ᯓᡣ𐭩 you in that dress, my thoughts i confess, verge on dirty .ᐟ

you and dick were friends. just friends. nothing more, nothing less. yes, you were pretty. beautiful. stunning. any other word for glamorous, but that definitely didn't mean anything. right? right. there was no way you thought of him as anything but a friend.

he had stressed that inviting you to one of bruce's galas was a mistake. but seeing you in that dress? moving like that across the dance floor? it was almost too much. suddenly the room felt hotter, his collar too-tight and palms sweaty. richard grayson didn't get nervous— no way!

so, why did his heart thrum against his chest as you took his (unfortunately) sweaty palm into your own and onto the dance floor? who knew you could've been so much fun after a few drinks?

god, he wanted to look away. he really did! but it's like every move you made and every shift of the fabric you wore was enough to make him want to scream his newly found feelings for you out loud for everyone to hear. you were his friend, you should be able to talk to you about anything, right?

this? definitely not this.