#1 robin luvr

you slowly lift your head to peer up at him.

"you really think so?" you wobbly ask.

jason's heart breaks a little. he just met you a few minutes ago, and although he's nobody's therapist—not even for himself—he's a good detective. he can tell you're a sweet, well-meaning person. he's certain of that. unfortunately, that's how you ended up here in the streets of gotham having an emotional breakdown.

"yeah, this guy stinks! if he doesn't care 'bout you, why should you care 'bout him?"

jason's words come out stronger than he intended, but he means it. he's done giving you half-hearted support. this guy fucking sucks. he fully believes you deserve better. it's not fair that someone like you is questioning your worth over a guy who clearly couldn't give a fuck.

a few seconds of silence pass and in those few seconds, reality hits you. the infamous vigilante, red hood, is seriously comforting you right now? this guy is a stranger to you, doesn't need to hear the full story, and yet he agrees your situationship is not worth crying over. the realization ignites a fire inside you and jason notices the shift in your demeanor.

"y'know what?"

you abruptly stand.

"what...?"

he holds his breath.

"i should just end things with him. right here, right now."

"hell yeah, fuck him!"

"fuck him!" you repeat.

jason swells with pride. he's not well-versed in relationships, but he knows how to rally the troops. he watches you whip out your phone and hold it up to your ear. you look alive and well again, no longer a shell of a person. there's a determination in your eyes that confirms you're finally standing up for yourself and you're not looking back.

the call drags on before going to voicemail, but you're not phased. jason scoffs. this loser doesn't even have the decorum to answer your call. looks like he'll be waking up to a well-deserved and strongly worded message in the morning.

"i'm done," you declare into the phone. "i really thought we had something special, but clearly, you don't feel the same. i'm sick of you not prioritizing me. i deserve better."

your gaze briefly flickers to red hood and he nods, agreeing with every word you're saying.

"i don't want to ever see you again, dick."

jason's heart drops to his ass.

did you say dick? as in, dick grayson??

maybe you're just calling him a dick, right? and his name is not dick as in richard "dick" grayson.

he prays that's what it is, or else he's screwed.

~

again, jason todd is nobody's therapist, and yet here he is a few hours later post-patrol in the batcave, awkwardly attempting to console dick grayson. unfortunately, it was not a coincidence and you were not just calling some guy a dick. indeed, dick grayson was on the receiving end of your voicemail.

"i got one last voicemail," dick laments, "and then i got blocked on everything, even spotify!"

dick buries his face in his hands as jason stands there stiffly. god, it all makes sense, now. your situationship is nightwing—of course you'd think he has commitment issues and bad communication skills, he's a goddamn vigilante. still, jason can't blame you for getting the wrong idea.

"i wanna come clean and admit everything, i swear," he continues. "it's just way too early."

as much as jason wants to walk away and tell dick this is none of his concern, he still feels partially responsible for the conflict. and so, he wills himself to endure this uncomfortable situation and temporarily take on the role of a therapist.

"you don't need to say you're nightwing yet," jason begins. "the problem is you made 'em feel like you didn't care. i mean, think about it. you ghosted 'em four times in one week with no explanation. anybody would be mad 'bout that."

"how do you know it was four times in one week? i didn't play you the voicemail."

jason freezes and dick glares at him, arms crossed over his chest. he takes a step forward, eyes narrowed.

"lucky guess."

"jason."

"...anyways, show 'em you care...! y'know like flowers, chocolate, a card, tickets to a show..."

"jason. peter. todd."

“Oracle,” Batman rasps over the comms system.

“Gordon,” Robin calls soon after.

“Babs, me first,” Nightwing request.

“Get in line,” Red Hood barks. “Barbara, I asked first.”

“Stop!” Barbara calls into her mic. “All of you. Is anything urgent?”

Her command center in the watchtower remains quiet, none of the bats willing to lie to her about the urgency of their needs. Barbara sighs, clicking through traffic cameras as she updates the GCPD radio transcript.

“Sorry, Babs,” Jason offers softly.

“It’s okay,” Barbara assures him. “Just, there are six of you and one of me. When you all start talking over each other, I lose track of what needs to get done and what I can ignore.”

“I get it,” Dick murmurs. “We’ll be better about taking turns.”

