A/N:

WARNING Chapter Contains: Severe PTSD episode

As previously mentioned, you can skip from the ✹ to the ✹‖ to avoid the triggering section if you wish.

—

Dick leaned against the wall, waiting in the glacially slow dinner line the next night. He hated how tiny the little cafeteria room was. The only time he missed being on status was at lunch and dinner, when he had to come into this cramped, crowded room just to wait for twenty minutes with a severely reduced personal space bubble around him. It usually didn't feel like there were a whole lot of patients on the ward, until it was mealtime and they were all crammed into the one small room.

At least as soon as he got his food, he could book it out of there and eat it at one of the little tables in the hallway instead of one of the two long ones in the middle of the cafeteria room. Damn, he wished Bruce hadn’t left when they’d called mealtime ⁠— it would’ve been nice not to eat alone.

He slid a bit further down the wall, cringing away from the body heat he could feel coming from the person right behind him. Unfortunately, they caught right back up. Dick wondered if there was any hope he could get Bruce to push for a mandatory class in schools on personal space and taking a fucking hint, so at least the kids in Gotham wouldn’t be like this asshole.

The person behind him shifted closer, and Dick glanced back. Of course.

Of course he got stuck in front of the fucking douchebag of the mental hospital, the very same homophobic ass clown who had felt the need to make his views abundantly clear to Dick and Jason yesterday. Life sure liked punishing him.

And of course the guy caught his eye, and even when Dick quickly looked away again, he took that as an invitation to start a conversation. Maybe it would be worth it to go back on status just for the fucking meals.

“Your boyfriend know about your other man?” he asked snidely.

Dick ignored him, still facing away, but he wasn’t to be deterred.

“Huh, Richie? Can’t wait to see how that pans out; bet they’ll visit at the same time at some point.”

Dick turned exasperatedly. “Who are you even talking about? I know you know who my boyfriend is, because you called us faggots yesterday. Sorry to disappoint, but I only have the one.”

“What about the guy who was just here? I don’t buy you’re just friends, and I doubt your boyfriend would either,” he taunted, still too quietly to be overheard by anyone else.

Dick flinched back. “That’s my dad, you fucking creep.” 

“Didn’t look like it, the way you were all over him. Or are your type just into that too?”

“Don’t fucking talk to me. Leave me alone.” Dick faced back toward the front of the line, which hadn’t moved so much as an inch. He huddled further against the wall and tried to scoot up a tiny bit more without getting too close to the person in front of him, but the man (Tom, Dick thought his name was) was still right there behind him.

“Both pretty big guys. You got a type?” Maybe-named-Tom needled over his shoulder.

“Leave me alone.” ✹

“Bet you do. Never met a fag who wasn't a slut like that.” Dick’s vision started to go black and fuzzy around the edges, and he could distantly feel that he was breathing too fast, but possibly-Tom just kept talking. “Classic faggot with daddy issues, all over anyone who comes to visit your crazy ass in here. Bet you like ‘em big and strong so they can do whatever they want and you can’t stop 'em ⁠— that’s the fucked up shit people like you are into, right?”

Dick instinctively turned, flattening himself against the wall as memories of Jason on the rooftop pushed their way unbidden into his mind ⁠— no, not Jason, he reminded himself, just that fucked up man who’d made himself look like Jason. It wasn’t him, it wasn’t him.

His breaths were definitely coming too fast now, and he was choking painfully with every inhale. He swore he could feel hands sliding down his back, grabbing his ass. 

Dick tried to back up, but there was nowhere else to go, he was already pressed against the wall. He could feel the cold of the painted cinder blocks against his backside, and he tried to convince himself that that meant there couldn't be hands there.

The man took another small step closer, saying, “Isn’t that right, Richie?” but Dick barely heard him. He acted on instinct, barely realizing what he was doing as he lashed out with his leg, sweeping the man’s feet from under him, and vaulted over the trash bins between him and the door, pushing through the small crowd in the doorway, and bolting down the hallway.

He didn’t recall getting into his room, but he must’ve closed the door because it was dark, and he was huddled on the floor in front of his toilet, retching into the bowl. And fuck, his eyes and throat hurt, and he knew he was probably crying too, but he couldn’t stop any of it. Everything felt so far out of his grasp, and he just couldn’t stop thinking of Jason on the rooftop, Jason, Jason, not actually Jason, touching, touching, he wasn’t going to stop. Nothing was going to make him stop.

