"Thanks for making sure she got home okay. From the looks of it, you guys had a lot of fun. Is everyone alright? Do you need anything?" he asks your friend.

"Thanks, Dick, it was fun. Everyone is okay, the girls are in the car waiting for me. Have a good night, and you better take care of my girl!" she yells as she walks down the hall, and Dick laughs.

"You know I will!" he yells back, closing and locking the door. Your head is resting on Dick's shoulder while he uses his arm to support you under your butt. He rubs your back and begins to walk to your bedroom, "Let's get you ready for bed, pretty girl."

"I don't wanna go to bed, Dick! Wanna hang out with you!" you yell, right in his ear. He flinches but smiles at you nonetheless.

"You don't have to yell, princess. We can hang out. I wanna get you comfy and out of your clothes and makeup first," he says. When you two reach the bedroom, he lays you down on your shared bed. Dick starts by taking off your heels, then reaches to shimmy your bottoms off. You bite your lip and watch as Dick's arms flex while they undress you.

"Are we gonna have sex?" you ask, hoping your tone is sultry. But your words were slurred together instead. Dick laughs softly as he makes quick work of your shirt, getting you down to only your panties.

"No, baby, I am not gonna have sex with you," he says with a smile, walking away so he can grab a shirt for you. Immediately, your face turns into a deep frown, and you cross your arms.

"Do you think I'm ugly?! Why don't you wanna have sex with me?!?!" you ask, tears burning your eyes. When Dick comes back, he can't help but smile at how cute you are with that pout. He uncrosses your arms so he can slip his shirt over your head, and wipes a stray tear from your face.

"You know, I think you are the most beautiful girl in the world," Dick expresses. He helps you sit up so he can adjust the shirt on your body.

"So, why don't you wanna have sex with me? Are you having sex with somebody else?!" you gasp, eyes widening at the imaginary connection you made. Now, Dick laughs while picking you up. He walks you to the bathroom, where he rests you on the counter. When he looks at you, there is still a serious pout on your face. Dick presses a soft kiss to your lips, and that makes you smile.

"Because, when you wake up tomorrow, you aren't even gonna remember asking me to have sex with you. But, when you sober up in the morning, I promise to make it up to you," he states, extending his pinky finger towards you. After thinking it over, you interlock your pinky with his.

"Fine. I'll allow it," you huff. Dick grabs the cotton pads and your makeup remover. After applying some to the pad, he instructs you to close your eyes and gently begins removing your makeup. You hum softly in obvious satisfaction, and Dick takes the time to appreciate all the beautiful features of your face.

When Dick is done, he rubs your thighs soothingly before asking, "Honey, do you think you can wash your face, or do you want me to do it?"

"I can do it, but I'm hungry, Dick," you whine and pout for emphasis. Not that you needed to. Dick would do absolutely anything for you.

"Want a grilled cheese? I can make it just how you like it," he says. A big smile takes over your face as you nod happily. "Alright, you wash your face. I'll make it after I put you into bed."

"But Dickie, you said we could hang out. And I'm not ready for bed," you protest. Dick takes a deep breath as he decides if this is a battle he wants to fight.

"How about you lie on the couch and wait for me. I'll put on your favorite movie, and we can cuddle when I'm done. It shouldn't take me that long to make your sandwich," Dick reasons. Your smile returns as you nod and jump off the counter. The couch and the bed were the same distance from the kitchen, but that was not an argument Dick was going to have with you right now.

Dick waits patiently for you to wash your face and do your skincare routine. When you are done, he picks you up again to walk you to the couch. As promised, he lays you down and puts on your favorite movie. He takes the throw blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it carefully over your body. Dick presses a kiss to your forehead before heading to the kitchen.

Dick decides to make a grilled cheese for both of you. When he was done, he also grabbed you a cold glass of water and joined you on the couch. You sit up immediately, and Dick places the plate in your lap. He sits next to you, and both of you eat in silence. The movie is the only sound to fill the room. When you are done, Dick forces you to take a couple of sips of water before lying down. You rest on top of his chest, your eyes heavy. It does not take long for you to doze off in this state. Tipsy, full, and in the arms of the man you loved.

