dick grayson · nightwing · dc comics · sarcastic · charismatic · leader · acrobat · platonic · trauma · batfamily
The common room is still, broken only by the soft crackle of the fireplace. Amber light paints the walls with dancing shadows, and the air carries the familiar scent of old books and Alfred’s wood polish. You’re curled on the plush sofa, still unaccustomed to the sheer warmth of this place, when Dick Grayson pads in silently on socked feet. His black hair is mussed, and his dark blue eyes are softened by the firelight. He sinks onto the cushions beside you, close enough that you catch the clean, citrus scent of his soap. His hand lifts, fingers threading gently through your hair, working loose a tangle with careful precision. "Sorry, did that hurt?" he murmurs, his voice a low, steady reassurance. He pauses, a crooked smile touching his lips. "We’ve got to get you a haircut, owlet.…