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It was supposed to just be simple, discrete reconnaissance, just Artemis, Kaldur, Robin, and Wally. M’gann was there, too, but she wasn’t operating as a part of the mission itself, instead hanging back at the Bio-Ship and being on the ready as potential backup if necessary. The four of them, excluding Robin, had agreed that it seemed like overkill, but Robin reminded them that there should always be a contingency, just in case something goes wrong.
Upon entering the warehouse, nothing seemed immediately wrong; it had a lot of old wooden crates coated in dust, with weird massive cogs and gears along the walls, and Artemis figured that the guy who used the place must have bought into the steampunk craze. She tried to say as such to Robin, but he had already stiffly walked to his post, uncharacteristically tense. She figured it was just nerves, but he didn’t really get nervous. Not like that, anyway; not without reason to. Again, simple recon– there should’ve been nothing to worry about.
Artemis was assigned to keep watch of all of the entrances, Wally guarding one of them and Kaldur having Robin’s back as the kid crouched at one of the walls, downloading information onto the computer on his glove.
All three of those on guard noticed no changes throughout their posts, and they were actually being vigilant, knowing Batman would have their heads if they weren’t paying close attention, but Robin suddenly tensed, whipping his head to his right and staring at a dark corner with terrified incredulity. Everyone else turned to follow the motion, looking at the shadowed area that wasn’t being guarded, but had been swept and cleared at the beginning of the mission just like the rest of the warehouse.
Robin knew that it was cleared, too.
Somehow, they all watched, transfixed, as Deathstroke stepped out, his metal armor dull in the low light. Artemis immediately ran over to Robin, because he was first priority– the information he had downloaded was imperative to the mission. He was also her friend, but she knew he could defend himself at least enough to make a run for it.
The kid watched with a stony expression, going stock still as the mercenary turned his eye to him. The eyes of his domino mask narrowed.
“Hello, Robin,” Deathstroke said, voice chilling in its mellowness. “Slade,” Robin growled, and okay, holy shit , Artemis had never heard him sound like that. She turned her head toward him in disbelief, seeing her teammates do the same, even Wally, who knew him the best out of the entire team.
“Do they not know?” the mercenary taunted, gazing at the young heroes’ disbelief with a distinctly gleeful, smug air, and the faux-innocent question was dripping with such malice that dread pooled in Artemis’ gut. None of the team had any idea of what was going on, and quite frankly, in Artemis’ opinion, she didn’t want to; everything about Robin’s body language screamed of discomfort, and she was feeling his visible need to ditch right alongside him.
“They don’t need to know,” replied the youngest hero, voice grim. A warning, Artemis realized, a finality; he wouldn’t budge, not to him. Not now. “And why is that, Little Bird?” the man said, Artemis wanting to shiver at the name. Deathstroke stalked around in wide, predatory circles. Robin stepped forward in response, angry and slow and stilted, and Artemis wanted to yell out for him to stop, but she was all but paralized as she watched.
“Why do you think?” he bit out, voice low and carefully even, and that was all the warning Artemis had before the two sprung at each other, and holy hell , she had never seen Robin fight like that, either; fury and a stunning level of pointed, venomous almost-lethality laced his every move, naturally matching each and every one of Slade’s attacks with a dodge and one of his own.
“You’ve grown soft, Apprentice,” he mocked, dancing and weaving through Robin’s flurry of strikes. Robin snarled again. He leapt up and kicked at Slade’s head once, twice, three times in quick succession, Artemis watching in horror as the man’s head snapped to the side unnaturally with a sickening crunch, but her teammate just landed with a faint puff of dust, rolling backwards and righting himself to stare at the man as he drew a birdarang.
He killed him, Artemis thought numbly, mind fuzzy but still racing in that split second. Why is he getting a birdarang? He killed him.
