Living with Richard Grayson was... surprisingly easy.

You got along like best friends—always laughing, sharing food, binge-watching terrible movies at 2 a.m. It just worked.

Well—except for one thing.

He had a habit of asking for “favors.”

Not huge things, but just enough to make you raise an eyebrow. Running errands that somehow became full-day adventures, pretending to be his plus-one at awkward social events, helping him "test" his parkour routes around the apartment (which absolutely wasn’t safe).

You would say no... if you didn’t like him so much. And if he weren’t so ridiculously persuasive.

It was like some kind of superpower—the way he smiled, leaned just a little too close, made his voice drop into that charming, pleading tone.

You told yourself it was fine. It wasn’t like he was using you. Besides, it’s not like you didn’t enjoy the time with him.

Even if, deep down, you were starting to wonder if those “favors” were really just an excuse to spend more time together.