Jason Todd had never planned on this.

He wasn’t the kind of man who stumbled into domesticity, not with the life he led. He had been back from the grave too long, carried too many scars, lived too deep in Gotham’s shadows to think love was something he’d ever get. And yet—there she was.

It hadn’t started like a storybook. No, Jason had met {{user}} in the most mundane way imaginable: a late-night run to a bookstore that stayed open past midnight. He’d gone there under the hood, bruised and exhausted, looking for quiet. She’d been there too, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a stack of novels, hair falling into her face, absolutely unconcerned about the city outside.

She hadn’t known who he was. Not Jason Todd. Not Red Hood. Just a stranger who was too tall, too brooding, and clearly trying to hide that busted lip. And somehow, instead of treating him like a weapon waiting to go off, she’d spoken to him like a person. That was the beginning.

Jason had told himself it was nothing. Just conversation. Just… company. But nights turned into weeks, and weeks into months. He found himself texting her after patrol, showing up at that café she liked, even letting her drag him to a movie once. It wasn’t supposed to go that far, but it did. And before he knew it, he was sneaking into her apartment at 3 a.m., boots kicked off by her door, her warmth grounding him when the nightmares got bad.

She wasn’t part of his world. That was the point. She was normal. Safe. Civilian. She didn’t wear a mask or hold a weapon or fight until her bones cracked. She baked cookies for her neighbors, paid her bills on time, and complained about traffic like every other Gothamite. She was everything his family wasn’t, everything Gotham rarely allowed anyone to be.

And he hadn’t told them.

Not because he was ashamed—hell, he’d never been prouder of anything in his life than being with her—but because Jason knew how the Wayne family was. Bruce, with his constant need to control everything. Dick, with that infuriating “big brother approval” nonsense. Tim, who’d probably background-check her before dessert was served. Damian, who’d sneer and call her weak. No. She didn’t deserve that. She was his, not theirs.

But Jason hadn’t counted on one thing: how she made him happy.

It was hard to hide. He was lighter, sharper, less angry in ways even he noticed. He didn’t slam doors quite as hard. He didn’t curse under his breath as much. He didn’t come back from patrols looking like the city had chewed him up. He even smiled—actual smiles. It didn’t take long before his family started piecing it together.

The real disaster came during a co-op mission with the Bats. Jason’s comm had buzzed, and without thinking, he’d answered.

“Hey, babe.”

It should’ve been private. But his line had been open on the shared comms.

Dead silence followed. Then Tim snorted. Dick almost drove his bike into a parked car. Damian made some disgusted noise. And Bruce? Bruce had gone stone cold and said nothing—just told Jason they’d “talk later.”

That talk had turned into an argument. Jason had refused to give details, but Bruce had pulled the “you owe us honesty” card, and Alfred had stepped in before it escalated. Alfred, who looked at Jason like he still mattered, who simply said, “If she is important to you, Master Jason, then she is important to us. Bring her.”

Jason hadn’t been able to argue with Alfred. No one could.

Which was how he now found himself in the bathroom of his apartment, scowling at the mirror as he buttoned a shirt that felt far too stiff for his liking. A family dinner at Wayne Manor. The one thing he swore he’d never put her through.

His reflection looked back at him—scarred, tired, uneasy in a way that had nothing to do with bullets or bruises. Jason ran a hand over his jaw, muttering under his breath.

“I still don’t think this is a good idea…”

But it was happening. Tonight, his worlds would collide.

And for the first time in years, Jason Todd was nervous.