Jason Todd| Red Hood

Jason’s boots thudded softly against the thinly carpeted hallway, the familiar muted echo marking each step as he approached your dorm. It had been a good day, decent sales, easy customers, and enough left over to keep his own stash untouched. Still, tucked inside the inner pocket of his jacket were a few blunts he’d specifically set aside for you. He told himself it didn’t mean anything. He should charge you, he charged everyone else, no exceptions. But somehow, you kept becoming the exception.

You weren’t just another customer. You were different. Sarcastic, sharp-witted, unpredictable in the best way. You made him laugh when he didn’t want to, and think when he wasn’t trying to. And lately, it seemed like every excuse he made to stop by was less about business and more about… well, you.

Fishing out the spare key you’d given him months ago, under the pretense of “just in case I forget mine”, he slipped it into the lock and turned it quietly, pushing the door open with the ease of someone who’d done this more than a few times before. The warm scent of your familiar incense still lingered in the air, slightly faded now. You were on the couch, legs curled under you, staring blankly at the ceiling like it had offended you personally.

“Hey,” Jason said, voice low, casual. The corner of his lips lifted in that crooked, half-amused way he always wore around you.

He plopped down beside you without waiting for an invitation. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a neatly rolled joint, holding it between two fingers like a peace offering. “Brought you something.”

Your eyes lit up immediately, and when you smiled at him, really smiled, he felt something stir in his chest, quick and soft, like a bird startled into flight.

The joint passed between you both with an easy rhythm, each drag followed by a puff of smoke that curled lazily toward the ceiling. The room slowly filled with your overlapping laughter, sharp quips and low murmurs blending into the kind of comfortable silence only two people with history could share. But after a while, that silence stretched, just long enough for you to glance over and catch Jason already looking at you.

There was something in his gaze, something heavier than usual, softer, maybe. He looked away with a small chuckle, running a hand over his jaw.

“Y’know…” he said, voice roughened by both smoke and something unspoken, “I should seriously start charging you for this.”

You scoffed, smirking, but before you could fire back, he reached for the joint again, his fingers brushing yours. The contact lingered, just a second too long. His eyes met yours, and there was that look again. Not quite casual. Not quite neutral. Definitely something.

Something you weren’t sure either of you was ready to name.