“For a week, at least,” Damian deadpans.

“Yeah, speaking of taking turns,” Barbara hums. “I have a favor I need to ask. It would affect all of you.”

“Come by the manor tomorrow?” Bruce suggests. “We’ll all be there. Anything you need.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” She sends Red Robin to a possible Killer Croc sighting, then asks, “Can I bring a friend?”

“No, abandon me,” you sigh, “that’s fine.”

Barbara laughs, your video call timer nearing two hours. Since you returned to Gotham after interning at a computer science conglomerate in Coast City for a while, you’ve rekindled your friendship with Barbara Gordon, and these long catch-up calls have become highlights of your week.

“We can get coffee after my meeting, if you want,” she offers.

“Sure. And this is the meeting that might help me get another job?”

“Possibly. Don’t hold me to that.”

“Oh, you can do no wrong, Barbara Gordon.”

“I like the sound of that,” she replies. “I’ll call you as soon as I’m done. Coffee’s on me today.”

“Good luck at your meeting,” you offer. “I’ll talk to you later.”

After you end the call, you look around your apartment. You’re finally unpacked and have started adding little things to make it feel more like home. You were surprised to find that Gotham hasn’t lost its charm since you left, though it has gained a few more bats and birds.

“I thought team recruitment was Bruce’s thing,” Tim interjects.

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Jason jokes.

“Boys,” Bruce warns, gesturing toward Barbara.

“I’m not saying that you have to reveal your secret identities,” Barbara continues. “You don’t even have to say yes. But sooner or later, I’m going to be in desperate need of help from an Oracle standpoint. I don’t want to wait too long and watch one of you get hurt because I can’t keep up with it all by myself.”

“We would never blame that on you,” Jason reminds her. “But I understand where you’re coming from. Who did you have in mind?”

“A friend,” Barbara answers. “I don’t think you really want to know her name, not right away. She’s good. Really good. In fact, I think Hal Jordan would vouch for her as well, if you need a second opinion.”

“I trust you,” Bruce interrupts, standing from his oversized leather chair. “But I think we should meet her. No matter what you decide, if you want her on the team, she’s on the team.”

Barbara nods once, then looks at the others. “You’re all okay with this?”

“What the old man said,” Jason agrees. “If you trust her, I do too.”

“We need all the help we can get,” Dick adds.

“I won’t make such a statement until I have evidence to call upon,” Damian murmurs. “But I am open to the possibility.”

“When do we meet her?” Dick asks, reclined upside down over a chair as he smiles.

“Come by the clocktower tomorrow,” Barbara invites. “And be ready to listen to her. She won’t put up with your unique brand of shenanigans any more than I do.”

“I prefer tomfoolery,” Dick jokes, hissing when Jason slaps his leg.

“See you tomorrow, then.”

“You didn’t tell me that if I got this job, the fate of Gotham might be in my hands,” you tell Barbara, pacing the length of her desk. “Or that you work with Batman!”

“Would you have changed your mind?” Barbara asks, spinning her wheelchair to face you. “Look me in the eye and tell me that if I’d mentioned Batman, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Obviously, I would still be here,” you groan. “The point is that you didn’t tell me!”

“Well, then you’re going to be more upset with me in about thirty seconds.”

You don’t have time to ask what does that mean? before the computer behind you beeps, and the large metal door across the room creaks open. You hook your fingers together, chewing your bottom lip as you watch Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Robin, and Spoiler file in. Just before the door closes, Orphan slinks in like a shadow, the bright white eyes of her mask fixing on you.

“Hi!” Nightwing greets first, waving at you. “Welcome to the dark side.”

“Hi,” you respond softly, raising a hand. “I, uh… I’m honored to be here.”

“Gordon vouched for you and your technological inclination,” Robin scoffs as he crosses his arms. “That does not mean you have an easy path into our inner circle. You must still prove yourself.”

“Of course,” you agree. “I will do everything I can for you and for this city.”

Nightwing tips his head, watching as you introduce yourself. Beneath the mask, Dick narrows his eyes, scanning every visible feature of your face before looking at your hands. He recognizes you, but he can’t place why or where he would know you from. If you’re Barbara’s friend, it should be easy to remember.

