Today had been an absolute shitshow.

Jason doesn't know if it's the weather that's rolled into Gotham that's spawned the uptick in petty crime, but the entire Family has had their hands full, including himself.

It's felt like for every two he stops, three more crawl out of the woodwork ㅡ and he shoves down the bitter thoughts about how Bruce's methods (and the rest of the Family) don't always work. The system is flawed, and he knows that well.

So when he manages to make it back to his partner's residence (it beats going back to the Manor), all he wants is to shed his gear and cuddle for a while before they fall asleep together.

It's late, so he doesn't think much of the fact that it's dark and quiet as he steps in, stepping out of his boots.

And then he looks up, finding his partner sitting at the kitchen table. He stops. "Is something wrong?" Concern floods in, no matter how hard he tries to keep it at bay. "Did something happen?"

They shake their head, then glances at the calendar on the fridge. Jason follows their gaze. He's confused -- he knows its not their anniversary, so --

Oh.

Oh, shit.