The rain outside tapped gently against the windowpane, the kind of rhythmic quiet that made the whole world feel hushed and far away. Maeve was curled up in Jason's hoodie—three sizes too big, sleeves hanging over her hands—as she lay sideways on his bed, head resting on his chest.

Jason absentmindedly played with the ends of her hair, a lazy, content look on his face. "You know," he murmured, "you steal my clothes more than you steal my food."

Maeve smiled, eyes half-closed. "Your clothes are warm. And your food's mostly just protein bars and questionable leftovers."

"Hey, that steak was not questionable," he said, mock offended.

"It had green on it, Jason."

He laughed, the sound soft and warm in his chest. "You're lucky I like you."

Maeve tilted her head to look up at him, smirking. "You like me?"

"I more than like you," he corrected, voice suddenly quieter. "You know that."

Her smile softened, and she nudged his nose with hers. "Yeah. I know."

They lay in silence for a few moments, soaking in the comfort of being in each other's orbit. No danger, no yelling, no hiding from anyone. Just them.

Jason shifted a little and kissed the top of her head. "If I could keep you here forever like this, I would."

Maeve chuckled. "I'd get bored."

"You'd have me," he offered with a grin.

"Exactly," she teased, but her hand tightened around his shirt. "I'd stay."

That silenced him. Not in a bad way—just in that way Jason always got when Maeve said something that hit him straight in the chest.

He smiled again, quieter this time. "Then I'll make it worth staying."

Jason was pacing. Not a tactical "I'm planning how to take down six armed guys" pacing — more like "I'm trying not to have a heart attack."

Grayson watched from the weight bench, towel draped over his shoulder, clearly amused. "You've fought mob bosses with less tension in your shoulders."

Jason stopped and glared at him. "This is different."

"Oh? Let me guess — Joker's planning a dinner party?"

"Worse," Jason muttered. "Prom."

Grayson blinked. "Wait. Prom-prom?"

Jason rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly awkward. "Yeah. I... I wanna ask Maeve."

Grayson's face softened. "That's not 'worse,' man. That's great."

Jason looked unconvinced. "It's not just asking. It's her. It's... I don't want it to be some stupid cliché. She deserves better than that. She's never had a moment that felt normal or special or safe. I wanna give her that. But I also don't wanna screw it up."

Grayson stood, tossing the towel over a hook. "Okay, then don't think of it as asking someone to prom. Think of it as giving her a moment that belongs to just the two of you. That kind of memory? It's worth the nerves."

Jason frowned. "So, like... not balloons and posters in the hallway?"

Grayson laughed. "Unless you want Maeve to get Melina to kill you in the school parking lot."

"Point taken."

Grayson clapped him on the shoulder. "Do something you. Make it honest. She already loves you, Jason. She'd go with you to prom if you asked with a crumpled napkin and a half-eaten burger."

Jason smirked. "You sure?"

"She chose you, didn't she?" Grayson said with a grin. "That says everything."

Jason exhaled, heart thudding a little less violently. "Okay. Yeah. Yeah, I got this."

Grayson started toward the door, then paused. "Just... let me know if you need backup. I'm great at holding boomboxes outside windows."

Jason laughed. "Noted, Nightwing."

The hum of the heater was the only real sound in the small living room. A half-folded blanket lay forgotten on the couch, and the TV played a muted nature documentary no one was really watching. Melina sat on the floor, back against the couch, a steaming cup of tea between her hands. Her hair was up in a loose, messy knot, and there were faint shadows under her eyes — evidence of too many nights spent awake.

Jason hovered in the doorway.

She noticed him, even without looking. "You gonna stand there forever?"

He took that as permission to come in, toeing off his boots and sinking down across from her. He hesitated for a second, then glanced at her carefully. "You doing okay?"

She let out a dry breath of a laugh. "Loaded question."

He nodded. "Yeah."

They sat in silence for a moment. There was something fragile in the air — a heaviness left over from too many things left unsaid and too much pain shoved down. Melina's hands wrapped tighter around the mug, but she didn't speak.

Jason cleared his throat. "I... actually came to ask you something."

Her eyes flicked up to him. "Shoot."

He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly unsure of himself. "I wanna ask Maeve to prom."

Melina blinked. "Really?"

Jason gave a small, sheepish nod. "Yeah. I just... I want to do it right. Make it mean something. She deserves more than a half-assed hallway invite."

That made Melina snort softly, her lips tugging into a ghost of a smile. "You're not wrong."

"I figured," he went on, a little quieter now, "you'd know better than anyone what would make her feel... seen. Loved."

Melina stared into her tea for a second. Then, with a softness rare in her voice, she said, "You already do that, Jason. She doesn't say it out loud, but I see it. The way she lights up around you... the way her shoulders drop when you walk into a room. She hasn't felt safe in a long time. But you — you give her that."

Jason's throat tightened. "I want to give her more than safe."

Melina looked at him fully now, her expression unreadable for a beat. "You love her."

He didn't hesitate. "Yeah."

She nodded slowly, then gestured toward the photo on the shelf — a worn snapshot of her and Maeve as kids in a battered frame. "Then don't make it flashy. Don't make it big. Make it hers."

"She mentioned a garden behind the library," Jason said. "Said it felt like a storybook."

Melina's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Then that's your spot."

Jason leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "You really think she'll say yes?"

Melina's smile softened. "She already has. She's just waiting for you to ask."

He let out a breath of relief, then leaned back against the couch beside her, sitting in companionable silence. After a moment, he added quietly, "You holding up okay?"

Melina didn't answer right away. But then, in a voice barely louder than a whisper: "I'm trying."

Jason looked over, and without saying anything, gently bumped his shoulder against hers. Not pressing. Just there.

And for once, Melina let herself lean back into him.

The golden light filtered through the branches, casting dappled shadows over the worn stone benches and clusters of wildflowers. The air smelled faintly of jasmine and earth, the perfect kind of quiet that felt like stepping into a secret storybook.

Jason stood near the archway, fingers twisting the small bouquet of wildflowers he'd picked earlier. His heart thudded in his chest — not from danger, but from nerves. He shifted his weight, eyes darting to the pathway where Maeve would soon appear.

When she finally stepped into the garden, sunlight catching in her hair, Jason felt everything sharpen — the world narrowing to just her.

"Hey," he said softly.

Maeve blinked, a little surprised but smiling. "Hey. What's all this?"

Jason swallowed, then knelt down on one knee, flowers extended toward her like a peace offering. "Maeve, I know life's never been the kind of fairy tale anyone deserves. But maybe... maybe we can have one night. Just us. No pain, no running, no pretending. Just a dance and a chance to laugh."

Her eyes shimmered, emotion flickering through them. "Jason..."

He took a deep breath, voice trembling just a little. "Will you go to prom with me?"

Maeve's smile blossomed, bright and real. She knelt down beside him, brushing a stray lock of hair behind his ear. "Yes. I'd like that."

Jason's relief and happiness poured out in a grin. "Good. Because I already started planning."

Maeve laughed softly, leaning into him. "I know."

They stayed there for a long moment, the garden holding them in its gentle quiet — two people, finding a little hope together.