☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★*ੈ✩‧₊˚

he doesn’t ask you questions about your day, not yet. not when he knows you just want to exist here with him, to momentarily forget you could ever be anywhere else than by his side.

dick moves on to wash your hair, humming gently to himself. his hands feel so good in your hair, fingers massaging your scalp, that a soft moan is pulled from your lips. your eyes flutter open, embarrassment warming your cheeks, but dick only gives you a soft smile.

he helps you out of the bath and wraps a soft towel around your body. dick uses another towel to dry off your hair, pausing occasionally to press his lips to your neck and shoulders.

your shared bedroom is a welcomed sanctuary. you’ve been longing for your bed all day and dick knows it.

he unhooks the towel and it drops to the floor, then he kisses you, soft and tentative. and when you melt into him, craving the relief of his body on yours? dick hums, low and satisfied, and eases you onto the bed.

his body covers yours, hand moving between your thighs. you gasp, arching into him as he works you with loving touches.

dicks mouth moves between kissing yours and nibble on the sensitive skin on your neck. he forgets about his own needs, the strain in his sweatpants, his sole focus on you.

your orgasm isn’t mind blowing. it’s a crest of pleasure, the release of tension. all your stress’s and worry’s fade out, replaced by the quiet intimacy of the bedroom, the sound of dick’s soft praises.

and afterwards, when your limbs are too heavy to move, your body too relaxed, dick brings you a plate of your comfort food.

he listens to you quietly rant about your day, and somehow says all the right things. when you grow tired he curls under the covers with you, wrapping you up in his warmth.

You had your date at the Grand Canyon planned for several weeks. The two of you had been busy and stressed with work lately, so you were looking forward to spending a quiet weekend together even more than usual.

The only problem was that Dick had been acting incredibly nervous all morning.

When your alarm went off at seven, he was already gone. According to him, he hadn't been able to sleep all night. At four in the morning, he had apparently decided to do something productive and cleaned half the house instead (carefully enough not to wake you). Things only got stranger after that. At breakfast, he burned his scrambled eggs so badly that the smoke alarm almost went on. A few minutes later, he reached for the sugar and somehow managed to pour salt into his coffee instead. When you pointed it out, he stared at the mug for a solid five seconds before dumping the whole thing into the sink.

You had asked him more than once what was wrong. Each time, he'd smiled a little too quickly and blamed it on the weather.

"The weather?" you repeated as the two of you loaded your bags into the car.

"Yeah."

"Dick, it's sunny."

"Exactly."

You narrowed your eyes at him. He immediately looked away. That was suspicious.

Dick Grayson was many things, but subtle was not one of them.

For the first hour of the drive, he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, checked his phone every few minutes, and nearly missed two exits because he seemed completely lost in thought.

At one point, you caught him glancing at you. Then at the road. Then at you again.

You figured you wouldn't get a real answer out of him, so you let it go. Turning your head, you looked up at the bright blue sky above you. Only a few fluffy clouds drifted lazily across it. A small smile tugged at your lips.

"Look at the sky," you said.

Dick's head snapped up so fast you thought he might actually break his neck. "Oh God, what's wrong with the sky?!" he asked, panic flashing across his face.

You blinked. For a moment, you were too stunned to respond. "Dick," you said slowly, trying not to laugh, "there's nothing wrong with the sky."

His shoulders immediately sagged with relief. "Oh."

A beat passed.

"Wait, why would you think something was wrong with the sky?"

Yeah, the whole drive had been weird.

When you finally arrived, the view was magnificent. The walking trail was surprisingly quiet, with only a handful of people scattered along the route.

Dick, however, wasn't paying much attention to the scenery. His hand was clammy in yours the entire time. You had never seen someone sweat this much without actually exercising.

After about thirty minutes of walking, you emerged onto a beautiful overlook. Almost immediately, you noticed a couple standing near the edge. You stopped in your tracks and grabbed Dick's arm, pulling the distracted man to a halt.

"Look," you whispered. "I think he's proposing." At that exact moment, the guy dropped to one knee. The woman immediately covered her mouth as he pulled a ring box from his pocket.

Good thing you were standing far enough away not to disturb them. Still, you couldn't help leaning closer to Dick and whispering,

"Who the hell proposes at the Grand Canyon? I hate it."

Silence.

You frowned. That wasn't the reaction you expected.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched the color drain from Dick's face. Instantly. His expression shifted from nervous to absolutely horrified. A strange choking sound escaped his throat.

"Dick?"

His eyes were wide. Very wide.

"Dick?"

Without a word, he dropped your hand, spun around, and sprinted toward the nearest bush. A second later, the unmistakable sound of someone violently throwing up echoed across the overlook.

You stared.

The nearby squirrels probably stared too.

"...Holy shit."

Maybe the weather really was getting to him, you thought.

“No, no, no,” you mutter, pressing your pen against the paper in hopes that it starts writing again. “Come on,” you plead, uncaring that you’re begging an inanimate object to do the impossible.

You toss it toward the trash can and dig through your backpack. The timer on your laptop confirms your fear that you don’t have time to run to the store to buy more pens, and by the time you’re done reviewing for your other exams, everything will be closed.

“Okay, that’s fine,” you whisper to yourself. “I’ll just use a pencil and the red notebook.”

Pulling said red notebook onto your desk, you find that it’s full. And your pencils are down to unusable nubs.

“You couldn’t have done this last week?!” you demand of the supplies that will not answer.

You exhale heavily, pulling your laptop closer. You can review the digital study guides for now, but that doesn’t help with the issue of running out of all of your supplies. If only you could get the supplies replenished without interrupting your study flow.

With a gasp, you lift your phone and call Wally. Tapping your fingers on the desk, you hope that he’ll answer.

“Howdy,” he says when the call connects.

“Wally, my savior!” you exclaim dramatically. “I need to ask a favor.”

“Anything,” he replies.

“I need black, blue, and red pens; two spiral bound notebooks; mechanical pencil lead; a pack of erasers; and two yellow legal pads,” you list. “The colors don’t matter except for the legal pads, which have to be yellow.”

“Uh, I heard red pens. It’s the end of the year, you’re graduating… Why do you need all this stuff?” he questions. You can envision the confusion on his face.

“It’s exam season, Wally,” you remind him. “I need this stuff.”

“And you ran out of all of that at the same time?”

“Are you going to keep asking questions or help me out here?”

“I’m helping, I’m helping,” he mutters, punctuated by the sound of a door closing. “I’m going to the store now. You said pens, spiral notebooks, pencil lead, uh… erasers and yellow legal pads. Anything else?”

“I think that’s it. You are the best person ever, Wally. I love you so much.”

“Yeah, yeah, right back atcha,” he murmurs, smiling brightly at his phone. “Give me like ten minutes.”

“Take eleven.”

“How kind of you.”

You end the call, take a deep breath, and open a study guide.

