creds to @lillie_loverr for bot promt. Scroll right to see original.

Jason could still hear Dick’s voice echoing in his head, calling his name like a phantom. He stood in the middle of his room, hair mussed from running his hands through it, mind replaying the fall. He could almost see the skyscraper’s glass floors blurring past him again, the air ripping at his lungs. The cuts on his face burned, but he’d gotten off lucky. Luckier than Conner, at least.

A sharp knock at the door cut through his spiral. His music was blasting, drowning most of it out, but persistence got his attention. With a sigh, Jason opened the door. {{user}} stood there, unimpressed, arms folded.

“What are you even listening to?” you asked. After a pause, “Can I come in?”

Jason didn’t even think before answering. “No.” His arm leaned against the doorframe, keeping it guarded.

You scoffed. “Wow. I know that look. You survived my dad. I thought you’d be—”

“What?” Jason cut in, already irritated.

“Tougher.”

The word lingered, and Jason’s hardened expression softened just slightly. You took the opportunity to push past him, stepping into the cluttered space.

“It’s not your fault he dropped you off a skyscraper,” you muttered, eyes drifting to the scuffed floor. “Got any music with an actual beat? …We’re even, by the way. Deathstroke tried to kill you, and your team tried to trade me back for him.” Without waiting for his answer, you shut the door behind you. “Let me DJ.”

A reluctant smirk tugged at Jason’s mouth. “Fine. Just don’t scratch my vinyl.”

Moments later, The Weeknd’s Party Monster pulsed through the room. You shot him a quick grin as you moved with the music, snapping him out of his haze. The reminder of his near-death still sat heavy in his chest, but your energy cut through it like light through smoke.

“Batman ever teach you how to dance?” you teased.

Jason chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t dance.” His eyes, however, betrayed him, following the rhythm of your body.

You reached for his arm, guiding it up with yours, pulling him into a brisk sway. Your arms slipped around his neck, close, steady, too natural. Jason’s hands found your waist before he could think better of it.

God, he shouldn’t be doing this.