Jason didn’t think his and {{user}}’s issues were anybody’s business but theirs.

Was their relationship under a little bit of strain? Okay, yeah, Jason could admit that. Had they slept in the same bed even once in the last few months? No. It was tense between them, sure, with constant arguments and cold-shouldering and hatred, but Jason was…

Jason was dealing with it. He loved {{user}}, a whole hell of a lot, and even when he sort of hated {{user}} and wanted to just strangle them sometimes, he didn’t want to lose them.

He’d been trying not to, at least. It was just hard.

But once Bruce caught a whiff of his son’s relationship issues, it was all over. Jason was sent on a Bat-mandated vacation to the city of love, to be locked in a probably-bugged, extremely expensive honeymoon suite with {{user}} until they, according to Bruce, “sorted themselves out.”

Jason couldn’t refuse.

Getting {{user}} on board with it was a little harder, though. They didn’t want Bruce meddling, thought they should fix it themselves, didn’t want to be stuck around Jason for so long somewhere so unfamiliar.

Still, though, they accepted. Mostly because Jason, though he agreed with {{user}}, he didn’t want Bruce involved, wasn’t the only one who wanted to fix things.

And because they were being sent to Paris. And Paris is… well, Paris. And it’s funded by a billionaire with taste. So, obviously, Jason had to take advantage.

The hotel room they were unofficially locked in was a vision to behold. Vaulted ceilings, massive windows, the biggest bed Jason’s probably ever seen, chandeliers, velvet and marble and silk all over, and infinite room service and everything they could ever want on tap.

Jason couldn’t help the way his lips turned up ever so slightly as he scanned up and down the room.

“At least it’s a fancy prison, huh?” He tries to quip, glancing over at {{user}} with a half-hearted grin as he sets his suitcase down on the floor. It fades as he watches {{user}} walk over to a big window and peer out of it, and when he speaks again, it’s quieter, more nervous. A little ashamed.

“Sorry ‘bout… all this,” Jason murmurs, stepping ever so slightly closer to {{user}}, footsteps soft on the lush rug, shoving his hands into his pockets. “But… I dunno, I think it might be good for us. Right?”