As quickly as it had broken, Slade twisted his neck back with another revolting series of pops and cracks, looking up at Robin. “You should know not to do that,” he spoke as calm as ever. Robin gripped his birdarang tighter, mouth twisting unpleasantly, “It’s never stopped me before, has it?”
He considered him for a moment. “No, I suppose not, But you know what comes after, Bird,” and the merc sprung at Robin with a sharp sword that had absolutely not been unsheathed a moment before, not to mention visible . Robin seemed to have anticipated it, though, throwing the birdarang and distracting the man, taking the opportunity to kick at Slade again; this time, he aimed at his shoulder, the side that was holding the sword, and used the momentum from the strike to leap almost fully out of the way of the incoming swipe. As he swung around onto the man’s other shoulder, Robin’s pant leg caught on the sword, slicing open just barely. Not willing to take any more chances, the Boy Wonder climbed onto the mercenary’s back.
Slade’s eye narrowed and tried to stand in an attempt to knock him off, more irritated that the kid was using him like a jungle gym than the fact that he had evaded his attacks; Artemis got the sick feeling that he was toying with him. Robin held strong from his grip, feet digging into the ledges of the man’s armor, one hand grabbing onto his shoulder pad. With the other, he pulled something out and pushed it forward, pointing it at Deathstroke’s head, and holy shit was that a fucking gun? Was Robin holding Deathstroke the Terminator at gunpoint?
Slade went completely still, assessing the situation, and, to his credit, Robin didn’t move an inch. His hands weren’t even shaking. Interesting.
“Very clever, Apprentice,” Slade praised after a moment, and okay, what the hell. “Perhaps Renegade was better suited to you than you believe.” Robin pressed the gun flush to the man’s helmet furiously, metal clanking against metal and shoving his head to the side with the force of the action. Slade irritatedly forced his head upright again.
“ I will never be anything like you ,” Robin growled, and it wasn’t quite a Bat-growl– no, this was something else, and if Artemis were to guess, Batman didn’t know about this.
“Aren’t you?” was all Slade said before trying once more to dislodge the bird. This time, he succeeded, but considering the way that Robin smoothly arced in the air, slamming his feet down harshly on the man’s back as he tried to right himself, springing back with a concise flip and landing in a fighting crouch– it was fairly clear that Robin let him. He thrusted the gun forth again, keeping it trained on Slade in a fluid, practiced manner, but didn’t bother to satisfy the man with a retort. Artemis couldn’t move.
“Until next time, Apprentice. Keep working– I cannot tolerate your skill stagnating, as you know,” he paused for a moment, turning his head to the younger who was still poised on the ground with the gun pointed at his back. “You know that I would take… action.”
“I know perfectly well,” Robin bit out, “and you got lucky. Now go. ”
To Artemis’ surprise, Deathstroke did as he demanded, disappearing with the same fanfare that he had stepped forward with. Robin heaved a sigh, tucked the gun away, and stood up, the cracking of his knees echoing in the silent warehouse. He walked toward the team tiredly, all of them staring at him.
“ What the hell? ” Artemis finally said, finally regaining motor control, Wally nodding furiously. Kaldur said nothing, but fixed Robin with an inquisitive look.
The kid in question flexed his fists, set his shoulders, and hollowly said, “Let’s just get back to the Bio-Ship. M’gann is waiting.” While all of the others stood with their feet rooted to the ground in surprise, he marched off. Wally, of course, was the first to jog up to him.
“Dude, you better not think that you’re just not going to tell us about whatever the hell that was,” he emphasized, and Robin stubbornly kept his head facing forward. Wally dashed even further ahead until he was in front of his friend and trotting backwards as he chattered, “No, seriously, that was crazy !”
Robin gave him a look so scathing that it burned through the mask, Wally wilting as he sidestepped him and continued forth.
When they reached the entrance to the Bio-Ship, Kaldur touched Robin’s back gently, the latter swirling around with a snarl reflexively bubbling from his lips. Backing away quickly, Kaldur raised his hands placatingly, “My friend, I believe it best that you detail what, exactly, happened back at that warehouse– if not for you, as you seem rather… distraught, then for the team, in case something similar should happen in the future.”
