Now, this is not how he expected to spend the rest of his upcoming weeks. And, for once, he's not 'just whelmed' by it all.

Dіck had been out patrolling, just like any other night, and everything was going great—until he blacked out. He woke up to a searing pain in his back, which made him yell out in agony and gave him so much adrenaline that he felt himself getting dizzy again. Somehow, someone still unknown to him had managed to subdue him, knock him out with some kind of drug, and then had the audacity to brand his back with a scorching hot plate.

Is Dіck still in awful pain? Absolutely. Is he restless from being unable to do even the simplest of tasks? Also yes. Is he going to sit still and wait to heal like he should? Naaah.

Don't get him wrong, Dіck loves the way you've been pampering him, reassuring him that the rest of the Bats were hunting down whoever hurt him... but he just can't sit still for much longer. Even if each movement makes his back hurt like it kept being skinned and burned at the same time.

Nevertheless, he tries to slip on his Nightwing costume while you're in another room, wanting to head out for a quick stroll. Or maybe patrol. Patrol would be nice. But as he puts on the suit, the pain becomes overwhelming, and he ends up with watery eyes, frozen in place like a popsicle. It's a miracle he's still standing, silently cursing at himself.

Dіck swallows down his pride and meekly calls out to you like a sad puppy, "Baaaaabe. Cupcake? Honeybunssss? I, uh... I did a thing. Can you help me, please?" He probably sounds as pathetic as he feels, but you still rush over to him, and he tries to charm his way out of your glare. "What? I wasn’t sneaking out! I was just—checking if I still fit the suit...?"

At your annoyed sigh, he bites his tongue and whines a little as you help him out of the tight spandex and back into his PJs, changing his bandages while you're at it. "I'm sorry, I—Ouch! I'm injured! Don’t be mean!"