𓂃 ࣪ ˖ ♡ 𖥻 i’m with the band
summary. you’re dick grayson’s long-term girlfriend, but when you try to get backstage at one of his shows, the security guards refuse to believe your relationship is real. word count. 817
the night air was thick with the low hum of excitement and distant music as you stood outside the backstage entrance, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. you had been dating dick for months now, but apparently, that wasn’t enough for the security guards standing in your way.
“listen,” you said for what felt like the hundredth time, trying to keep your voice calm despite the heat rising in your chest, “i’m his girlfriend. i’ve been with him for months. i have every right to be back there.”
the guard, a burly man with a jawline that looked like it could crack walnuts, shook his head. “sorry, ma’am. no exceptions. artist-only passes. no one gets back there without proof.”
you sighed, letting your hands drop to your sides. “proof? you mean like how i’ve been to every concert for the past six months? or the times i’ve-”
“ma’am, rules are rules,” the guard interrupted, his tone final, but not without a hint of smugness that only fueled your irritation.
you narrowed your eyes. “rules? the rules apparently don’t matter to dick because he let me in last week without a problem, and no one stopped me then. so why is it suddenly a problem now?”
the second guard, slightly younger and less imposing but equally unhelpful, stepped in. “look, we don’t know who you are. we need to see-”
“see what?” you snapped, voice rising. “do you want to see my id? my phone? my bank statements? do i need to show you photos of us together at every single place he’s been the past six months?”
the guards exchanged a glance, as if that last suggestion might actually solve the problem, but the first one’s expression remained stubbornly firm. “we just… can’t take your word for it. sorry.”
you let out an exasperated groan, pulling at your hair. “i cannot believe this right now. i’ve been dating him longer than you’ve probably held a job, and you’re telling me i can’t see him because what? you don’t think i’m real?”
the younger guard shrugged, innocently smug. “just doing our job, ma’am.”
“doing your job?” you repeated incredulously. “you’re doing your job by making me feel like a liar in front of dick grayson’s team? you’re doing your job by humiliating me for existing?”
the older guard opened his mouth, probably to argue, but before he could, a familiar voice rang out behind you. “what’s going on here?”
your head snapped around to see dick striding toward you, his usual confident smirk paired with a look of amused disbelief. he raised an eyebrow at the scene, taking in the tense standoff. “am i interrupting something?”
you couldn’t help the grin that cracked through your frustration. “apparently, your security team thinks i’m not allowed back here.”
dick’s smirk widened. “oh really?” he looked at the guards with a tilted head. “and what exactly seems to be the problem?”
the older guard straightened, trying to regain authority. “sir, this woman-”
“is my girlfriend,” dick said smoothly, cutting him off. “long-term, serious, the one who’s been at every single show for the past six months. that woman,” he said, nodding at you with a pointed finger, “gets backstage access because she’s part of my life. not part of your rules.”
the younger guard blinked. “sir… we-”
“don’t care,” dick interrupted again, his tone calm but undeniably commanding. he reached out, taking your hand in his. “she’s coming with me. end of discussion.”
the guards stepped aside reluctantly, and you finally slipped past them, your hand firmly in dick’s. once you were safely backstage, you spun around to give them one last pointed look. “next time you decide to question someone’s relationship, remember: the person you’re arguing with might just be the reason the artist even exists.”
dick laughed, pulling you close and resting his chin on your head. “and that,” he murmured, “is why you’ll always get backstage. no matter what.”
you rolled your eyes, laughing against his chest. “you could have just said that before i almost punched them both.”
“where’s the fun in that?” he teased.
