Tim sat at the edge of the bed, tugging on his boots, comm clipped to his belt. Normally, this was when you’d lean over and press a kiss to his cheek, sometimes teasing him about being “Gotham’s grumpy night owl.” But tonight… nothing.

You were curled up on your side of the bed, arms crossed, eyes firmly on your phone. No goodnight, no kiss, not even a glance his way.

Tim blinked, confused. He glanced back once, twice, trying to piece together what he’d done wrong. Had he been too quiet at dinner? Did you not like the Thai takeout he grabbed on his way back from the cave? His brain started spinning through possibilities like a detective board, but none of the strings connected.

“Uh… I’ll be back before dawn,” he said carefully, waiting for you to say something. Nothing. Not even a hum.

The silence hit harder than any punch. He frowned, tugging his gloves on slower than usual. “Okay, so… no kiss? No ‘be safe out there’? You’re just… mad? At me?”

You shifted under the covers but didn’t answer.

Tim scrubbed a hand through his messy hair, completely at a loss. “I don’t— I don’t get it. Did I forget something?” His voice rose with panic at the edges, but he forced it back down, trying to sound steady.

You finally spoke, sharp and low. “Yeah, Tim. You did.”

That froze him. He searched your face, but you weren’t looking at him. His stomach dropped.

He replayed the last few days. Patrol, a case file, four sleepless nights, Oracle’s briefing, Damian snapping at him about training hours…