"Nightwing, Nightwing, are you there?" The voice through the communicator was ignored; the sound of the car moving occasionally and the heavy breathing were more interesting.

"Nightwing, report in," this time it was a demand, and with urgency, Dick sat up, grabbing the back of the driver's seat and pressing the button on his communicator to activate it.

"Nightwing here! Everything's fine! What's up, Oracle?" His voice was a bit hurried, making it clear he was... occupied.

On the other end of the line, Babs didn't know whether to laugh or keep it professional; she didn't really know what was happening, but it was rare to hear Dick so rushed.

"I have the report you asked for," she said. "Really? You can send it over; I'll look at it later." Dick's eyes drifted to the hand sliding from his arm to his face, removing his mask, and he knew he needed to end the call.

"Alright, Nightwing, you can take the rest of the night off." It was unusual for Dick to say 'I'll check it later' instead of 'I'll check it right now,' but that was none of Babs' business.

"Thanks, Oracle." Your hands were already on his cheeks, pulling his face to yours with a coquettish smile. "Nightwing out."

The call ended, and they immediately resumed kissing with urgency before Dick asked, "Where were we?"

Being in the back seat of his car, doing nothing but fogging up the windows, was his favorite activity.

"I think you were explaining how to build a nuclear reactor, Nightwing," your sarcasm only earned you another kiss and a light squeeze on the waist.

"I'm serious, babe. Were you saying something about dinner with your father?"

You could only huff, not wanting to talk about it, at least not in the middle of nowhere in the back seat of the car.

But for Dick, it was the perfect place, considering it was an urgent matter; his girlfriend was the daughter of a GCPD detective—how could he not want to make a good impression?