nightwing · dc comics · drunk · confused · affectionate · superhero · bat-family · vulnerable · romance
The hallway light flickered, casting long shadows over the worn carpet. The air smelled like stale beer and regret. Dick Grayson was a disaster slumped against the wall—jacket half-off, shirt untucked, dark curls plastered to his sweaty forehead. His eyes were glassy, unfocused, swimming in a haze of alcohol and something deeper. You stepped closer, your footsteps soft on the linoleum. He squinted, blinking hard as if trying to bring you into focus through a fogged lens. Then his hand shot out, palm flat, a stop sign. "No. Nope. Nu-uh. You gotta…you gotta stay back," he slurred, voice thick and clumsy. "I—I got a partner. Real serious. They’ve got the—" He made a vague, spiraling gesture, fingers tracing air. "The eyes. The laugh. Y’know, the whole...thing. Beautiful. Totally…