“Well I did and you didn’t so cry about it,” you smile. Dick takes your hand but instead of standing up, he pulls you back down onto the mat and pins you beneath him.

“You know this does not count right? I already won,” you say, watching as Dick’s face turns red in irritation. He presses his boner, of your creation, against your core which causes you to whimper.

“Let’s see who gets the last laugh”

Jason Todd

“C’mon pretty girl, you aren’t gonna tap out are you?” Jason teases as the two of you trade blows. “If you do, you know I’ll love you all the same right?”

“Pretty girl this asshole” you say, dealing a blow to Jason’s face that his headgear absorbs most of. He laughs and you both take a couple steps back to back around each other in the ring. Jason adjusts his gloves while you both catch your breath. Jason never took it easy on you in training, living by the motto that an opponent would never go easy on you. If you could hold your own against him, he knew you would be just fine.

When you two come together again, Jason deals a punch to your side. You fall to one knee immediately and hold the area. Jason’s face drops as he crowds you trying to check the damage. “Fuck baby, are you alright?” Before he can say anything else, you give him an uppercut which sends Jason reeling. While he is stumbling you inflict another blow to his side which drops Jason to the ground. His expression is blank before he breaks out into a disbelieved smile. He had never been more proud of you than he was in this moment. You walk over and stand above him, leaning down so you could get in his face.

“You wouldn’t ask an opponent if they were okay would you?” You ask, throwing his motto back into his face with a smirk. “But you’re cute, so I’ll make an exception,” you say and lean down to kiss him.

Bruce Wayne

You stood on the elevated platform attempting to catch your breath. Your chest burned and legs ached after pushing yourself through the obstacle course. Instead of spending this beautiful Saturday morning in bed, or perhaps a relaxing walk through the garden, Bruce had you training. Speaking of, the man gave you a thumbs up from the starting line to indicate he was ready. You returned it and hit start on the control panel, activating all the obstacles.

You watched as Bruce moved swiftly through the obstacles. For a man of his stature, he sacrificed nothing in agility. He was executing a pure masterclass, you weren’t even sure if he broke a sweat. When you glanced at the clock, you realized Bruce was on pace not only to beat your time, but obliterate it. Thinking quickly, you shouted Bruce’s name as he started the water obstacle. He was never able to ignore your voice and found your eyes instantly. You lifted your shirt up to flash him and Bruce immediately lost his footing. He almost saved himself, but fell in the water nonetheless. You smirk triumphantly, and when Bruce comes back to the surface he shoots eye daggers at you.

After getting a towel from Alfred, Bruce joins you on the platform. Meanwhile, you can’t wipe the smile from your face. “So, a beautiful woman is all it takes to bring down the big, bad bat? Who woulda thought” you tease, and Bruce pulls you into his chest. You pretend to gag at his damp body, but he doesn’t let you move.

Last night. Nightwing – well, Dick – surprising you out of nowhere, his confession, his revealing, your clothes, his clothes – oh God, your clothes. 

You glance down. Your head is still swimming but at least you know whose clothes you’re wearing. At least you're wearing clothes. They’re not exactly yours, but - 

You need to sit down. 

“Good morning, Alfred,” you say, your voice faltering. The unfamiliar feeling of waking up in a place that’s not at home has begun to creep in. You’re suddenly aware of your hair, untamed and awry all over your head. God you’re glad Nightw-Dick, isn’t here to see you. 

You glance back uncertainly at the bed. So where is he? 

“Master Dick asked me to let you sleep in, so I took the liberty of gathering a few things you might need. Perhaps when you’re ready, you’ll join us in the kitchen? Everyone is at breakfast just now. Well,” he paused irritably, “brunch, now that they’ve finished their training for the day.” 

Alfred holds out a paper shopping bag, near bursting with toiletries, makeup, something that looks like a cloud (but you suspect is a bathrobe) a brush, curling iron and leave in conditioner. 

