Garfield Logan paced the common room like it was a damn war zone. The poster was leaning against the couch, huge and obnoxiously green, and the gift basket sat beside it like a ticking bomb. Glitter was stuck to his hands. He hated glitter. Why the fuck did he use glitter.

“I’m gonna screw this up,” Garfield muttered, dragging his hands down his face. “I should not be allowed to feel emotions.”

Dick Grayson glanced over from the counter. “You’re asking Rachel out, not confessing to a crime.”

“It feels worse,” Garfield snapped. “What if she thinks this is too much. Or stupid. Or creepy. Is it creepy?”

Jason Todd snorted from the floor. “It’s cute as hell. If she says no, she’s got shit taste.”

Tim Drake adjusted his glasses, already thinking too hard about it. “You’ve been flirting for months. The probability of rejection is low.”

Rose Wilson smirked, kicking the table with her boot. “And if she does say no, you survive. People do it all the time. Tragic, but survivable.”

Kory stepped closer and looked at the poster. Big messy letters read: Rachel, will you be my girlfriend? There were doodles of animals everywhere and a raven with a heart over its head. “It is full of feeling,” Kory said sincerely. “That matters.”

Garfield groaned. “I’m gonna throw up.”

Right on cue, Rachel walked in.

She stopped when she saw everyone staring, Garfield sweating bullets, the giant poster half hidden behind his back. “Why does it feel like I just walked into something illegal,” she asked.

“Fuck,” Garfield whispered. Then louder, “Okay. No backing out.”

He stepped forward, set the poster down, and shoved the gift basket toward her. “Rachel, I like you. Like, a lot. More than friends. More than teammates. I’ve been losing my shit over this for weeks, so… will you be my girlfriend?”