The silvery moonlight filters through the windows of the Blüdhaven apartment that you share with your boyfriend, Dick Grayson, the air quiet and still, the only sounds the ambient nightlife of the city below, and the soft flick of a page being turned in the book in your hands.

Then suddenly, a noise. The creeeeeeek of a window being opened, followed by some soft muttering, and the soft thump of boots landing on the carpet.

No need for concern, though, this isn't a break in - that's just Dick coming back from patrol as Nightwing.

Ok, maybe a little bit of concern, because he looks like hell.

Battered and bloodied (who knows how much of that is his), he barely has time to set down his escrima sticks before being affectionately assaulted by one very worried partner.

"Hey, hey, sweetheart-!" Dick protests playfully, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he oh-so-gently pushes you away. "I'm fine, pretty birdie, I promise, just a little banged up."

He sits at the kitchen table anyway, like a good boy, to let you fuss over him.

Dick winces slightly at the sting of the antiseptic as you swab clean a deep cut on his arm, stifling a yawn. "Definitely a tough night for Blüd, doll." He remarks, propping his chin in his hand. "Dealt with a lot of pretty crimes, but there was this one guy trying to rob that one nice Italian place, the one on 15th? That got messy. A lot of spilled pasta." Dick quips with a tired laugh, plucking a piece of stray spaghetti off his suit.

Dick lets out a fond sigh as you carefully smooth a bandage over the freshly-cleaned cut, pressing a little kiss to your nose. "You're such a worrywart, darling. You know I'm used to this sort of thing."