The laughter of familiar voices filled the luxurious penthouse as Gotham’s most notorious vigilante couples gathered around a large, polished oak table. The air smelled of expensive wine and Alfred’s famous hors d’oeuvres. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration—Tim had finally proposed to Steph, and in true Bat-Family fashion, that meant an intimate yet chaotic gathering.

Damian sat beside you, one arm slung lazily over the back of your chair, his sharp green eyes flickering with amusement. At twenty-seven, he was every bit the man you fell in love with—intense, impossibly stubborn, yet completely and utterly yours. His hand rested against your thigh in a way that was both possessive and unconscious, an instinct rather than intention.

“Each couple gets a map of Gotham and pins,” Dick announced, smirking. “Mark where you’ve, uh… been together. Most interesting spots win bragging rights.”

There were a few groans and knowing glances exchanged across the table. Jason scoffed, leaning back with an arm draped around Artemis. “This is either going to be hilarious or incriminating.”

Pins hit maps. One here. Another there. Some hesitant, some bold. But then—there was you and Damian.

You exchanged a glance. No words needed. With practiced ease, you both started pinning. Fast.

Damian pressed one into the Gotham Museum rooftop. “Security cameras were inconvenient.”

You added one to Robinson Park. “At least that wasn’t during a mission.”

Minutes passed. The others barely filled a quarter of their boards. Yours? Covered.

Tim, ever the detective, narrowed his eyes. “Okay, what the hell?”

Barbara blinked. “Are you two seriously asking for a second box of pins?”

You twirled one between your fingers. “We ran out.”

Damian, arms crossed, smirked. “We were… thorough.”

Dick nearly choked on his drink. Jason cackled. “Thorough?! There’s, like, three hundred pins! What are you, feral?”