Nightwing x reader
Summary: you accidently called Nightwing a "good boy". In your defense, you're used to working with dogs..not people!
βCβmon,β you sigh, crouched halfway under the Batmobile while Dick attempts to hand you a wrench that is very obviously the wrong size. βNot that one. Theβ yeah, there you go. Good boy.β
Silence.
You slide out from beneath the car slowly, confused as to why Dick stopped talking.
Nightwing is frozen.
One knee bent where heβd been crouching, blue eyes blown wide behind the domino mask, wrench still dangling from his fingers like his brain has temporarily disconnected from his motor functions.
Bruce asks, βWhat exploded?β knowing that the only time his kids were quiet was if someone fucked up.
Dick clears his throat.
Then immediately chokes on absolutely nothing.
βYou okay there?β you ask carefully.
βFantastic,β he says instantly, voice cracking straight through the middle of the word.
Oh no.
Oh no.
Jason, seated nearby cleaning one of his guns, looks up with the slow delight of a man witnessing the beginning of a natural disaster.
ββ¦Did she just call you a good boy?β
Dick points at him violently. βDonβt.β
βOH my God,β Jason breathes, eyes shining. βOH, this is bad.β
βIt was a joke,β you say quickly.
Dick nods too fast. βTotally. Obviously. Completely normal joke. Happens all the time.β
βRight,β you agree.
βTotally unaffected.β
βClearly.β
Dick stands up so abruptly he slams his head directly into the underside of the Batmobile. CLANG.
Thereβs a beat.
ββ¦Fantastic recovery,β Jason starts.
Dick, still folded in half from the impact, gives a weak thumbs up.
The problem shouldβve ended there, and it would've given any normal circumstance. But you work with vigilantes, so your normal is pretty different from most people's.
Nightwing proceeds to lose every remaining shred of composure over the next three weeks.
Not in obvious ways, but Dick Graysonβs problem is that heβs trying very hard to act normal. Which makes him one thousand times worse.
Because suddenly heβs everywhere.
You mention being hungry once? Dick appears holding your favorite takeout sheepishly. You casually say your phoneβs about to die? Charger lands in your lap before you finish the sentence. You offhandedly mention liking a sweater in a store window? Three days later it mysteriously appears folded on your bed in Titans Tower with no note except a sticky tab reading:
'saw this :) '
Which would already be suspicious enough. Except every single act of service is followed by this unbearable look on his face. It's that wide-eyed look of hope.
Like heβs waiting for something.
You donβt understand it until the fourth week.
Itβs movie night at the Tower. Everyoneβs there.
Garfield is upside down on the couch, and Kory is attempting to explain why alien horror films are scientifically inaccurate and this is not how her people act. Tim is asleep sitting upright somehow. Jasonβs eating cereal directly from the box with a serving spoon.
Dick walks in carrying snacks for everyone.
βYou remembered the chocolate-covered pretzels?β you ask.
Dick brightens instantly. βYeah.β
You grin. βAw. Good boy.β
Dick stops moving entirely.
The bowl of popcorn slips from his hands.
Jason drops dead onto the floor laughing before the popcorn even hits the ground.
βOh my GOD,β he wheezes. βHE LIKES IT.β
βI do notββ
βYou practically wagged your tail!β
βI DID NOT WAG ANYTHING.β
Kory tilts her head thoughtfully. βActually, your posture did become notably more eager.β
Dick looks like he wants the earth to open beneath him.
Garfield is crying laughing into a throw pillow.
Tim wakes up just long enough to mumble, βKnew it,β before immediately falling back asleep.
And you stare at Dick, who is now aggressively avoiding eye contact while turning the color of a fire hydrant. He is suddenly very interested in cleaning up popcorn one kernel at a time, as he mutters, βItβs not my fault,β under his breath like a man on trial.
Oh.
Oh, this is hilarious.
βYou know,β you say slowly, βthis explains a lot.β
Dick points a popcorn kernel at you accusingly. βYou explain a lot.β
βThat doesnβt even make sense.β
βIt made sense in my head.β
Jason is still dying on the carpet. βHeβs so pathetic. This is the best day of my life.β
βJason,β Dick snaps.
βNo, no, keep going,β Jason says delightedly. βMaybe heβll do a trick. Wanna fetch, good boy?β
Dick throws popcorn at his head.
Jason throws it back.
Garfield joins in.
Within thirty seconds, a full-scale food fight erupts across Titans Tower.
Kory starts launching popcorn, and Tim wakes up again solely to throw an M&M directly at Jasonβs forehead before passing out for a second time. Someone knocks over an entire soda.
In the middle of the chaos, Dick grabs your wrist and pulls you backward out of the war zone.
βCome on,β he says, laughing despite himself.
You stumble after him into the hallway, both of you breathless.
The noise from the living room muffles behind the closing door, and suddenly itβs quieter.
Dickβs still holding your wrist ridiculously tight.
You look up at him, amused. βYou know theyβre never letting you live this down.β
βI know,β he groans.
βYouβre kind of making it worse.β
βI know.β
βYou literally dropped the popcorn.β
βIn my defense,β he says solemnly, βyou treated me like a dog!β
You laugh. Dick looks at you for a second too long. Then a fond expression sneaks onto his face before he can stop it. And there it is again, that look of hope.
Like heβs waiting.
You raise an eyebrow.
Dick immediately looks away. βDonβt.β
βDonβt what?β
βYou know what.β
You absolutely do.
Which is why you grin and lean slightly closer.
βGood boy.β
Dick Grayson actually, physically malfunctions.
His head drops against the wall with a quiet thud.
βOh, you are NEVER surviving this,β you inform him cheerfully.
From the other room, Jasonβs voice echoes
βDID HE SHORT-CIRCUIT AGAIN? CYBORG! ARE YOU SURE YOU'RE THE HUMANOID?β
A/n: men yearn to be lap dogs and I know it