“Nightwing?” Tim asks, nudging his side.

“Huh? What?” Dick asks, rolling his shoulders back.

“She said we can ask questions,” Tim explains. “Do you have any?”

Looking at you, Dick asks, “Can you fix a broken tracker?”

“I can try,” you answer kindly. “No promises.”

He pulls the small magnetic device from the hidden pocket on his side, grimacing when he realizes he crushed it while trying to figure out where he’s seen you before. You don’t have a forgettable face — quite the opposite, in fact — so, why can’t he remember?

“Oh,” you sigh, your fingers brushing his palm when you take it. “Yeah, I should be able to replace the fuse and get it working.”

“Cool,” Dick says quickly, nodding. “Thanks.”

The room alights when the glow of the Batsignal hits the clouds looming over Gotham. Batman turns first, his cape billowing behind him.

“Time to prove yourself,” Spoiler tells you. “Good luck. I hope it sticks because there’s way too many boys on this team.”

“I resent that,” Tim exclaims.

“I’m here for whatever you need tonight,” you promise. “Please don’t hesitate to put me to work.”

“I won’t,” Dick answers. “I mean, uh, you- we won’t. Thanks for coming- being here!”

You smile at his rambling. “Sure thing. Be careful out there.”

They exit faster than they arrived, spreading in different directions throughout the Gotham night. You pull up a chair to the desk Barbara set up for you and slide a headset over your ears. She sends you a thumbs-up, then taps into the GCPD server as the heroes you just met bicker over the radio.

“Hey, Oracle,” Red Hood calls. “What are we calling the new girl?”

“The new girl can hear you, Hood,” Barbara responds. “Maybe we should ask her what she’d like to be called.”

“Mine!” Dick yells. “Sorry, not talking about the same thing. I’ve got Condiment King.”

“Condiment King?” you repeat, holding your hand over your microphone.

“It’s Gotham,” Barbara replies with a shrug. You’re unsurprised to find that it’s enough of an answer.

“You all have better names than me,” you admit. “I’ll answer to whatever you want to call me.”

“Techy,” Red Robin mumbles.

“Little close to tachycardic,” Red Hood muses.

“Maybe we can decide this later?” Spoiler asks. “Red alert at Arkham.”

“That’s not good,” Robin says, talking to himself.

“What do you have, Robin?” you ask. “Red Robin, you’re the closest, if he needs backup.”

“I am capable of handling this,” Robin argues.

“I believe you. But it doesn’t mean you can’t accept a little help.”

“Tt. Fine.”

Barbara meets your eyes over the monitors and nods, then directs Red Hood and Nightwing to move toward Batman’s location.

“Oracle?” Dick asks. “We on a private channel?”

“Mmhmm,” she answers.

“Who’s your friend? Really.”

“What do you mean?”

“Has she been around before?”

“No, she just finished a job in Coast City. Grew up here, but I didn’t get close with her ‘til the end of high school.”

“What’s the interest?” Jason asks. He glances at Dick, then realizes, “Oh. I think that’s a rabbit hole, Wing.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen in it before,” he grumbles to himself.

“Your brothers seem to like her,” Barbara says softly. “Do with that what you will.”

Jason and Dick meet each other’s gaze and demand, “Brothers?”

“Glitch!” Damian yells.

“I’m working on it,” you promise, your fingers flying across the keyboard as you try to find Arkham’s file on Oswald Cobblepot.

“Found it,” Tim alerts. “Dumpster full of money.”

“Where?”

“The dumpster?” Tim clarifies.

“No, where did Cobblepot find it? According to Harley’s files — based on stuff she got from Joker and supplemented with her own sleuthing — his parents blew most of the family’s money long before they died. He shouldn’t have inherited enough to buy that club, let alone have anything left over.”

“Sounds like a job for you,” Damian says. “I’ve incapacitated the doorman, Red Robin. You’re welcome.”

“Yeah, thanks. What are we doing about the money, Glitch?”

“Leave it,” you direct. “I’ll get eyes on it, see where they take it.”

“What are we doing tonight?” Damian wonders, grunting softly as he flips onto a fire escape.

“We?” you repeat with a smile. “Isn’t it a school night?”

