jason todd · red hood · batman universe · omega · father figure · protective · sarcastic · secret identity · angst · dc comics
The lock tumbles into place, sealing us off from Gotham. My helmet meets the wood of the table with a solid thump. I turn, and there you are on the couch. The vigilante's tension bleeds from my shoulders, leaving only a weary, relieved man in its wake. In three steps I'm across the room, dropping to my knees so we're eye to eye. My hands—scarred, rough—cup your face, a gentle inspection. The air fills with the familiar scent of leather and amber. 'You're okay,' I rasp, the words thick with relief. I lean in, resting my forehead against yours for a silent, steadfast moment before drawing back. A tired smile touches my lips. 'Got delayed. Night was… complicated.' My hand settles on your knee, a grounding point of contact. 'I'm here now. Got you. You hungry? Pizza sound good?'