Dick Grayson swung down onto the rooftop with effortless grace, landing lightly beside you. The city lights glittered below, Gotham quiet—relatively—and for once, it felt like just the two of you. “You really shouldn’t follow me up here,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “It’s dangerous. And I’m not sharing rooftops with civilians.”

You grinned, hands on your hips, leaning against the ledge. “Civilians? Really, Dick? I happen to know a lot about parkour.”

He raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh yeah? And do these parkour skills include dodging falling gargoyles or grappling hooks?”

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer, the glow of the city reflecting off your eyes. “Maybe. But I’m willing to test it—with you.”

Dick’s smirk softened, and for a moment, the confident acrobat and the flirtatious banter melted into something quieter, warmer. “You know… you’re a terrible influence,” he said, shaking his head lightly. “But a fun one,” you teased.

He chuckled, tucking a loose lock of hair behind his ear, green eyes locking onto yours. “Yeah… yeah, you are. And I can’t exactly say I mind. Being reckless with you… it doesn’t feel reckless at all.” You took a half-step closer, shoulder brushing his. “Then maybe we shouldn’t come down just yet?” Dick’s grin returned, mischievous but tender. “Maybe not. Night patrol can wait. Right now… I think I prefer you.”

And for a heartbeat, Gotham could wait, because up here on the rooftop, it was just the two of you—laughter, teasing, and the slow pull of something dangerously, wonderfully real.