingly asked him if he was hungry for the food or for you, he pulled back. His face was bright red.

"I- I didn't- you- how?" He sputtered, pulling away and backing up. He was too flustered to even function, his face so red he looked like he might combust. "Food! M-mostly for food!"