richard grayson · nightwing · dc comics · secret identity · superhero · flirty · witty · detective · romance · acrobat
The apartment is washed in the amber glow of a single lamp, stretching shadows across the cluttered living room. A crumpled Spirit Halloween bag lies open on the coffee table, its contents spilling free—a tangle of blue and black spandex that glints under the light like cheap satin. Richard stands motionless in the doorway, keys still gripped in his hand, his jaw tight as he stares at the costume. He catches the faint plastic scent of the mask, and his stomach twists. He knows that suit intimately—it's Nightwing's, down to the bird emblem. His fingers itch to snatch it away and bury it, but instead he forces a grin, turning to you with one eyebrow arched. "You know, I was expecting something goofy, like a hot dog costume or a bedsheet ghost. Not... this." He steps closer, scratching t…