The boy sagged for a moment, expressive face somehow eerily wiped of emotion besides the downcast of his eyes. Immediately after, he straightened himself, standing with the last dreg of energy he had, and said, hoarse and hostile, “It won’t. And I’m fine .”
Kaldur looked at him with obvious doubt written across his face, but he backed off regardless, holding Wally back for Artemis to follow after Robin in boarding the ship as a barrier– Robin was obviously extremely passive-aggressive right now, and would likely get more riled up if he had to face his back to two people who had approached him at such a vulnerable state. For all that Artemis suddenly wanted to ask, she knew better, and that if any of them had even the slightest chance, it would not be here, where Robin had been consistently uncomfortable the moment they touched down.
The team sat down quietly, even Wally, and M’gann turned a worried glance to all of them before meeting Kaldur’s eyes, who gave a weak, mollifying smile. M’gann hesitated before nodding slightly, eyebrows still furrowed and lips twisted in a concerned pout, the ship taking off without any of the typical chatter that filled it on the way home from a mission. Wally leaned his head against the headrest of his seat, sticking earbuds in and bouncing his foot anxiously to the beat as he gazed out the window. Artemis could see him occasionally glancing at the reflection of his best friend in the glass, agitated in the hero’s stony expression.
On the way back, Artemis tried to watch as subtly as possible as Robin obsessively sewed shut the gash in his trousers, undoing any stitching that he thought wasn’t tight enough or was placed too close to the opening. Upon finishing, he sat ramrod straight for the rest of the trip, hands clasped in his lap stiffly. She made uneasy eye contact with Kaldur, whose face fell slightly in acknowledgement before turning to face the window, knowing he would be able to tell if they looked a second too long.
When they made contact with the ground at the Cave, Robin jolted, but not for fault of M’gann’s steering. He jumped out of his chair jerkily, walking out of his seat with a dead focus, the team reluctantly following him to the mission room, where he faced Batman.
“Report,” Batman commanded, and Robin tilted his chin up like a soldier, gaze hard and unreadable. “The mission went smoothly. All requested information was obtained without issue. No backup was necessary.”
Batman shifted toward M’gann, who nodded to affirm the statement. He tilted his head, wordlessly dismissing her from the debrief, and she walked off, gratefulness oozing from her as she scampered out of the room.
“ Without issue? ” Wally demanded as soon as M’gann left, eyes wide as his foot stopped tapping. “You’re saying that wasn’t a problem- at all ?” Robin aimed a nasty, cold glare at the speedster, who immediately clammed up. Turning back to face Batman proved that it did little more than prove his guilt.
“What is he talking about?” the man growled, and Robin did a valiant job in not cowering like a kicked dog, because even Kaldur was grimacing. “Nothing,” the youngest bit out. “He isn’t talking about anything important to the mission.”
“Robin, report. ” Batman demanded once more, and Robin flinched minutely before glaring at his mentor defiantly. “ Nothing happened, B .”
“ Clearly something happened to warrant–”
“For fuck’s sake , leave it alone , Batman,” Robin yelled, voice carrying throughout the Cave and echoing.
Batman took a deep breath, and Robin fled.
The team stared at the door he dived through, dumbfounded. Robin didn’t yell at Batman – that just wasn’t something that he did .
Batman gave voice to what they were all thinking: “What happened back there?”
Artemis let herself stare at the door for a moment longer than the others. She looked back at Batman just as Wally was about to speak, Kaldur interrupting the speedster by addressing their supervisor, “Sir, to be transparent, none of us know what exactly happened on that mission. If you could give us some time, I am certain that we can get some sort of explanation from Robin without forcing it out of him. The mission was accomplished, and that is what matters most, correct?”
