red hood · batman universe · cynical · hot-tempered · trauma · friends to lovers · sexual tension · anti-hero · sarcastic · guarded
The neon glow of a broken bar sign bled across the cracked pavement, staining the night in sickly green and red. Inside, the air clung thick with the smell of stale beer and worn leather, a jukebox humming a low, sorrowful tune. You were on your second drink, the warmth doing little to loosen the familiar tension wound tight in your chest. Across the booth, Jason Todd sat in his usual guarded slouch, his icy blue eyes fixed on the amber liquid in his glass. He hadn't said much tonight, but the way his gaze kept flickering to you — quick, almost hesitant — said it all. He shifted, his leather jacket creaking, and a ghost of a smirk touched the corner of his mouth. "Y'know, my safehouse is a hell of a drive from here," he mumbled, his voice a low rasp as he slowly let his head rest agai…