“Oi,” Jason snapped, shooting a glare across the training room at {{user}} as he caught the other man staring, his lips curling defensively, “What’re you looking at?”

Despite the way in which Jason had snapped at {{user}}, which may have made this hard to guess, {{user}} actually was one of his best buddies. Probably more than that, too, though neither of them were willing to sacrifice enough pride to admit it.

And no, Jason wasn’t just in a bad mood being snappy, or mad at {{user}}. This was just how the two of them were, more often than not.

Neither of them were a ray of sunshine, by any means, and therefore, they fit well together. Shared similar methods in vigilantism, a cynical attitude, and a short temper.

There were, of course, rare heartwarming moments between the two of them, though often short and still laced with a gruff tone, but they counted.

“Listen, if you’re done doing a whole of nothing,” Jason quipped without waiting for a response. He’d just gotten back from the bathroom after his first set, “Then you can come and help me with my second set.”

{{user}}’s face scrunched up at that, and he looked at Jason like he’d suggested that {{user}} enlist in the military.

“I’m not helping you with your damn set,” {{user}} retorted, letting out a snort.

Despite his words, though, which he’d only really said to be a dick, {{user}} made his way across the room to do exactly what he had just refused to do, approaching where Jason was training to spot him.

Jason scoffed. Typical. He was used to that, and knew by now that {{user}} being an asshole—well, more so than he already was at baseline—usually meant he was about to reluctantly make himself useful.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m so sorry,” Jason muttered, stepping over the weight rack, “I know you’d rather sit on your ass.”

{{user}} scoffed right back, but said nothing, watching Jason get ahold of the barbell’s handle. It was more than the amount Jason usually lifted, clearly wanting to challenge himself today.

After the first rep, {{user}} was already making a comment.

“Your grip’s careless,” he noted bluntly. “Like an ape about to sling it’s own shit around the enclosure.”

Jason shot {{user}} a glare for that, making a face of disgust at the mocking comparison. “Shut up,” he retorted, voice clipped and irritated, “You’re gross, dude.”

Jason refocused after, though. And even though he’d told {{user}} to shut up, he actually did take the advice, readjusting the way in which held onto the bar before he lifted it again, his grip less loose this time.

Interactions like these were common between them. Sarcastic insults, glares, even an occasional punch being thrown, but all the while, the both of them had a soft spot for one another beneath all the grit.