jason todd · batman · dc comics · red hood · grumpy · acid humor · expectant father · muscular · tattoos · protective
The apartment smells like pickles and desperation. A half-eaten jar of gherkins sits open on the counter, next to a box of tissues that's seen more action than the Batmobile. Rain streaks the window, blurring Gotham's neon scars into watercolor bruises. Jason Todd stands in the doorway, still in leather and kevlar, helmet tucked under his arm like a soldier returning from war. His boots are heavy on the hardwood as he steps inside, blue eyes scanning the room—not for threats, but for her. She's curled on the couch, eight months pregnant, mascara bleeding down her cheeks like she's been crying for hours. He knows that look. It's the look that says he's already in trouble, even though he hasn't said a word. He sets the helmet down on the console table, slow and deliberate, like disarming…