Several miles away, Wally rushes into a store with your list circling his mind. He checks his watch and finds that the store is practically empty because it closes in three minutes. In the stationary aisle, his eyes widen dramatically, his shoulders straight and rigid as he looks at the plethora of items.

“Should we offer to help?” an employee whispers to another.

“He seems like he’s on a mission,” the other answers. “Probably getting something for his girlfriend.”

“I didn’t have a boyfriend in college who’d buy me paper during exams.”

A third employee passes behind them, pausing to look at Wally. “I didn’t have a boyfriend in college who looked like that.”

“Real,” the first mumbles.

Wally picks up a large box from the bottom shelf. It’s a stationary pack with three glittery pens, two notebooks, mechanical pencils, and erasers. He nods to himself, lays a stack of legal pads on top of it, and approaches the checkout counter. The door locks behind him when he leaves exactly at closing time.

“Dinner,” Wally reminds himself, tucking the bag under his arm.

Fifteen minutes after talking to you, Wally lets himself into your apartment with two bags. You lift a hand to ask for a moment without looking at him. Wally pouts at your back, then sets the bags on your counter.

“Thank you so much,” you say, turning in your chair. “You brought dinner too? You’re too good for me.”

Wally smiles brightly and passes you a bag with a box and seven yellow legal pads. Your brows pinch as you pull the box out. It’s not exactly what you asked for, but you knew better than to tell Wally rather than sending him a very specific list. It’ll work, you decide.

“Mind if I eat and study at the same time?” you ask Wally.

He becomes a blur briefly, then extends a plate to you. “One step ahead of you.”

“Just one? Thanks, Walls, seriously.”

He nods and pulls a chair to your side. As he sits down, he realizes that you may not want him here watching you study. “Do you want me to go?” he asks.

You pause, a glittery pen in your hand as you wipe your mouth with a napkin. “Huh?”

“If you want to be alone to study, I get it,” he adds.

“You don’t have to leave,” you answer. “I like having you here.”

“Oh. Why?”

Wally tips his head to the side like a confused puppy. You realize then that Wally is far denser than you realized. After all that you’ve said and done over the years, he can’t see it? Wally has superpowers but can’t acknowledge that you like him?

Wally West is an idiot, you decide. And he’s oblivious. And he’s an idiot. It deserves being said twice, you think.

“Wow,” you murmur. “Wally…”

“Yes?” he asks.

“Wally, I like having you here because I like you.”

Wally’s lips part, his brows lifting as he blinks at you. You roll your eyes and lean toward him to pluck a fry off his plate. When you move into his space, Wally leans forward, trying to kiss you.

You press your new glitter pen to his lips and shake your head. “You can kiss me after my exams.”

“But…” Wally sighs dramatically and nods. “Okay,” he agrees. “The second you’re done.”

“Sure,” you laugh.

You turn back to your notes, rolling your eyes when Wally whispers, “You actually like me?”

Walking out of your last exam, you feel lighter, happier, capable of taking on the world. Part of you wants to look up at the sky and scream, “I’m free!” Instead, you wave to a few classmates and plan a mental route to find Wally.

You run into someone after you turn on the sidewalk, inhaling sharply when their hands find your arms to steady you.

“Wally,” you realize quickly, relaxing. “You scared me.”

“That was your last exam?” he checks.

“Yes!” you answer excitedly. “I think I did alright so I’m graduating!”

“That’s great. Kiss?”

Your smile droops as you inquire, “You- Have you been waiting out here to kiss me?”

“You said I could after your last exam.”

Laughing, you nod. Wally takes your invitation and shifts his hands to cup your face. He kisses you gently but passionately. It’s slow, meaningful, perfect.

“I took my exam with the pencil with the charm,” you whisper when Wally pulls back. “Maybe it was my good luck charm.”

“Maybe I’m your good luck charm,” he argues. “And that sounds like a good reason to kiss me again.”

“You’re insatiable, Walls.”

“Mmhmm,” he agrees. “But you like me, too, so…”

“One more kiss and then you’re getting this graduate lunch.”

“Like a date?!” Wally yells.

You pat his chest when he starts vibrating, glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one saw him. “Like a date,” you agree. “But calm down.”

“I can’t. Kiss.”

You oblige him this time, smiling into the kiss when Wally stills, his hands ghosting over your waist. Maybe he really is good luck.

the heat reaches your face and a fluttery feeling sits low in your stomach. he always knew how to throw the words back at you. but alas, the show must go on. you stroke his hair back once more, cupping his face with both hands to kiss his sweet face. jason melts into it immediately, but he shrugs like he were shy from this attention. when you pull away, a piece of him was disappointed.

“you hungry?” you ask him. “i was gonna make something to eat.”

he shakes his head, “don’t worry about it. i came home to take care of you. i’ll cook.”

you raise a brow as you reach for your water bottle, ready to play in his face. “take care of me? i’m a grown adult babe.”

he watches as you lift the bottle to your lips, his eyes trained hard on how they part and press against it. taking in how your throat swallows down the water and he gulps in anticipation as though he was drinking it too. his lips part as he leans in to kiss you again. though this time, you bring the bottle between you and put it to his lips.

“you look dehydrated,” you say like it’s the easiest thing in the world. tilting your head slightly and watching the gears turn in his head. “have you been using the bottle i bought you?”

he sighs and nods, “yeah, but i like using yours better.”

sitting up enough to take the bottle and take a long sip. probably draining your ice cold water from how thirsty he was and didn’t even realize. he makes a sound of approval and hands it back to you when you do the unspeakable.

you take the bottle from him, lift your opposing hand and wipe it with your sleeve. jason is absolutely dumbstruck. his lips part in confusion as his brows furrow. he looks to you, then the bottle and then back to you again. he scoffs softly and then points at the bottle.

“the fuck was that?”

he’s blinking hard at you and waiting for a response. you just take a long sip and furrow your brows back.

“what do you mean jay? i’m drinking water?” feigning confusion.

“you just wiped me off of it i’m some freeloader, with germs and shit.”

you can’t control your laughter and shake your head at him. “i’m just wiping your spit off of it jason. it’s not a big deal.”

he knows you have never cared about germs with him before. besides, you live in gotham, and it’s hardly the cleanliest place to be living.

then he’s stammering, pointing between you and the bottle again. “but babe you just kissed me! how is that any different! wait, does my breath smell?” before he leans back and puts his hand in front of his mouth and breathes out to sniff his breath. “i didn’t smoke or anything and i brushed my teeth i swear.”

this only makes you laugh harder, pushing this chest and grasping tightly at he bottle in your hands. jason only seems to get even more confused. he sits up completely and watches you giggle to yourself, finding this entire thing amusing. jason however, does not.

with a loud scoff, he takes the water bottle from your hands and tongues at the mouth piece. he fully lets his tongue fall out of his mouth, licks it all around before pulling back and handing it to you. you grimace a little at the wet sheen on it.