“Gotham Academy is out tomorrow for parent-teacher conferences,” Tim tells you. “Which means Damian likes to house-crash someone while we take turns coming up with a reason to get out of the conference.”

“Why don’t you just stay home?” you inquire. “Take a break.”

Damian hums. “I spend enough time in the manor.”

“What are we talking about?” Nightwing asks, switching to your channel. Tim and Damian are the only ones who have entrusted you with their real identities, and you’ve made no effort to identify the others, though you assume it would be simple enough.

“Damian and his home invasion patterns,” Tim answers.

“Parent conference time already? My door’s open, Dami.”

“But Glitch and I are binging Warrior Cats before the new series starts,” Tim says, sounding far too awake for someone who hasn’t slept in nearly two days.

“I insist on coming!” Damian exclaims.

“You’re absolutely invited,” you say, chuckling. “As long as one of you gets popcorn on the way over. By which I mean the one who isn’t ten years old.”

“Almost eleven,” Damian grumbles.

“Hey, Glitch?” Nightwing interrupts. “Got anything for me to do?”

“Up for taking money from the Penguin? Just a few bills so I can run the serial numbers?” you check.

“You have no idea how much I’d enjoy it.”

You give him directions to the dumpster Tim found, then click on the closest traffic camera. Squinting, you lean closer to the screen, watching Nightwing spin into a triple kick flip before he catches a loose brick and drops to street level.

With your mic muted, you whisper, “Dick Grayson?”

Fifteen Years Ago

“Whoa!” you exclaimed, clapping as you bounced in place. “That was two flips at the same time!”

“I could probably do three,” Dick realized, beaming at you.

“Try it!”

“Don’t,” Bruce interrupted. “You might fall. Just because you already know a lot doesn’t mean you don’t have to practice to improve.”

“Of course, Mr. Wayne,” you replied politely. “But I can spot him, right? That’s practicing.”

Bruce rolled his shoulders back, his hands flexing at his sides. He looked at Dick, saw the excitement in his eyes that had been dim since his arrival.

“Be careful,” Bruce warned. “If you need a mat, I can order one.”

“Yes!” Dick cheered, puling your hands to bring you closer. “I’ll jump, and you keep your hand out like this.”

“What- what if you fall?” you checked. “I don’t think I can catch you.”

“That’s okay. I fall a lot anyway.”

You nodded slowly, then promised, “I’ll patch you up if you fall, goofball.”

“Bruce bought me elephant bandages. They’re in the bathroom by my room.”

“Got it.”

Dick showed you how to hold your arms again, then got in position. You inhaled deeply, then watched as Dick threw his arms back, bringing his legs over his head to twist into a flip, then two, then three. He brought his left leg out in a sharp kick, then landed in a low squat.

“Wow!” you yelled, crashing into him and wrapping your arms around him. “That was the coolest thing ever!”

Dick smiled at you and murmured, “Couldn’t have done it without my spotter.”

Present Day

Dick’s earpiece fizzled out in the middle of a fight in the Narrows. He pulled it out and tightened the knot, then texted you that he was on the way in. In the month since you joined the team, he’s become proficient in breaking things. Each time he carries a broken piece of tech to you, he holds his breath when your fingers move across his palm, watches in awe as you dedicate your time and talent to helping him. Yet, after all these visits, he hasn’t been able to remember where he knows you from.

“How’d that happen?” you ask, holding the tangled earpiece chord up to the light.

Barbara glances up, then looks pointedly at Dick. “Weird place for damage,” she muses knowingly.

“I think Scarecrow grabbed it,” he offers, shrugging. “Can you fix it?”

“Should be easy enough.”

You pull out a pair of pliers and a magnifying glass on a stand. Before you pull it into place, you check your computer.

“Robin, Red Robin, going dark for five,” you radio.

“If you’re eating, I’m going to be so mad,” Tim replies. “I’m starving.”

“Then get something to eat,” you suggest. “I’ll be back. Watch out for each other.”

“So,” Dick begins, leaning against the edge of your desk. “You’re pretty close with Tim and Dami.”

“I am. They’re great.”

“Just them?”

You look at Dick from the corner of your eye, smiling when you see that his attention is on you. “Well, there are some days that I feel like I adopted them without knowing about it… But I’m honored they trusted me enough to get close.”

