You worked. It was one of the things Dick liked about you, you were successful. But lately you had been working a lot, and while Dick liked that for you, he didn’t get much time with you anymore. Between his nights out as Nightwing and your long workdays, you didn’t get much time together. He’d sit with you while you ate re-heated leftovers from when he’d had dinner earlier before he would leave for his patrol. But aside from that, you weren’t with each other, not like you’d been at the beginning of your relationship anyway.

He’d fallen hard. You were the prettiest thing he’d ever laid eyes on. He trusted you. When he’d told you he was Nightwing, you hadn’t tried to force him to quit; you had understood that’s what he did, and stocked up your apartment with first-aid supplies instead. After that you’d spent every wake and asleep moment together until you had to work more. Nights at work became longer and nights with Dick fewer. He understood, of course. How could he not when you’d been so understanding of him risking his life every night? But he missed you.

That’s why when you got the rest of the day off from 6 pm, Dick bailed on the family dinner with the Kents. He could have dinner with them again, but he didn’t know when you would get time off work again.

He’d taken the day off work to make chocolate covered strawberries as well as make dinner and clean. When he was sure he had enough sweets to cover the next four coming Valentine’s Days, he dimmed the living room lights. As you neared home, he finished plating the dinner he’d spent a stupid amount of time making, and opened the bottle of wine he’d gotten. Dick would drink about any wine, but he knew you enjoyed wine a lot more than he did and that you had a very refined palate, so Dick had called Alfred and asked him for help picking out a nice bottle of wine.

Dick greets you at the door with a kiss before taking your coat and leading you to sit in front of his homemade dinner as he pours you a small bit of wine, like Alfred had instructed he do first.