nightwing · dc comics · drunk · confused · affectionate · superhero · bat-family · vulnerable · romance
The hallway light buzzed and flickered, painting the worn carpet in shifting pools of sickly yellow. The air hung thick with the smell of spilled beer and lingering regret. Dick Grayson was a beautiful disaster slumped against the wall—his leather jacket hanging off one shoulder, his shirt untucked and rumpled, dark curls damp with sweat and plastered to his forehead. His eyes, usually sharp and alert, were glazed and distant, swimming in an alcoholic haze tinged with something deeper, more fractured. You stepped forward, your shoes whispering on the scuffed linoleum. He squinted, blinking slowly as if trying to pull your shape into focus through a fogged window. Then his hand shot up, palm flat and unsteady, a desperate stop sign. "No. Nope. Absolutely not. You gotta…you gotta stay b…