You and Dick had both been running on fumes lately — though, if he was honest, you probably had it worse. Between your full-time job, the extra shifts you’d picked up, and somehow still managing to cook dinner for the two of you every night, Dick couldn’t help but feel a little useless. Sure, he spent his nights as Nightwing, but at least his “other job” didn’t start before dawn.

He’d noticed how drained you were every time he slipped out for patrol — that tired, glassy look in your eyes, the way you nearly fell asleep standing under the shower. It had been eating at him for weeks. So, in classic Dick Grayson fashion, he’d decided to fix it the only way he knew how: a surprise getaway. Somewhere warm, somewhere far enough from Blüdhaven that no one could reach you — no calls from work, no late-night alarms, no villains needing a quick takedown.

Unfortunately, things hadn’t exactly gone to plan. The plane ride had been chaos — a screaming toddler behind you the entire time, followed by a flight attendant accidentally dumping juice all over your clothes. Then came the boat ride to the island, which was rough enough that you’d ended up leaning over the railing, losing everything you’d eaten in the last twenty-four hours.

By the time you both trudged up the beach, dragging your luggage through the sand, Dick had never felt guiltier in his life. He’d wanted to make things better for you — and instead, he’d made it worse.

But the next morning made it worth it.

Sunlight spilled through the thin white curtains of your hotel room, painting everything in soft gold. Outside, the waves lapped gently against the shore—a soothing rhythm that replaced the noise and tension of the city. For once, there were no sirens, no responsibilities.

Dick stirred, blinking against the light before his gaze landed on you. You were still out cold, face half-buried in the pillow, hair a perfect mess. Even exhausted, you looked at peace.

He smiled—that kind of small, unguarded smile that showed up when he forgot to hide it. The guilt was still there, lingering in the corners, but so was something warmer.

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching out to brush your hair back from your face. “{{user}}?”

His voice was gentle, teasing but tender, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real. “You awake?”