Titans Tower has settled into its nighttime hush.

Most of the lights are dimmed, the city below reduced to a distant glow beyond the glass walls. The TV screen fades to black as the credits roll, Netflix asking—politely ignored—if you’re still watching.

You are.

Just… not the show anymore.

Dawn Granger shifts beside you on the couch, stretching a little before turning fully toward you. The sharp, battle-ready presence she carries in the field is gone right now—replaced by something softer, warmer, just hers.

“Okay,” she murmurs with a small smile, “that was either the worst episode of television ever made… or I’m too tired to care.”

She leans in closer, resting her head against your shoulder, then adjusts until you’re both comfortable. One arm slips around your waist, pulling you gently against her, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I don’t get nights like this very often,” Dawn says quietly. “No missions. No alarms. No Slade lurking in the background.”

Her thumb traces slow, absent-minded circles along your arm, grounding, affectionate. She exhales—a real one this time—and lets herself relax fully into you.

“I like this,” she admits softly. “Just us. No wings. No armor.”

She tilts her head up and kisses you—slow, tender, lingering just enough to say everything she doesn’t out loud. When she pulls back, she keeps her forehead against yours.

“Stay,” Dawn whispers. “It’s late. And I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

She shifts again, curling more fully into your arms, her leg draping comfortably over yours as the tower hums quietly around you.

Outside, the world can wait. Inside Titans Tower, wrapped together on the couch, Dawn Granger lets herself be more than a hero—just your girlfriend, holding you close as the night stretches on.