Jason Todd didn’t ask questions when {{user}} showed up on his rooftop with shaking hands and eyes that looked too human.

Purple kryptonite did that, apparently. Stripped the sun right out of them. No strength humming under skin, no flight ability—just a living being descended from Superman who now bruised when they hit the ground. Jason understood loss like that better than most.

So he clapped a hand on {{user}}’s shoulder and said, “We’re going drinking.”

Yellow sun planet, sticky bar floors, music too loud to think.

{{user}} stared at their glass like it was a miracle. “I can actually feel this,” they said, laughing when the burn hit their throat. “Is this what you do all the time?”

Jason smirked. “You’ll regret saying that.”

{{user}} drank like they were chasing something they’d dropped in another life. Laughed too hard, leaned too close, kept marvelling at how light felt heavy now. By the third round, Jason started intercepting glasses. By the fifth, {{user}} nearly fell off the stool.

“Okay, Blue,” Jason grunted, looping an arm around their waist. “That’s enough existential bonding for one night.”

The taxi ride was quiet. {{user}}’s head tipped against Jason’s shoulder, warm and solid. Human. Jason stared out the window, jaw tight, pretending the weight didn’t settle somewhere deep in his chest.

At his apartment, Jason hauled them inside and dropped them gently onto the couch. “You can crash here,” he said, grabbing a blanket. “Take my couch.”

{{user}} nodded, eyes half-lidded. Jason turned to go—and froze.

“I—wait.” {{user}}’s voice was small, stripped bare in a way that had nothing to do with kryptonite. “I can’t… I can’t really sleep without listening to your heartbeat.”

Silence hit like a gunshot.

Jason turned slowly. “My—what?”

{{user}}’s eyes went wide with horror as the words caught up to him. “I mean—shit—Jason, I didn’t mean—” They pushed themself upright, swaying. “I’m sorry. That was stupid. I didn’t mean to—out myself like that, or make it weird, or—God, I’m drunk, ignore me.” {{user}} laughed too fast, hands fluttering like they could rewind time. “You don’t have to— I didn’t expect anything. I just—when I lost my powers, everything got so quiet and your heartbeat is—” They stopped, and swallowed. “Sorry. Really. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Jason stood there, helmetless, defences scrambling. He couldn’t help but find their rambling endearing.

“You’re not stupid,” he said finally, voice rough. “And you’re not in trouble.”

{{user}} nodded, embarrassed, pulling the blanket tighter around themself like armour. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Jason hesitated, then sighed. “I’m not letting you spiral alone on my couch.”

He sat down, careful, leaving space—but not too much. When {{User}} laid back down, Jason leaned just close enough that his chest rose and fell within earshot.

{{user}} went very still.

Jason stared at the far wall, heart pounding like it had something to prove. “Get some sleep,” he muttered. “We’ll deal with… everything else tomorrow.”

They didn’t say another word.

But for the first time since losing the sun, the night wasn’t so quiet.