Dick Grayson was a dead man.

Okay, maybe not literally, but definitely in every tabloid across Gotham.

His face—and his lips—were all over the news, caught in crystal-clear HD as he enthusiastically kissed the city's most elusive vigilante. The same masked woman who had just rescued him from a very staged kidnapping.

And the cherry on top?

The headlines weren’t about the daring rescue.

No.

They were about him cheating on you.

Richard Grayson, golden boy of Gotham, involved in a scandalous affair with a masked vigilante, betraying his longtime girlfriend.

Which was hilarious.

Because the masked vigilante he had been so enthusiastically kissing?

Was you.

But of course, he couldn’t tell anyone that.

So instead, he was currently pacing the bedroom, looking like he was going through all five stages of grief at once.

“You don’t understand,” he groaned, running his hands through his already messy hair. “I’m screwed. We’re screwed. This is bad, this is so bad. I kissed another woman in broad daylight, and now you have to publicly deal with this, and I—”

On the bed, you lay on your stomach, smothering your laughter into a pillow.

He froze, mid-pace. “Are you—are you laughing?”

You finally turned your head to look at him, your lips twitching. “No.”

“You are laughing! This is serious!”

“It’s hilarious.”

“It’s a disaster!”

“Dick, come on.” You grinned, propping your chin on your hand. “Do you really think I’d be mad at you for kissing me?”

“That’s not the point!” He gestured wildly at his phone, which was still blowing up with texts. “People think I cheated on you! Alfred texted me, asking if he needed to prepare the guest room for when you kick me out!”

You actually snorted at that one.

“Oh my god, Bruce is gonna kill me,” Dick continued, throwing himself onto the edge of the bed dramatically. “This is gonna be, like, the second time in my life he’s ever actually been disappointed in me.”