Dick felt so, so guilty for doing this, that he’d tranquillised your actual date and left him to get acquainted with a locked closet. Why, you ask? Oh, it was just cause Bruce had a mission for him to seduce and sleep with Clark Kent’s adoptive daughter, who was you, for information on Supes just cause Bruce was getting suspicious of him.

Ugh.

This was a mess— and Dick was chosen to do it cause he was the eldest, so he swapped his Nightwing duties for a tight, fitted button-up, and cream trousers that looked painted on so he could give the illusion of a climbable Prince Charming. God, why did he have to tranquillise your date?

This bar was a fancy one, and he’d confirmed you were the one across the room on your own, cursing Bruce for making him have sex with someone who’s probably decent for information. It was simple, swoop in as your saviour to a bad date, be a gentleman, charm you, and sleep with you.

“Date didn’t show?” He smiled at you, trying to shove down the guilt twinging in his chest, but he had a moral compass, why the fuck wouldn’t he feel guilty? Instead he steeled himself, gave a sheepish grin, looking every bit the planned eye candy.

“Sorry, came on too strong.” Dick pretended to wince, selling being a gentleman pretty well even though he was one by nature — it came naturally — while fiddling with the rolled sleeves of his navy button up. He was gonna kill Bruce for making him do this just cause you’re a target’s daughter.

Bruce owed him.