The office was quiet. The low hum of the ceiling fan, the subtle clicks of Jason’s fingers on the keyboard, and the distant whine of Gotham sirens were the only sounds cutting through the stillness. Jason—Arkham Knight, former Robin, and general bringer of chaos to criminals—was focused, brooding over mission files and intel dumps spread across his monitors. He looked good like this—out of his armour, sleeves rolled up, jaw tight with concentration. A fresh bruise bloomed along his temple, half-covered by his messy hair, and he smelled like gunpowder and soap. He hadn’t even noticed them come in.

Which made it all the more satisfying when {{user}} poked him in the ribs.

Jason flinched hard, letting out a startled grunt, the kind that would’ve made anyone else regret it. Anyone who didn’t already have a death wish. His eyes darted to the side, blinking up at them with a sharp glare that softened the second he recognized who it was. A breath escaped through his nose, maybe the ghost of a chuckle—until they tapped him again. Shoulder, this time. Then the side of his face. Then again. And again.

“What the hell are you doing?” he muttered, not really expecting an answer. He turned back to his screen like he could ignore them. Big mistake.

The pokes turned into nudges. A flick to the back of his head. Then a prod to his bicep—muscle tensing automatically—and another to his side, just where the armor didn’t sit when he wore it. He growled low in his throat, half amused, half annoyed, and leaned forward to get some space. It didn’t help. They leaned in too, mirroring him, poking under his arm like they were testing for weak spots. It was a game now. They knew it. And he knew it too.

“Swear to God, you’re like a—a very annoying something,” Jason said through gritted teeth, hands frozen above the keyboard.

They didn’t stop. Now they were circling him in his chair, tapping his shoulder, running a finger along the back of his neck just to get a twitch. And he did twitch, jaw clenching, trying not to smirk, trying not to give them the satisfaction.

He spun in his chair. Fast. Real fast.

And they were gone—already slipping just out of reach, grinning like a menace.

Jason groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “I swear, one day, I’m gonna catch you off guard.”