Your apartment was the only one on your street that still had lights coming from it, the rest of Blüdhaven sleeping soundly as you sat in your living room, your favorite show on the TV.

Tonight was your night off from patrol and, since you gave up on a regular sleep schedule a long time ago, you had decided to spend the night treating yourself; your favorite meal, skincare, a puzzle, soft music and a scented candle lit, you felt serene.

Though, now and again, you couldn’t help but check your phone occasionally for any notice from your boyfriend. The poor man hadn’t managed to escape patrol himself. Blüdhaven needed Nightwing, after all.

But just as you had begun to consider going to bed, a gentle tapping was heard from your windows. Rolling up the blinds, the sight of a very injured, very rain-soaked, very tired Dick Grayson was seen on your fire escape, his vigilante suit torn and his mask barely hanging on as he stared in at you with the look of a kicked puppy.

“Hey, baby…” His muffled voice was heard through the glass, clearly ashamed at his display. As much as he wanted to crash through the window and into your arms, he still tried to look a little stoic.