“ew jay, what the hell.” holding the bottle like something toxic.

“take a sip.” he says with the most stern expression you’d ever seen on him.

oh, he was pissed.

you decide to play along longer and shake your head in defiance at him.

he blinks at you, “i’d let you spit in my mouth and you’re sitting here telling me you won’t drink from the same bottle as me?”

“no, not until i wash your slobber off of it.”

that’s when he huffs out like a kid throwing a tantrum and grabs the bottle from your hand, mumbling under his breath. you watch him with genuine confusion while he is the one to take another sip before grabbing your chin and pulling you closer.

he squeezes your cheeks until your lips part and spits the water directly into your mouth. you make a sound of surprise the sudden intrusion makes your eyes widen but you were definitely not opposed. you swallow it down immediately. he keeps his hold on your cheeks as he squints and a small smile begins to take form on his face.

“you’re liking this,” he states rather than asks.

the contagious smile takes home on your face as you stare back at him and nod. “it’s a prank.”

“ha,” he says flatly, “now can you lay back down please?”

sighing as you lay down for him, he immediately follows after you. weight resting directly over you like a weighted blanket that wouldn’t budge if you tried. when you squirm a little, he wraps his arms over yours so you’re bracketed between him and the mattress. then he really does give you some sloppy, wet kisses that leave a trail in its wake.

he’s mumbling lowly as he starts to tug on your shirt, pulling the fabric up and huffing like he’s still annoyed. kisses getting a little rougher as he starts to bite the flesh beneath it and knead it with his teeth. you can’t help but tilt back for him.

“slobber, huh? i’ll show you slobber.” murmuring against your skin enough to tickle. he pulls his head up to look at you while you’re still giggling, “okay jokes over. was gonna do all the work but—”

jason lifts you from beneath him and places you firm onto his lap. hand tight in your hip as you straddle him and he settles his back on the pillows. he clears his throat and something behind his light eyes darken enough to tell you you were really in for it now. the thick bulge beneath you was unmistakable. you open your mouth in a gasp and say his name.

“there’s no way that turned you on.” making the horrible mistake of letting a giggle out again.

he breathes out of his nose and pinches your side to make you jolt. groaning like he’s not the cause of you shifting around and tightening his hold on you so you’d stop moving.

“i spat in your mouth. of course i’m hard.” he sighs as his fingers slide across the waistband of your underwear and tug them just to let them snap. you jolt again but he doesn’t stop you from moving or say anything about the desperate sound you make at the friction.

instead, jason smiles a little harder, “go ahead then.”

guiding your hips back and forth until your breath caught in your throat and you grip his shoulders for dear life. you breathe out his name again but it’s barely a whisper.

he tsks and bucks up into you, dragging his hard length against your clothed core. hips with a mind of its own as you chase your own release, dragging your hands down his chest and pushing him further into the mattress. you’re already a mess, panting heavily and moving desperately.

dangerously close and he’s just grinning like he’s won.

one of his hands come up to the nape of your neck and pulls you down towards him, whispering lowly in your ear.

“there you go ma, take what’s yours.”

movements getting sloppy and uneven while he’s keeping you folded against him. one strong palm kept your faces close and the other moved you in accordance what he knew got you there. he knew you were a goner before you even let go, gasping and stilling just for him to continue moving against you. even when you make a whimpering sound he continues and holds you hard against him.

you’re trying to catch your breath when he finally stops and kisses the side of your face sloppily again. his hands rubbing up and down your back like he’s soothing you. it feels like you’re purring against him as you come back to yourself. but this time, he’s the one laughing while he whispers in your ear like a coo.

“gave the camera a good show, didn’t we?”

The next morning begins with you sprawled out on your floor, laying next to your trash can with a half-empty bottle of water and some chips. 

Your eyes open with great resistance. There’s a loud buzzing sound erupting from your phone, somewhere behind the trash can, and your arms flail trying to grab it. 

Merely sitting up makes your entire body ache in protest. You squeeze your eyes shut, rubbing at your throbbing temples before reaching for your phone.

A spam call. 

That’s what forced you to drag yourself from a mediocre, yet deep floor slumber. 

You deny it instantly. You’re left with a home screen so busy and bright that it makes you squint.

The first thing you see is the time: 11:53. 

You’d slept through class.

As to be expected.

Still, it sends another wave of pain through your skull. It feels like there’s cement where your brain should be. 

The second thing that catches your eye are the hoards of text messages cluttering your screen. 

Your stomach sinks when you see the most recent. 

Dick :) (11:03): Hey, how are you feeling?

Dick :) (11:03): I’m skipping class :( feel like shit from last night 

Everything from last night comes flooding back to you. As much of it as you can remember, anyway.

Too much alcohol. Dick leading you to the bathroom. Then vomiting. A lot of vomiting. He came to check on you at one point– you were sure of it. 

And then you blinked and were back home. 

And now, on your floor, you hold your breath as your fingers scramble to come up with anything to say. 

You (11:55 AM): I skipped too. I doubt he’ll cover anything important, half the class won’t  be there

You (11:55 AM): Hopefully you’re feeling better than me. 

Hesitantly, but with too much exhaustion to really care, you send a photo of yourself– caked in yesterday’s makeup, dried mascara under your eyes, smudged black liner, and hair a mess– giving a thumbs up. 

You (11:56 AM): [photo]

You (11:56 AM): I’m genuinely so sorry for yakking in your toilet btw 

Charm wasn’t your strongest trait. Four texts and a photo was anything short of desperate, even if it wasn’t for romantic attention. 

He doesn’t respond. He either hates you or went back to sleep.

You hope it’s the latter, because the rest of your roommates seem to follow suit. 

Creeping down the steps to grab a fresh bottle of water, you notice the house is dead silent. In fact, so is the whole street, void of the usual chatter of students walking to class or music playing from their porches. 

For that brief moment, it’s just you in the kitchen: lightheaded, thirsty, feeling like you got hit by a bus. But there’s sun shining through the windowpane and a peaceful stillness accompanied only by the occasional chirping of mourning doves.

A rare quiet. The calm after a storm you can’t fully recall. 

You’d face the humiliation of whatever happened last night when the rest of the world awoke. 

Right now, you had to take care of the buzzball-sized hole in your stomach. You open a delivery app, ordering the greasiest, cheesiest egg sandwich you can find along with a large iced coffee from a nearby diner.

– 

“I did what?” 

The girls snicker hearing the tremor in your voice. 

“Yeah. You were clinging to him, girl,” Chloe attests, taking a sip from her mug. “Like a koala bear.”

You think your heart can’t drop any further, but it seems to completely sink to the bottom of a very dark, deep ocean of humiliation. 

You were expecting drunk antics. You weren’t expecting to hear that you spent half the night crying into the arms of Gotham U’s biggest playboy: the very one your roommates thought you couldn’t stand. 

