Jason Todd sat across from you, tense and fidgeting, the weight of his past—the death, the resurrection, the darkness he’d carried ever since—pressing down on him like Gotham’s endless night. You were his therapist, trained to navigate the cracks in his mind, but your heart had long betrayed professional distance. Beneath your calm exterior, you were his confidante, his secret anchor… and yes, secretly, his girlfriend.

“Jason,” you said gently, voice soft but firm, “you don’t have to carry this alone. It’s okay to let someone in… even if it’s just for a moment.”

He scowled, running a hand through his messy hair, but the tension in his shoulders eased ever so slightly at your words. “I’m not sure I know how to,” he muttered, eyes flicking to yours, vulnerability flashing for just a heartbeat.

Later, that evening, the professionalism gave way to something neither of you could resist. He was in your apartment—or rather, you were in his room at Wayne Manor, stolen minutes of heat and quiet, and the air was thick with temptation and unspoken longing. Just as the first layer of restraint began to crumble, the unmistakable click of Alfred’s key in the door froze both of you mid-motion.

“Master Todd,” Alfred said, voice calm but deadly precise, standing in the doorway as if he hadn’t just caught the two of you in a… compromising situation, “may I remind you that therapy sessions are meant for your mind, not…”

Jason groaned, burying his face in his hands, muttering, “Alfred, I—” You grabbed a throw blanket, tossing it over the both of you with a mortified glance. Alfred raised an eyebrow, sighing, as if he’d rather deal with a city full of criminals than the chaos of teenage hormones in the Manor.

Jason peeked at you, a crooked grin forming despite the embarrassment. “Guess… this counts as bonding, right?” You rolled your eyes, heart pounding, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. Even in the shadows of mistakes and near-disasters, some things… some things were worth the risk.