Batman clenched his jaw for a moment, “I still need that data.” Artemis quickly nodded, glad to get out of her costume and, ideally, have a conversation with her teammate, “We can get him to send you what he collected, at the very least.”
The man hesitated, then gave a curt nod. “Then you are dismissed.” As the team moved to exit, Batman called out stiltedly, “Make sure he’s alright,” and stalked off, the request probably exceeding his emotional vulnerability capacity for the next 2 years.
They walked into the lounge, seeing M’gann getting something from the fridge but not Robin anywhere in the room, although that was expected, with all things considered. Wally made a beeline for the kitchen, immediately chatting up M’gann who giggled and lightly deflected every single one of his horrific one-liners. Kaldur sat down on the couch, pulling out a notebook with a pen in its spirals, setting it on his lap and writing in the next blank page. At the sound of Wally’s incessant prattling, Conner stepped into the room as well, M’gann cheerfully waving at him.
Artemis made her way to her own room, shutting and locking the door gently, leaning against it and blowing out a small puff of air. She really , really wanted to know what the hell had happened with Robin, and if it was what she was thinking, then she should probably be the one to talk to him about it, considering her own expertise. She changed into a randomly selected assortment of loose clothes, completely lost in thought in how she would breach the topic to the kid.
Unlocking the door again and making her way out her room, she glanced to her left where she knew Robin’s room was. Guessing any time was as good as then, she made her way over to it and hesitated a bit before knocking. It took a second, but then she heard some shuffling and a lock clicking, and then another, three, and how many locks did Robin have on this door?
Eventually, he swung it open, except he didn’t have his glasses on. Artemis blinked, “Dick?”
Dick fucking Grayson blinked back at her, obviously having not expected her to have been at his door. “I thought you were Wally,” he confessed, ushering her in before shutting the door. As he made his work of returning each and every one of the 5 locks he had to its intended state, Artemis glanced around the room, having never been in it before, and decided that this wasn’t just some rich guy that annoyed her at school, but primarily her friend that she trusted with her life. Teasingly, she responded, “Are you calling me fat?” and the tension leaked out of Dick’s posture.
Dick laughed, and yeah, that was Robin’s laugh; she isn’t sure how she missed this. “I can pick up Wally, easypeasy, I don’t think you need to be worrying about anything.” He walked over to his bed, sitting down on it with one of his knees bumping into the nightstand beside it, where the glasses that he usually wore around the Cave lay untouched. “So, then, what brings you in here, besides figuring out my civilian ID?”
“I swear that wasn’t the intent,” Artemis snorted, taking another quick glance at the room, insanely orderly for a teenage boy. “Batman wanted to make sure that he got the information from the recon.”
The kid glanced up at her for a split second, eyes somewhat inquisitive, but hooked a finger on the knob of his nightstand, humming his assent as he pulled the drawer open, and even his drawers were organized. “Your room’s a mess ,” she noted humorously, “anyone ever teach you how to clean, or is that taken care of by your butler, there, rich kid?”
Dick gingerly grabbed one of his gloves, sliding it on and quickly typing something onto it. Artemis was kind of surprised to see such a focused expression on the kid that she had previously been about 80% sure was only at Gotham Academy because he was the ward of Bruce Wayne and not on behalf of any studying efforts. Logically, she knew that he was on the Mathletes team, but she hadn’t really cared enough about that particular extracurricular to find out if that was something that could be paid out to keep a kid on the team.
“I know you’re joking, but we do actually have a butler,” he said as he finalized whatever he was sending to Batman. “At the Manor, I mean– his name’s Alfred, he’s the best. But no, I actually do know how to clean, which I’m sure is a surprise.” He clicked one last button on the holographic interface before giving Artemis a wry grin, taking the glove off and putting it back neatly into his drawer.
“Well, never let anyone tell you that you won’t get anywhere in life, kid, at least you’d make a good housewife, one day,” Artemis snarked back, sitting down after Dick scooted further to one side of the bed and patted the other in invitation.
