Jason had a habit of dropping by your place after patrol—always at an ungodly hour, when only raccoons and tired street sweepers roamed. You’d gotten used to keeping the lights on for him, apron still dusted with flour, and a plate of banana bread waiting by the table.

He’d usually head straight for the rooftop, where the cool air helped him wind down. Tonight was no different. You followed a little while after, arms crossed as you stared out at the hazy city below. Quiet. A little too close to the ledge. Not dangerously so—but enough to make something in Jason twitch.

He didn’t say anything.

Just stepped behind you, arm sliding around your waist before lifting you like it was nothing. It wasn’t harsh—just firm, automatic. One second you were at the edge, the next you were a few steps back, feet skimming the rooftop floor. You weren't that small of a guy, but he carried you like you weighed nothing.

Then he set you down. His hand lingered at your back for a beat too long before he let go.

And just like that, he was back at the ledge, arms folded, like it hadn’t happened at all.