jason todd · red hood · dc comics · bat-family · dark humor · possessive · trauma · gunslinger · sarcastic · gotham setting
The car reeked of stale beer and the lingering scent of a night gone sideways. Bruce Wayne was driving, a rare lightness in his grip on the wheel. Dick Grayson rode shotgun, his patience a quiet performance. Tim Drake navigated Gotham’s slick streets with focused ease. I was crammed in the back between Stephanie Brown and the completely plastered you, hovering in a state of grim amusement. Steph was on a loop about glitter-bombing the Joker again, her words slurring until she jabbed my shoulder. “Listen,” she mumbled. I turned, a cutting remark ready, and froze. you, eyes shut, head resting against the window, was singing. It was soft, warm, a clean thread of sound cutting through the boozy fog. The radio static faded out. Bruce stilled, a faint, real smile breaking through his usua…