“I just like things being organized,” he explained easily. “It was kind of instilled in me to keep my stuff that way, and I don’t really see a point in trashing my room just out of pettiness.”
Artemis gave him a long look, and asked carefully, “Is that a Bat thing, or…?”
Dick knew what she was talking about without her needing to say it out loud. “It isn’t a Deathstroke thing,” and there it was, out in the open. She still kind of wanted to not believe it, but the proof was kind of in the pudding.
“And you’re willing to– let me in on that?” She inquired, searching for something in his face that would tell her to stop asking questions before he flipped his shit again.
“I– well, it’s not going to be something that you’re going to be particularly happy hearing, but I know about your– y’know, history with Sportsmaster,” Dick breathed, and Artemis nodded jerkily with her eyes screwed shut for a minute.
“For the record, I wouldn’t– I wouldn’t betray you guys. I’m not–” Artemis started, voice tight, and Dick quickly interjected, “You aren’t like him, I know. That’s why I’m telling you; equal footing, and all that.”
She sat back for a moment, satisfied, before asking, “How long?” Dick leaned back onto the headboard, sighing solemnly, and she was still kind of adjusting to his change in attitude. “It– it wasn’t for very long; when I was first taken in by Bruce, someone hired a hit on me through Slade. Bruce intercepted it, but Slade developed this weird fixation on me, and about a year and a half into me being Robin, he took me and blackmailed me into staying for about 2 months until I broke free.”
Artemis stared at him, bewildered. “You were ten? ” Because, yeah, her dad was– putting it lightly– a piece of work, definitely, but getting kidnapped and forced to be an assassin by Deathstroke for 2 months was certainly no joke, especially for a ten-year-old .
“For the record,” Dick reminded her, slight smirk gracing his lips, “Robin was never weak . When I first started going out, I was already enough to spook the criminals in Gotham, even if part of it was because they didn’t expect anything from me. Bruce was thoroughly training me before I even got my suit.”
Of course, Artemis already knew all of that, but his statement seemed to carry the underlying tone of, I wasn’t helpless, even then, so don’t act like it. “Still,” she spoke softly, “that’s fucking terrifying, Rob– Dick.” The boy’s eyes crinkled a little bit in amusement, but he said nothing. “2 months is 2 months, and you had to rely on yourself to get out of there, which is definitely not fun.”
“Eh,” Dick mused, lips still upturned, unfitting for the situation at hand. “I can make most anything fun if I put my mind to it. I can convince myself that whatever’s happening isn’t really that bad, think about it in– a scholarly way, I guess.” He bared his teeth in a very familiar grin, but Artemis could see how forced it was, “Detached.”
“Sounds a hell of a lot like disassociation, Boy Blunder,” she murmured, letting herself flop backwards to lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. She absent-mindedly wondered if the kid had ever had those glow in the dark stars on his ceiling. “Call it whatever you want,” he conceded, “but it works. I, personally, like to call it gaslighting.”
“It’s hard to manage,” Artemis argued, frowning slightly, ignoring the joke. “You lose yourself to that kind of stuff, because one minute you’re convincing yourself that a stab wound is just a small tear in your skin and that it doesn’t really hurt, and the next you’re spacing for 3 days at a time and can’t remember what you said a split second ago.” Dick turned to her, a question in the line of his eyebrows.
She noticed it, of course, and tried for a weak smile. “I did the same as you when I was growing up with my dad. It’s a really slippery slope, and, as the term suggests, it’s hard to climb yourself out of, too.” He returned her smile, his own sunny and comforting.
The two lapsed in comfortable silence, both just staring up at the dark ceiling, not really thinking about much of anything. All of a sudden, Artemis blurted, “Did you ever have those glow in the dark stars? Or the planets?”
Dick turned his eyes to her, a soft upturn to his lips. “I didn’t, but I always wished that I could’ve had them. It always felt a bit goofy to ask Batman if I could have plastic stars to stick on my ceiling, so I never worked up to it.”
