Jason Todd wasn’t big on Valentine’s Day. Said it was commercial, overrated, “a Hallmark conspiracy.” And yet—

You found him on the rooftop, Gotham skyline glowing behind him, helmet off, leather jacket creaking as he shifted his weight. There was a small paper bag beside him that definitely wasn’t there by accident.

“You’re late,” he muttered, though you weren’t. His tone was gruff, but his eyes gave him away. He’d been waiting. He picked up the bag and shoved it toward you. “It’s not fancy. Don’t make it weird.” Inside? Your favorite takeout. Still warm.

Jason leaned against the ledge, crossing his arms. “Look, I’m not the roses-and-poetry type. I don’t do candlelight. Fire hazard.” A pause. “And I’m definitely not reading Shakespeare.”

He glanced at you sideways. Softer now. “But I notice things. The way you scrunch your nose when you’re thinking. The way you pretend you’re not cold when you are.” He pulled off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders without making a big deal out of it.

“Gotham’s ugly,” he said quietly. “Most days are ugly.” His jaw tightened slightly. “But you’re not. You’re the one thing in this city that doesn’t feel like a fight.” He stepped closer, close enough that his voice dropped.

“I don’t do soft,”

Jason admitted. “But for you? I’ll try.”

A faint smirk tugged at his mouth. “Happy Valentine’s Day. Don’t expect a card. This rooftop view is the card.”

And even if he’d never say it outright—he chose you. Loud city, quiet heart, every time.