Your shoulders sag in relief. “Oh...Alfred, I-”  

“No worries, Miss. Master Dick recounted some of the things he’s seen while in the-” a quick, polite cough was interjected here, “restroom at your apartment. I merely picked up the things he could remember. You’ll join us in about a half hour?” 

The question mark is merely a formality, you realize. You will join them in half an hour. “Oh, yes! Yes, of course. I’ll be down as soon as I can.” 

Alfred smiles, a warm smile that makes his eyes glow. “Excellent, Miss. French toast or pancakes?” 

“Ummmm – fruit?” You’re sharply aware that every word out of your mouth has sounded like a question - but at this moment, you don't have much else besides questions.

He eyes you. “Waffles, I think. I’ll see you in half an hour.” 

___________ 

After a quick shower, you take a moment to just sit and breathe. More has happened to you in the last 8 hours than in the last eight weeks. You feel like your head is bursting trying to make sense of it all. 

Your heart races every time you remember the moment when Nightwing – Dick—goodness, when are you going to stop calling him that?—finally, finally, finally, removed his mask. It was something you daydreamed about, nightdreamed about, and now that it had finally happened, it didn’t quite seem real. 

His name was Richard. Well, Dick. 

“Dick,” you say aloud, trying it out. You instantly feel shy, even saying the name aloud in an empty room. It feels so strange. 

Not as strange as being at Wayne Manor. 

Crossing to the window, you squeeze your hair into the towel as you gaze out over the grounds. There’s only one word for the Wayne compound – massive. You remember the drop in your stomach as the BatPlane glided swiftly onto the grounds late last night. After spending the day at your place, Nightwing had awoken you at 4am to make the flight back “to my dad’s house” as he put it. 

My dad’s house, you think wryly, as you smooth your hair at the edges, trying to make it some semblance of presentable. This was one of the most famous mansions in the country. Somehow, "My dad's house" didn't quite cut it.

Visiting Wayne Manor and meeting your boyfriend’s family all in one day. How much could a person take? 

______________________ 

Winding your way through the hallways and passages of Wayne Manor's gothic layout, it takes you another 15 minutes and directions from two more staff members to find your way to the kitchen door. Standing just outside, your heart decides to start doing somersaults. You might be about to meet Batman, who you now know is Bruce Wayne. Who knew? Of course, it all made sense, now. How else would Nightwing — Dick — and his team have access to a seemingly unending stream of resources? 

Why Dick suddenly decided to entrust you with this information, you have no idea but you feel heavy under the weight of it all. Maybe this wasn’t the right time. Maybe you should —

“Hey there you are!” 

Completely oblivious to the deer in the headlights look on your face , Dick bounds towards you, flanked by two handsome young men – Tim and Jason, you now know after last night. 

Kissing you subtly on the cheek, Dick grabs your hand, pulling you into the kitchen, large and warmly lit by sunbeams streaming in through the bay windows and the skylight above. 

An impossibly large pine table and matching countertops, juxtaposed with gleaming stainless steel appliances make up a kitchen that feels warm, inviting and highly efficient. 

“Y/N, this is Tim, that’s Jason,” Dick says, pulling out your chair. “Say hi,” he hisses, punctuating it with a lethal stare.

“Sup,” Jason says, with a calculating eye. 

“M’lady,” Tim grabs your hand, winking as he lays a soft kiss on your wrist. 

You laugh, in spite of your shyness. “Night - Dick..you didn’t tell me your brothers were so charming.” 

Jason warms at that. “Are you kidding? We’re smoother than butter next to this loser.” 

“All right, introductions are over,” Dick says irritably. “Did you want anything? Juice? Eggs?”  

He looks earnestly into your face as he talks and you can’t help but melt a little. The dam you’ve wanted to break for so long is finally gone and it seems like you’re closer now. Intertwined. 

Against your will, you smile. “Well actually, Alfred asked if I wanted-” 

“Waffles, Miss, and I’ve delivered. Tuck in, then.” 

Alfred comes striding through a pair of swinging doors, balancing a tray laden with waffles, bacon, and scrambled eggs in one hand, and a pitcher full of orange juice in the other. 

“Squeezed fresh, from oranges picked only this morning, Miss,” he winks.  