The door to his room opened, letting in a slice of light and a shadow and voices, and Dick scrambled back against the wall under the sink. But they just kept coming forward and saying, saying, but he couldn’t tell what they were saying or who they were — he just knew he didn’t want it, didn’t trust it, didn’t trust anything, and too close, too closetooclosetooclose!

“Get away! Get away, get away!” He knew he was screaming, but he didn’t feel like he was actually having anything to do with what was coming out of his mouth.

“Get away from me!” Dick tried to scoot further back, but he was already backed all the way into the corner, and the shadows just kept coming closer. The lights flicked on, blindingly bright, and there were so many people. He kicked out at them. “Get away! Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!”

He could feel his voice cracking and the sobs taking over, and it hurt, but he couldn’t stop screaming at them.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t⁠— please. Get away!”

A blurry figure crouched and leaned forward, and he felt himself lose a small remaining bit of control he hadn’t even known he had. He kicked out violently and wildly with both feet, screaming impossibly louder. “DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME! I WILL KILL YOU! I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU IF YOU TOUCH ME! GET AWAY!”

The figure shifted back a foot or so, still crouching, and held its hands up in surrender, and the other figures moved back further toward his door. The crouched one said something else, but it was still incomprehensible mumbling.

"Just— just," Dick gasped for air as he continued to sob, barely able to still get any words out. "Just don't tou-touch me," he repeated, but it was quieter now. He clenched his hands around his legs, where he'd apparently curled back in on himself without realizing.

✹‖ He cried himself out, chin resting on his knees, too afraid to put his head down all the way when someone else was there and potentially able to act at a moment's notice without him knowing.

"Richard?" the nurse prompted softly, once his crying had finally eased from hysterical sobbing to silent tears, and Dick tried to blink the tears out of his eyes enough to see. She was still a bit out of focus, but he could see that it was Christine, which he was glad for. She'd been nice in the past.

It seemed that the other staff had left at some point, which was also good. More people was always worse.

"Sleep," he managed to force out after a few long moments. He didn't think he could do a full sentence — he didn't even think he could get up right now — he just wanted to go to sleep.

"Can you eat something first? You missed breakfast, and now you've missed dinner; I think you should eat something."

He shook his head.

"Are you sure? I can get someone to bring you something small," she offered.

He shook his head again. "Alone."

"I'm sorry, Richard, but I can't leave. You hurt another patient, that means you have to be back on status."

She didn't say it meanly, or accusatorily, but Dick still started to cry again. Not sobbing, as he had been before, but just as uncontrollable. He finally let his head drop and cried quietly into his knees.

He was just so fucking overwhelmed, and now he wasn't going to be able to even shut his fucking door or be alone or fucking anything. God, he was starting to think being on status was a form of torture, because there was just no fucking escape. He couldn't shut his door, so it was going to be way too loud and too bright, and he couldn't be alone, he was literally always being watched, and he had to make sure they could see his hands and face while he was fucking asleep or they'd wake him up and make him fix it. And it was just— just— how was he supposed to calm down like this? How was he supposed to be able to get himself together?

"Richard. Can you try to move out of the bathroom please?" Christine asked.

Dick shook his head — an awkward, wobbly movement, with his forehead still resting on his knees. He probably technically could leave the bathroom if he pitched his weight forward and then crawled, but there was no way in hell he was doing that shit. He'd given this place enough of his dignity, thank you very much.

"I need to be visible from outside."

Dick shrugged and shook his head again.

She sighed.

He heard her move back to stand just outside of the bathroom doorway, where she was just in view from the hallway, but still able to directly see him.

See? Problem fucking solved. She might be one of the nicer nurses, but he wasn't fucking crawling.

"Don't you want to sleep? It would be easier if you got in bed," she prodded.

She was no longer one of his favorite nurses. This shit was fucking annoying — all he wanted was some peace.

He shook his head again, still refusing to pick it up from his knees and look up.

"You don't want to sleep?" 

He shrugged annoyedly. He'd sleep just as fucking well right like this — what the hell did she care if he wanted to sleep in the bathroom?

She sighed again. "I need to be able to see your face, Richard."

And of course, here was this shit again. He shook his head violently.

