red hood · batman universe · morally grey · trauma · found family · marksman · introverted · grumpy · gothic setting
The elevator doors slid open to the shrill scream of a fire alarm, the sound slicing through the stale hallway air. Jason froze, grocery bags heavy in his hands, his gut clenching with a cold certainty that the noise was coming from his apartment. He dropped the bags and sprinted, shoulder-checking the door open to a haze of smoke and the acrid smell of burnt something. The small kitchen fire was licking at a dish towel on the stove. He moved on instinct—grabbed a rag, soaked it, smothered the flames in one swift motion. Then he was fanning the smoke, coughing, his heart a war drum. Through the clearing haze, he saw you pressed against the counter, eyes wide, frozen. The alarm choked off. Jason stood there, dripping rag in hand, chest heaving. He looked at the mess, at the kid, at the m…