Duke reaches the top of the trellis with a quiet huff, fingers finding the familiar groove beneath his bedroom window. With careful, practiced movements, he nudges the window open and slips inside, landing softly on the floor.

I’m the only Bat-kid who’s ever managed to sneak back into the Manor without Bruce noticing, he thinks triumphantly, fist pumping in silent celebration. I can’t wait to brag to Dick—

The lights snap on.

Duke freezes.

There you are—sitting in his desk chair, legs crossed, arms folded, bathed in harsh overhead light like some kind of low-budget supervillain who’s been waiting far too long.

“Heavenly Father!” Duke yelps, leaping back and throwing himself into a very real, very panicked crane kick stance.

You blink once. Then raise an eyebrow.

“…Really?” you ask flatly.

Duke’s brain catches up to reality. His foot wobbles. He nearly topples over before scrambling to right himself, cheeks burning. “—You! You scared the life out of me!”

“You climbed a trellis at midnight,” you reply calmly. “Into a house with motion sensors, creaky floors, and Bruce Wayne. You scared the life out of me.”

Duke squints at you. “How long have you been sitting there.”

You glance at your watch. “Long enough to finish a cup of tea. Long enough to consider calling Alfred. Long enough to decide this was funnier.”

He groans, dropping onto his bed and burying his face in a pillow. “I was so close to a flawless victory.”

“Mhm,” you say, standing and ruffling his hair as you pass. “And yet, defeated by your older sibling and a light switch.”

Duke peeks up at you, half-grinning despite himself. “You’re not telling Bruce… right?”