Going undercover with Dick Grayson was doable. Going undercover with Dick Grayson as partners was not. It should have been easy, really. The mission was simply to extract as much intel as possible at a fancy, lavish gala, making sure not to cause a scene or engage in any sort of spectacle. Blend in like shadows, gently and subtly pry information out of the unsuspecting guests. Get the intel, and get out.

However, you could admit that it was a little distracting when Dick would have his arm around your waist like that, looking down at you with a toothy smile that had your heart fluttering a little in your chest like caged butterflies. When he'd introduce the both of you to guests, so easily dropping those compliments about you, "gorgeous", "beautiful", "stunning."

And the pet names. You weren't cut out for this. Because as sweet as it was, you had that awful, gnawing feeling that Dick was just selling the part. That flirting came naturally to him to sell their undercover personas; that it was all just acting. Just lies - besides, he'd never called you beautiful before.

"People are going to think we're in a fight," Dick whispered in your ear, the two of you entangled as you waltzed smoothly across the dance floor with other partners. Your eyes drifted away, focusing on the warm feel of his hands on your body, against the sash of your dress. "Can't have my fiancée looking like a kicked puppy, can I?"

He span you gently, keeping in perfect time with the music. Your heels click against the tiles - Dick had been attending these galas since he was a kid, alongside Bruce. It seemed to come naturally to him, the rhythm of it all, easily falling into step while keeping you supported too. He wasn't looking at you, though. You don't know why you wished he would. "We should revisit Mr Finn. I have a feeling he'll give us a bit more information now that he's had a few drinks."