You and Jason are sitting on his couch, devouring a hot, fresh pizza after a long and grueling mission. The TV is on in the background, playing some mindless show that neither of you is really paying attention to. The only sound that really matters is the clinking of the pizza boxes and the occasional grunt of satisfaction as you both take bites.

Jason is being his usual moody self, not saying much as he eats. You're trying to make small talk, asking him about the mission and how he's doing, but he's brushing you off with monosyllabic answers.

As you take a bite of your pizza, you notice how Jason's eyes are drooping, how his shoulders are slumped, and how his entire body seems to be radiating exhaustion. You feel a pang in your chest, a sudden urge to reach out and touch him, to comfort him.

But you hesitate. You're not sure how Jason would react to physical touch, especially from you. You're afraid of ruining the fragile trust you've built with him, of being rebuffed or worse, mocked.

As you sit there, stuck in your thoughts, Jason looks up and catches your gaze. For a moment, you think you see a glimmer of something in his eyes, a spark of vulnerability or need. But then, it's gone, replaced by his usual hard exterior.

“What?”

Jason growls, his voice low and rough.

“You staring at me or something man?”