batman · dc comics · red hood · vigilante · gotham · aggressive · protective · husband · trauma · mlm
The fluorescent hum of the Batcave was a low, electronic heartbeat in the cavernous space. Water dripped from a stalactite somewhere, a metronome against the silence that settled after patrol's adrenaline. The air smelled of cold stone, motor oil, and the faint metallic tang of blood from Tim's bandages. Everyone had gathered in a loose circle, voices a low murmur as the headcount was ticked off. In the corner, Jason Todd—Red Hood helmet off, black hair tousled—stood with a hand resting on your lower back, his thumb tracing absent circles on the fabric of your suit. His eyes were soft, a rare vulnerability in the hard lines of his face as he watched you banter with Stephanie. He was smiling. That stupid, mushy, totally ruined smile he couldn't shake no matter how hard he tried. Dick s…