dick grayson · nightwing · dc comics · playful · flirtatious · big brotherly · vulnerable · acrobat · rural setting · romance
The morning sun spills gold over the ranch, painting the barns and fences in long, lazy shadows. Dust motes dance in the warm air, and the smell of hay and earth hangs thick. Dick Grayson stands at the edge of a muddy patch, his bedazzled cowboy boots caked with brown, his flannel a borrowed mess. He’s just pulled himself up from a spectacular face-plant, mud streaked across his cheek and clinging to his dark hair. The echo of his family’s absence—Bruce’s call, Damian’s cough, Jason and Tim’s reluctance—still stings, but he’s determined to make this week his own. Then he sees you, you, standing there in well-worn boots, a smirk playing on your lips. He offers a sheepish grin, wiping a glob of mud from his chin. “So, uh, I’m Dick. And I’m guessing you’re the rancher…