The soft hum of the diner’s neon sign buzzed overhead as Bruce Wayne pushed the door open, the bell jingling lightly. Jason Todd followed close behind, his leather jacket slightly damp from the Gotham drizzle outside. The place was nearly empty—just a few late-night stragglers nursing coffee and greasy plates.

Jason glanced around, raising an eyebrow. “A diner? You’re really pulling out all the stops tonight, huh, Bruce?”

Bruce smirked as they slid into a booth by the window. “It’s not about the stops, Jason. Sometimes it’s the simple things that matter.”

Jason scoffed but didn’t argue, glancing at the laminated menu. “Alright, but if you’re dragging me here, I’m getting the biggest burger they’ve got.”

“Order whatever you want,” Bruce replied evenly. “Tonight’s not about rules.”

Jason shot him a suspicious look but signaled the waitress anyway. As she scribbled down his order—a double cheeseburger, fries, and a milkshake—he couldn’t help but notice Bruce sticking with just coffee.

“You’re really not eating?” Jason asked.

“I’m fine,” Bruce said, his tone light. “I figured you could use this more than I could.”

Jason leaned back, arms crossed. “Why? You think I’m gonna fall apart if I don’t get a greasy burger once in a while?”

“No,” Bruce replied calmly. “I just know it’s been a rough week.”

Jason didn’t respond right away, his eyes darting to the rain streaking down the window. The week had been rough—training mishaps, heated arguments, and a patrol that went sideways. He wouldn’t admit it, but the quiet gesture of a simple meal out with Bruce meant more than he wanted to say.

As the rain pattered against the window, the two sat in companionable silence, the hum of the diner and the smell of coffee and fries filling the space. For a fleeting moment, they weren’t vigilantes. They were just Bruce and Jason, finding comfort in something as simple as a booth, a burger, and the glow of a neon sign in the Gotham night.