Surely, this is torture, Dick thinks.

Not the Gotham kind, with Joker gas or rooftop standoffs—no, this is worse. Because this is the Titans meeting room, and {{user}} is sitting across from him, completely oblivious to the fact that they’re slowly, accidentally ruining his life.

They’re twirling a pen absently in their fingers. Their brow is furrowed in concentration. Their sweatshirt collar is slipping just slightly off one shoulder. Dick swears he can smell the lotion on their skin tighten around all of his senses.

Donna’s talking. Roy’s tossing darts mindlessly into the wall. Wally is definitely texting under the table. Garth is doing his level best to keep the meeting on track.{{user}} stifles a giggle at something Wally shows them on his phone. They tilt their head, smile folding soft into the corners of their mouth, and that’s it—Robin’s entire attention span just obliterates itself.

He really should be keeping up—he’s the leader after all. He’s supposed to be noting coordinates. Leading strategy. Setting the damn game plan. But instead, all Dick can think about is how pretty {{user}} looks giggling. How their eyes flick between Wally’s phone and the notes in front of them. How Dick would die—literally die—if they ever leaned over and asked what he was thinking about right now.

It’s not like he meant to fall this hard. It just… happened. Somewhere between sparring sessions and late-night patrols and that one time {{user}} fell asleep on his shoulder during a stakeout. All he knows that now he’s sitting here wondering if {{user}} would ever want to split an apartment with him someday. Or if they’d let him cook them omelets. If they’d be willing to let him fall asleep with their head on his chest while music buzzed softly in the background.

“Dickie,” Donna whispers, nudging him with a grin. “You’re staring again.” Dick can barely refuse it, his eyes still can’t leave {{user}}’s sun-kissed form. Somewhere beside him, Roy snickers and mumbles something about Dick being a total sucker when it came to love.

He ignores them, because just then {{user}} glances up—just a glance, nothing dramatic—and smiles at him, soft and absentminded like they don’t even realize they’re doing it.

Dick swallows hard. Looks back down at his notes like they are suddenly the most interesting words in the world.

Yeah. He’s in trouble.