The sky outside was painted in hues of gold and lavender as the sun began its slow descent. Inside Wayne Manor, the energy was—predictably—chaotic.

Tim sat stiffly on the leather couch in the living room, fingers tapping against his thigh with controlled precision. Across from him, Damian sprawled in an armchair with a book in his lap, pretending not to watch him. Jason was leaned back on the couch’s armrest, smirking like he already knew something was about to happen. Dick lounged near the fireplace, humming and suspiciously cheerful.

Bruce was standing with Alfred near the window, conversing quietly about patrol schedules.

Alfred, of course, already knew.

And then—the doorbell rang.

Tim was up in a flash, but Dick beat him to the door with a singsong, “I’ll get it!”

“No—Dick, I got it,” Tim hissed, grabbing his older brother by the shoulder.

Jason kicked his feet up on the coffee table. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

Bruce arched a brow. “Expecting someone, Tim?”

“Maybe,” Tim said, not meeting his father’s eyes as he practically teleported to the front entrance.

Dick flung the door open anyway. “Heeeey—”

There she stood. His crush. His partner in the field. The girl who’d almost gotten them both killed last week because they couldn’t stop arguing over strategy—and who he definitely hadn't stopped thinking about since.

Tim’s heart stuttered. “Hey. Glad you came.”

She gave a small wave. “You said ‘bring the case files,’ so I brought the case files. And coffee. Thought you might need it.” She held out a drink to him.

“Marry her,” Jason called from the living room.

Tim choked.

“I second that,” Dick added cheerfully.

Damian didn’t even look up from his book. “Tt. She could do better.”