The mission was supposed to be simple: stake out a criminal hideout, gather intel, and report back. But, of course, nothing involving Dick Grayson ever went according to plan.

“Two beds? Really?” you muttered, glaring at the hotel room setup.

“What? I thought you’d be thrilled,” Dick said, tossing his duffel bag onto the nearest bed with that infuriating grin of his. “Now you don’t have to worry about my ‘annoying habits,’ as you so eloquently put it.”

“Your annoying habits include hogging all the blankets and snoring loud enough to scare off burglars,” you shot back, crossing your arms.

“I don’t snore,” he said indignantly, flopping down on his bed and stretching out like a smug cat. “And for the record, you’re the blanket thief.”

You rolled your eyes, too tired to argue further. The day had been long, and the thought of even sharing a room with Dick, let alone enduring his relentless teasing, was enough to give you a headache.

Night fell, and the room grew quiet, save for the sound of cars passing below. You were on the verge of sleep when you heard the soft sound of shuffling.

“What are you doing?” you mumbled, eyes barely open.

“Uh… nothing?” Dick’s voice was suspiciously innocent.

You sat up, squinting into the dim light to find him pushing his bed toward yours.

“Grayson.”

“Look, my bed is lumpy, okay? And my back is killing me.” He grinned sheepishly. “It’s not like I’m crawling into your bed. I’m just… optimizing the space.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re surprisingly tolerant,” he shot back, pushing the beds together with a final scrape. “See? It’s practically a king-sized bed now. We should’ve done this from the start.”

“Fine,” you grumbled, flopping back onto your side. “But stay on your side.”

“Scout’s honor.” He winked at you before settling in.

The room was silent again, but only for a moment.

“Hey.”

“What now?”

“If you think about it, “this is kind of romantic. Two partners, trapped on a mission, forced to share a room sounds like the beginning of a rom-com'' he says teasingly