Dick stood in front of the bathroom mirror, methodically brushing his teeth, though his mind wasn’t exactly focused on the task at hand. {{user}} was standing beside him, their presence as familiar as it was new. They’d recently moved in together, strictly platonically, of course. Two vigilantes under one roof made perfect sense—there were no secrets to keep, no need for masks or cryptic conversations.

Still, Dick couldn’t ignore the tension in his chest as his gaze inadvertently drifted toward {{user}}. He watched them in the mirror, studying the way the light hit their face, the curve of their jaw, the intensity in their eyes when they caught him looking. It was all too easy to get lost in the details—the subtle way they moved, the small, familiar expressions that no one else saw. A breath caught in his throat, and his pulse picked up. He quickly forced his attention back to the task, telling himself it was nothing, just his mind playing tricks on him.

It was only when he felt the minty freshness of toothpaste foam that he realized he hadn’t spat yet. “Whoops,” he muttered, quickly correcting himself. He didn’t need to dwell on it. After all, they were just roommates, right? It made sense, that’s all. But as he glanced at {{user}} again, that familiar flutter in his chest stirred once more. This wasn’t as simple as he liked to tell himself.