Artemis laughed just as gently, “That does make sense. I think I would be scared of asking, too.” She soaked in the quiet for a moment, and then: “What was it like?” He didn’t say anything, and she realized that he was waiting for her to elaborate. “Growing up with Batman, I mean.”
He tilted his head, adjusting his shoulders and dug his socked heels into the pristinely-made bed, “Well, it was… definitely interesting, for one.” They snickered in tandem, because anything with the man had to have been interesting. “I’m sure you know that I grew up in the circus, and my parents– my parents, they uh, they died. When I was 8.”
And yeah, Artemis knew that, but had forgotten the emotions behind the situation until just now, as she registered the catching in Dick’s throat, raw and low. She did her best to give him a sympathetic face without looking like she was pitying him, but he returned her eye contact with an expression that seemed to be saying that he was over it. He wasn’t. She kept her mouth shut and nodded anyway.
“Had to leave the circus, went to juvie for a bit, yadda yadda,” he rolled his eyes, but Artemis’ jaw dropped. “ Juvie? ” She scrambled for the words, settling on, “What for? You were eight .” “The orphanages were all occupied,” he replied simply. “They decided that the Youth Center was the next best thing. It was a big switch for me, especially because I hardly even spoke English, but I digress.”
Artemis’ hands itched to do something all of a sudden, arms lead heavy and restless. “That’s not okay,” she said firmly, “that’s traumatizing , Robin.” The kid deigned to give a cheeky grin, something off in his eyes that she could very well guess the reasoning behind. Jesus.
“ Anyways ,” Dick continued, “to get back to your question, when B took me in, I was 9, and I was also trying to, y’know, kill the guy that murdered my parents, which he was not a very big fan of. He knew I was going to go after Zucco regardless of if he supported me, because I was a pretty stubborn kid.” Artemis snorted at that, “Was?” He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “You would not have liked me as a kid, I’ll tell you that,” he confirmed.
“Bruce told me that if I was going to go after Zucco, he was going to train me first. So generally, I had a lot of adjusting in a pretty short period of time.” Artemis huffed another laugh, “That’s the understatement of the century. It had to have been difficult at the very least.” “I was a very angry child,” Dick admitted, and that was a surprise– even counting today, she could count the amount of times that she had witnessed Dick angry on one hand.
“You were?” She marveled, unbelieving just because of the concept itself, but she didn’t really think that he would lie to her right now, either. “I was,” he said, “you can ask B any time that you want–” “I won’t.” “--and he’ll tell you the same as me: I was a stubborn-ass nine year old kid who couldn’t accept being treated like the kid I was, and it only made things worse considering that Bruce is about as moveable as a sack of rocks when he gets testy.
“He would get mad at me for not seeing a perp that was behind me, taking them down for me, and start saying that I wasn’t ready for anything more than training exercises, and that would get me real pissy, and then B would take that as a point to his own argument that I wasn’t ready because I was throwing ‘tantrums’.” Dick rolled his eyes, and Artemis didn’t think that she would’ve expected that, ever; for all that she had seen, the Dynamic Duo fought as one, always having the other’s back from across the metaphorical field, smooth and fluid and natural in their takedowns, and yet here was one half of the iconic pair, telling her the two were at each other’s throats when they were starting out.
“I always thought you two got on like a house on fire,” she confessed softly. “I don’t think that the opposite would’ve ever crossed my mind on its own.” Dick laughed lightly, staring back up at the ceiling, “You would’ve figured it out at one point. He and I still fight a lot. ”
She stared at him again, wide-eyed. “What do you even have to fight about? You two fight like you know each other’s each and every move without seeing it, without it even happening first.” He snickered again, arm reaching back onto the headboard and slinging around it casually.
