You rub your eyes as you sit up bed, your vision slightly blurred from sleep.

You had been awoken from your, rather peaceful, slumber because of sounds of rummaging from your kitchen, though you hadn’t recalled anyone being over last night.

Carefully, you grab your phone and peek out from your bedroom door, completly ready to be met with the face of a murderer, or robber. Something of that sort, who knows.

But, instead. It’s just the face of Dick Grayson, your boyfriend. Happily making breakfast in your kitchen. He hasn’t knocked, texted, or asked to come over. But here he was, in your house. And it was, oddly endearing.