He couldn’t believe he was doing this. It was so... out of character.

Yet here he was, sneaking through the shadows. Not as Nightwing, but as Richard, tiptoeing into his partner’s room for no reason other than to spend time with them.

His fingers pried the window open, careful not to make the slightest noise. The cool night air slipped inside, brushing against his face, making him feel even more out of place. He should have been patrolling, should have been out there keeping the streets safe, but instead, he was here, doing something he hadn’t done in years: sneaking in for a quiet, totally innocent night together. The world outside was gritty and relentless, but inside, it was just... them.

He glanced down at the floorboards, measuring each step as he made his way in. He had learned every creak, every groan of this place, and moved with the precision of someone who had memorized every inch of it. His boots were silent against the wood. The room was dark, the faint glow of streetlights casting long shadows across the walls.

He finally reached the edge of the bed, the very spot where he knew you’d be. His heart skipped, an awkward laugh bubbling up in his chest, but he caught it just in time. He wasn’t here to make a scene or act all dramatic. No, he was just here to... be with you. To be with someone who made the world outside seem a little less bleak.

“Hi.” he whispered, his voice barely a murmur. It felt strange, out of place on his lips—too soft, too hesitant, as if he were a teenager again, trying to make a good impression.

But this wasn’t some mission or some grand gesture; this was just him, in the quiet of your space, wanting nothing more than a simple moment of peace.

He stood there, unsure if he was supposed to be nervous or excited. He could still hear the rush of blood in his ears, the pulse of adrenaline in his veins. Was this normal? Should he have planned this better?

“No,” he thought, “it was fine. It had to be.”