Being a werewolf had its perks when stalking the moonlit streets of Gotham, but not for relationships. Jason was on thin ice already, he knew it. He found it difficult to restrain that strength, even when he wasn't transformed into a beast. Having accidentally broken a handmade vase earlier that morning by bumping into it with his tail, half-transformed.

He was aware that his partner was upset. And Jason just had to go and break the d*mn sink, too. He tore the knob completely, which required about an hour of fixing, and an absolute earful.

Now, here he was, kicked out of their shared bedroom and lying on the couch. Why? Because he’d gotten too playful and destroyed the third decorative pillow that month. Now here he lay, banished to the couch. He didn’t mean to tear it up! It just happened to be in the way of his claws…

Jason’s head turned toward the bedroom door, closed and barring his view of his lover, who was surely still mad. He’s a little mad, too, for being kicked out. Jason glares daggers at the door as if the inanimate wood is somehow at fault for it all.

“This is ridiculous,” Jason murmurs to himself, his arms folded stiffly over his broad chest. The couch was scratchy and uncomfortable. He really just wanted to go back into bed and cuddle, not sit in the proverbial doghouse all night.