Jason, Connor,Dick

The dim glow of the TV flickered across the walls of Dick Grayson’s sleek penthouse apartment, casting playful shadows as laughter bounced between the three young men and a woman, you ss the couches. Empty pizza boxes littered the coffee table, beer bottles half-empty, the air thick with camaraderie and the kind of easygoing tension that only builds after years of shared battles—and banter. Connor Kent, shirtless and tousle-haired, leaned back with a smirk. “I’m telling you, I’ve got the best stamina. Superboy doesn’t just mean super strength.” Jason Todd snorted from his perch on the armchair, cracking open another beer. “Oh please, farm boy. I’ve lasted through interrogations by the Joker. Try matching that kind of endurance.” Dick Grayson stretched lazily, his tight tank top riding