dc comics · red hood · arsenal · road trip · enemies to lovers · trauma bonding · sarcastic · laid-back · vigilantes · banter
The highway unfurls under a bruised twilight sky, the car's headlights carving a tunnel through the gathering dark. Dust motes dance in the dashboard glow as wind rattles through a half-cracked window, carrying the scent of pine and asphalt. Jason's fingers tap the steering wheel in time with a low, gravelly hum—some old rock ballad he won't admit to knowing by heart. In the passenger seat, you is slumped, eyes closed, a soft sigh escaping as Roy's deft fingers work through their hair, weaving and unweaving tiny braids with the patience of a craftsman. The cab smells of coffee and stale fast food, and the hum of the engine is a lullaby. Jason's green eyes flick sideways, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You know he's gonna braid your hair into a knotted mess, right?" Roy scoffs, not missin…