"I'm sorry Richard, but it's a safety concern. I've got to be able to see your face."

"I'm not fucking suffocating, leave me alone!" he burst out.

"I'm sorry. I know it's obnoxious, but I really need—"

"Fine! Fucking fine!" Dick yelled, the anger fuelling him and propelling him to his feet. "You can see my fucking face, are you happy?" He stormed past her and to his bed, sitting down on the edge, and then immediately standing back up. "I want to call Jason."

He left the room, with Christine dutifully trailing behind.

Fuck. He just wanted Jason here. God, he just wanted to be able to fall asleep okay knowing he was right there; he didn't even care about the fucking nightmares, it wasn't like he wasn't going to have them anyway.

Dick sat down at the phone at the end of the hall and picked up the receiver, punching in the number much more harshly than necessary.

"Dick?" Jason picked up almost immediately, although he sounded kind of groggy, like he might've been asleep when Dick called.

Shit, Dick realized, feeling guilty, this was right in the middle of when Jason usually slept. He came to visit Dick in the mornings right after patrol and didn't get home until late afternoon, since the hospital was three hours away, and then Dick called at 10:15 just before lights out, and Jason would make himself and Damian dinner and head out on patrol after that, which meant he really only had a short window in between in the evenings to sleep. Shit. Dick probably should've thought that through before he woke him up.

"Hi," he said quietly.

"Hey sweetheart. How are you doing? It's pretty early, were you already going to bed?"

"I dunno. Not so good," he mumbled, dragging down the sleeve of his sweatshirt and running his fingers up and down over the inside of the arm holding the receiver. His voice was a bit scratchy from the screaming and hysterical sobbing earlier, and he tried to clear his throat quietly. "Sorry to wake you up, I wasn't thinking."

"It's okay honey, I wasn't sleeping real well anyway. What happened?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Dick could see a couple of the other patients on the couch a couple meters away looking at him curiously, and he ducked his face down and away from them. Fuck, everyone had probably heard him freaking out earlier. Great.

"I don't wanna talk about it." Dick quickly blinked back the tears that had started to form again, and sniffled, clearing his throat again and wiping at his face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, before returning his hand to its little ritual, stroking over the line of scars. God, he was so fucking sick of crying. "Can you skip visiting tomorrow? And tell Bruce not to come too?"

"What? Why?" Jason sounded alarmed.

"I just...something set me off real bad, and I don't think I can deal with seeing anyone."

"I...okay. Is there anything I can do?"

Dick shook his head, even though he knew Jason couldn't see. He'd get the point. Dick was tired. "I miss you," he finally said. "I wish you were here."

"I'm sorry honey, I wish I was too."

"I wanna go home."

"I know. I want you to come home too. But not until you're feeling safer."

"I feel worse. Everything here makes me feel worse. I'm back on fucking status again."

"I'm sorry sweetheart. Why would they put you back on?"

Dick impatiently clucked his tongue. "Causing injury to another patient, apparently."

"Apparently you caused injury, or apparently that's cause for them to put you back on status?" Jason asked, wryly.

"Guess," Dick deadpanned.

"Who was it, and what kind of shit did they pull?"

Dick snorted. "See, I knew you were smart. It was the dumbass from yesterday—"

"That motherfucker who called you a faggot? He's fucking lucky he met me in a hospital instead of on the street, because I'd have been thrilled to bash his fucking face in."

"...Yeah. That one," Dick said, ignoring Jason's violent spiel. "He's the one who set me off. All I did was leg sweep him and get the fuck out of there."

"Can't they transfer him to a different ward or some shit? Why isn't he the one on status? Wait, did he touch you? Because you know I am damn well not above threatening doctors and hospital administrators and whoever the fuck to get him transferred somewhere else."

"Don't know. And no, he didn't, he just—" he cut himself off. "Whatever, I don't really want to think about it anymore. Was gonna try to sleep, but I'm on status, so we'll see how that goes." He took a deep breath. "Fuck I miss you."

"I miss you too. You sure you don't want me to come tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I just...need some time. I still gotta get myself together. I don't know. I want you here, it's just...not a good idea, I don't think. Especially since I don't know if that guy's still gonna be lurking around or whatever. I just can't handle that shit again — even if it's nothing big, I'm afraid it's still going to set me off again and I just can't do it."

