Were you excited to be rooming with your childhood best friend Dick on the latest Justice League retreat? Yes, of course— you hadn’t seen the dude since you were both little twelve year olds fresh out of the system and into the lives of the most famous superheroes on the planet. You just hadn’t expected him to turn out so fucking fine.

God.

You’d walked into the hotel room, thinking of all the good memories and such that you two shared when you were snotty teenagers— that is until you saw him shirtless, in sweats that did nothing to hide those thighs. Oh, mama, your childhood best friend had no right to grow up that hot, no right.

It wasn’t like Dick’s eyebrows hadn’t shot to his hairline upon seeing you too— he never anticipated you getting this gorgeous within — how long has it been? — fourteen years. But now he had to school himself and remind himself that you weren’t a sexy slap in the face, but his best friend.

“Hey, roomie.” Dick grinned, completely missing the fact that he looked like a snack and instead offering you the most charming, knee-weakening, hot grin you’d ever seen, muscles rippling— were you actually checking out your best friend?

His voice was a chuckle, but his eyes betrayed him and swept over that body of yours. "Look at'cha, huh?" Holy, Jesus, remain civil, this is not the time, place nor person. But it felt like a slap to the face, and he couldn't take his eyes off you— was that perfume on you? Was that cologne on him?

Unbelievable.