Worth the Risk - Dick Grayson
Being the Police Chief’s daughter means every cop in the precinct treats you like you’re made of glass—except Officer Dick Grayson. He’s smart, charming, infuriatingly handsome…and completely off-limits. (your dad keeps threatening him)
Your dad loved his job. Which unfortunately meant you often ended up at the precinct after university, waiting in his office with a soda while he “just finished one more report.” Though in truth you knew he was hoping you'd give up on your current career goals and join the police unit.
The only silver lining? Officer Dick Grayson.
Tall. Gorgeous. The bluest eyes you’d ever seen. And the kind of smile that made half the precinct stop in their tracks.
You tried everything. Leaning on his desk just long enough to “chat.” Laughing too loud at his jokes. Bringing him coffee “by accident.” Even praising him to your dad at dinner. “Dad, Officer Grayson is so dedicated, don’t you think? Like, really responsible and…hard-working." and your dad would give you a weird look "Why are you telling me this?"
"I think we should invite him to dinner"
But nothing.
Not a date. Not even a hint. Just that maddeningly polite smile and a “Good to see you” every single time.
You were going insane.
Because it wasn’t like you were imagining the sparks. You caught him looking at you sometimes—like, really looking. He’d hold your gaze for a second too long before jerking away, pretending to focus on a stack of boring papers. And once, when you’d bumped into him in the hallway, his hand on your elbow lingered just a second longer than necessary.
So why wasn’t he asking you out?!
You started to rant about it in your dad’s office, pacing while he typed away. “Dad, Dick Grayson is infuriating. He’s smart, he’s funny, he’s—like, Olympic-level hot. And he’s ignoring me. Completely ignoring me.”
Your dad barely looked up. “Good.”
“Good?!”
“Means he’s got common sense. I’m not letting my best officer date my daughter.”
You groaned and flopped into the chair. “You’re ruining my life.”
You always knew your dad was protective. What you didn’t know? He was threatening Officer Grayson on a near-daily basis.
“Look at her and you’re fired.” “She’s my daughter, Grayson. My daughter.” “You so much as breathe in her direction and you’re out on the street.”
Classic dad stuff.
Dick had tried to play it cool. Smile, nod, keep his head down. But the problem was—he liked you. No, scratch that, he had a huge crush on you. Always had. Ever since you breezed into the precinct with coffee and sunshine, leaning on his desk just to talk, laughing at his lame jokes, calling him “Officer Hotshot” when you thought your dad wasn’t listening.
And of course, your dad was listening. He overheard Dick admit to another cop that he liked you and nearly put the man in the ground. Since then? Dick’s life had been a never-ending parade of death threats with paperwork stapled on top.
So, naturally, when circumstances landed the two of you alone in a patrol car together, Dick was sweating bullets.
Your dad had gone storming off after a suspect, leaving Dick to “stay with the kid.” (his 21+ kid mind you) The second the car door shut, Dick realized he was trapped in the worst situation of his life: thirty minutes alone with the girl of his dreams, who also happened to be the chief’s daughter.
You leaned across the seat, smirking. “You’re awfully quiet, Grayson. Usually, you at least pretend to lecture me about seatbelts or something.”
“Uh,” Dick cleared his throat, gripping the wheel like it might save him, “just…focused. You know. Vigilant. Standard procedure.”
“Vigilant?” you teased, your voice low and sweet. “What exactly are you being vigilant about? The empty street? Or me?”
Dick nearly choked. His brain short-circuited. Because on one hand: you’re clearly flirting. On the other hand: your father will absolutely murder me and probably bury my badge with me.
You lowered your voice so it was just for him: “Because if it’s me…you don’t have to pretend you’re not looking. I want you to look.”
He could either:
Finally make a move and end up dead/fired,
Or keep suffering in silence while you sat there, laughing and gorgeous, pretending not to notice how much he stared at you.
And really, it was ridiculous. He was Nightwing. He fought gunrunners, mob bosses, Killer Croc. He wasn’t scared of anyone—except maybe your dad.
Dick shifted in his seat, cheeks burning. “You—you really shouldn’t…”
You leaned closer, eyes glinting. “Shouldn’t what, Officer Grayson?”
He swallowed hard. His hands were clammy. His heart was hammering. He could feel your dad’s voice in his head—‘Look at her, I’ll kill you.’
And yet, when your hand brushed his on the console, something in him cracked.
Because miserable silence was no way to live.
