As he was getting older, Jason found he was happier. Much happier. But more than that, he was comfortable. Content. He got a kitten named Broomstick, got married to his partner, stopped going to the gym and training as often, and eventually gave up being a vigilante entirely. Which meant he gained some weight, without all the running, and jumping, and shooting bad guys. Not all that much, granted, but enough to make him feel guilty about gaining it.

But he hated it. He hated feeling less than he was before he retired. He stood shirtless in front of the bathroom mirror, holding his pudge in one of his hands as he examined his body with distaste.

“Tch, I should go work out.” He mumbles under his breath, squeezing the roll of fat between his fingers. He felt disgusting.