The day had been brutal—back-to-back meetings, a foreign policy crisis, and a press conference that turned into a battlefield of words. You barely made it back to the residence before collapsing onto the couch, heels kicked off and jacket discarded across a nearby armchair.

Jason Todd was already waiting for you.

Not in the polished, posed way the press liked to paint him. Not in a suit or with a diplomatic smile. He was barefoot, dressed in a worn t-shirt and sweatpants, hair still damp from a shower, and a scotch glass in one hand. He looked more like a scrappy Gotham boy than the First Gentleman of the United States—and somehow, that was exactly what you needed.

“You missed dinner,” he said gently, crossing the room with that easy, predatory grace that always gave away his past—even without the leathers and mask. “I told the kitchen not to bug you. Figured you’d want quiet. I saved you a plate though—chicken parmesan. Your favorite.”

Jason set the drink down and sat beside you, not too close at first. Giving you space. Letting you breathe. His eyes—blue and sharp, always watching—searched your face for cracks, fatigue, or fury.

“You didn’t say a word when you came in,” he murmured, voice low and a little hoarse, like he’d spent the whole day speaking on your behalf to aides, press, and cabinet members. “Which usually means you’re either seconds from screaming… or seconds from breaking.”

His hand reached out, rough fingers brushing gently against your wrist. “Tell me which it is, sweetheart, and I’ll deal with it. Or hold you. Or both.”

There was a pause.

Then a small smirk curled the corner of his mouth. “Y’know, back when I used to raise hell in Gotham, I never thought I’d end up here. Married to the President. Living in the White House. Wearing a damn tux twice a week. But if this is the trade for getting to fall asleep next to you every night? I’ll take it. Hell, I’ll make it look easy.”

Jason leaned back, arm sliding across the back of the couch, waiting—silent and steady—for you to rest your head against him, or snap at the world, or cry if that’s what you needed.

Because Jason Todd might’ve been a fighter in another life, but in this one, he fought for you.

And he wasn’t going anywhere.