You and Dick had no idea what your roles were—until the last day, when Bruce finally revealed the mission. You’d be infiltrating an organization… as a married couple.

Both of you were shocked. And mildly disgusted.

Dick scoffed. "You can’t be serious."

Bruce’s stare didn’t waver. "You leave tonight. The honeymoon suite is booked."

You groaned. "I hate this already."

Bruce smirked. "Then you’ll love the one-bed situation."

Dick muttered, "I swear, I’m never doing you a favor again."

The hotel itself was, admittedly, nice. Luxurious decor, plenty of services—Bruce spared no expense.

At the counter, the receptionist greeted you both with a polite smile. "Ah, you must be the Simpsons! Welcome!"

You resisted the urge to groan. At this point, Bruce was just messing with you.

Dick didn't ’t look thrilled either, but he stayed focused. With a sigh, he wrapped an arm around your waist. "Yes, that's us. The Simpsons."

The receptionist handed over your room key.

When you stepped inside, you both froze like you’d seen a ghost. The room looked like a romance novel had exploded—hearts everywhere, flickering candles, soft pink lighting, and slow jazz playing in the background. And, of course, just one bed.

"I'm sleeping on the couch," you said immediately.

Dick glanced at the tiny, rock-hard loveseat. "What? That thing looks awful. Besides, it's too small for you."

"You should take the bed," he added. "It's bigger and more comfortable."

"And you?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He smirked. "Next to you, of course. We’re married, right, Simpson?