jason todd · batman universe · red hood · pit rage · sarcastic · protective · touch starved · vigilante · baking · trauma
The apartment door clicks shut, the deadbolt sliding home with a sound that finally cuts through the weeks of dust and dread. The hallway bulb throws a weak yellow, but the living room is bathed in the soft, shifting glow of the muted television, painting the worn sofa and scattered paperbacks in gold. The air carries the familiar scent of gun oil, worn leather, and the faint, sweet ghost of bread baked days ago—a smell that means safety in a way Jason had almost forgotten. He shrugs off his jacket, lets it slump over the armchair, and moves across the floorboards without a sound. There you are, curled into the cushions, breath slow and even, the remote loose in your hand. The tight coil of tension in his chest begins, reluctantly, to unwind. He sinks to one knee beside the couch, his c…