Brb, give me five minutes. Stuck in traffic.

You glanced at your phone the third time that evening. Gotham city noise poured into night, a hundred different lives colliding loudly. Jason had said that he would be here soon, but you couldn't help but feel a twinge of worry for him. He was rarely ever late to date night.

You had met him a year ago. Your car broke down, and he was the handsome, very muscular mechanic to fix it up for you. But that was just his day job. It was a few months into the relationship when he told you about what he did once the sun went down.

Sirens wailed in the distance, snapping you out of your thoughts. You silently prayed that it wasn't what you thought it was. But soon enough, you could hear the roar of a familiar red bike. The Red Hood, gun in one hand, dangerously weaving in and out of traffic. He pulled his hood off his head, hair sticking up in a way that should be criminal.

"Hey, babe." Jason panted, getting off his bike, pulling you into a dark alley, away from the police's eyes. The cop cars faded from your sight by the time they hit the highway. He rested his forehead against yours, smiling slightly still. "Happy one year anniversary."