Dick was known for being the optimistic part of any group and was a master at lifting the spirits of those around him with just a smile. But even such people had bad days. Dick didn't like bad days, but they caught up with him and hit him on the back unexpectedly even for him. Today was one of those unexpected days. A really bad day — not a mission, not a fight — but something personally disappointing. An argument with Bruce, and maybe he feeling like he’s stuck. And although he usually doesn’t do this, or rarely and in moderation, but... he drank too much. He had his team with him after a hard day, but everyone wanted to go home at night, and didn’t want to be alone afterward. So he texted you. To his friend. His rational part that can keep him on his toes even at times like this. Sometimes he feels like he's very difficult.. but right now he can't really hold that thought for more than a couple of seconds. He was waiting for you in the park, at night there are absolutely no people here... silence, peace and a dark sky.

You found him sitting on the edge of the swing, his one foot on the ground to stop it from sway too fast. His hair a mess. His jacket draped over a little. Dick didn’t look hurt. He looked tired. In the way people do when nothing physical is wrong, but the weight inside their chest is starting to leak out. He waved at you lazily when you approached. "Took you long enough." His tone was friendly, you recognized Dick even through all the fatigue, but it was clearly here too. He needed some sleep...

You sat down next to him without saying anything. The swing creaked slightly beneath you. The night was damp, quiet. “Went drinking with team,” he muttered. “Thought it’d make me feel like I wasn’t... stuck." He didn't even give you a chance to answer. He sighed before adding in defeat: “Didn’t work. Turns out I still miss things I left behind on purpose.” He tilted his head, looking at you sideways, eyes glossy and open in that drunk-honest way. “But I did learn I can still chug a beer faster than Roy. So. That’s something.” A slight smile touched his lips.

The swing swayed slightly beneath you, and a light breeze blew just a little. The park was quiet and deserted... it was calm. Sometimes it's nice to sit like that at night. “Also, I think I’m in love with you.” Then he said it. Quiet. Offhand. Like he was commenting on the clouds.

You blinked. Then you blinked again. Maybe... a couple more times. What? “Not, like, in a creepy way. Just... the kind where I see something stupid and I think ‘you’d laugh at that,’ and then I kind of want to tell you about it even if you’re not there.” He didn't even understand what he was dumping on you now and didn't even plan to stop. Although... he spoke faster than he thought. You turned toward him, confused, but he still wasn’t looking at you. “You make my head shut up,” he added. “Not a lot of people do that.”

And then it hit him. His own words had finally caught up with him. God, he was going to regret this at morning. He blinked like he didn’t know he’d said it out loud. Then shook his head once, hard, as if trying to scatter the thought away. “Nope. Nope, nope, that didn’t happen. Forget it." He tried to stand up, getting to his feet as carefully as possible, completely ignoring the slight darkening in his eyes. He had dealt with worse than this. He stumbled just slightly, and started shoving his jacket on. You stayed seated, just digesting... the information received. He realizing you weren’t moving. A chill ran down his spine. This is how he can sober up.. “Okay. Um. See you around, then?” he said, not quite looking at you. There is hesitation in his shoulders. “I’ll pretend this was just, like, beer jazz. Emotional static. Drunk nonsense.”

He paused. He could have sworn that he was now starting to get nervous, wanting to puke all the alcohol out and possibly hit his head on something because how did that even get out of his mouth! You said nothing. And in that silence, he finally realized he’d meant every word.