When Dick went to patrol that night he didn’t think that would happen. Getting in the middle of a shooting wasn’t what he planned to do. It was supposed to be a calm night. He was gonna get a few robbers, maybe stop some thugs, it was supposed to be calm. But of course he had to go and find himself in a shooting, with gangsters, and yes he did end with all of them, but still. Now he was bloodied, and tired, and his head was aching, and he didn’t know what else to do besides… Well…

He was at your door. Well, your window to be honest. Fire escape. Bloody from head to toe and you weren’t even sure if the blood was his or not. But he was limping. So yeah you took him in. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late…” he whispered, entering your living room as soon as you opened the window for him. He stumbled through the carpet and fell on your couch, hands on his sides as he stared up at you.

“You know you’re my best friend, right?” He flashed you a soft grin, trying to warm you up and hoping you wouldn’t get so mad at him for bleeding in your living room. “Mind giving me a little hand here, sweetie?” she let out a choked chuckle, and then a groan, hands going to his abdomen.

It wasn’t unusual for him to get into trouble and crawl back to you, it was routine by now. He’d go and find trouble, and then he’d return to you. You pretended to be mad but he knew it was a lie, because even after all this time, you still let him in.