The tension in the squad car was unbearable. You were leaning toward Dick, your face so close to his, that boyish blush lighting up his face…
And then your dad yanked open the driver’s side door.
“Suspect’s in custody,” the Chief barked, shoving a very unhappy guy in handcuffs into the backseat. He gave Dick a pointed look, one that made his blood run cold. “Grayson. Backseat.”
Dick blinked. “Sir?”
“You heard me. Sit with him. Keep an eye out.”
“But—I usually ride shotgun, I—”
“Now, Grayson.”
Dick swallowed the thousand protests bubbling in his throat, forcing a polite smile while inside he was screaming. “Yes, sir.”
He climbed out of the passenger seat just as your dad slid in behind the wheel. You, of course, stayed where you were—right up front, exactly where Dick wanted to be. He tried not to groan out loud as he got into the back, wedged between the door and a guy who smelled like cigarettes and bad life choices.
The suspect smirked at him. “Rough night, officer?”
“Don’t,” Dick muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.
From the front seat, you glanced back over your shoulder, hiding your grin. “You okay back there, Grayson?” you asked sweetly.
Dick’s jaw clenched. “Peachy.”
Your dad, meanwhile, was radiating smug satisfaction, knuckles tapping the steering wheel like a man who’d just won the lottery. His daughter was safe in the passenger seat. His officer with a not-so-secret crush was stuck babysitting a criminal in the back. Order restored.
But when you caught Dick’s eye in the rearview mirror and gave him a little wink, his heart about exploded.
Being threatened by the chief of police? Totally survivable. Being teased by you? That might actually kill him first.
The rooftop bar was buzzing, fairy lights strung above you like a net of stars. Your girlfriends clinked glasses around you, their voices rising over the music.
“You need to forget about Officer Grayson,” one of them said bluntly, flipping her hair. “If he hasn’t asked you out by now, he’s not going to.”
“Seriously,” another chimed in. “He’s cute, sure, but he’s just some cop. You can do better. Richer. Less…uptight.”
You tried to laugh it off, but their words sank in deeper than you wanted to admit. Maybe they were right. Maybe all your hints and smiles and hours at the precinct desk had been for nothing.
So when one of the guys from the bar—a smooth-talking, well-dressed type with an expensive watch and a sharper smile—leaned in and bought you another drink, you let him. And when he suggested finding a quieter spot, you followed.
Now the two of you were tucked in the corner of the rooftop, away from your friends, city lights glittering below. He leaned close, whispering jokes in your ear, brushing his hand a little too comfortably against your arm. You laughed—because that’s what you were supposed to do—even though it didn’t quite reach your eyes.
Then, movement flickered across the skyline. A shadow cutting between buildings, fast and fluid, with the faintest flash of blue. Your breath caught.
For a second, you swore you saw…a hero. Nightwing, maybe. Or just your imagination running wild after too many late nights scrolling Gotham gossip. You shook it off. Crazy.
“Want to get out of here?” the guy asked, his grin slick, hand inching closer to yours.
You hesitated. A dozen thoughts ran through your head, none of them the right ones. Finally, you gave a tight smile. “Yeah. Sure. Let’s just…go.”
Because maybe you just wanted to go home. To forget about Dick Grayson, your stupid crush.
But what you didn’t know—what you couldn’t know—was that someone else was already watching from the shadows, jaw clenched, every muscle taut with jealousy and protective fury.
Nightwing had been on patrol. And the moment he saw you laughing with someone else, leaning into another guy’s space…he nearly lost his mind.
Now the two of you were walking down a quieter street, city lights glittering in puddles along the pavement. The hum of the rooftop bar faded behind you, replaced by the buzz of a neon sign and the distant wail of a siren.
The man beside you was…fine. Charming enough. Polished shoes, expensive watch, He cracked jokes easily, leaning in when you laughed, his confidence filling every pause.
“I’ve gotta say,” he drawled, flashing you a grin, “I don’t usually get this lucky at rooftop bars. You’re gorgeous, smart, and you laughed at my terrible stockbroker joke. That’s basically wife material right there.”
Maybe this was what you needed. Someone who noticed you, who didn’t shy away or look at you like you were untouchable. Though on the other hand, maybe this was too much.
You blinked, laughing despite yourself. “You’re kidding.”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” he asked, leaning in with a sly grin. “Trust me, I’ve got the portfolio to back it up. And between us? You deserve someone who spoils you.”
You arched a brow. “And let me guess—you’re volunteering for the job?”
“Damn right I am.” He winked. “So how about we skip the small talk and let me prove it? we can head to my place”
And then, without warning, the shadows shifted.
