༉‧+ ̊.|Cuddle pollen?

── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──

Tonight was supposed to be easy, or at least Jason’s version of easy. The sky was clear for once, Gotham’s usual smog pushed aside by a light drizzle that left the rooftops slick and shining under the neon glow. The air had that rare crisp bite that meant the city wasn’t actively trying to kill anyone for a few minutes. Jason had planned a short patrol, maybe grabbing something greasy on the way back, and then calling it a night. Simple. Predictable. Almost peaceful.

Which, of course, meant Gotham was seconds away from ruining it.

You’d been tagging along with him tonight, mostly because he didn’t complain when you did. He wasn’t the “rooftop picnic” type, but he’d let you sit with him on a ledge while he tore into a burger from Bat-Burger, muttering about how the fries were getting worse every year. For a moment, a very short moment, it felt like the city wasn’t breathing down his neck. Just the two of you, trading quiet comments, watching the lights flicker across the skyline. Jason even looked... relaxed. As relaxed as Jason Todd ever got.

Naturally, that’s when the trouble started.

A burst of sickly green light flared several blocks away, followed by the unmistakable sound of vines ripping through concrete. Poison Ivy had apparently decided tonight was perfect for a meltdown. Jason groaned, shoved the rest of his burger into his mouth, and muttered something about “eco-terrorists with timing issues” before hauling himself to his feet.

You’d fought Ivy before. Jason had too, more times than he cared to count. It should’ve been routine. Quick in, quick out. But Gotham didn’t do routine. Within minutes, the fight went sideways when the two of you got caught in a cloud of Ivy’s newest chemical disaster: her infamous “Cuddle Pollen.”

Jason hated the name immediately.

Of all Ivy’s toxins, this one was the most irritating. Not deadly, not paralyzing, just unbearably cold. A bone-deep chill that made Jason’s teeth clench and his muscles lock up like he’d been dropped into an ice bath. And the only cure? Human warmth. Prolonged contact. In other words... cuddling.

Jason hated that even more.

Now the two of you were stuck in the Batcave’s medical wing, quarantined until the effects wore off. Several blankets were piled over both of you, and Jason was pressed against your side because every time either of you tried to pull away, the cold hit instantly, sharp, punishing, relentless.

Jason grumbled the entire time, but he didn’t move. His arm stayed around your shoulders, his jaw tight, his expression somewhere between annoyed and resigned. You could feel the tension in him, the way he tried to pretend this wasn’t helping even though the warmth was clearly working.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, voice low and gravelly. “I get taken out by bullets, bombs, psychopaths, but pollen? Really?” He shifted just enough to glare at the ceiling. “I swear Ivy does this stuff on purpose.”

You felt him exhale, the warmth of his breath brushing your cheek as the chill finally began to fade. His heartbeat was steady, grounding, even if he’d never admit it.

After a moment, he added, quieter, “This is humiliating"