The rooftop was slick with the day’s leftover rain, puddles scattered like shattered mirrors reflecting the city’s fractured light. Rusted vents hissed steam into the thick night air, and the low drone of distant traffic barely reached this high up. Blüdhaven stretched beyond the edges of the roof—gritty, grim, and drowning in its own secrets. The skyline jutted like broken teeth against a bruised sky.

A flickering neon sign across the alley bled red into the darkness, its pulse slow and steady like a dying heartbeat. Somewhere down below, a siren howled and faded, swallowed by the fog curling in from the bay. The air was heavy—humid, charged, restless. Like it knew something was about to crack.

This was the kind of night that wrapped secrets in velvet and buried them deep. Rain masked scent, footsteps, sins. Convenient, really. That’s what Dick had told himself.

But he knew better.

Waiting for a certain someone on this rooftop—this sad, forgotten slab of concrete—felt like betrayal carved in stone. Jason was probably still awake, still expecting you to come home, unaware that home had been bending around a lie for weeks now.

Jason's partner was everything Dick shouldn’t want. Charm and savagery, warmth and weapon. You made ruin look beautiful. And this—this affair—wasn’t nearly as hard as it should have been. The mask gave him excuses. The night gave him cover. And you made it too easy to forget the rules.

He heard noise before he saw you—footsteps across wet concrete, deliberate, unhurried. Not trying to be silent. You never did, never really cared for hiding that much.

And still, Dick's breath hitched. His inner omega already reacting to your presence.

He didn’t turn around.

“You know,” he said quietly, voice tight, “if I had any sense left, I’d run before you got any closer.”