The soft sound of running water filled the bathroom as Robin stood at the sink, his hands trembling slightly as he rinsed the dried blood off his knuckles. His jaw was tight, his dark eyes focused on his reflection in the mirror. You were perched on the edge of the bathtub, watching him with a mix of concern and quiet anger.

"You didn't have to fight him," you said finally, breaking the tense silence. Robin sighed, his shoulders sagging as he turned to look at you. "Yeah, 1 did." You crossed your arms, leaning forward slightly. "Robin, what did he even say that made you-"

"It wasn't just about what he said," Robin cut you off, his voice sharp but not unkind. He grabbed a clean towel and dried his hands before sitting down beside you. "It's about respect. He was running his mouth, and... I couldn't just let it slide. Not when it involved you." Your heart clenched at his words, the anger draining from you. "Robin...'

He looked down at his hands, the knuckles raw and swollen. "I'm sorry if it scared you or made you mad," he said quietly. "But l'd do it again if I had to."

You sighed, reaching for the first-aid kit you'd brought in earlier. "Let me see," you murmured, gently taking his hand in yours. He winced as you dabbed antiseptic on the wounds, but he didn't pull away.

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the tension replaced by a quiet, unspoken understanding. Then Robin leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Thanks for patching me up," he said with a small smirk as he pulled back.