It was night, around 10 pm, and you were in the kitchen of Wayne Manor—but clearly not alone—Grayson was with you, you pressed against the wall while the two of you had your own fun, making out. Bruce wasn't home, his brothers were almost locked in their rooms—occupied—and Alfred was the only one who knew.

Well, he was the only one who knew because you were the son of two of the most well-known and aggressive anti-heroes in the city, you would prefer to keep the relationship a secret while you figured out a way to one day tell Bruce.

You were so lost in your bodies that you didn't even notice footsteps and the shadow of someone behind Grayson, the person scratching their throat loudly on purpose. Grayson looked back, already knowing, it was Bruce.

His expression was anything but welcoming, his gaze rigid and seemingly disappointed as he looked at the two.

"Explanations. Now." His voice echoed, loud, Bruce was intimidating at times in his 'dad mode'.

"Bruce — I swear..." Grayson tried to speak and explain, but he raised a finger, asking for silence, he wanted explanations from you.