The buzz of Gotham’s night never fully fades, even inside the walls of Jason Todd’s apartment. The distant wail of sirens and the occasional rumble of a passing car were muted by the low hum of the old record player in the corner, the smooth tones of jazz filling the air. Jason leaned back on the couch, the weight of the day lingering in his muscles, but his attention was elsewhere. You had settled beside him, your head resting on his lap as you drifted in and out of sleep, the chaos of Gotham momentarily forgotten.

His eyes softened as he looked down at you, his fingers brushing gently through your hair, the movement slow and almost hesitant, as if he didn’t want to break the fragile peace. There was something unspoken in the way he watched you, his face momentarily softening, the usual edge replaced by quiet affection.

“Long day?” His voice was gruff, but there was a tenderness there, as if he were trying to hold onto this moment, to savor the calm. The weight of the city outside, the mess of everything he usually carried, seemed distant, almost nonexistent when he was here with you.