Wally West was fast asleep, breathing slow and steady as one hand rested lazily on Dick Grayson's waist. When Dick suddenly moved to reach for the phone on the nightstand, Wally groaned in annoyance and tightened his grip on him.

"Who's calling at this hour?" he muttered, not even opening his eyes.

Dick looked at the screen and sighed. "Jason."

That was enough to wake Wally up completely. He pulled back slightly, watching Dick answer in a low, calm voice.

"Jay? What's going on? It's three in the morning."

Wally rolled onto his side, resting his head on Dick's shoulder as he half-listened to the conversation. Jason was speaking too fast, and even without hearing the whole thing, Wally could tell it was one of his usual emotional outbursts.

Dick, on the other hand, was as unfazed as ever. I nodded at regular intervals, asking questions every now and then, and letting Jason vent. It was one of the things he loved most about Dick: his endless patience.

But after ten minutes, Wally began to feel less sympathetic. He rolled over in bed, tugging the blanket over himself a bit and then letting it fall back, hoping Dick would get the signal. He didn’t.

Another five minutes. Wally huffed and leaned in again, speaking loud enough to be heard on the other end of the phone. “Why don’t you ever sleep?”

Dick gave him an apologetic look, covering the mouthpiece for a moment. “Stop it,” he whispered, but there was a small smile on his lips.

“It’s not my fault your brother needs a therapist at three in the morning,” Wally said, rolling over again but not actually leaving. He had learned that, as frustrating as it was, his brothers came first.

Finally, after another exchange of reassuring words, Dick said, "Okay, but call me if you need to vent again, okay?"

When he hung up and put the phone down, Wally immediately turned to face him.