“I trust you too,” Dick murmurs, reaching toward you.

“I know,” you hum. “Enough to fix all your broken toys, at least.”

“No, seriously,” Dick continues, shifting to be closer to you. “I trust you. I- Do you think we could be that close?”

You pull the knot loose, then work the chord back into place. As you pass it to Dick, you look at his mask and admit, “If that’s what you want, absolutely.”

You stand and offer your hand, telling him your name again. He pulls his domino mask off, his blue eyes dipping to your lips before he meets your eyes.

“Dick Grayson,” he introduces.

“Nice to meet you. I think Batman needs you back out there, though.”

Dick nods, squeezing your hand once before he replaces his mask. “I’ll be back.”

“I have no doubt about that.”

He waves, then slips out of the clocktower.

“You didn’t seem surprised,” Barbara muses, wheeling herself closer to where you’re still standing. “Something you want to tell me?”

“Dick Grayson learned how to do Nightwing’s signature triple kick flip because I offered to spot him,” you admit. “I’ve known for a week.”

“And you didn’t tell me?!” Barbara exclaims. “I didn’t know you and Dick knew each other!”

“We were childhood friends, Babs. We lost touch before high school, I think. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again.”

“And now?” she asks.

“Now, I have to get back to work.”

“You know what I mean.”

Putting your headset on, you murmur, “Can’t hear you, working, sorry.”

“Does he know?” Barbara asks.

You look down at your keyboard and admit, “I have no idea.”

“Well, it answers the great mystery of why Nightwing keeps breaking everything he touches.”

“Anything I can blame him for?” Red Hood asks, entering with a tray of drinks in hand.

“Not unless you’ve had a damaged piece of tech brought in so he can flirt with Glitch,” Barbara answers flatly.

“What?” Jason asks, wide-eyed as he sets the drinks down. “Oh, tell me everything.”

“Did you know they grew up together?” Barbara asks, smiling at your dramatic groan.

Jason passes you a drink and realizes, “I knew you looked familiar! Boy Wonder really didn’t recognize you right away? With the crush he had on you back then?”

“What?” you question, pushing away from the desk. “He… It wasn’t like that.”

Jason looks at Barbara and whispers, “She serious?”

“They both are,” Barbara sighs. “I’m hoping he catches up soon.”

“Let me know if he doesn’t,” Jason says.

“Why?” you wonder.

“She’s adorable,” Jason rumbles. “But I gotta go punch some people. See you later.”

“Sorry,” Dick says, cupping something in his hands.

“What did you break tonight, Mr. Grayson?” you ask, inviting him into your apartment through the window.

“Uh, my microphone,” he murmurs as he steps into your space. “Which I apparently need.”

“Whatever would we do without your dulcet tones keeping us informed?” you joke.

“See, you get it.”

You chuckle, then drop the broken mic onto your counter. “What’d you do?” you question as you open a small toolbox beside it. “You sit on it, goofball?”

Dick freezes behind you, watching your hands move.

Ten Years Ago

“That hurt,” you complained through giggles.

“It looked like it hurt,” Dick replied, failing to stifle his own laughs.

“Then why’d you jump after me, goofball?”

Dick shrugged, brushing his fingers along your forearm. “I didn’t want you to do it alone.”

“Thanks,” you whispered, leaning closer to him as you laid in the grass.

“Master Dick!” Alfred called from the patio. “Are you alright?”

Dick rolled his eyes and jumped to his feet, assuring Alfred everything was alright as he helped you to your feet.

“Want to stay for dinner, goofball?” Dick asked.

“Hey, that’s my thing,” you reminded him, bumping your hip against his side. “Get your own nickname.”

Present Day

“Dick?” you ask, twisting to see him. “You alright? Need me to call Leslie?”

“I- I’m not hurt,” he whispers, shaking his head. “Did you just call me a goofball?”

You drop your miniature screwdriver and stand, rubbing your hands together. “I didn’t mean to be offensive,” you explain. “It’s just something I’ve said-”

“Since you were a kid,” Dick finishes for you. “It never bothered me, even I pretended it did.”

“You remember me?” you ask, breathless as Dick steps closer to you.

