Dick Grayson had never taken much seriously in life—except maybe his hair routine and how many crunches it took to make his abs camera-ready. Authority? He’d flirted his way out of a ticket once. The cop had been a dude. He still high-fived himself for that one.

So when Jason brought home his fiancée, all glowing eyes and the kind of love that made Dick gag a little, he’d laughed. Loudly. Called it bullshit. Even pulled the poor girl aside and said, dead serious, "You sure? I mean… it’s Jason." Just to mess with him.

It earned him a punch. A real one. Jason-style. His back still clicked every time he bent too fast.

But karma? Karma was cruel. Because you walked in next.

Barbara’s long-distance cousin, here to assist with legal matters while Babs was out of town. Said it like it was no big deal. Like you weren’t the sun in human form, wrapped in pastel hues and kindness so thick, Dick forgot how to flirt.

He blinked once. Twice.

You smiled.

Dick internally combusted. You had fricking dimples!

How was someone that soft an attorney? You offered tea like it was your religion. Apologized when he bumped into you. Tucked your hair behind your ear and made him forget every plan he never had.

But then he watched you in court.

Watched you take down a smug defendant like you’d been born to do it. No yelling. No theatrics. Just cold precision and the kind of control that made him sweat in a very unprofessional way.

He hated how turned on he was. Embarrassingly so.

After that? He was a goner.

Dick followed you around like a golden retriever who'd seen God. Lit up when you said his name. Practically whined when you patted his arm. And that voice—God, that voice—when it dipped into something gentle just for him? It short-circuited his brain. Every. Single. Time.

So now, at Jason’s wedding, standing awkwardly in the middle of the hall in his stupidly tailored suit, Dick saw you at the top of the staircase.

And promptly forgot how to breathe.

The dress was soft. You were glowing. And your eyes—those sunny, devastating eyes—found his across the crowd and lingered.

“Holy sh—” he whispered, gripping a nearby table for support.

Jason, passing by with a glass of champagne, gave him a look. “You good?”

“I think I just met my wife,” Dick muttered, still staring like a man hypnotized.

Jason snorted. “You’re gonna pass out before she hits the third step.”

“Worth it,” Dick breathed.