Something blurred overhead, cutting across the rooftop line. A sharp crack of a grappling line snapping taut—
Whip.
Before you could even blink, the man beside you was ripped off his feet. He flew backward with a startled cry, hitting the ground hard and skidding across the asphalt.
“Wha—?!” he yelped, scrambling to his knees, palms scraped, eyes wide in shock.
You gasped, whipping around—
And there he was.
A dark silhouette dropped from above, landing with impossible grace, escrima sticks twirling lazily in his hands. The streetlight caught on the bold blue symbol across his chest, the faint gleam of a domino mask.
Nightwing.
Your breath caught in your throat.
His stance was loose but his voice? Razor-sharp. “She’s not interested.”
The poor man held his hands up, stammering. “I was just—! I didn’t even—!”
Nightwing’s glare cut through him like a blade. He didn’t need to raise his voice. The silence was enough.
And that was all it took—the man bolted, stumbling to his feet and sprinting down the block, his expensive shoes slapping against wet pavement as though the devil himself was on his heels.
You stood frozen for a long beat, your heart hammering in your chest. Then, slowly, you turned to the vigilante still standing in the glow of the streetlight.
“…Did you just,” you said, half-shocked, half incredulous, “send a guy flying for flirting with me?”
Nightwing spun a stick once, casual, like he hadn’t just committed aggravated assault on Wall Street’s finest. “He had the look of a street criminal.”
You blinked. Then, despite yourself, laughter burst out of you, ringing down the empty street. “Street criminal? He works in finance, probably. His worst crime is overcharging his clients, horrible flirting skills and wearing cologne that could kill a houseplant.”
His smirk curved wider, sharp and bitter. “Suspicious enough for me.”
You doubled over slightly, still laughing. “Unbelievable. Gotham gets Batman, Metropolis gets Superman, and me? I get Nightwing—Defender of Women From Men Who Buy Them Drinks.”
He tilted his head, deadpan but with a glint in his eyes. “I take my job very seriously. You don't know what he was planning”
You shook your head, grinning in spite of the absurdity, hugging yourself against the cool night air. “Well, gee thanks. I guess I owe you one.”
For the first time, the sharpness in his shoulders eased. His eyes softened behind the mask, though his heart was still hammering. He’d seen you smile at that guy, laugh at his jokes. It was nothing, he knew—but it had lit a fire in his chest he couldn’t smother.
“Be careful who you walk home with,” he said quietly, his voice dropping into something gentler, almost intimate.
You arched a brow, stepping past him, your smirk playful. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you watching over me, right?”
He froze, like the words had struck him somewhere deep. For a second, he forgot how to breathe. Then, so soft you almost didn’t catch it, he murmured, “Always.”
You gave him one last curious glance before disappearing into the glow of the streetlamps.
And in the shadows, Nightwing stood unmoving, escrima stick loose in his grip, jaw tight.
It was ridiculous. The man hadn’t even done anything wrong. Just a harmless flirt.
But jealousy? Jealousy was a hell of a thing.
And if he wasn’t careful, one day it would give him away.
The next afternoon at the precinct felt…different.
Usually, you made a point of drifting by Dick Grayson’s desk, dropping a smile, a comment, maybe even leaning over just a little too close. But today? You didn’t.
You sat in your dad’s office instead, dutifully filing reports while the sound of ringing phones and clattering keyboards filled the bullpen outside. If Officer Grayson wasn’t interested, fine. You’d stop embarrassing yourself.
Except Dick noticed immediately.
The second he walked in, coffee in hand, he realized something was missing—you. No smile, no teasing, no quick comment about his tie. Just…silence.
he couldn’t take it anymore.
He found you in your dad’s office, crouched by a filing cabinet. You glanced up in surprise as he leaned casually against the doorway, that boyish grin tugging at his mouth.
“Well, well,” he said, arms crossed. “So this is where you’ve been hiding.”
You blinked. “…I’m not hiding.”
“Chief’s got you working hard, huh?” Dick leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, smile tugging at his lips. “Guess that explains why my desk feels so lonely today.”
You blinked. “Your desk?”
“Yeah.” He strolled in like he owned the place, perching on the edge of your dad’s desk. “I kept waiting for the highlight of my day to show up, and when she didn’t, I thought maybe I’d been stood up.”
You snorted, trying to play it cool, though your heart thumped a little faster. “I figured I’d give you a break. Didn’t want to annoy you.”
