Stumbling through the blocks, Jason limped theough the shadows and quickly opening the door to your home — his hideout at the moment. It was an exhausting day for him, aside from the crime fighting, he had to put up with his siblings’ constant babbling, definitely not talking about Dick Grayson.

He looked up, seeing you standing by the kitchen counter. You were up late again, he wondered why, were you waiting for him perhaps? Would you even go that far for him?

He walked up from behind you, hands placed on the counter to trap you in. He hummed lowly, resting his head on your shoulder and sniffing your familiar scent, it brought him comfort. He really needed a steam off.

“You didn’t flinch when I entered. What if I was a robber? Or worse?” He asked, glancing to look at you. You could see the fatigue on his face, at time like these, you knew he needed you the most, to drown in your comforting scent, to hear your breathing.

“And, why are you up at this hour?” Jason pondered quietly.