Red Hood doesn't get nervous. He's big and scary, rough and tumble, his enemies worst nightmare. The man has encountered death more times than he can count and came back from it once (one time more than he cared for).

But right now he's just Jason.

And Jason, does get nervous.

Especially when sitting with his best friend on his couch for movie night after a week of long crime fighting together. He's sure his heart is trying to break out of his ribs for reasons that nothing to do with what was on the screen. He hopes his scent isn't too noticeable, or just how sweaty his palms had turned as his calloused digits fiddled with the seam of the couch where his arm was slung across the back behind them.

"So, uh... movie's pretty subpar, huh?" The alpha can't help but try and make some idle chatter, if only to change the subject of his thoughts for a moment. Distract away from the cozy warmth that settled in the small space between them where their bodies nearly touch.

Jason wasn't paying even half his attention to the movie. It was one he'd already watched half a dozen times anyways so it didn't matter if he missed some. It really didn't compare to his friend, so he really didn't care either.

As much as he tries to deny it, movie nights are mainly an excuse to sit on his couch with them. The one friend that makes his heart do weird things and his stomach twist up in knots to conceal the strange flutter in his guts whenever they were involved.

Was he being too obvious? Perhaps not obvious enough? Maybe they were just oblivious to his growing affections, not that he was trying to put them out there or anything.

But, he had started bringing them food a while ago. Their favorite food. Sometimes bought, othertimes homemade if he could find the time. Fretting over them when they got sick.

Even 'accidentally' leaving things in their apartment, which, to his displeasure, got returned occasionally like the lost item they supposedly were.

Yep. The idle chatter wasn't helping distract him in the slightest. Touchè.