"You should really push your doctor to at least make sure he's not allowed near you or allowed to talk to you. This is fucked up."

"Yeah. I don't know. I'm just...tired."

"I'm sorry sweetheart. I love you so much, and I wish I was there with you."

"I love you too."

"Are you still planning on trying to sleep?"

"Yeah."

"Goodnight, then. I love you, Dickiebird."

"Goodnight."

"Can I get a goodnight kiss?"

Dick sighed, but answered as if Jason was really there anyway. "A Vulcan one, yeah."

"Okay." He swore he could hear Jason's smile through the phone, and then there was a muffled tap through the receiver. 

Dick tapped his two fingers against the mouthpiece in response, and couldn't keep a small smile from creeping onto his face. It was stupid, but it kind of made him feel better.

"I love you. See you Friday," he said.

"Love you more. See you Friday," Jason confirmed.

Dick shook his head, and his smile grew. "You're a dirty liar and some day you'll pay for your sins. Goodbye."

He heard Jason laughing as he hung up.

Dick turned back to Christine, still smiling, and stood to leave, before realizing she looked taken-aback and a bit concerned. He felt his Jason-boosted mood start to dissipate, and his smile dropped. 

"It was a joke," he said. He could only assume her expression was from the change in tone from the rest of the conversation to the last line. Dammit, this was why he hated eavesdroppers. How was he supposed to explain that he wasn't mood-swinging from lovey to murderous at his boyfriend, and was actually engaged in an embarrassingly teenage 'no, I love you more' back-and-forth? Life was a scam.

"Ah." Christine said delicately, not sounding like she believed him.

"It was a joke. He laughed," Dick insisted. The last thing he needed was being stuck on status longer because he was being reported as violent and unstable or some shit.

"I believe you," she said. It didn't sound like she did.

Whatever.

Dick's hand found its way back up his sleeve to his arm, counting the scars as he headed back toward his room for another thrilling evening of being unable to sleep. 

◇◇◇

"I was told that Mr. Peters didn't come to visit today," Dr. Reed prompted, when Dick fell to silence during their session. 

"Yeah," Dick said, chewing at his thumbnail. "I asked him not to. Bruce too."

"And why's that?"

Dick shrugged and his hand dropped to his arm, skating over the scars. "The stuff from yesterday. Didn't want to deal with it."

The social worker frowned, but Dick ignored her.

"The incident in the cafeteria?" Dr. Reed asked.

Dick nodded.

"Ah, I was meaning to ask about that."

"What is there to say?"

"Well how about you tell your side of what happened?"

Dick shrugged again. "He called me and Jay faggots on Tuesday, we ignored him," he recited in a monotone. "Then yesterday he was behind me in the dinner line, getting in my space, and he was saying—" Dick cut himself off and his eyes flicked down to the floor, his hand stopping its movement to clamp around his arm tightly. "Just...really triggering stuff. He stepped toward me again, so I swept his legs and got out of there to get some space. I dunno. I was already kind of out of it at that point. Then I'm sure the nurses told you about the rest."

The med students were scribbling away on their clipboards, but Dr. Reed just nodded calmly. 

"I see."

"Is there any chance you could make it so he's not allowed to talk to me or get close to me?"

The doctor nodded again. "Yes, I suppose that could be arranged." He made a small note on his clipboard. "And how has all this made you feel?"

Dick shrugged. "I don't know. Fucked up?" He picked at a loose thread on one of the throw pillows. "I'm annoyed that all it takes is someone saying something stupid to set me off and fuck up my whole day."

"Okay, and what do you mean by 'set you off'?"

Dick sighed deeply. He had explained this at least ten times since he'd gotten here, and he really fucking wished the doctor would just pay attention or look at his fucking notes.

"Trigger me, make me freak out and go into a full panic, send me into flashbacks, make me dissociate badly."

"I see. And is there anything else you wanted to talk about today?"

The med students were still writing quickly on their clipboards, and Dick wanted to know what the fuck they thought was so important.

"No," he finally said, looking away from them.

"Alright then. I think you can be taken back off status. Thank you for talking to me today." The stupid, blank smile on the doctor's face was back.

Dick really hated that smile. 

At least he was off status again — and hopefully he wouldn't have to deal with possibly-named-Tom-the-homophobic-asshole anymore either.