“I’ll have some of that, Alfred, if you don’t mind.” The deepest voice you’ve heard this morning booms from another door – how many entrances did this kitchen have? – and your stomach does yet another flip-flop. You’ve heard that voice on CNN, TMZ, NBC – basically all of the three letters, and now he’s right here in front of you.  

Bruce Wayne. 

Now, if only you could string together words...words that go together. What is that called? A sentence? 

You’re not exactly starstruck, but for some reason your open mouth can’t speak. Us Weekly was so wrong. He is not 5’11”. This man is easily 6’2”. And the shoulders - 

“Y/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I hope you’ll understand this is -” Bruce crooks an eyebrow at Dick, “ - a bit unorthodox. I understand you’ve been entrusted with certain information. But I hope you’re enjoying your stay – please, sit down with us.” Flashing his Forbes 500 smile, he lays a hand on your chair. Is this a dream?

Head spinning, you sit down, grinning involuntarily up at Bruce. If he were 20 years younger – heck, maybe even ten - 

Dick seems to have had the same thought. “So, Bruce,” he says quickly, “I wanted to nail down our next steps, you know, after the debrief.” 

“Mmhm,” Bruce sips his coffee absentmindedly, now engrossed in a newspaper. Oswald Cobblepott Still Missing, the headline screams. “What did you come up with?” 

“Hey dude, quit hogging the raspberry jam!” 

“I’m not hogging, I had it before you even sat back down-” 

“Master Jason, Master Tim, may I remind you of the very large strawberry stain in the rug from just last week?” 

Wide-eyed, you sip your orange juice as Tim and Jason scuffle over what is apparently Alfred’s homemade jam. “Is um...is every breakfast this much of a rollercoaster?” You want to laugh but Bruce, tall and imposing, and impossibly handsome is still reading and you don't want to interrupt.

“Nah,” Dick says sheepishly. “It’s um...usually worse. We really — HEY!” He shouts. 

Jason lands one last punch but reluctantly scrambles back into his seat. “Loser,” he mumbles to Tim, now happily spreading jam onto a fluffy white piece of toast. 

“Okay let’s get down to business,” Dick says seriously. He shoots an eye at Bruce. “As far as we know, Terra is going to crash the Travanian Military Gala. She’s been stealing DNA-altering nano-tech and either plans to sell it or —” He pauses. “Or —” 

“Or, we don’t know what,” Tim finishes. “We have no idea what her plan is so the only way to stop her is to get into that ball.” 

Jason rolls his eyes. “Should be easy enough without an invitation,” 

You swallow a mouthful of waffle. “Sorry to interrupt but I think you guys are overlooking your most valuable resource.” You gesture towards Bruce. “Invite or no, you’ve got a way in. Irea doande desirra, non solan quas quino, yeah?” You try for a lighthearted laugh that dies away when you realize everyone is staring at you. 

Suddenly your throat feels dry. “I...it means go where you’re desired, not just where you want,” 

Silence. 

“It’s...it’s an old Travanian proverb. I only meant —” 

“You speak Travanian?” Jason blurts out. 

“We had an exchange student one year,” you mumble. 

More stares. 

“She didn’t speak a ton of English,” you finish weakly. 

Cutting into a waffle, Tim tilts his head, smiling your way. “Dick, I guess we know who you’re taking to the ball,” 

“What?? No I just meant —” 

But Dick is already nodding. “We’ll have a translator on the inside. In case comms go down, I’ll still know what’s going on.” 

“Excellent,” Tim says, pulling out his laptop. You cast a surreptitious glance under the table – where did he get -  

“No.” 

The kitchen, full of chatter up until this point, falls silent and all eyes land on Bruce. Storms brew quietly in his dark blue eyes. 

“Dick you should know...you do know much better than this,” he says, in a voice colder than steel. “Y/N is a civilian. You can’t possibly expect to bring them into a situation where —” 

“Bruce, think about it. Coming in with someone no one has ever seen before, no title, no designation, that’ll keep eyes off of us all night. Y/N sticks around for half an hour to gather intel, then waits in the limo with Alfred.” 

