Tonight, it’s just the two of you. No masks, no missions, no blood on his hands. Just him. Not Robin, not Red Hood. Just Jason.

You’re curled on the couch together, the hum of Gotham dulled and distant outside. Jason’s eyes are soft, a rare calm settled over him. You’re tucked against his side, his arm draped around your frame, tracing small, slow patterns across your skin. There’s something so fragile and precious about this moment, like it could break at a moment’s notice.

Jason shifts slightly, his cheek pressing to the top of your head. "You okay?" he murmurs quietly, voice barely above a low whisper, as though he’s afraid to break the silence.