◇◇◇

Almost as soon as Jason was in through the ward door on Friday, Dick was hugging him, pressing his face into the crook of his neck and dropping his left hand to slide their fingers against each other in a Vulcan kiss.

"Hey sweetheart," Jason murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. "Did ya miss me?"

"You know I did." Dick pulled back just enough that they could make their way over to the small sofa near the door.

Jason carefully didn't touch, allowing Dick to arrange himself on his lap as he wished.

"I missed you too. A lot. Like a lot a lot."

"Oh really?" Dick laid his head on Jason's shoulder, looping his arms around his neck and stifling a yawn.

"Mhm." Jason slowly brought a hand up to rest on Dick's head, and Dick sighed.

"You can play with my hair if you like."

It didn't take long for Dick to feel himself drifting toward sleep, with Jason's fingers running soothingly through his hair, and the last two long, sleepless nights weighing heavily on him.

When he awoke — thankfully with no tears — Jason was still running his fingers through his hair. 

"Morning, sleepyhead. How you feeling?"

"Surprisingly alright, actually."

"Good!" Jason dropped his hand from his hair to his leg and squeezed his knee reassuringly. "I'm glad to hear that."

"I'm glad to feel it."

"Always gotta one-up me, huh?" Jason said, but his eyes were crinkled like he wanted to smile.

Dick grinned winningly. "It's part of my charm."

Jason sighed and kissed his temple. "I guess so."

Dick tilted his head to catch his lips in a quick kiss before he turned away.

Jason's brows drew together. "You feeling okay hun?" he asked again, and Dick frowned.

"Yeah? Why?"

"You...didn't confirm it was me."

Dick paused and blinked. Oh. He hadn't. 

"Is that...that's probably a good thing, right?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Well. High five for progress?"

Jason smiled and high fived him, intertwining their fingers afterward and resting their hands on his knee. "Progress."

Dick bit his lip for a couple seconds, before finally giving in. "Not to ruin the progress, but um...now that you've mentioned it…could you tell me something?"

Jason's smile didn't dim a watt. "'S still progress, sweetheart; sorry for bringing it up, though. What do you wanna know?"

"Don't apologize, it's not your fault." He thought for a moment. "Hmm...tell me about your favorite date we've had…"

◇◇◇

A week later, and Dick was more excited than he'd been about anything in a while. He had finally set things up with the staff to be able to see Damian, and he couldn't wait.

They were going to have to meet in a room elsewhere in the hospital, with Bruce present and a nurse to escort Dick, but it was so going to be worth it.

"We can go now, Richard," the nurse — named LaShonda — told him, heading for the door to the ward and scanning her keycard.

He followed along, out the door, down the stairs, and down another hall, before finally, finally arriving at a small room where he could see Bruce waiting through the narrow window inset in the door. LaShonda opened it, and let him pass.

"Dami!" He held his arms out, and then Damian was across the room hugging him. "I missed you so much," Dick mumbled into his hair, squeezing him as tight as he could.

Damian was almost as tall as him now — a fact which was often easy to forget and even harder to come to terms with. It seemed like just yesterday Damian was still twelve years old and only up to his waist.

They stayed there hugging silently for several long minutes until Damian finally pulled back.

"Stupid that they won't let me onto the ward," was all he said.

Dick burst into laughter. "Oh Damian. I love you too." 

"Whatever," Damian said, but there was a slight smile around his mouth. "How are things in here?" he asked, sitting down on the loveseat.

Dick sat down next to him and leaned back, stretching out his legs. "Same old, same old. Very boring and repetitive as ever — although I'm hoping I can get out of here soon! I'm making a lot of progress, and my doctor has started talking about my safety plan, which means discharge is close!"

"Good. I have...missed you too. You need to come home so I can stop hanging out with Todd."

Dick grinned. "Yeah, he told me you've been hanging around a lot lately. No bloodshed yet?"

"Tt. Only because you're not there. And no, I haven't deemed it necessary to actually fight him yet. But I can't say there's been none — not between us, but he's still…" he glanced over at the nurse, "distastefully eager at his job."

"I'll bet. He said he's been sleeping shittily since all of...this," he waved a hand around them, "and you know how he gets when he's tired." Jason's short temper tended to become practically nonexistent when he was running low on sleep, and Dick was willing to bet the number of knee replacement surgeries in Gotham had shot up significantly since he'd been in the hospital.

