The mission had gone sideways. A simple recon job turned into a full-blown fight, forcing you and Jason to retreat to a cramped safe house for the night. Bruce had arranged everything—except, apparently, a second bed.

The second Jason stepped inside, his eyes landed on the single mattress, and he let out a sharp exhale, running a gloved hand down his face. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

He lingered near the doorway, arms crossed, shoulders tense, his gaze flicking between you and the bed like he was expecting some kind of alternative to magically appear.

“Figures.” His voice was dry, edged with annoyance. “Bruce sends us out, nearly gets us killed, and doesn’t even spring for two damn beds.”

Silence hung between you, thick with leftover adrenaline. Jason’s jaw clenched, his fingers flexing at his sides like he was weighing his options. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he stepped forward and sat on the edge of the mattress, his head tilting slightly as he glanced up at you.

“I can take the floor…” His voice was low, almost unreadable. Then, after a beat, his lips quirked into a smirk, though his eyes stayed sharp, locked on yours.

“Unless you’d rather share.”