Silverware clatters behind you. “I’m sorry, Master Dick?” 

Bruce massages the bridge of his nose. “Well Alfred, if we’re taking this circus on the road, we’ve got to bring the ringmaster. You’re coming too. What do you say?” 

You think the last sentence is directed at Alfred but then you realize — everyone is looking at you. 

You want to say that you couldn’t possibly, that they should find someone else, that this is probably the most insane idea in the world.  

But then Dick squeezes your hand. 

Dick. Not Nightwing.  

Dick needs you. 

So, there’s only one answer. 

“When do we leave?” 

But not like he usually did after a night out with friends, not soft and comfortable. His kisses are deeper than usual, almost impatient. He presses you against the apartment door, your face cupped in his hands. His thumb runs up and down your cheek. You pull away for air, but he only presses closer.

“Can I ask you something?” His voice is low and rough.

“Uh, sure?” 

It takes him a moment. “Have I done something wrong?”

Now you're even more confused. He's still holding you, but not as close anymore. 

“Look, I don't know if I can ask, but why are you pulling away every time? You know, when we get close? It's fine. I just wanna know why. If I messed up somewhere?” Was it the alcohol speaking? Probably. “It´s not like you haven't done it before, right? Like, is it me?” You tense in his arms and he stops, eyes widening.

Your usual confidence is gone. You try to stammer out a good answer or reason but you can't think of anything.

“Oh.” He backs off a bit. 

You can't bring yourself to meet his eyes. Right now it would be great to have some sort of superpower that lets you melt through your door or something. 

“Okay.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Wasn´t expecting that.” He tries to meet your eyes again. “But you know you never have to pretend with me, right?”

“My god, this is humiliating.” You still can't look at him. “It´s just so annoying how everyone makes it out to be such a big thing. That just made me nervous and this is so, so stupid and embarrassing.”

“Doesn´t have to be a big thing if you don't want it to be.” He says and steps in closer again. "I'm also okay with just kissing. You're a great kisser, have I told you that?”

You groan at his flirting. “Yes you have.” 

Jason Todd

He already knows.

He found out pretty early on in your relationship. The way you froze when he touched you too intimately, how you shut down momentarily to overthink or the times you pretended to know what you were doing, even if you didn't, made it obvious.

He didn't want to out you, so he just went along.

Instead, Jason waited for you to initiate more intimate moments, telling you that things don't need to be rushed.

“I´m not rushing?” was your answer to that.

“Didn´t say you were, doll.”

But recently, everything slowed down even more.

You noticed and it took a lot to not panic or overthink or convince yourself he lost interest.

It was the beginning of the weekend, a warm night, and you decided to invite him over. Not sure what to do or to say, but you hoped you would figure it out before he was at your door.

The universe is a cruel bitch because two seconds after thinking that, the doorbell rings.

You can't stop fiddling the empty glass in your hand. The two of you sit on the couch, the window wide open, the noise outside filling the quiet room with life.

“So,” he begins, “you wanted to talk?”

You set the glass down. “Yes. Right.” you turn to him, one of his arms resting on the cushions behind your shoulders. “So, we've been dating for a bit now and I don't know how to put this but-”

“You´re not breaking up with me, are you?”

“No?” 

“Good.” He gestured to you to go on.

You clear your throat. “So, as I was saying, we've been dating for a while and I kinda expected to, you know, have sex by now. But we aren't and I don't know why?”

He sighs. “I was giving you space, a way out.”

“But why? I'm ready, I don't need space from you?” 

“You don't seem like you are.” 

“And why didn't you just ask me?” A rush of anger comes over you but was stopped when Jason spoke again.

“Baby, if you freeze up when I touch you, I'm going to stop.”

“It´s not that I don't want your touch,” you say, face flushed and hands fidgeting. “I´m just, you know, nervous. I've never done it before.” The last words are more a quiet stammer than anything.

You hide your face but he just scoots closer to you. "I know." He opens his arms. "C'mere."

Tim Drake

It's complicated.

Under different circumstances, he would have figured it out sooner, but he had other stuff to think about.

