“Fuck!” Dick shouts from behind a container in the warehouse. His body is shielding yours from the onslaught of bullets headed towards both of you.

His head hangs right above yours, sweat dripping down his face and through his mask, “You do whatever I tell you.” He demands, chest heaving with each breath. “I say get down, you get down. I say run, you get your ass out of here.”

You have never seen him so angry before, especially not when it’s seemed to be directed at you.

Dick isn’t actually angry with you, though. He’s just pissed that you’re so close to danger. He promised himself that if he was going to do this— be with a civilian— he was going to do it right.

This isn’t right. Being kidnapped and shot at isn’t right.

Dick will get you out of here even if it kills him. The look in his eyes tells you as much.