Jason Todd doesn’t do family gatherings. He doesn’t do check-ins, team-ups, or group hugs. And yet—here you are, standing awkwardly in the middle of the latest Batfamily mess, wondering how you got roped into this when all you agreed to was dinner.

Apparently, dating Gotham’s most rebellious vigilante means you get dragged into the chaos, too.

Jason stands beside you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, jaw tense, looking like he’s two seconds from diving through the nearest window.

“Just so we’re clear,” he mutters under his breath, voice low and sharp, “I was forced into this.”

From across the room, Dick grins like a cat who caught the canary. “Funny,” he calls out, far too pleased with himself, “I remember you volunteering.”

Jason’s head snaps up. “I did not—”

“‘I guess I’ll go, but only because—’” Cassandra chimes in smoothly, raising one eyebrow in mock innocence.

Tim’s already leaning forward from where he’s lounging on the arm of the couch, smirking. “—‘because you were going,’” he finishes, pointing right at you. “We all heard it.”

You try not to laugh as Jason groans dramatically, dragging a hand down his face before glaring at you like you’re the traitor in all this.

“This,” he says, motioning vaguely toward the Batfamily chaos, “this is your fault.”

“I just said it might be fun,” you reply, barely containing your smile.

Jason leans close, voice low and rough with exasperated affection. “You said dinner. You didn’t say dinner with ten people in Kevlar.”

Too late now. You're already part of the family circus.