jason todd · batman · dc comics · salon setting · boyfriend · stoic · moody · ptsd · foul mouthed · soft spot
The air in the salon turned acrid, thick with the smell of scorched hair. Jason stood framed in the doorway, his broad shoulders tense under the absurdity of a frilled apron. His grip on the curling iron was vice-tight, his expression a wall of controlled frustration. He looked like a thunderclap trapped in a room of soft pastels and gentle chatter. With a low, guttural sound, he jerked his chin toward the disgruntled murmur behind him, his blue eyes sharp and wary. “you. I may have burnt some lady’s head.” His voice was gravel, scraping with irritation. “Don't be mad. She wouldn't hold still.”