“Annoy me?” His grin softened into something warmer. “Trust me, you couldn’t if you tried.”
You were over the moon, trying not to let it show too much. “Really? Because I thought you didn’t like me.”
“I had to keep my cool. Do you have any idea how distracting you are when you’re hanging around my desk, twirling your hair, smiling at me like that?”
Your mouth dropped open. Heat rushed to your face. “I—I wasn’t—”
“Yes, you were,” he said softly, eyes glinting. “And I liked it.”
At that, the grin faltered. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish. “No, I…God, no. I like you. A lot.” He glanced toward the closed door, then lowered his voice. “Your dad’s just been…making it pretty clear that if I so much as looked at you, I’d be out of a job.”
Your jaw dropped. “He what?”
“Threats, lectures, the whole nine yards,” Dick admitted with a groan. “Every day it’s: ‘Grayson, you’re too young, too reckless, too not-my-daughter’s-type.’” He spread his hands, helpless. “He’s terrifying.”
You sat back against the cabinet, stunned, then slowly grinned. “So you didn’t ignore me because you weren’t interested…”
“…I ignored you because I was interested.”
You laughed, the sound bubbling out of you like relief. “Unbelievable. My dad has been cockblocking me.”
Dick chuckled, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “So what do you say we make it official? Go on a date. No precinct, no filing cabinets. Just you and me.”
Your smile was bright enough to light up the room. “Finally. Took you long enough.”
He grinned, boyish and a little nervous, but his voice was steady when he said, “Worth the wait.”
The night had gone perfectly. Dinner, laughter, the way Dick leaned across the table like he actually couldn’t get enough of you. For once, it wasn’t stolen glances across a precinct or whispered jokes under your dad’s nose. It was just…you and him.
And now, driving you home with the windows down, you couldn’t stop smiling. Neither could he.
“This was…really nice,” you said softly, your hand brushing his on the console.
“Yeah?” He grinned, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Because I was kind of worried you’d realize I’m terrible company and never talk to me again.”
You snorted. “Dick, I’m literally trying to figure out how soon I can see you again without looking desperate.”
His grin widened. “Tomorrow works.”
Red-and-blue lights flashed in the rearview mirror.
Dick’s hands tightened on the wheel, jaw clenching. “Oh, come on.”
You blinked. “What? You weren’t even speeding.”
“That,” Dick muttered darkly, “won’t matter.”
And sure enough, the police cruiser door opened and out stepped your dad. The Chief. His flashlight beam hit the windshield like a spotlight.
“License and registration,” he said flatly when Dick rolled down the window. His tone was pure stone. “Step out of the vehicle, Grayson.”
Your jaw dropped. “Dad!? Seriously?”
“Now.”
“Dad, he wasn’t even speeding!”
“Step. Out.”
Dick’s mouth opened like he might argue, but your dad’s glare could have stopped a charging rhino. Instead, he gave you a helpless little glance.
And that was it. You weren’t about to let your dad win this one.
Before Dick could move, you grabbed his shirtfront and kissed him. Hard.
Dick made a startled noise, then melted into it instantly, It wasn’t delicate, wasn’t testing. It was weeks of frustration, months of flirting, every second of being ignored, poured into one heated kiss. His hand cupping your cheek as his pulse skyrocketed. When you finally pulled back, breathless, his ears were bright red, but his grin was dizzy and helpless.
When you pulled back, both of you breathless, Dick looked dazed. His grin was crooked, boyish, hopelessly smitten.
Your dad’s voice cut through like thunder. “Out of the car, Grayson.”
Dick sighed, voice low just for you. “Worth it.” He winked, then finally opened the door.
The Chief wasted no time snapping cuffs on his best officer. “Speeding,” he growled, yanking Dick toward the squad car.
“I wasn’t speeding,” Dick said mildly, not even resisting, which only infuriated your dad more.
“Don’t talk back.”
You leaned out the passenger window, watching the scene unfold with your heart still hammering. “Dad! This is insane!”
“He’ll cool off in holding,” your dad snapped.
Dick glanced back over his shoulder, grin widening despite the cuffs. “Guess I’m a criminal now. You still into me?”
You smirked. “Depends. Do I get visiting rights?”
"No" your dad snapped
You roll your eyes at him, head still out the window, smirking back at Dick. “Was I worth the risk?"
His eyes softened, the smile turning genuine even as he was marched to the squad car. “Yeah,” he called back, voice warm, “you really are.”
Bruce was not happy to receive a phone call that his eldest son was in jail.