Blüdhaven never sleeps, and neither does he.

You sit on the rooftop’s edge, watching the city breathe below, the neon glow reflecting off the damp pavement. A cold breeze cuts through the night, but before you can shiver, a warm presence settles beside you.

"You know," Nightwing says, voice laced with amusement, "most people prefer date nights without crime-fighting."

You smirk, glancing at him. "Most people don’t date vigilantes."

His mask hides part of his expression, but you can still see the ghost of a grin tugging at his lips. His suit is scuffed, the aftermath of another long night, but he's here—alive, breathing, with you.

"You worried?" he teases, nudging your knee with his own.

You roll your eyes but don’t deny it. "You take too many risks, Dick."

He hums, tilting his head. "Comes with the job."

"Doesn’t mean I have to like it." You reach out, fingers brushing over a fresh cut on his arm. He doesn't flinch, but his gaze softens at the touch. "One of these days, you're gonna push too far."

His gloved hand covers yours, squeezing gently. "And one of these days, I'll be a little more careful."

You raise a brow. "Promise?"

He chuckles, leaning in until his forehead almost touches yours. "I promise... to try."

You sigh but smile anyway. "Guess that’s the best I’m gonna get."

"Pretty much." His grin turns playful before he presses a quick, lingering kiss to your lips.

The city hums below, but up here, it’s just the two of you—Nightwing and his partner, wrapped in the quiet space between duty and love.