What had you told him? What did he think of you? A total freak– surely. 

Then, a worse thought quickly pops into your head.

Had you tried to make a move on him?

That thought had never crossed your mind before– but that’s when you were sober. Not drunk out of your mind and bold enough to curl into his arms.

He was undeniably attractive. The image of him at the party, body damp from sweat and shirt barely holding together, had engrained itself in your brain. What if you’d commented on it? Or worse, done something about it?

A new wave of shame overcomes you. 

You weren’t supposed to be thinking about him like that. You didn’t think of him that way. He wasn’t… he was never in the conversation, even if he was admittedly easy on the eyes. 

And kind. And funny. And not entirely an idiot. 

And it’d make the semester ten times more awkward if he ever found out. 

Your throat burned from something that wasn’t from the hangover.

Lena rubs your shoulder as your head falls into your lap. 

“He really didn’t seem that fazed,” she chuckles. “He was more concerned than weirded out. I… don’t think he was weirded out at all, actually.” 

The girls hum in agreement. You’re not entirely convinced that they’re not just being nice to save you the humiliation. 

As if reading your mind, Lena pulls out her phone. Your head darts up. 

On her screen is a brief text conversation between her and Dick. 

Lena (3:14 AM): She’s home safe :) 

(3:17 AM) Dick liked “She’s home safe :)” 

Dick (3:17 AM): Thank you for letting me know! 

You squint. You look up at Lena. Then back at the phone. Then Lena. 

She beats you to speaking before you can fully open your mouth. 

“He only gave me his number to make sure you were okay,” she says. “He was worried. Like, genuinely worried.”

The look on your face is somewhere between bewilderment and relief. 

“And he didn’t try to touch you or anything,” Hafsa adds. “Seriously, we would’ve kicked his ass.” 

“I know that,” you grumble, shaking your head. But you felt only the smallest bit of relief. Why would he have even bothered?

What would his potentially-imaginary-other-school-situationship think of it?

You rub at your temples as the ache grows.  

The conversation eventually splinters as the girls get ready to go about their day. It’s nearly 2 PM by this point and you still hadn’t received a text back from Dick. Maybe you never would. 

Eventually, you trudge back up to your small haven in the attic, deciding to try and knock out the classwork you missed to get your mind off of things. 

And it works!

For a while. 

It’s 4:34 PM when a buzz from your phone pulls you from your trance. You reach for it embarrassingly quickly. 

Dick :) (4:34 PM): God I’m sorry I just woke back up 

Dick :) (4:34 PM): [image] 

He sends a photo of him lying in bed: hair disheveled, half-lidded eyes, flashing the same awkward thumbs up you’d given him earlier.

You swallow, staring at the photo far longer than you had to while the rest of the messages came through. 

His sheets were navy blue– bad sign. Fuckboy classic. 

But when your jawline was still that sharp and your hair still looked effortlessly tousled violently hungover, you’d probably be a little cocky too. 

Dick :) (4:36 PM): I’ll look at class stuff this weekend, unfortunately I’m going out again tn 😰😰

Dick :) (4:37 PM): Hopefully my toilet won’t be filled with as much Y/N puke 

A blush of equal parts embarrassment and amusement creeps up your face. The girls would have a field day if they saw you like this. 

Dick :) (4:37 PM): I really do hope you feel better though please take it easy tn :(

You turn off your phone and instantly stand up. After a few minutes of pacing around your room like a tense, wild animal, you pick it back up with a deep breath, trying to think of a response. 

This was more intense than any exam would ever be. 

You (4:43 PM): That toilet’s gonna be filled with ur puke not mine 

You stare down at the message after you send it. You’re about to write something equally as witty to follow, but hesitate.

Slowly, but surely, you type something longer. 

You (4:45 PM): My roommates told me about what happened last night btw. I’m so sorry for acting the way I did. I really don’t drink much and I overdid it 😭

You (4:46 PM): Thank you so much for taking care of me. You didn’t have to. I owe you one

Before you can fully regret breaking the playful banter, his typing bubble appears immediately. 

Dick :) (4:46 PM): God no you’re totally fine

Dick :) (4:46 PM): I’m just glad you’re feeling better 

Dick :) (4:46 PM): You owe me nothing 

The sincerity shone through even over text. It was the same warmth you heard when he brought you coffee and asked about your mornings, and you felt a flutter of relief in your chest.  

Whatever you said or did in that small, dingy bathroom wasn’t enough to scare him off completely. 

Which you should’ve figured from his morning check-in, but you were never one for having high hopes.

You message him back. 

You (4:48 PM): Ok. But I really do mean it. 

Assuming the conversation was over, and feeling strangely content with it, you’re about to turn your phone off when his typing bubble appears again. 

Dick :) (4:49 PM): I know you do

Dick :) (4:50 PM): I doubt I’ll see you out again tn so I’ll get twice as drunk in ur honor 🫡

A bemused huff escapes you. 

He wasn’t wrong; you had no intention of waking up feeling like dead weight once more. But the thought of him going out again– maybe to talk to girls, maybe just to get wasted– left a sour taste in your mouth. 

It was his choice, you told yourself as you snapped a picture of your intense study setup: highlighted notebooks, a PDF of a case study loaded onto your iPad, an assignment document on your laptop. 

You (4:53 PM): [image]

You (4:54 PM): I have plans

A crazy night you’d have. 

Too crazy for him, apparently, because he doesn’t respond. You figure he’s already back at his frat house, starting the night early by taking swigs of the communal whiskey bottle. 

You bury yourself in homework for the rest of the afternoon. It’s nearly two hours later when a buzz from your phone pulls your attention away from an absolutely riveting academic journal on research methodology. 

The first message is an image.

Dick is standing in front of his bathroom mirror, shooting a thumbs up with aviators and a fake mustache on his face. He’s wearing a purple, flowery button-up top, exposing half of his toned upper body like he had last night, and a pair of bell bottom jeans: some sort of 70’s hippie getup. What gets you is the stupidly cheeky grin on his face. You can’t see his eyes through the sunglasses, but you know there’s that same self-satisfied glint in them. 

He knew he looked good and he knew you thought so, too. 

God, what had you said to him last night?

Before you can pull yourself away from staring at his abs for the next hour, two more texts roll in. 

Dick :) (6:24 PM): Wowwww crazy 🤓

Dick :) (6:24 PM): Just don’t puke all over ur setup 

You roll your eyes. You place a dislike reaction on the last message. 

You (6:26 PM): Fuck off 

He hearts the message. 

You don’t hear from Dick the rest of the night, assuming he’s long gone in somebody’s backyard before it even hits 10 o’clock. 

The rest of your roommates say goodbye as they leave to go out for the second night. You have the house to yourself, the only accompaniment the creaking of your shitty old walls and trap music bleeding in from down the street. 

You look at the picture Dick sent you more times than you can count. You feel like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankle, but you can’t help it. That picture was meant to make you feel this way. 

