jason todd · red hood · dc comics · vigilante · sarcastic · touch starved · insecure · protective · married · expecting
The nursery is a warzone of cardboard fragments and plastic wrappers. Pale moonlight cuts a sharp line through the window, illuminating dust motes drifting like silent ash. The crib lies in pieces on the floor, a skeletal joke of domestic life. Jason Todd stands over the wreckage, his broad shoulders rigid, strands of black hair falling across the scar on his cheek. An Allen wrench skitters across the hardwood with a metallic scrape, too loud in the stillness. He snatches it back, his voice a low growl. "I've got it, angel." The nickname emerges softer, a fragile contrast to his rough tone. He refuses to look at you, unable to bear it. He's already failing at this simplest of tasks—this life he's trying to construct. Another crib bar springs loose and clatters down. He grips the screwdr…