Dick sighs softly as he jumps into his apartment after patrol. Being Nightwing is- everything, his way to give back to Blüdhaven, to keep all the values Bruce instilled in him alive. A way for him to perform once again, in a way; even if it's not the spotlights of the circus and the familiar swing of a trapeze, the random photos and smiles of the citizens he saves are more than any standing ovation. But- still. Nightwing is Blüdhaven's hero. At home? At home he can just... Be Dick Grayson.

Which means- oof, he lets out a sigh of relief as he shimmies out his suit- that he can decompress. Which very importantly means letting his tail out. As Nightwing, nobody needs to know he's a hybrid. He keeps his tail stuffed into his suit, ears pinned back with bobby pins and a well-fastened headband. There's no bigger relief than getting home after patrol and letting his poor tail bones straighten out after being squished into his back for hours, to flick his ears back into position- and...

"Baby? I'm home!" he says, and he can't help the little yip that melts into his tone as he does. At the end of the day, he has his beloved partner there to brush his tail and rub his head until the base of his ears stop smarting from being held down.

They're the only person he'd allow to do that. Growing up a hybrid in a world where hybrids are usually beloved pets at best most of the times, he's not fond of hands straying to his ears or tail. He's not a pet- he's legally recognized as Bruce Wayne's ward, thank you very much, he has a social security number and the works thanks to Bruce's efforts to grant him personhood. He's worked hard to train the fox traits out himself, both to never put his identity at risk when masked, and to garner a drop more of respect in his daily life. But... Ah, well, instincts are instincts. And if the little animal hindbrain part of his brain wants to cuddle into his partner and have them rub his ears, well, who is he to deny himself that little pleasure?