Another thought pops into your head just as quickly, making you shiver: how many other girls had he sent it to?

You could admire Dick from afar, but getting close to him was a bad decision. It was the trap every girl fell for. No, you knew better than to think there was something here.

Still, you can’t help yourself from snooping on his Instagram.

That girl. Barbara. She was the only girl to appear on his profile, and the thought that you might know her still gnawed at you.

But she graduated. And she hadn’t gone to Tam U– so this wasn’t the girl Reese had mentioned at work. 

You click on her profile again. It’s still private, but from what you can see, it’s not the kind of girl you’d expect to end up on his page. 

Her profile picture shows her smiling softly, a pair of thin-rimmed glasses on her face. She only has around 300 followers, a few of which were mutuals, and her bio simply reads: “Gotham U 2024.” 

You zoom in on her profile picture, trying to make out the background. It’s a blurred mix of deep browns and something with the color structure of a rainbow. 

And then it clicks.

A bookcase. 

And you know where you’ve seen this girl. 

Last year, when you were knee-deep in LSAT studying, you spent almost every day at the university library.

It was one of the only places you really felt comfortable on campus, and sometimes you’d be there so long that a worker would have to come kick you out when they closed. 

Barbara was one of them.

She worked at the front desk, nose usually buried in a book or eyes glued to her laptop, and always offered you a warm smile when you walked in.

The two of you never spoke past formalities, but it was clear she recognized you. 

You swipe back to the photo of them together. 

His arm was draped around her waist, the two of them standing by the railing of a rooftop bar. They’re smiling, both holding drinks, but the moment doesn’t feel particularly romantic. 

Even in group photos, other couples are hugging, holding hands, even pressing quick pecks to one another’s lips. In comparison, they just looked like friends.

And maybe they were.

Even still, how was this the kind of girl Dick Grayson brought to a fraternity formal? 

Someone who looked like they’d rather spend the weekend catching up on their latest read, not downing drafts at a bar in Canada. 

Something wasn’t adding up. 

You felt shallow, even superficial for thinking it. But with the kind of reputation Grayson had, you’d expect him to have supermodels around his shoulders, not girls with private accounts and modest followings. 

Dick didn’t talk much about his personal life, but he would’ve brought up a girlfriend by now if he had one. And with what Reese mentioned at work about that girl from Tam U…

You go back to his following list. 

He still only followed around 320 people. 

It couldn’t be that hard to find a girl with “Tam” in their bio, right? If it was even included at all– hadn’t Reese mentioned that she might’ve transferred?

You slam your laptop shut, hunching over your desk and beginning to scroll.

You spend an embarrassing amount of time analyzing the accounts of every girl he follows with the intensity of a P.I. 

They each either had “Gotham” and some year in their bio, another school name, or nothing at all. The search felt futile. There weren’t that many to go through, and it still felt like trudging through a desert without an oasis in sight. 

You’re about to give up hope when you come across a profile that immediately catches you off guard.

@k.ori.andr

“Tamaran ‘26 🧡”

Glowing tan skin, long, fiery red hair, glowing green eyes and a tall, athletic build. Her profile picture showed her posing in some sort of tropical setting, leaving little to the imagination.

She was jaw-droppingly gorgeous. 

It was no wonder Dick was one of her 1,980 followers. All of her photos looked like they were taken professionally– or maybe she was just that photogenic. 

This seemed more like the girl he’d lose sleep over. The girl every guy’s eyes would be glued to. One look at her most recent post of her at the beach made you feel like you shouldn’t even be on the same planet as her. 

If Reese was right and this was his situationship… yeah, he wasn’t even sparing you a thought. 

Would he see her tonight? Was she in town for Gotham’s “wild” Halloween party scene?

The thought makes your jaw clench. 

You turn the phone off, throwing it onto your bed. 

There were more pressing matters than who your class project partner was or wasn’t dating. 

With a heavy sigh, you open your laptop again, throwing yourself into readings and assignments like you always did when things got too personal. 

Exactly one month, fifteen days, and 17 hours from now, you’d be done with Gotham University. 

You could ignore it until then. 

– 

Halloweekend goes just as quickly as it arrives. 

By Tuesday morning, you’re back in your seat in Jameson’s class, pre-lecture chatter from classmates now about going home for Thanksgiving break instead of costumes and party plans. 

There’s a quiet ache in your stomach– not the one of dread that you first had when Dick was assigned to be your partner. This one was less familiar, more lingering. 

Something that wouldn’t go away even when he stepped through the door.

“Mornin’,” he greets you with a cup of coffee. “Kyle’s has their holiday flavors out now. That one’s peppermint mocha. Guy at the counter said it was good.” 

You take the familiar green cup. 

“Thanks,” you say with a soft smile as you take a sip. 

He sits down next to you, slinging his backpack onto the floor and leaning down to unzip it and grab his laptop like always.

His head almost brushes against your leg. It feels unintentionally intimate. You don’t like it.

You clear your throat.

“You feeling okay?” 

The tone in your voice is sincere, but a little hesitant. There wasn’t any tension between you and Dick from the weekend, but a small part of you still felt embarrassed by the state he saw you in.

He looks up at you and chuckles. 

“Yeah, m’alright,” he grins as he puts his laptop on the desk. “Don’t worry. I’ll be locked in for our Arkham visit Friday.” 

Friday. 

Shit. This Friday. 

How had it crept up on you so fast?

You had all of your materials prepared, but the thought of being alone with Dick outside of school again, still running with all the feelings you were trying to avoid… 

You swallow your words and nod. 

“You okay?” He asks quietly. He looks you up and down. “You’re a little quiet today,” he chuckles awkwardly. “Still don’t feel great from Halloween?” 

Quickly, you shake your head.

“No, I’m fine,” you insist. Your hands shake a bit as they hold the cup up to your lips for another drink.

He notices. A sharp breath catches in his chest. 

“Alright,” he relents. “But, if something’s bothering you… you can tell me. If you want.” 

He shrugs.

You force a polite smile.

“I’m fine.” 

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It only gets worse from then on.

He put five goons in the ICU after your first kiss and that's when he starts actually worrying about himself and your safety.

He thought he'd age out of it, thought it was just teenage aggression, so you can imagine his dismay when he does get to his young adult years and still feels like he wants to bite your head off when you do something cute.

How can his love manifest in such a violent manner? Years in and he's constantly fighting between staying away so you'll be safe from him and staying close to keep you safe from everything else.

These thoughts simmer even in the quiet moments, like when you're both cuddling on the couch. What he's unaware of though, is how you're having some very similar thoughts of your own.

And who can blame you, when your boyfriend lightly rubs his cheek against your chest, droopy eyes slowly blinking at the TV. He's so cute when it's just you and him, you just want to eat him up.

