"Does he know?" I asked Babs, sitting on the edge of her desk. I had a big bowl of chips cradled in the hole my crossed legs created.

"Hm?" She popped her head out from under her desk, where she had been tinkering with her computer for the past hour and a half. Something about the screens, which kept coming on and off the whole afternoon. "Chips, please."

I leaned down to hand her the bowl. "The whole Nightwing-cam thing. Does Dick know that you have it?"

"Sort of." She slid all the way out from under her desk on her wheeled plank thing so she could sit up and take the bowl. "He's aware that I monitor him, but maybe not this much."

"Mm." I stared at the screen where the cam was, pointed into his apartment. Just the living room, though, the fire escape outside of the window. From what I could tell, that must have been where he came in and out of when he went on patrol. He was standing in front of the TV in shorts, no shirt, eating cereal. Eventually, he turned toward the camera to walk around his couch to get to another room. God, his face was damn near perfect, but his body… Just… his everything. Shoulders? Perfect. Chest and abs? Same. Legs? Also same. Even his chest hair was nice, and that little trail below his bellybutton that I was weirdly into, especially on Tim.

If Babs weren't like my older sister/mentor/regular life-saver, I would be more jealous than I was. Not that I wasn't happy with Tim, but I was human after all.

"Why do you ask?" She handed the chips back to me and slid back under when the screens flickered off and on again.

"Don't know. Just curious." I slowly slid a chip into my mouth as Dick ran a hand through his dark hair when he came back in the room. "If I had a smokin' hot man-friend who walked around his apartment shirtless, I'd end up watching him all day."

"He can be a little distracting when he's just wandering around mostly naked, but most of the time he's on patrol or watching basketball or something. Nothing exciting." Something popped and the screens flickered, then finally stayed on. Dick was now laying on his back on the couch, one arm behind his head and the other dangling to the floor. It was like he was posing for us, like a freakin' Greek god.

"So this is his less distracting mode?" I sucked the salt off my thumb. "This?"

"I've had to build up a tolerance, though any strength I've built up by pretending he's not gorgeous goes to waste when he looks me in the eye and smiles." She slid out again and sat up.

"That blue eyes, dark hair combo. Every. Freakin'. Time." My breath still caught in my throat sometimes when Tim looked up at me suddenly and smiled when he was reading or something. Or when he rested his forehead on mine with his eyes still open, which he did when he was trying to convince me to watch yet another episode of Doctor Who. Then again, all I had to do was wear leggings or tight jeans around him and bend over and he was putty in my hands, so we were about even.

"Every time," she echoed.

Dick rolled over onto his stomach, his shorts sliding down his hips a little more. A bit of the fabric got pinched under his body, pulling it tighter across his butt. He stretched before burying his face in the pillow, his back muscles rippling, then squirmed a little in an effort to get comfortable. Mostly it looked like he was grinding against the couch, which was making me way more tingly than I should have been in the presence of my mentor.

Babs reached over, aiming for the chips, but grabbing air instead because her eyes were glued to the screen.

"Uh, Babs?" I pushed the chips under her hand and she took a handful.

She stuffed the chips in her mouth, her cheeks flushed. "We should get back to work."