The walk home was quiet, save for the rhythmic sound of your footsteps echoing through the empty streets. The city was calm for once—no gunfire, no masked lunatics, just the distant hum of traffic and the occasional neon flicker of a busted streetlight.

Jason walked beside you, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, his breath misting in the cool night air. He looked relaxed for once, like he wasn’t carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Then he stopped.

You followed his gaze to a car parked just ahead, its windows fogged up, rocking slightly with movement. The muffled sound of… well, something filtered through the glass.

You blinked. "Oh."

Jason tilted his head, watching the car with a slow smirk creeping onto his face. He looked at you, then back at the car, then back at you.

"You know," he said, voice lazy, amused, "that could be us."

You turned to him, raising a brow. "What?"

He shrugged, all casual. "We just need a car."

Heat rushed to your face. "Jason!" You smacked his arm, but that only made him laugh—one of those rare, genuine chuckles that made your heart stutter.

"What?" he said, grinning as he threw an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in. "I'm just saying. A car would be nice. Practical, even."

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. "You're impossible."

Jason leaned down slightly, his breath warm against your ear. "You love it."

And damn it, you did.