He wouldn't mind, right? It's not like you could actually hurt him if you tried, and if he doesn't like it then you just won't do it again…

You cave, your arms wrap around his shoulders to squeeze him as tight as you can and you sink your teeth into his shoulder, feeling the muscles tense.

Damian yelps in pain and mostly shock. Pulling away from you to look you in the eyes, you laugh at his incredulous expression.

“Sorry, you just looked so cute.”

Damian rubs his new bite mark,

“So you bit me?”

You nod, unable to keep your laugh in.

“I don't know! You give me cuteness aggression!”

Damian is reeling. His head spinning with what this could mean. There's a whole term for it?! This thing he thought was a manifestation of his violent childhood is actually so common it has a name?! This whole time!?

You notice his distressed face and sit up a little.

“Hey, I'm sorry. I won't do it again. I didn't mean to-”

Damian pulls you into a kiss before you can finish. Sitting up to bring you into his lap where he wraps his arms around you and squeezes, much harder than he's ever allowed himself to. You wheeze out a laugh,

“Ah! Can't breathe.”

Damian lets go, only to bend down and give your shoulder a good, therapeutic chomp.

He has years of pent up "cuteness aggression" to get off his chest.

(っ•̀ ᴗ •́)っ ₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡

He'd stand with his arms crossed when you coo at Lucy: “She isn't an infant, Beloved."  While she squeaks and chirps in something akin to laughter.  

Worst of all was when you'd mumble sleepily to Alfred as he dozed off next to you. Damian found this so shameful that he'd huff and roll over so he wouldn't have to witness it.

Of course, you noticed the conflict on his face, the tell-tale dark red tips of his ears and the way he’d hide his face from you.  

But you didn’t really realise what it all meant until he came home late one night after finishing a grueling shift at the hospital.  

You heard the door click open and closed again, and waited for him to find you on the couch instead of greeting him at the door. He likes to completely shed the day off, shower and change before he can properly relax, especially after such a long shift. 

But this time, he came right into the living room to stand at the edge of the couch. He'd only slipped his shoes and coat off, tired eyes gazing down at you. You wordlessly rolled onto your back and patted your chest.  

He easily fell into your arms, body going limp on the couch he was just a little too big for, sock clad feet hanging off the armrest.  

You rubbed a hand down his back as he let out a long breath that feels like he’d been waiting a while to let go. It warmed you that he could find comfort in you, especially since you couldn’t always find the right words to say.   

Alfred trotted over, climbing up on the couch, and looking irritated that his owner had taken his favourite spot, he curled up in the crook of your neck instead. It was perfect; your two stoic boys trusting you to soothe them to sleep.  

You lifted a hand from where your boyfriend’s head laid on your chest to gently stroke the cat’s head.  

"Awww, sleepy baby~"  

Alfred's eyes fell closed, nudging slightly into the touch. You didn't register how Damian's arms tightened around you or how his face grew hotter against your skin, your fingers mindlessly combing through his hair 

"Is my pretty boy tired?"  

You take your eyes off Alfred when your boyfriend nods his head. Just a little, enough that you pause your movements, only starting again when he grumbles. 

You think you must’ve imagined it. He's just nuzzling into you for warmth and it looks like he's answering or maybe he’s so tired he doesn’t even realise what you're saying. You bring your nails up from his nape to behind his ear and back down, a weak spot of his.  

"Aw, sweet baby~ Are you gonna have a nap?"  

He nods again, undeniable this time and you crack a wide smile that you're sure he would just hate to see if he could take his face out of your chest. You turn your head to Alfred as if you could share this glorious moment with him. He remains uninterested.  

You keep your tone very soft, just like you'd talk to Alfred.

"You don't wanna change first? Shower and eat something?"  

He shakes his head, legs shifting to lock yours in place more firmly.  

"Stay." 

The word was just barely a whisper, muffled against your skin. You pat his back reassuringly.  

"Alright, big guy. My strong, handsome, heavy man."  

You feel him huff and shake his head just barely, like he doesn’t want to reward you with a reaction. You place a kiss on his head.  

"Precious, hard working, smart, sexy, pretty baby- ” 

His hand slides up from your side to cover your mouth and you laugh and pinch his hot ears in retaliation, making him swipe your hand away. You both softly laugh and settle down again, matching the other's slow breaths.

His hair tickles when you lay another kiss on his head, arms surrounding him.

"I love you very much."  

"I luv y'too, m'luv." 

His muffled words are barely audible against your skin and you rest your head back on the plush pillow under you, thinking of all the fun things you can do with this new discovery when he wakes up.  

Yawning for the umpteenth time, the crappy reality TV you put on doesn’t even help you stay awake anymore. You’d crawl in bed but you want to wait for Robert to get home when you feel like you haven’t seen him in ages. The only times that the two of you have crossed paths this week can be counted in one hand. Whenever you’d kiss him goodbye while he’s still half asleep, and when he’d greet you with a kiss when you’re already deep into slumber. Your schedules haven’t matched up as well as before with the amount of work the two of you had to do. If you’re not at home, he is, but when you’re home, he’s out there burning the midnight oil with the Z-team. Forget meeting up for lunch at work either when your breaks don’t match with his.

But now that it’s the weekend, you’re both free to see each other, hopefully more of each other.

Your hearing picks up the sound of keys outside and you immediately perk up with a smile. As if you were jolted with lightning, you’re vaulting over the couch and towards him in the speed that even Chase would be proud of.

The second the door opens, Robert is met with your smiling face, like a golden retriever, who’s excited to see him home.

“Hi.” Tilting his head, Robert smiles softly at you, feeling that you’re practically vibrating from the longing, waiting for his go signal. “C’mere.” He opens his arms and you’re immediately right on him like velcro. “Missed me?”

“Do you even have to ask?” You say whilst peppering his face with kisses. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Fuck,” his facade falls as he drops his bag and keys onto the floor, arms patting the back of your leg as he tells you to hop and wrap yourself around him. You do as you’re asked without a second thought as he kicks the front door closed. He can’t ignore the fact that he heard his knees creak when he carried you, but if you did hear it, you didn’t say a word. But you did hear it though. “I missed you.”

Your back meets with the wall, his hand tucked in between your head and the hard wall, acting like a cushion to shield you. “I missed you too— wait, where’s beef?”

Robert clings to your warmth and the cucumber scent of your soap as he inhales deeply atop your neck. “With Chase.” Voice muffled, he tilts your head up with a nudge of his nose on your throat as you comply happily and give him space. “I figured…” his lips peck you sweetly, teeth grazing your skin, tongue brushing along your pulse point. “That we need alone time.”

“And you’re absolutely right.” Sighing with longing, your fingers dig into his hair as you push him impossibly close against you. Pulling his hair back to kiss him, you meet with his glossy eyes, cheeks flushed, mouth agape as he heaves and waits for your next move. And yet, you find his tired eyes and blanched face worrisome. “Have you eaten anything yet?”

