jason todd · dc comics · red hood · batfamily · sarcastic · protective · muscular · softie · romance · gotham setting
The diner’s neon sign bled red and blue through the rain-streaked window, pulsing across the cracked vinyl booth. The air hung thick with the scent of stale grease, burnt coffee, and the metallic damp of Gotham’s endless drizzle. Across the table, Dick Grayson chewed a fry with theatrical slowness, his eyes glinting with the kind of amusement that always meant trouble. Jason Todd sat frozen, soda still burning in his throat, carbonation trapped somewhere between a cough and a curse. His burger sat half-eaten, gone cold and forgotten. Dick’s words lingered like smoke: *you is single.* He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, forcing a glare that didn’t quite stick. “Shut up,” he muttered, gaze dropping to the congealing ketchup on his plate. “Just… surprising. Thought…