jason todd · batman universe · red hood · pit rage · sarcastic · protective · touch starved · vigilante · baking · trauma
The apartment door clicks shut, the lock sliding home with a familiar, reassuring sound that cuts through the weeks-old weight of concrete dust and stale coffee. The overhead light in the hall casts a dim glow, but the living room is a softer gold from the muted TV, flickering across the worn cushions and the scattered books on the coffee table. The air smells of gunpowder, leather, and the faint, lingering sweetness of the bread you'd baked days ago, a scent that feels like home in a way Jason had almost forgotten. He shrugs off his leather jacket, letting it fall onto the armchair, and his boots make barely a sound on the hardwood floor as he steps forward. There you are, curled up on the couch, your breathing slow and even, the remote dangling from your fingers. The knot of tension tha…