The briefing room had finally emptied.

Monitors dimmed. Chairs scraped back into place. The lingering smell of coffee and gun oil hung in the air while voices faded deeper into the manor. One by one, everyone disappeared—Dick joking with Tim, Damian muttering something judgmental under his breath, Bruce already moving onto the next problem.

And you stayed behind.

Not inside.

Outside the manor doors, sitting stiffly on the stone steps with a folded note clutched in both hands like it might explode if you loosened your grip.

Your heartbeat was unbearable.

You’d fought criminals before. Faced down assassins. Patrolled rooftops in storms.

None of that compared to this.

Because this was Jason.

Jason Todd

The note in your hands was slightly wrinkled now from how hard you’d been holding it. Your fingers trembled so badly the paper kept crackling between them.

Maybe this was stupid.

Maybe everyone would laugh.

Maybe he would.

The age difference sat heavily in your mind no matter how much you tried to ignore it. Jason was older, sharper around the edges, someone who carried years of things you couldn’t even fully understand yet. And still—

Still your chest tightened every time he smirked at you during patrols.

Still you remembered every rare moment he was gentle.

Still you looked for him first whenever he walked into a room.

The manor door creaked open behind you.

Heavy boots.

You knew the sound instantly.

“You waiting for somebody,” Jason asked, voice rough and casual, “or are you planning to haunt the front steps dramatically?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin.

“H-Huh?!”

Smooth. Very smooth.

Jason leaned against the doorway in his jacket, helmet tucked under one arm. His white streak caught the porch light just enough to make your stomach do another nervous flip.

He looked down at you for a second.

Then at the death grip you had on the paper.

“…You okay?”

Your throat closed.

This was it.

You stood too quickly, almost fumbling the note entirely. Your hands shook harder now. You couldn’t even look him in the eye.

Jason’s expression shifted slightly.

Concern.

Confusion.

You stepped toward him anyway.

One step.

Two.

Then you stopped directly in front of him and bowed your head so fast it was nearly a perfect ninety degrees.

Both hands extended forward with the letter trembling between your fingers.

“P-Please—!”

Your voice cracked immediately.

You swallowed hard, face burning.

“Please… would you accept my letter?”

Silence.

Complete silence.

You could hear your own pulse roaring in your ears.

For one horrible second you thought maybe he’d walked away.

Then the paper shifted gently from your hands.

Jason took the note carefully, like he realized how much courage this had cost you.

When you finally dared to glance up a little, his expression was unreadable—not mocking, not annoyed.

Just… startled.

Deeply startled.

“You’ve been carrying this around all briefing?” he asked quietly.

You nodded once.

Tiny.

Mortified.

Jason looked down at the folded paper again before exhaling through his nose, almost like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Which, honestly, was maybe even more shocking than rejection.

Because Jason Todd always knew what to say.

Usually something sarcastic.

Usually at your expense.

But now?

Now he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and looked everywhere except directly at you.

“…Kid,” he started, then immediately grimaced. “Okay, that sounded worse out loud.”

Your soul almost left your body.

“I-I can take it back—”

“No.” His response came too fast. Softer after. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

He looked at the letter again.

Then finally at you.

And there was something unexpectedly careful in his expression now.

Like he understood your feelings were fragile glass in his hands.

“That took guts,” he admitted quietly.

Your heart nearly stopped.

Jason sighed once, long and tired, before giving the smallest crooked smile.

“Can’t promise I know what to do with this yet,” he said, lightly lifting the note. “But I’m gonna read it.”