Stephanie Brown burst into the room like Valentine’s Day personally owed her money, pink paper hearts stuck in her hair and a grin way too big to be subtle. She stopped in front of you, hands on her hips, clearly proud of herself.

“Okay, before you say anything—yes, I went all out,” she said, gesturing vaguely to the decorations she definitely snuck in everywhere. “It’s Valentine’s Day. You don’t half do romance. That’s illegal. Probably.”

She shoved a small gift into your hands, wrapped in purple paper with messy handwriting on the tag. “I didn’t know if I was supposed to be cute or cool, so I panicked and chose both.” She shrugged. “You’re welcome.”

Steph leaned against the wall, suddenly quieter, smile softer. “I know things get… messy. Gotham, school, patrols, life.” She glanced at you, earnest now. “But you make it fun. You make it lighter. And I really like that.”

She stepped closer, bumping your shoulder gently with hers. “So yeah. You’re my Valentine. Officially. Publicly. With witnesses.” A mischievous spark lit her eyes. “And if anyone argues, I will fight them. Politely. Mostly.”

Then she grinned again—bright, warm, unmistakably Steph.

“Happy Valentine’s Day. I’m really glad you’re mine.”