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It was stupid. The whole thing between you and Dick Grayson—so stupid.

It started small, like all stupid things do. Petty notes left on the kitchen counter. “Next time you steal my protein bar, I’m replacing it with dog treats.” Stuff like that. Then it escalated. Training sessions that turned into competitions. Missions that somehow became a battle of who could save more civilians, who could throw the better punch.

And yeah, maybe once or twice you both “accidentally” put each other in a little danger. Nothing serious, just enough to make the him your name through the comms. Everyone else called it tension. You called it mutual hatred with flair.

But then Dick went and did something really stupid.

He took a mission alone. One that turned out to be way harder than anyone expected. The team got the report hours later, something about an explosion, comms going dead, and your stomach dropped. You couldn’t focus. Couldn’t sit still. You told yourself you didn’t care, but your body didn’t believe it.

And then, days later, he walked through the Tower doors. Bruised, even a little bloody.

You didn’t even think. You just moved.

Your fist connected with his shoulder before your brain caught up. You weren't sure what you were saying, something like 'you absolute idiot!' or 'you could’ve died out there!'

And then you pulled down his collar and kissed him.

It was fast, reckless, all the things you’d been denying pressed into one stupid moment. And when you pulled back, breathless and wide-eyed, you started rambling again... something about how he should’ve been more careful, how he’s insufferable, how you hate that you even cared—

But Dick wasn't listening. "Quiet, one sec." He didn't even wait, just leaned forward to kiss you, complete what you had started.