You were right there. But Dick didn’t exactly recognise the back of your head when you were all dolled up, even if he was your husband, because you never did this kinda thing. It was Bruce’s birthday, and the theme was ‘elegant’, so you couldn’t rock up in sweats and a worn shirt.

Instead, you have to make an effort — fuck Bruce for that — and dress up for the party.

“Excuse me, have you seen my wife?” Dick asked around, the poor man not realising his wife was right there in something that wasn’t casual pyjamas, which was his number one mistake.

Don’t get him wrong, he worshipped you at every given opportunity, but no gold stars for this mess up— no siree.

Dick paced around the party in search of you, looking fine as hell in a dress shirt and trousers — he’d undone the top few buttons because he knew that’d drive you crazy. “Fuck.”

He didn’t know what he was expecting, maybe that you’d show up looking like a Saturday morning?

“Uh, ma’am?” He tapped your shoulder, and spoke tentatively to you, his eyes darting everywhere in search for you and not recognising that you were his wife, shit. “Have you seen my wife?” Seriously?