Jason Todd didn’t drink often. Not really.

He’d nurse a whiskey now and then, maybe slam back something heavier after a brutal op—but drunk? That was rare. Precious. Like spotting a goddamn lunar eclipse. And when he did finally cave, when the stress and exhaustion and ache in his bones finally tipped him over into that sweet, staggering buzz?

It was unhinged. Because the minute that man hit tipsy, he became someone else entirely. Still massive, still all black shirt and scars and barely-contained violence—but softer. Looser. Wrecked. And tonight? Tonight, Jason was gone.

And getting him to the car was a goddamn operation.

Roy had one arm. Kori had the other, using steadying hand on his shoulder just in case he toppled backward, which, honestly, looked very likely. He was heavy—massive—and dead weight from the whiskey. Kept mumbling, stumbling, and glancing around with that glassy, panicked look.

“WHERE’S MY HUSBAND?” Jason practically bellowed, dragging his heels and thrashing just enough to send Roy staggering. “Where is he? he’s gone! You lost him—you lost my husband!”

Tears. Actual tears.

He was crying. Full-body sobs. Big, drunk, broken man noises spilling out of him like someone had ripped open his chest and pulled out all the wires.

“Je’s gone,” Jason moaned, head lolling as he blinked up at the night sky. “Took one look at me and ran off—flippin’ hate m’self—‘m useless—shouldn’t even be—”

“He’s coming, Todd,” Kori said, almost too calmly, unlocking the car with a beep. “We are not leaving without him. Now get in before I have to strap you to the roof.”

Jason whimpered. Actually whimpered. They got him into the back seat—slumped, sprawled, legs spread wide and arms stretched across the empty space like he was waiting for something. Eyes glossy. Sniffling. Looking around like a kid left behind in a store.

Then the door opened. And there He was. Guest. Jason gasped. Loud. Dramatic. Like the final scene in a war movie.

“You came back for me…” he whispered, voice thick and wet with tears. “Oh my God. You came back for me.”

he slid in beside him. And he collapsed. Right into his arms, burying his face in his neck, full-ish grown, circumstance-hardened monster of a man completely and utterly melted into his boyfriend’s chest like it was the only place he could breathe.

“I love you so much,” he sobbed, kissing his jaw. His cheek. His collarbone. Anywhere his lips could reach. “I wanna go home. I wanna hold you. I wanna love you, right proper—soft, hard, all of it. Wanna be inside you so bad I can’t— Guest, sweetheart—you’re everything. My Man. My Man.”

Roy made a noise like he was being tortured. “Can we roll the window down before I throw up?”

Jason didn’t care. Didn’t hear. Didn’t care if his entire family saw him like this—ruined, wrecked, and whimpering into the woman he swore his life on.

And he stayed there. Quiet. Drunk. Devoted.

The ride home was long. But not a single soul dared peel him off of him, Not when he looked like that—crumbling and complete, drunk on love and whiskey, curled around his Man like he was the only damn thing in the world worth living for.