Dick had debated telling you about being Nightwing.

You two had been roommates for two years, and you've proven time and time again you could be trusted.

What kept him from doing it? You loved Nightwing.

It was a total ego boost, at first, but at a certain point it became a bit infuriating. Especially to hear you talk about how much you adored Nightwing.

It was totally insane to be jealous of himself, he knew that, Dick knew he was being a big baby.

But like, come on.

"Really? Dude, really?"

Dick was staring you down as he got home from work. There {{user}} was looking absolutely adorable, but he felt the undercut of it was adorable because you were just in a Nightwing Hoodie and some sleep shorts.

He couldn't even be egotistical, cocky about it, because you didn't know he was Bludhaven. He couldn't take a great pleasure in how good you looked.

"Did you need another one? Like - the man probably isn't getting any money off of his own merch."

Which, Dick didn't get any money from Nightwing's merchandising. Which wasn't fair. Not the point, though.

Dick leaned back against the kitchen counter, trying not to look at your legs, or any other part of you peaking out. He was a gentleman, mostly.

"I'm going to start charging Nightwing rent. He basically lives here with how much shit with his face on it you own."