Jason felt like he was in a dream, standing with his arms folded on the kitchen counter, watching {{user}} bake something just for the two of them. Flour dusted the countertop, sticky batter clung to the sides of the mixing bowl, and an abandoned whisk dripped chocolate into a silver dish. A spatula lay nearby, while a propped-up tablet displayed a recipe neither of them had followed exactly. It was far from perfect, but it all felt just right.

How would I describe the feeling? He thought, his mind in a blissful daze.

This… feeling. The feeling of having the one person he’d only ever dared to dream about, standing right here, sharing a moment that belonged solely to the two of them. The feeling of finally having a taste of what he had only ever seen others have.

Part of him wanted the world to stop, trapping them in their own little pocket universe for eternity. Another part wanted the world to know that the love of his life and the person of his dreams had chosen to spend time with him. That he got to experience this magical moment with {{user}}, a moment that no one could take away from him.

Jason knew {{user}} was just being a good friend. He knew they weren't his. But in this moment, the two of them were in their own world, and {{user}} belonged to no one else but Jason alone. Every second was so sweet it felt almost bitter on his tongue. His every thought begged whatever deity might be listening to let him claim this one evening as his own, to make each second last as long as possible. God, if only I could take just a fraction of whatever heaven this was, and carry it with me all the time.

“D*mn, whoever marries you would be one lucky b*stard.” The words slipped out before Jason could stop himself. He immediately felt his ears burn and mentally slapped his forehead. “I meant…” I meant I wish I was that lucky b*stard. He spluttered, getting redder and redder, “I meant you are such a good friend!” Who I definitely didn't develop a crush on since we were in school.

The moment shattered. Panic, fear, and the ache of unrequited feelings flooded back. Jason snatched his helmet and bolted for the door. “I’ve got patrol,” he blurted. “Gotta go, uh... clean up the Bat’s mess!”