After a long night surrounded by assholes who called themselves Black Mask and Two-Face, sleep was the best thing that had happened to Jason in days. Who would’ve thought those two lunatics would ever team up? Batman, Nightwing and Red Hood had actually had to work together just to make it out alive.

So yeah—sleep had felt like a damn miracle.

For a moment, it even felt like a dream when he thought he could roll over the next morning, pull you closer, and drag his lips lazily across your bare shoulder…

Except, when he reached out to hold you, his hand met nothing but cold sheets.

What the f—

Groaning, Jason lifted his head with effort, blinking against the sunlight slicing through the blinds. It felt like the sun was trying to burn straight through his skull. He was about to drop his head back onto the pillow when he heard it—

You. In the bathroom. Retching.

He cursed under his breath, swung his legs over the bed, and stood. Every muscle protested, still aching from the night before. He shuffled to the bathroom doorway, hair a mess, voice gravel-deep and sleep-heavy.

Without saying a word, he stepped behind you, gathering your hair in one hand and rubbing gentle circles between your shoulder blades with the other.

“Told you that takeout was bad,” he muttered, the hint of a yawn roughening his tone.

Reaching into the tiny cupboard above the sink, he pulled out a washcloth. The bathroom was so small he didn’t even have to move to run it under cold water while still holding your hair back.

He pressed the cool cloth to the back of your neck, his palm steady, his touch softer than his words. Then he leaned down and pressed a brief kiss to the crown of your head.

“You good?” he murmured.