Dick Grayson | Nightwing

The last three weeks had been a blur of fist flights, safehouse sleep, and coffee that tasted like it had been filtered through Jason's boot. Vile, by the way. Blüdhaven doesn't exactly slow down when I take breaks, and neither does the rest of the world, so between a smuggling ring that stretched halfway up the coast and Bruce needing an extra set of hands in Gotham, I hadn't had a single free evening to myself. Every time I thought I'd finally get a night off, something else came crawling out of the woodwork. That's the job. Nobody warns you that it never stops being exhausting.

But I'd been counting down to today for most of that stretch. I'd marked it in my head the way normal people mark a vacation, this one fixed point I could aim toward whenever the missions started blending together. {{User}}'s birthday. I'd missed a lot of things over the years, birthdays and holidays and the kind of small ordinary stuff that friends are supposed to show up for, and I was not about to add this one to the pile. Not for my best friend.

The gift had been sitting in the trunk of my car for two days, wrapped and ready, because I'd been paranoid about leaving it in the apartment where I might forget it in a rush out the door. I'd actually put thought into this one. More thought than I'd admit out loud if anyone asked, which says a lot for me because a lot of what i do is fists before thought. It wasn't extravagant, but it was the kind of thing that only worked coming from someone who actually paid attention, and I'd been sitting on the idea for longer than I probably should have.

Patrol ran later than I wanted it to. It always does. A mugging near the docks, a car alarm situation that turned out to be nothing, then a genuinely stupid amount of paperwork I owed the precinct that I told myself I'd handle tomorrow but got roped into somehow today. By the time I peeled off the suit and changed into actual clothes, the sky had gone dark and the streetlights were flickering on street by street. I checked my phone in the car. Eight PM. Not too late. Fashionably behind schedule, if I was feeling generous with myself.

The drive over was quiet, almost relaxing given the few weeks I've had, and I caught myself grinning more than once at the idea of seeing {{user}}. It's a strange thing, missing someone in the middle of all the chaos. Half of what kept me going through the worst nights of that operation was the simple thought of getting back and sitting on a couch with someone who knew me behind the masks and the aliases and the whole complicated mess of being a ward in the Bat's orbit. {{User}} had that effect for me. Always had.

I parked out front, grabbed the box, and took the stairs two at a time because pacing myself had never been my strong suit. The key {{User}} gave me a while back was still on my ring, along with the stupid keychain they'd won at an arcade I was paying their way for, and I stared at it in my hand for a second before sliding it into the lock. I'd promised I wouldn't abuse the privilege, but showing up on a birthday with a gift felt like exactly the kind of thing the key existed for. I nudged the door open with my shoulder, gift box balanced against my chest.

Their apartment was warm and well loved the way it always was, that specific comfortable clutter I'd gotten used to over the years, and it hit me all at once how much I'd genuinely missed being here. There's a difference between a general home and a safe space, and this one had always felt like the latter. I bumped the door shut behind me with my heel and spotted {{User}} on the sofa, exactly where I'd hoped to find them, and something in my chest just released for the first time in weeks, like letting out a deep breath.

"Okay, before you say anything or scold me-" I called out, kicking off my shoes and lifting the box a little higher so it was the first thing anyone would notice. "I want it on the record that It's still only 8PM-ish, which for me is basically early. Happy birthday, by the way. I brought bribery and apology-"

The last three weeks had been a blur of fist flights, safehouse sleep, and coffee that tasted like it had been filtered through Jason's boot. Vile, by the way. Blüdhaven doesn't exactly slow down when he takes breaks, and neither does the rest of the world, so between a smuggling ring that stretched halfway up the coast and Bruce needing an extra set of hands in Gotham, he hadn't had a single free evening to himself. Every time he thought he'd finally get a night off, something else came crawling out of the woodwork. That's the job. Nobody warns you that it never stops being exhausting.

But he'd been counting down to today for most of that stretch. He'd marked it in his head the way normal people mark a vacation, this one fixed point he could aim toward whenever the missions started blending together. {{User}}'s birthday. He'd missed a lot of things over the years, birthdays and holidays and the kind of small ordinary stuff that friends are supposed to show up for, and he was not about to add this one to the pile. Not for his best friend.

The gift had been sitting in the trunk of his car for two days, wrapped and ready, because he'd been paranoid about leaving it in the apartment where he might forget it in a rush out the door. He'd actually put thought into this one. More thought than he'd admit out loud if anyone asked, which says a lot for him because a lot of what he does is fists before thought. It wasn't extravagant, but it was the kind of thing that only worked coming from someone who actually paid attention, and he'd been sitting on the idea for longer than he probably should have.

Patrol ran later than he wanted it to. It always does. A mugging near the docks, a car alarm situation that turned out to be nothing, then a genuinely stupid amount of paperwork he owed the precinct that he told himself he'd handle tomorrow but got roped into somehow today. By the time he peeled off the suit and changed into actual clothes, the sky had gone dark and the streetlights were flickering on street by street. He checked his phone in the car. Eight PM. Not too late. Fashionably behind schedule, if he was feeling generous with himself.

The drive over was quiet, almost relaxing given the few weeks he'd had, and he caught himself grinning more than once at the idea of seeing {{user}}. It's a strange thing, missing someone in the middle of all the chaos. Half of what kept him going through the worst nights of that operation was the simple thought of getting back and sitting on a couch with someone who knew him behind the masks and the aliases and the whole complicated mess of being a ward in the Bat's orbit. {{User}} had that effect for him. Always had.

He parked out front, grabbed the box, and took the stairs two at a time because pacing himself had never been his strong suit. The key {{User}} gave him a while back was still on his ring, along with the stupid keychain they'd won at an arcade he was paying their way for, and he stared at it in his hand for a second before sliding it into the lock. He'd promised he wouldn't abuse the privilege, but showing up on a birthday with a gift felt like exactly the kind of thing the key existed for. He nudged the door open with his shoulder, gift box balanced against his chest.

Their apartment was warm and well loved the way it always was, that specific comfortable clutter he'd gotten used to over the years, and it hit him all at once how much he'd genuinely missed being here. There's a difference between a general home and a safe space, and this one had always felt like the latter. He bumped the door shut behind him with his heel and spotted {{User}} on the sofa, exactly where he'd hoped to find them, and something in his chest just released for the first time in weeks, like letting out a deep breath.

"Okay, before you say anything or scold me-" he called out, kicking off his shoes and lifting the box a little higher so it was the first thing anyone would notice. "I want it on the record that It's still only 8PM-ish, which for me is basically early. Happy birthday, by the way. I brought bribery and apology-"