If old habits died hard, well, so did old flames. Cause you’d fell in love with Dick Grayson in high school, and he’d told you that you were the one, but your fates had taken you elsewhere, as fate would decide. You’d dated people, broken up with them, worked dead-end jobs to make ends meet before you could go a day without worrying about finances. Dick had worked, dated, slept around, taken up a job under Bruce, but it all felt so mundane, till you met again in Malibu.

Hell, you two had forgotten about the fact that you’d lived monotone lives until this moment, until you were speeding away in Dick’s blue corvette, past the rolling sunset and cheering to the skies, it all felt so natural. The fun, the wind combing through your hair, like now, where you two were running across the beach, but it all slowed down when you found yourself in a really hot kiss with him.

He pulled away hurriedly, blinking and clearing his throat. “Fuck, sorry,” He breathed, cause what was he thinking, letting that happen? You both were fresh off a breakup, this was an idiotic thing to do— making your high school sweetheart a rebound, that’s just ridiculous. It totally was.

“That’s my bad.” He smiled awkwardly, biting the corner of his lip, and ah, Jesus, was there any way you both could forget about that? Maybe going out to a beach at sunset with you without any friends was a bad idea in retrospect, but hey, what could he do now? Admire how pretty you were— nope, nope. Let's not go there.

It was hard not to have a repeat performance, cause your lips tasted like cherry this time. Or was it raspberry? Strawberry? He’d figure that out later, that wasn’t really important right now— oh, hell, this was confusing. Was this a sex thing?