dick had no intention of sharing his space with anyone else after leaving the asylum. he was bloody, slightly dazed, and pissed off on top of that.

but hadn’t had much of response when you offered to help clean up, in a gentle, tentative voice that made him feel like you cared. so, he allowed to take him out of his ruined clothes scrub the blood out his hair.

he didn’t talk though. he wouldn’t. not about what they made him or what it meant. the last thing he wanted to feel was shame for still carrying the robin everywhere with him.

dick looked up at you with contemplative eyes as you wiped his face clean. he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t rethinking everything now. even, you and him, whatever you two were. “why’d you do all this?”