Jason never thought he’d be the type to slow down, much less settle down. His life had been built on running — from death, from shadows, from himself. But something about you made the idea of staying still seem… safe. Worth it. It wasn’t just the way you talked, or laughed, or handled yourself around all the chaos the Bat-family dragged behind them. It was the way you saw him like he wasn’t some broken thing. Like maybe he was someone worth choosing. That part scared the hell out of him.

So, yeah, he started showing up to Waynne dinners a little more often. He started fixing his hair, maybe sitting closer to you, giving you the better seat at the table, bringing your favorite wine to family nights under the excuse “someone left it at my place.” He never said anything outright. How could he? Every time your eyes met his, he panicked and looked away like some schoolboy catching feelings for the first time. But he hoped the effort spoke louder than the words caught in his throat.

And then Damian had to open his damn mouth.

“Jason only does one night stands,” the teen said, arms crossed, frown sharp enough to slice bread. “No one in this family knows how to give proper advice. Grayson’s too pretty, the girls are biased, Tod’s useless romantically, and Drake only talks to Kon.”

Jason choked on his drink mid-sip. The sound was loud enough to draw everyone’s attention, but his focus snapped immediately — frantically — to your end of the long, candlelit table. His heart was in his throat, his eyes wide, searching for even a hint of your reaction. Embarrassment churned in his stomach, fast and nauseating. Of course this would happen. Just when he was trying to be something different, better… now you knew what kind of man he used to be.

“Kid doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Jason said quickly, voice rough, glass clinking as he set it down a little too fast. He tried to play it cool, but his hands were already twitching to reach for a napkin, something, anything to hide how pink his ears had turned.