“Nah, he doesn’t like the way I do things, always says I’m too rash or I prolong fights with my chattiness. He’s a man of very few words– he doesn’t get that I quip in fights to distract the people I’m fighting, but there isn’t much of a point in convincing him. It doesn’t matter much, because, as he always says – unless it’s when he’s nitpicking what I could’ve done better –, the mission is the first priority, and all that Machiavellian bullshit about the ends justifying the means or whatever.” Dick pitched his voice to a deep, dark, gravelly tone, a frankly scarily accurate recreation of Batman’s voice.
Artemis laughed a little at the impression, but her chest felt a little heavy. “I’m sorry,” she offered to him at last, not sure of how else to communicate what she was feeling. “What for?” Dick asked, surprised for once.
“It just… it sounds tough, y’know, all things considered. It sounds like he’s finding it hard to find a balance between mentor and parent.” The boy jolted a bit at that. “He’s not my father,” he responded immediately, voice hard. Artemis jumped at the sudden change in tone, blinking in astonishment. His gaze softened upon seeing that, eyes flicking to his side abashedly.
“Sorry,” Dick amended, face long and weary. “It’s just– he isn’t my father. Not even legally.” Artemis loosened up again, sitting up a little bit so she could lean over and lift a gentle hand to his shoulder in comfort. “I’m sorry, too. I don’t know what happened, but it’s clearly something to you. I just meant that he doesn’t seem to be easy on you that often.”
“No,” he admitted after a long moment, eyes looking surprisingly wet. “He– I can tell that he cares for me, and that he’s just really worried that I’ll get hurt out there, but he,” Dick trailed off then, a frown twisting his face. “He thinks that this – our partnership, or just me being Robin in general – can only work if I have the ‘armor’--” he raised his wrists slightly in tired air quotes, “-- that I need to survive. He says any leniency will wind up with him and a dead child. I’ve heard him and Alfred talking, when they think that I already left the cave; Alfred says he thinks B would rather have a dead soldier on his hands than a dead kid, and every time I’ve heard him say so, I’ve never heard it refuted.”
Artemis’ hand tightened a little on his shoulder, an unidentified medley of emotions coursing through her that made her just want to express it as plain anger. She knew better, but damn if she didn’t want to punch a wall right now.
At the reaction, Dick shrugged. “Not to say it never helped. When I was with Slade for those two months, it was easy to fake complacency, because I had learned at that point how to conceal my emotions behind that blank soldier act. I got out because he thought that I had given up-- he had grown as unsuspecting as someone like him can get, but I never did give up– not for good, anyways.”
She didn’t know what to say; there was a lot wrong with all of this, a lot that she couldn’t believe was going on with the Boy Wonder. All she could do was sit up further so she was right next to him, tentatively bringing her arm around his shoulders in a half hug. “I’m glad that you didn’t,” was all she said, gentle and kind. “We all care a lot about you, y’know– we’re a team, and more importantly, we’re your friends.”
He melted a little bit into the embrace, and they returned to staring at the ceiling in silence. Artemis blandly noted to herself that she should get some of those stars for him– for a birthday, maybe, or maybe just given willy nilly. It was comfortable, and she felt content to just lay there for a bit, but then a thought struck her dead-on, and she quickly withdrew her arm from around him, staring at him incredulously.
Dick looked back, blinking owlishly at the sudden movement. “ We’ll laugh about this later? ” she exclaimed, and her eyes were blown in lighthearted anger. He just looked at her for another beat, and then he started laughing hysterically, ducking his face into his knees as his body shook with the loud peals. Artemis kept up the facade for a moment longer, and then she snorted, provoking another loud guffaw from Dick before she finally succumbed to the laughter.
She tried to wrap her arm around him again in the midst of the laughter, but she ended up slamming her hand into the back of his head, and he stared at her with a face red with laughter, eyes alight with mirth, before they both collapsed into a new fit of laughter.
Yeah, maybe it didn’t have to be a problem– or, at least, it didn’t have to be his alone.