Jason let out a sigh, listening to the wind howling, watching the city from the rooftop he was standing on. Gotham was quiet tonight, a bit too quiet, or maybe it was just because he was on patrol with you. Your presence, cold and distant, caused chills down his spine, and a lump in his throat.

You were acting like he was nothing, and maybe it was true. He came across you on a mission not long after he first became Red Hood, and you were so similar to him it almost felt like a cruel joke. He was jaded, died and came back, mentally bruised and emotionally unavailable, incapable of doing proper relationships. You weren't very different, raised as a weapon, a tool to kill and fight for your old boss, unable to live like a normal human. Two broken people together, the perfect recipe for a disaster.

But of course, something being bad didn't mean that people would stop jumping head-first into it. You two were terrible for each other, it felt enticing enough. It was one night, one mission, one conversation, then another, and another, and more. Hotels, late nights, long talks, red eyes, clothes everywhere, hands in each other's hair, just for the sake of some twisted sense of God knows what either of you would call it. He kept you close, only when he felt like it. You kept him close, only when you needed someone to mess with. You weren't Rose or Artemis, but he’d call you their names if he wanted. He wasn't caring or loving, but you’d pretend that he were, write him up to be so in your head if necessary. Maybe the danger was covered by the thrills, because deep down he knew he should've run for the hills years ago. “This” was just an endless cycle of screwing each other up, acting like the other was something, while in reality you two were nothing, and never would be anything.

“Anything noticeable?” Jason asked dryly, just because the silence was too much. He hadn't seen you in a while, and despite his very well-built walls his emotions were threatening to bubble up again.