“I’m not going to lie to you,” Dick prefaces, “I didn’t. Not until just now. I knew I had seen you before, but I couldn’t remember where. It was keeping me up at night, the wondering and thinking about you.”

“Why didn’t you just ask me?”

“I didn’t know if you remembered me, too. Or if you wanted to.”

“Of course, I remembered you. I’ve known since that night in the alley behind Iceberg when you did the triple kick flip.”

Dick smiles, shaking his head as he muses, “And Jason said my showmanship wouldn’t get me anything in life.”

“Now that I know and you know… Do you still trust me?”

“I always have.”

“Good. Because I think your mic is a lost cause.”

“Sounds like something you should tell Bruce.”

“Sounds like something you should tell Bruce,” you counter. “I did my part and I wash my hands of it.”

“Scaredy cat,” Dick taunts.

“That is correct. Tim and Damian are coming over to watch a movie, if you want to stay.”

Dick agrees, though something in his chest tightens at the idea of his brothers being so much closer to you than he is, even with your shared history.

“Hey, Glitch?” Dick calls when you move toward the living room. “I’m glad I remembered.”

You smile at him, and Dick nearly falls to his knees when you say, “Me too.”

“You know the night-shift baristas all have crushes on Jay, right?” Dick asks.

“When did you get here?” you question, setting your cup down as you look at the still-closed door.

“You should be used to that by now,” Barbara mumbles.

“Wait, is that why he never lets me pay him back?” you realize. “The drinks are free?”

“My brother brings you drinks?” Dick exclaims. “He never gets me anything!”

You smile and posit, “Maybe he likes me more.”

Dick peels his domino mask off and slides onto your desk before he nods. “Understandable. I actually came in because I need a favor.”

“What’d you break?”

“Me? Break something?” Dick repeats, holding an offended hand to his chest. “How could you think such a thing?”

“Dick,” you sigh, looking up at the exposed roof rafters.

“Less of a break and more of an accidental deletion,” he admits, passing you the small device you privately refer to as a batphone.

“What do you need to recover?” you ask, plugging it into your computer.

“A picture of-”

“Glitch,” Damian says, pushing the heavy metal door open. “We require assistance.”

“You and every other hero,” you murmur. Speaking up, you ask, “How can I help?”

“I found this in Two-Face’s stuff,” Tim offers, passing you a red thumb drive.

“Which you can investigate without me,” you reply, sliding it across the desk. “Though I appreciate you trusting me enough to keep passing off your work.”

“I don’t think I can,” Tim counters, pushing it back.

“I was here first,” Dick interrupts as he lays his hand on your shoulder. “Get in line.”

Damian narrows his eyes at Dick, then whispers something you can’t decipher. You can’t be sure if you’re more grateful or curious.

“I can help you both, but if you’re all camped out in here, who’s watching the streets of Gotham?” you inquire.

“Me, Batman, Red Hood, Spoiler, and Orphan,” Barbara answers. “We’ve got it handled for at least twenty minutes. Take your time.”

“And stop accepting presents from Jay,” Dick suggests.

You twist to look up at him, already sure of the answer when you ask, “Why?”

“Uh, because… You know… For the baristas! He’s taking advantage of them and the working class has it rough.”

“I see.”

“I knew you would,” he hums, nodding. “You’re very perceptive.”

“This is super weird,” Tim groans from your other side.

“I’ve seen bird courting rituals in which the male retained more dignity,” Damian mutters.

“I can call you when it’s done,” you offer. “You too, goofball.”

Dick smiles, moving lithely toward the door. “You’re too kind, my love,” he calls.

“So, are we going to talk about that or you want to keep it secret like when you found out his identity?” Barbara wonders, smirking at you.

“I thought you were protecting Gotham,” you respond softly, scrolling through the files on Dick’s device.

“I can multi-task.”

“Fantastic.”

“What is going on tonight?” you ask no one in particular, clicking between numerous open tabs. “It wasn’t this bad when Scarecrow dosed the Upper East Side.”

“Gotham’s an enigma,” Barbara agrees. “My dad is sending some intel and a few 911 call transcripts.”

“You think that’ll help?”

“Yes. Maybe. No. Who knows?”

“That was encouraging,” you deadpan, watching the boys’ trackers blink across the city. “Thanks for that, Barbara.”

