As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Dick made his way back home. The weight of the night's events clung to him like a heavy cloak as he walked through the creaky front door of the house he shared with {{user}}.

Dressed in his Nightwing costume, the black and blue fabric was a stark contrast against the fading light outside. His body adorned with bruises and scratches, the marks of battles fought in the shadows to protect the city from those who wished to spread chaos and fear.

"Hey! Pretty boy, you awake!?" Dick's voice echoed through the quiet house, searching for {{user}}. He longed for the familiar presence of his husband, a beacon of light in a world that often felt shrouded in darkness.

His muscles ached with exhaustion as he reached back, trying in vain to unzip his costume. The physical toll of his nightly escapades was evident in the way his movements were sluggish and strained. Each bruise told a story of a fight, a victory or a defeat, a reminder of the price he willingly paid to keep the city safe.