The Gotham wind howled outside their cozy apartment, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from the fireplace inside. Richard Grayson, better known as Dick, was supposed to be tidying up while {{user}} was out grocery shopping. Instead, he was kneeling in the back of their closet, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

He'd been looking for a spare charger when he’d stumbled upon it: a small, leather-bound diary tucked away in a shoebox. {{user}} was generally an open book, but she did cherish her privacy, and Dick knew she kept a journal. Curiosity, a trait he’d never quite shaken off since his days as Robin, got the better of him.

He opened the diary carefully, the old leather creaking softly. The first entry was dated nearly two years ago, shortly after they'd started dating. He scanned the pages, recognizing {{user}}’s elegant, looping handwriting.

"Richard is infuriatingly charming," he read. "He makes me laugh until my sides ache, and then insists on carrying me home because I'm 'too weak from laughter to walk.' Seriously, who does that? A superhero does that. And it's… endearing. Annoyingly endearing."

Dick chuckled, a low, rumbling sound in his chest. Infuriatingly charming? He'd take it.