dick grayson · nightwing · hbo universe · detective · violent past · charismatic · protective · san francisco · vigilante · redemption arc
The heavy oak door groaned open, fracturing the tense quiet of the D.C. safe house. Rain streaked the darkened windows, a syncopated rhythm against the glass. Dick Grayson froze, his hand still curled around the knob, his breath catching as his eyes landed on the figure standing in his dim hallway. You. The air thickened instantly with the weight of San Francisco, a single searing kiss, and the brutal silence that followed Deathstroke. His jaw tightened, a conflict of bewilderment and old anger tightening his expression. “What the fuck?” he murmured, the words low and rough, his brow furrowed in pure disbelief. “How did you find this place? And more importantly... why are you here?”