“Does half a granola bar and three cups of coffee count?” He jokes, but you don’t find the humour in it when he tries to lean into your lips only for you to tug at him back. Robert would let out a satisfied hum if not for the worried look in your eyes. “Sweetheart, I’m fine, it’s just been a busy day. Fuck, I just need you, please—”

“What you need is food.” Unwrapping your legs around him, you stand and peck his cheek with a promise. While he looks utterly disappointed, like you dangled a candy bar to his face only to yank it back. “And sleep.” Brows furrowed, you wince at the heavy dark bags under his eyes. “And moisturizer. Lots of it.”

“Am I that crusty?” He chortles, hands still on your hips, thumbs pushing aside the waistband cheekily, waiting for you to change your mind.

“No,” you shake your head with a gentle smile. Taking his wrists away and pecking his knuckles. “Just a bit, come on, I’ll warm your food.”

“I’m really fine—”

“It’s lasagna.”

He doesn’t even contemplate or protest some more as he gratefully follows after you in the kitchen.

—

His stomach is so full of pasta and cheese that he could barely stand up from his seat. You went somewhere else while he was unbuttoning his pants to give him some breathing room. Robert signs in content, a hand wrapped around a glass of wine, that he doesn’t even know he had in the apartment, as his nails click against the glass rhythmically.

Robert hears the faucet squeak, and the sound of running water, as he tilts his head to take a peek inside the bathroom. He swears that you already took a bath judging from your still damp hair and the scent of the cucumber and citrus soap on your skin when he got home.

You feel his eyes on your back whilst you pour bubble bath inside the tub. “This’ll only take a minute, babe.”

“Take all the time you need.” Ogling you unabashedly, Robert smiles as you twist your hand back to flip him the bird playfully as if you have eyes on the back of your head. “Those shorts look good on you.”

“They’re your boxers.” Your voice bounces off the tiles, grabbing a clean fluffy robe from the cabinets, the same one that is all pink and girly that Chase gifted to Robert as a gag gift for his birthday. It even has his name bedazzled on the back like he’s some Victoria’s secret model.

Robert usually loves seeing you use it, especially when it has his name right on your back. But he can’t lie when he occasionally uses it to feel how soft it is after a shower.

“Everything looks good on you, sweetheart.” He watches you with a fond smile, eyes glimmering with want as you saunter out of the bathroom with the bathrobe in tow.

“You’re not getting lucky tonight until you’re properly taken care of.” Opening the robe and showing him how fluffy it is, you smile over it, wiggling your brows. “Take your clothes off. After this I’m putting a face mask on you and lathering you up in my finest lotion.”

“Can I suggest one thing though?”

“Of course.”

“How about a massage too?” He asks innocently, but you just know from the glint in his eyes and the slight smirk on his lips that it’s not so innocent.

“If you don’t fall asleep before then, sure.” You lean against the doorframe casually, acting nonchalant from his proposition and hugging the towel. You’re not the best at massages, but you’ll try your best, or at least for a minute or so before he pulls you on his lap instead. Or fall asleep the moment you squeeze his aching muscles.

He’s already stripping his clothes off with excitement. Starting from unbuttoning his work shirt that has become associated with your boyfriend. The colour does suit him though, but you’d rather see him wear something else that doesn’t smell like day old coffee.

You don’t notice him walking closer and closer to you whilst you’re utterly fixated to his bare torso.

“Calm down, Robert, this is for relaxing—” you’re suddenly lifted off the ground, finding that Robert has you over his shoulder, smacking your behind as he takes you to the bathroom. For someone who has only eaten a granola bar and inhaled three cups of caffeine today, he’s stronger than he looks. Maybe this is what people say when it comes to adrenaline, this is his lifting the car moment. “Robert!”

“What? If I’m going to relax then so will you.” He says casually, entering the steaming bathroom as he kicks the door shut with his foot.

Your squeals echo around the tiled walls, as Robert’s amused laughter mingles with the sound of splashing water and the towel landing right over his face.

The bathroom is quickly flooded with bubbles and sweet scented soap, and you find yourself back in the bath once again with him joining you.

—

The hair dryer blows hot air right at his silky tresses, now free from oil and whatever Golem accidentally spilled on him during his lunch break. Robert sits in between your legs, back pressed against your front, and eyes closed as the hot air flutters his lashes. He looks utterly blissed out, smelling like a bed and body works. He’s absolutely content in your arms as you gently rake the comb through his hair.

He has a face mask on, “it’s aloe vera,” you said, he doesn’t care whatever it is but it’s doing wonders to him. It’s like having a slice of frozen ham slapped right on your face minus the smell but with twice the cooling effect.

Robert feels fucking amazing.

His palms cup around your knees, thumbs drawing small gentle circles all over your well moisturized skin. The two of you smell incredibly good, enough to eat, and he’d kiss every bit of your skin if he wasn’t so sleepy.

Robert could sleep right there and then, he would, if not for the loud whirr of the hair dryer and the hot air blowing right at his head.

“You okay?” You whisper to the shell of his ear, gooseflesh immediately rises on his arms as he hums a reply. The hair dryer shuts off, and he could feel sleep take him. “I guess you’re too tired for massages.”

His eyes suddenly open at the speed of light. “No, I’m not.”

“Really?” Your hands knead at his arms tenderly, like you’re massaging herbs and spices onto a slab of beef. You truly have no idea what you’re doing, but it seems that Robert loves it. “Let me take care of you this time, okay?”

He would be on his knees begging for it if he wasn’t already in bed. Eyes gazing up at you sweetly, Robert’s brows furrow, lips pouting slightly as he lets out a sound from the back of his throat that is akin to a whine. “Please.”

“Anything for my Robert.” With a smile, fingers grasping at his chin, you lean down to press a saccharine kiss on his forehead, one of many for tonight.

—

“So I said to him, go suck a fat— what the fuck is that?” Sonar looks perturbed, eyes wide and staring at something, or someone that just walked through the door.

Malevola follows his line of sight, gasping at the sight, almost stumbling over herself. “What happened to you?” She asks, almost disturbed by the sight.

Chase hears the commotion from the bullpen, he peeks over the breakroom doorway and sees Robert walk in normally. “What the fuck are you two gawking at?” He asks, walking closer to the pair as he holds onto his cup of coffee.

“That!” Mal takes his head and turns him to face Robert.

“Holy shit…” he utters, spluttering out his coffee all over Sonar’s suit, earning an intense bat screech from the man bat that is quickly ignored by the others, who are completely perplexed at the sight in front of them. “Alright, who died?”

Robert makes a face, nose scrunched as he places his things on his table. “No one? Why do you all look at me like I just killed someone right in front of you?”

“Yeah, you killed Robert Robertson.” Chase sidles beside him, leaning against his table with suspicion in his eyes. “Why do you look like that?”

“Like what?” The dispatcher asks, lashes fluttering on the apples of his pinkish cheeks, looking healthy and glowing.

