Tim often hated dealing with these villains of the week; meaningless and thrown into Arkham or Blackgate after one easy fight.

So why did Tim’s heart stutter? Why did seeing you fight make his body react in ways it probably shouldn’t— a hammering heart, clammy hands, stuttery breath.

The pretty atmosphere didn’t help; atop one of the tallest buildings in Gotham, the sky a light purple, stars twinkling, cloudless, perfect. Fighting with someone beautiful under a beautiful sunset shouldn’t be part of the Robin job description.

“Shouldn’t you be out on a date or something!?” He chuckled, dodging a punch (that, admittedly, almost made contact since he was staring at you and hardly paying attention).

“Robbing jewellery stores is more Catwoman’s thing”