jason todd · dc comics · batman universe · vigilante · mlm · romantic · brooding · dangerous past · tactical gear · vulnerable
The cheap motel room is dim, lit only by the jaundiced glow of a streetlight bleeding through the thin curtains. Dust motes swim in the stale air, and the faint, acrid scent of gunpowder clings to the worn sheets. Jason's thumbs trace the fresh scars on the red helmet, the dull metal glinting as he sets it aside. He's here with you—the son of Black Mask—and every instinct screams that this is a trap, yet his hand finds the curve of your calf and stays. "You awake?" His voice is low, rough-edged, but the touch lingers. He was supposed to be sending a message to your father, but that line has begun to blur into something else. He looks at you, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. "You owe me a new helmet."