"Unfortunately," Damian agreed.

Dick shifted toward him and rested his forehead on Damian's shoulder, trying not to be stifling with the contact, but needing to have some sort of touch. Sometimes Damian wasn't in the mood for much physical affection, and Dick had already given him a hug, but his hand on the back of Dick's neck reassured him that he was okay with it.

Dick didn't play favorites in the family, but it was no secret that he and Damian were very close. It didn't matter that Bruce was alive and well and his real father, and that Dick wasn't raising Damian anymore — hadn't been for a long time now — a part of him would always think of Damian as his son, and it was just so hard to go without seeing him for so long.

"God I missed you so much. How's school going? Did you finish that AP Bio project you were telling me about on the phone?"

It felt like almost no time at all before LaShonda was telling them their hour was up, and Dick had to go back.

He gathered Damian into another tight hug. "I'll talk to you later this week, okay? And hopefully I'll know when I'm getting discharged by then."

Dick really couldn't wait until he could finally go home (and to not have to worry about time limits to hang out with Damian), and now, finally, it was getting almost close enough to touch.

◇◇◇

"Alright, if that's all you have to talk about today, then let's go over your safety plan one last time," Dr. Reed said four days later.

Dick nodded. He didn't know why they had to keep going over it, seeing as it was written down for him to refer to at any time, but if that was what it took to get out of this place then he'd gladly do it.

"So if you find your thoughts starting to spiral, what coping skills are you going to use?"

"Meditation, being present in the moment, or distraction."

"And if you're finding yourself unable to self-regulate, who do you contact?"

"Jay, Wally, or Donna."

"And what is your next step if these things still aren't helping, or if you find yourself in crisis?"

"Text the crisis line or call my therapist."

"And you have your therapist's information and the date of your first session?"

Dick pointed at where it was printed on the page.

"Good," Dr. Reed said, holding his hand out for Dick to shake. "You're all set for discharge tomorrow; I wish you all the best."

"Thank you."

Dick left the room, and headed back to where he'd left Jason on their couch at the end of the hall. He set his safety plan on the coffee table and settled into his now-regular position sideways in Jason's lap, and Jason wrapped his arms around his middle.

"Still on for discharge tomorrow?" 

Dick nodded, and Jay grinned up at him, excited. 

"I can't wait to finally have you all to myself again. Telling you right now, I'm probably gonna sleep like a fuckin' rock as soon as you get in bed. I got a lot to catch up on."

Dick smiled back. "Oh so do I. You know very well how little sleep I've been operating on. I'll probably sleep straight through patrol."

"I'm gonna cuddle the fuck out of you."

Dick laughed. "Noted." He put a finger up like he was making a mental note. "Boyfriend set to turn into an octopus for approximately forty eight hours starting tomorrow."

"You joke, but I'm serious," he said, squeezing his arms around Dick's waist and leaning forward to nuzzle against the side of his neck, pressing a kiss to it. "You won't be able to get rid of me." He stopped, pulling back and reconsidering his words. "Well, obviously you will actually if you're not enjoying it."

"How is it people find you scary again?" Dick nudged Jason's chin up with his hand and kissed him. "You're adorable. Thank you."

"Only adorable for you, sweet pea." Jason returned the chaste kiss.

Dick caught his lips again as Jason pulled back, and he leaned into the kiss until Jason's lips started moving with his. One of Jason's hands relinquished its hold on his waist, coming up to gently trace over Dick's cheek, and Dick curled his fingers in the back of Jason's hair, tugging and making Jason let out a small, "Unh," into the kiss. Jason pulled back entirely, flushing a brilliant pink and looking around furtively.

"Don't pull my hair in public," he admonished, sounding embarrassed, and let his hand drop from Dick's face.

Dick gave a small snort. "You liked it last time I did that. Remember the Sifra case?"

Jason flushed deeper red.

"Sorry Little Wing," Dick said sweetly, patting his cheek. "You're too fun to tease." 

He let out another laugh at Jason's answering scowl. "Adorable," he repeated to himself.

Jason scowled harder. "Don't laugh at me."

He had it on good authority that this particular scowl had sent people running for their lives on more than one occasion, but Dick just kissed his forehead where it creased between his eyebrows.