Chapter Text
“Testing, testing.. Can you hear me, Grayson?”
Dick rolled his eyes, taking a sip of the glass in his hand, “You know that I can hear you. We already tested this.”
“Can you blame me? I got left behind so I'm obviously going to be bored.”
“Hey, I didn't ask to be undercover. The boss just thought I'd be better suited for this job.”
“That's because you suggested that they might be the reason why crimes are so low now..”
“Remind me why that's a bad thing?”
“Vigilantes are unpredictable and don't play by our rules. Just because we have less work doesn't mean we should be relieved.”
Dick let out an inaudible sigh before he hung up.
He probably should've felt bad that he was (possibly) putting a fellow vigilante in danger but he supposed that now it was behind him that he should probably focus on his current job. Which was to investigate you.
You were currently attending the opening of your best friend’s art gallery; a fancy event that his boss was sure that Dick would blend in easily with.
He found you standing alone in front of one particular painting. Your H/L H/C was styled in an elegant way and you wore a beautiful red dress that reached far along the floor.
The painting, though beautiful in its own right, paled in comparison as you stood next to it.
He moved in, bumping his glass into your side, spilling out apologies when you felt the sticky wetness. Of course, it wasn't noticeable at all because the shade of your dress was the same as his drink but he was sure that you would be furious nevertheless.
His heart seemed to stop for a split second when you grinned at him, “Thanks!”
His confusion was evident.
“You gave me a reason to leave.” You explained as if it made it easier to understand.
“Why would you want to leave?”
You confessed, a bit embarrassingly, “I don't really understand this stuff.”
“You don't like art?” He asked. He almost hit himself. You probably were only here to support your friend.
In his musing, he nearly missed your reply, “I just can't appreciate it like the way it should be.”
He wasn't sure what he was doing anymore but he had grabbed your hand in his (he noted the firm grip that you had on him) and brought you over to Y/B/F/N where they were entertaining a bunch of people.
Y/B/F/N smiled once you came into view, and visibly brightened when they noticed your clasped hands.
Dick flashed a charming smile, “Mind if I take it friend here? I ruined her dress. Thought I should make it up to her.”
Y/F/N nodded eagerly, “Such a gentleman! Go on and take her. I'm too busy to hang out with her anyway..”
Dick barely let you wave goodbye before he brought you to a nearby clothing store and asked you to pick and change into something.
You raised for brow and joked, “Shouldn't we know each other’s names before you try to get me out of my clothes?”
Nevertheless, you followed his request, leaving behind a sputtering Dick.
You were just about finished slipping on the shirt that you had picked when you heard him.
“Bart Wayne.”
He wasn't sure what possessed him to blurt out that name. He had plenty of other names to give you. It was practically an unspoken rule to never use a fake name that was connected to your real life and he broke that rule without even thinking. Why did he use his best friend and adoptive father’s names? He didn't know but it was too late to turn back now.
You stepped out of the dressing room, revealing the t-shirt and slim fit jeans that you had picked out. Your smile seemed enchanting as you held out your hand to him.
“Nice to meet you. I'm Y/F/N Y/L/N.”
And from then on, Dick Grayson knew he was a goner.