Like, not letting you find out how inexperienced he was himself.

Your relationship was still new, but cute and comfortable. But it did lack a certain something. It didn't help that both of you tried desperately to convince the other how experienced you really were.

And it also definitely didn´t help that every time you two get close to fucking, both of you get flustered and have an excuse why right now might not the be the best time, either.  

And every time, neither of you noticed the other being just as flustered and nervous. 

So, after finally finding the perfect date, preparing yourself mentally and him having researched all the things that might be useful for tonight, you find yourself on his bed. Still dressed, face hot. Tim sits down next to you, his knee touching yours.

“How do you want to do this?” he asks.

You avoid looking at him. “I don't know, I thought you might want to take the lead?”

His hands are folded in his lap. “Well I didn't want to assume.” 

“Right.”

"Yeah, right.” There is a long pause. “So hypothetically.”

“Hypothetically?” You look at him, his gaze fixes on the celing. 

“Yes, hypothetically. If someone, let's say, has never done this before, what would you tell them?” His gaze falls to his lap.

“Um,” you swallow, confused about where this might lead. Did he know? “That´s a weird question. I don't know, I think I would tell them it's okay?”

His eyes meet yours, only for a second before looking away again. “Cool. Good. I mean that's a good answer.”

“Why?” you sound hesitant.

“So hypothetically. What if that person is me?”

Your eyes grow wide, mouth opening but not getting a single word out. So you just nod. But that seems to send the wrong signal, because Tim shifts and starts apologizing.

“Sorry, I should have told you sooner. But you seem so confident and I just wanted to do good for you. I have a really fucked up search history now.” 

You intervene before he can continue. “Okay, so first off, me too. But also, what the hell did you google?”

“You too?” His shoulders visibly relax and he exhales loudly. “I´ve been stressing for weeks.”

“Well, maybe we can just figure it out together?” You smile at him and move closer. He's sitting at the edge of the bed, feet touching the ground so you climb over his lap, knees on both sides of his thighs. “We can start with this.” You kiss him and he melts into it.

Bruce Wayne

He'd find out because you tell him. 

Dating someone formerly known as a playboy billionaire was stressful enough. A lot of paparazzi, a lot of unwanted attention.

You knew that going into the relationship.

But even more stressful was having an embarrassing secret to hide.

Sure, he had been surprisingly accepting of going slow, but how long will he stay patient? 

All of this stress was going to make you go gray. So in conclusion: you had to tell him.

You waited for him to get home, today was one of those rare days when he was actually off duty.

“Can we have a conversation?” you ask as you retreat back to his bedroom.

His brow moves up. “A conversation? This sounds serious.”

“It is, just, let's get to your room first.” You don't say anything until the bedroom door is closed behind you.

You sit down on the bed bench. He observes your posture dropping, all confidence and grace gone. He decides to sit next to you, an arm around your waist and the other on your knee, stroking it comfortingly.

“What is it?”

“It's stupid, and embarrassing. And I'm scared that you might not want me after.” You're just rambling at this point. “And I don't want you to not want me because I really like you. Like really, really like you.” Your voice is shaking at the last few words.

“Bad enough to make you cry, huh.” He pulls you closer to him. “I can guarantee you it takes a lot to scare me off. Tell me, what's wrong.”

His voice is soothing and deep.

“I´m what's wrong.” Your face is buried in his shoulder.

Bruce doesn't say anything, there is only a reassuring hum against your ears.

“I don't want to take things slow. I just don't know what I'm doing. And you would know and then realize I was just pretending.” Your sobbing gets louder and his hand finds your hair, letting his hand caress it carefully.

“You don't have to know.” His expression is soft and warm. “We can figure it out together what you like. Besides,” a small smile appears, “I'm here too.” He kisses the top of your head. “I'm happy you're by my side. Also, I definitely expected something worse.”

You look up at that. "Something worse?”

“You made it seem very serious,” he laughs quietly. 

You wipe away the tears in your eyes. “Can you show me now?"

Bruce lets out a surprised huff, then lifts you onto the bed. “If that's what you want.”

He kisses you slowly, taking his time.