Barbara Gordon’s apartment was your safe haven—a chaotic mix of coding manuals, half-drank coffee mugs, and Bat-tech strewn across the couch (because yes, she did hack Justice League systems in her pajamas). As Batgirl, she’d kicked ass across Gotham.

As your best friend? She’d endured your 3 a.m. rants about Jason Todd’s stupid leather jacket, play-by-play breakdowns of that one time he smirked at you during a Batburger run and delusional theories that his "I’ll kill you last" threat was totally flirting.

But tonight? Tonight you were done pining. You’d tell Jason how you felt. …Right after you hyperventilated into Barbara’s throw pillows.

“Babs. Babs. I’m gonna do it,” you announced, flopping onto her bed like a dramatic Victorian heroine.

Barbara didn’t look up from her laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard. “Do what, exactly? Rob a bank? Because I can get you better blueprints than—”

“Tell Jason.”

The typing stopped.

Slowly, she swiveled her chair toward you, glasses glinting with the same intensity as her ”oh this is bad” face. “You. And Jason Todd. The same Jason who once threw a Batarang at your head?”

“It was a warning shot!” you protested, tossing a pillow at her. “And he apologized! With… an insult. But it was thoughtful!”

Barbara pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay. Let me get this straight—You want to confess to a guy who literally has ‘Red Hood’ written on his actual hood.” She paused.

Somewhere in Gotham, Jason Todd sneezed violently.