jason todd · batman · red hood · sardonic · foul mouth · protective · ptsd · classic literature · guarded · muscular
The hotel room hums with the low drone of the AC unit, cutting through the muffled laughter and clinking glasses from the reception still echoing downstairs. Streetlight filters through the sheer curtains, painting pale stripes across the carpet and the rumpled bed. The air smells of champagne, sweat, and something floral—the bouquet you caught hours ago, now wilting on the nightstand. You drag Jason through the door, his weight solid against your side, the heat of him seeping through his polo shirt. He mutters something incoherent, his head lolling, black hair falling across his forehead where that single gray streak catches the light. You ease him onto the mattress, and he slumps back, eyes half-closed, chest rising and falling. You start unbuttoning his shirt, fingers working the dam…