“Anytime. I’ll be here all night.”

“Glitch,” Jason radios. “Where am I going?”

“We could use some help down here, G!” Tim yells, his first word overlapping with Jason’s last.

“Let me-” you begin before Damian agrees that your assistance is required.

“Where’s Killer Croc?” Dick asks then. “I’m by the camera you said spotted him.”

“Guys,” you interrupt. “I can only check one thing at a time.”

“I asked first,” Jason reminds you.

“But we are facing a situation with more urgency,” Damian argues.

“And I need to find Croc before he eats someone,” Dick chimes in. “Or another taser!”

“Okay, okay,” you concede. “Then maybe one of you could ask Babs? She can-”

“No,” the boys say together.

Across from you, listening in, Barbara begins laughing, clutching her stomach as the heroes of Gotham argue over who you should help first, refusing to go to Barbara to get the information and assistance they need. Her laughs grow shorter as her eyes water in amusement.

“Seriously?” you question, splitting your monitor to have three tabs open and accessible.

“Yep,” Jason affirms.

“Babs asked you to help because she’s busy, too,” Tim reminds you.

“And you care about us,” Dick murmurs, his pout practically audible as he checks, “right? We’re helpless boys, remember?”

“Helpless?” you repeat incredulously.

“Yeah. And you’re so smart and kind and you-”

“Fine, I’ll help. Just stop talking for a second. Hood, Mercy Hospital.”

“Aye, aye, cap,” he radios before his tracker moves toward the bridge connecting the narrows to the Upper East Side.

“Robin, Red Robin, your intel is old. The new meeting is in Cherry Hill.”

“This is why we love you,” Tim singsongs.

“And Nightwing…”

“I’ll do the triple kick flip again, you just have to ask,” he responds when you trail off.

“Killer Croc is in the water tunnels, moving toward us,” you say. “And maybe another day, when you’re ready to make that a quadruple kick flip.”

“Smart kind and beautiful,” he mutters softly. “’S what I was gonna say before.”

“Go save the city, Nightwing.”

“Only ‘cause you’re in it.”

Barbara takes a deep breath, wiping beneath her eyes. “Oh, I’d heard that he flirted with you and the others were acting like your kids, but I wasn’t expecting it to be that good.”

“They trust me,” you sigh. “That was the goal, right?”

“They do more than trust you. Especially the Boy Wonder.”

“He’s flirty. Always has been.”

“With you, I believe.”

Three months into being part of Batman’s team, you’ve become part of the family. Tim and Damian have practically moved into your apartment — it’s the only place they can be found most weekends — while Dick has kept up the flirty repertoire while he patrols and Jason gives you unsolicited but amazing book recommendations and advice. When you’re not in the clocktower working alongside Barbara or watching nature documentaries with Damian, you hang out with Barbara as people rather than Batman’s backstage crew. You go shopping together, visit her dad, just have fun.

But it’s different with Dick. Not just the radio flirting, all of it. You lie in bed at night unable to sleep; not because of the fights and the devastation you witness, but because you’re thinking about Dick Grayson. Like tonight, the boys are taking shifts protecting the night while Bruce is at a charity gala, and you’re sitting at home, restless as you wait for midnight, when you’ll take over for Barbara from the comfort of your own home.

With only an hour and a half ‘til then, you flinch when someone knocks on your window. Your window that is far above ground level. Carefully, you inch down the darkened hallway until you reach the living room. Peeking around the corner to see the window, you gasp at the sight of Nightwing leaning against the fire escape railing.

“What happened?” you demand as you pull the window open.

“I think Bane is having a bad night,” he grumbles, sliding into your space. “Was. I knocked him out.”

“You couldn’t have done that before he tried to crush you like that radio you broke my first week?”

Dick smiles, flipping the latch on your window to lock it behind him. “I’m clumsy,” he excuses with a shrug.

“You’re hurt,” you correct, ushering him to your bathroom.

He falls heavily onto the closed toilet lid, hissing softly when he pulls the domino mask off his face.

“I thought you had Leslie for stuff like this,” you murmur, spreading a first aid kit open by the sink.

“We do.”

“Then why are you here with me?”

