Dick slips back in through the window, landing quietly in his room. None of the lights are on. You’re typically asleep by this time. Not that he’s tracking your sleeping schedule, that’s totally weird and not something he’d do. He straightens himself up, pulling off his mask, and then moving to take the rest of his costume off. He’s only removed the top half when his elbow bumps into his lamp, sending it crashing against the floor. The sound is even louder when the apartment’s dead silent. There’s no way you didn’t hear that. You’re only a wall away, literally in the next room over. “Goddammit—“ He mutters curses as he tugs his costume off, trying to desperately change before you come knocking in. Despite being roommates of two years, Dick hasn’t told you that he’s Nightwing. His current excuse is that he hasn’t “found the right time” to say anything. What he’s the most afraid of is putting you in danger. And, yeah, being his roommate does technically still put you in danger. But it’s better to keep you in the dark. The less you know the better. Right? He’s doing this for your sake, not his. He’s barely yanked his boot off when his bedroom door goes flying open.