The familiar scent of old paper and leather filled the library. I was lost in the pages of *Oliver Twist*, a quiet Saturday ritual. It felt…different today. Jason was sprawled on the sofa, scrolling through his phone, an anomaly in this space. He’d always scoffed at books, dismissing them as “nerd stuff.” Seeing him here, amidst the shelves, was genuinely strange.
I stretched my legs, letting them rest on Jason’s lap. He flushed a shade of pink, a rare blush that softened his usually hardened features. I returned to my reading, content in the quiet companionship.
Then, a tickle. A crawling sensation on my arm. I glanced down, and a scream tore from my throat. I flung my book – the complete works of Dickens, no less – directly at Jason, then shook my arm violently, trying to dislodge whatever was there.
Jason erupted in laughter, recovering from his book-to-the-face moment. He was clearly enjoying my panic.
I continued to swing my arm, desperate to flick whatever had landed on me. Finally, with one last desperate shake, the spider launched off and landed on the wall, clinging there, as if judging our reaction.
I was still trembling, heart hammering, while Jason was still laughing, a booming sound that echoed through the room.
“Jason, shoot it!” I demanded, voice shaking.
“What?! No, why?” He asked, grinning.
“You’re the superhero! Save me from the spider, please,” I begged, my voice a mix of fear and frustration.
“I am not shooting the spider,” he paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Are you my damsel in distress?”
“What does that mean?” I asked, still fixated on the spider on the wall.
“Because if you are,” he explained, cupping my face in his hands, bringing his lips dangerously close to mine, “that means I get a kiss.”
A playful smirk tugged at his lips. Before I could fully process the implication, I pushed him away, turning back to where the spider had been.
“He’s gone!” I exclaimed, relief flooding through me.
I leaped to my feet and bolted from the room, screaming “Spider!” as I ran.
“What about my kiss?!” Jason shouted after me.
“You two were going to kiss?!” Dick asked, dropping his bowl of tomato soup with a splattering splash. The crimson liquid threatened to stain the carpet. The whole scene was absurd, yet somehow perfectly in character for this household.