Dick drops his head back, his eyes closed as he smiles. “Just answered your own question, goofball.”

“Hold still,” you request, cupping his chin to wipe a scrape across his forehead. “How bad is it?”

“I’ll probably be sore, but nothing’s broken. Totally not like the radio.”

You nod, then work in comfortable silence. Kneeling in front of him, you put ointment on his bruises to ease the pain, then open a few bandages. You press one to a scratch on his left shoulder and one around his thumb.

“Elephants?” Dick asks when he opens his eyes.

You lift your head to find he’s looking at you rather than the cartoon elephant bandage. “I promised I’d patch you up with them if you fell,” you remind him softly.

“Yeah, you did.”

Dick reaches forward, brushing his hands against your waist. When you lean into the touch, he grips you tighter, pulling you closer in the already limited space. He whispers your name when you brush your fingers through his hair.

“Nightwing,” you reply lowly.

“No, it’s-”

“I know, Dick,” you promise, smiling. “I know.”

“I wanted to fall that day,” Dick admits. “I knew that if I fell, you really would patch me up and maybe if I was lucky, I could convince you to kiss it better.”

“Genius plan.”

“I’m very smart,” he defends. “But then I got in the starting position and all I could think about was my parents falling and how scared I was. I knew I couldn’t do that to you.”

You nod, stilling your fingers in his hair. “I’m sorry we lost touch,” you offer.

“I’m sorry I broke so much stuff,” he replies. “I just… I just needed to see you, to be close to you.”

“Not entirely unlike how it was back then. You snapping pencils in half to borrow one of mine or breaking hair ties to offer to play with my hair,” you remember. “It’s just, it’s a little better now.”

Dick smiles, straightening as he raises one hand to cup your face. “You think so?”

“Of course I do.”

“I was scared that you wouldn’t remember me,” Dick admits.

“I think even if we never remembered exactly what it was like before, we would have found something new,” you promise him. “You were always going to be my goofball.”

Dick smiles, moving slowly as he pulls you down to his level. He brushes his lips over yours, sighing into the kiss as you hold him like you never want to let go. When he moves to pull back, you steal one more kiss, then move to spread kisses along his jaw and up to his cheekbone. Dick laughs, his shoulders shaking against you. At the reminder, you dip your chin and press the bandage on his shoulder, then interlace your fingers and bring his forearm up to kiss there too.

“Oh gross!” someone yells before the sound of an exaggerated gag fills the hall.

“I thought you locked the window,” you whisper against Dick’s arm.

“That doesn’t matter,” Tim scoffs. “We’ll be in the kitchen when you’re done with whatever this is.”

“You could do better, Glitch,” Damian adds, pulling the bathroom door closed.

“I love that they act like we’re kissing in their house and not admitting that they broke in,” Dick muses, sliding his hands along your sides.

“They’re your brothers,” you remind him. “I’m allowed to show my goofball love however I want in my own-”

“Love?” Dick interrupts, his head tipped to the side.

“Yeah, Dick,” you promise, leaning in again. “Same as always. There was no way I’d never remember you.”

Dick smiles into the next kiss, the pain of Bane’s punches long gone as your confession moves like lightning in his veins.

Bonus:

“I thought you weren’t supposed to bring me presents anymore,” you joke when Jason passes you a cup.

“I paid for it,” he promises. “With my winnings.”

“Winnings?”

“You didn’t know about the betting pool?” Babs asks. “You and Boy Wonder?”

“You bet on my relationship with Dick?”

“Not just us. Your goofball made a pretty penny betting that you’d remember him and not tell anyone,” Jason explains.

“Great, now I’m part of a Red Hood-orchestrated rom-com,” you grumble.

“Where did you get that?” Dick asks, standing in the doorway and pointing at your cup.

“Your brother is making amends.”

Dick nods, then sits on the floor beside you, leaning his head against your leg. “I love you,” he says.

“On that note, I’m out,” Jason says. “See you tonight, Glitch.”

“See you,” you call. “Be safe.” Then, you look down at Dick, brushing his hair off his forehead as you promise, “I love you.”

“What’s tonight?” he wonders.

“We’re showing Damian George of the Jungle.”

“Oh, I’m so there. Dibs on the seat by you.”

“It’s yours forever, goofball.”