His lips shine with raspberry chapstick, and the dark circles underneath his eyes are almost non-existent, as if he made a deal with the devil to get rid of it and make him look ten years younger. The best part is the soft smile that is seemingly permanently etched on his face that remains even when he almost got a face full of Waterboy’s water splashed on him when he first walked inside the building.

“You look like how a skin walker would wear Robert’s skin.” Sonar says, leaning close to his face to examine him further. When he tries to poke him with his claw, Robert pushes him away with a grimace.

Robert rolls his eyes, he does feel rejuvenated, almost reborn from your pampering. Throughout the whole weekend, you took your pledge to heart, you did not let him lift a finger, and the two of you spent the whole weekend in bed together. Eating meals on it, catching up on your shows whilst cuddling underneath the covers while the blackout curtains are completely covering the light outside. Not to mention the ‘strenuous exercises’ that you two did together. It was absolute bliss, and Robert almost did not go to work today to extend the peace.

“You look good, buddy.” Malevola is the first to compliment him with a friendly clasp on his shoulder.

“Smells good too.” Sonar adds, taking a whiff of him. “Looking too good. Which way is the fountain of youth? Chase could use it.” He teases before chuckling at his own joke.

Chase punches him right in the gut, making him curl around himself with a sharp inhale through his nose. The others act like this is a normal occurrence in the office.

“Seriously though, what products did you use? I could use a good under eye mask.” Mal pulls down at her under eye for emphasis. “What’s your secret?”

Robert shrugs with a knowing smile. “Get the best girlfriend in the whole damn world.” The chorus of groans echo around the office that has him smiling in satisfaction.

You take a sip of your cocktail that tastes more like water after sitting untouched for so long. Just as you're about to make your way back to your social butterfly of a boyfriend, you're stopped by the sight of a woman, seemingly made of angel dust, walking toward him. Watching the scene play out in front of you makes the little bit of alcohol you had churn in your stomach, because she is easily recognizable from the bit of internet stalking you did after first meeting Dick. 

Dick had told you about his previous girlfriends, but never in detail, because like he said “they're in the past, and you are my forever.” You never minded that he had dated around before meeting you, until this moment, because no online post could have prepared you for the jaw dropping literal alien space princess that pulls him into a hug. Nothing about it seems flirty, but that's not the reason you can't pull your eyes away from the scene, it's because you can't help but compare yourself to her. 

Kori holds herself with a confidence you've never felt before and you imagine she would understand parts of Dick that you probably never will because she fights crime. She understands making the tough decision or the exhaustion that you've seen run bone deep when Dick comes back from a long patrol that you'll never be able to relate to as a barista. 

Time continues ticking, your heart continues beating, they continue laughing, but you feel anchored to this seat by your own mind. Your head is a minefield of insecurities and you keep stepping on every hidden pressure plate. 

Maybe you're not enough for him and he needs someone more like him. Someone who catches everyone's attention when they walk into a room. Someone who can handle themselves and doesn't complain about a stressful day working at a coffee shop when that's nothing compared to what he does. Maybe he needs someone who–

Your train of thought is cut off by the familiar feeling of bile rising in your throat. You quickly stand, taking the back exit of the bar, before hunching over and spilling the contents of your stomach in the darkened alleyway. You try to convince yourself that you don't care. She seems like the better choice, but oh, you care so deeply. 

Standing back up to full height, you press your back against the cool brick of the alley way and let the wind whip against your cheeks to calm you. You didn't even realize you had closed your eyes till you felt a warm hand sneak up your waist and the familiar spiced citrus scent envelop your nose. 

“Hey, baby,” he pushes some of the slightly sweaty strands of hair from your face, “you sick?”

“No, no, I’m fine.” 

“You didn't look fine when you ran out of the bar and you don't look fine now.”

“I didn't run out.”

“Don’t change the subject.” You finally force your eyes open coming face to face with his gaze scanning you over trying to find what's wrong. Worry lingers on every feature of his face, “Did you drink too much?”

“Yeah, just a little.” You lie straight to his face. How are you supposed to admit you were basically worshipping his ex in your head and convincing yourself he wouldn't want someone who doesn't compare to everything that Kori is? “You should go back, seriously, I’m fine.”

He runs his thumb across the bridge of your nose while speaking, “You know whenever you lie, your nose wrinkles slightly.”

“What? No it doesn't." 

“Baby, I’ve learned everything about you, including your ticks for when you lie.” He takes a breath as his thumb strokes your cheekbone, “I can't fix it if you don't tell me what's wrong.”

You stare up at him and see the genuine fear in his eyes that you're shutting him out and he can’t do anything about it. Dick is a fixer–always trying to find a way to seamlessly put everything back together, especially for you. “I worry that I’m not good enough for you.” 

His eyebrow furrows slightly, a frown tugs his lips down slightly, and his grip on your waist becomes slightly tighter. “What are you talking about? Of course you're enough for me–you’re more than enough for me, baby.”

“But I'm not! I’m not some goddess space alien princess and I'm not some vigilante who's gonna understand what it's like to go out there every night and protect people. I don’t–”

“Is this about Kori?” He asks to cut you off from your ramblings.

“No? Yes? I don't know.” You cover your face with your hands, your words muffled through them, “Your friends with vigilantes that kids look up to and have action figures of, while I make people's coffee for a living. I don't know how to take down the next bad guy, or know how to hack into mainframes, or even do a pull up. How could I ever stand out next to people like that?”

His touch is gentle as he pulls your wrists away from your face and then cups your cheeks. “You stand out because you don't do that. You think I want you to be a vigilante? I don't. I don't want you to experience how I feel when I come home. I don't want you to run towards the danger I do. I don't want to know the feeling of you getting a life threatening injury and me being utterly unable to save you.” He shakes his head, “I don't want you to be like them, because I know what each of them have been through because of what they do, and I would never want you to go through that.”

“But–”

“No, I’m not done.” He shakes his head, “You are the thing I look forward to at the end of the day because I know when I have you in my arms, I'm done fighting. I don't have to cater to everyone's needs, I don't have to worry about getting shot or stabbed or punched, instead I get to breathe. I didn't get to do that before I met you. Not with Kori, not with Barbara, but you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, making it impossible to speak, but even if you could, you don't know what you’d say. Thankfully you don't have to, because he starts talking again. 

“I love you for all those extraordinary things you see as just ordinary because to me, everyone in that bar is dull in comparison to everything you bring into my life.”

You wrap your arms around his neck which he immediately responds to by pulling you closer to his warmth and pressing his forehead to your shoulder. You didn't realize how much you needed to hear his words until he was spilling his guts to you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Dont apologize, just dont let these thoughts fester in that pretty little head of yours. You will always be the only one I want.”

When you look up at him, you realize how insignificant those thoughts were, because he's staring down at you like you personally hung the moon in the sky just for him. Like you are the only person he’d want in a room full of extraordinary people.