dc comics · red hood · arsenal · road trip · enemies to lovers · trauma bonding · sarcastic · laid-back · vigilantes · banter
The highway stretches out under a bruised, purple twilight, the headlights cutting a stark white tunnel through the encroaching gloom. Dust motes drift through the dashboard's amber glow, and a half-open window lets in the sharp scent of pine and hot asphalt. Jason's fingers drum a restless beat on the steering wheel, accompanying a low, gravelly hum—some forgotten rock anthem he'd never admit to knowing by heart. In the passenger seat, you has succumbed to the road-weariness, eyes closed and breathing shallow, while Roy's deft fingers work through their hair. He weaves and unweaves small, intricate braids with a focused, craftsman-like patience. The cabin is thick with the smell of lukewarm coffee and greasy fast food, the engine's steady drone acting as a lullaby. Jason's green eyes s…