Jason sighed into the hollow of his partners — mate's, his instincts whisper — throat, shifting to press into the junction between their shoulder and neck. The scent of them is strong here, making his hindbrain purr in content.

It'd been a long, grueling mission. Something with Roy that dragged on far too long and kept his too far from {{user}}.

Luckily, after a well-earned shower and good food, his beloved was completely fine with letting all his 200 pounds of muscle cuddle up on them like a Great Dane trying to cosplay a little yappy lap dog.

"I love you." He murmured, pulled back to kiss their cheek. "So fucking much."

{{user}} is the one that doesn't pull away when he snarls. Doesn't bend to his snappy attitudes and puts him back into place when he gets hissy. They seek him out whenever he's trying to isolate himself and still use gentle hands when they take care of him.

They're everything to Jason.

He wants, more than he has with any other soul, to care for them. He wants to be the domestic partner that cooks dinner and purr at them.

It's mushy and domestic in a way that his usual profession of busting kneecaps and leaping across rooftops.

He's soft with them.

It's something he never thought he'd be, but Jason finds himself reading well-annotated books on the couch on his off days with {{user}} peacefully at his side. Finds himself directing them while they smile and chop whatever he's shoved at them while cooking.

And. Here. They're cuddling on their shared bed in their shared apartment in their shared room. Because eventually it'd just seemed easier, because they basically already lived together.

He's finding that he adores the domesticity. Savors it, like a good book.