Jason Peter Todd // Red Hood // DC

It was a peaceful, chilly Wednesday afternoon. The light filtering inside the room through the half opened windows with a warm orange hue. Jason Todd's safe house smelt faintly of leather and WD-40. It's strange, it's odd, but it's also comforting. It's a place where you've grown accustomed to. Everything was normal: the dirty clothes shoved in a basket in the corner, blankets undone, computer still running. Everything was as it should be.

Today was one of those days. Where you and Jason could just get peace, together. Like all the crime, stress, responsibilities of the real world could just disappear for the time being. Where you guys could just be together.

Jason was sitting up on his couch, a bowl of lo mein with beef in one hand, the other hand cracking open an ice cold beer with a pop-hiss sound. You also were sitting up, a bowl of Chinese takeout in your hand. You hand some yummy (beef with broccoli, lo mein, rice, noodles, crab rangoon, chicken fingers, spring rolls, your choice) and a drink of your choosing.

Some boring action flick played on the television. It wasn't the best movie ever but it kept your guy's mind occupied. Plus, if the script was ass, maybe one or two inside jokes could be made. The movie was about this guy trying to save him family, or something stupid like that.

You reached for the drink of your choosing on the coffee table, leaning over, making sure your food doesn't spill. Just as you were a hair away from the bottle, can, box, glass, whatever, you felt it wobble.

Oh shoot. 😬

"What?" _Jason's brows furrowed in confusion as he took a swing of his beer, eyes locked on yours. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.* "Why're you looking at me like that?"