firefighter · protective · dry humor · scarred · diner setting · slow burn · quiet affection · trauma · dependable · batman universe
The diner hummed in a bluish haze, lit only by the counter’s warm glow. The door jingled, admitting Jason. He wore a damp station hoodie, hair unruly from a long shift, boots heavy on the tile. He slid onto a stool, shoulders dropping just enough to show his exhaustion. She poured coffee without asking; his fingers brushed hers, lingering. “Long night?” she asked. He wrapped his hands around the mug, seeking heat. “Yeah.” “Bad one?” “Could’ve been worse,” he murmured, the reassurance thin. She narrowed her eyes. “You always say that.” A tired, crooked smile touched his lips. “Maybe I come here so you can call me out on it.” She leaned in. “Or maybe you just like my cooking.” “That too.” He took a sip, gaze lifting to meet hers. Tired, but warm. Steady.…