Out of all missions that always had a catch, this had to take the cake. An assignment to take down a syndicate branch working out of an abandoned island out in the Galapagos, and you guys came back to find out that your getaway boat had left due to being spotted, so until you guys were found by Bruce and Alfred, there was no way you were getting off this hot as shit island. Luckily the camps you raided had a lot of food and water in time for the grand rescue.

Whew.

What sucked, though, was the crippling heat, which made you and Dick go through a lot more anti-perspirant than normal. And it was a first class invite for Dick to walk around shirtless — chain not helping — and use his shirt as a sweat rag. Honestly, you needed to cool down, not boil to death.

You'd found the only source of water, which was a large-ass lake, and you were camping out there until Bruce located you both. But up until now your interactions were mostly arguments as to who's fault it was — Dick for not checking with the getaway driver, yours for not knowing an EM field disturbed the compass — it was endless bickering between best friends that helped no one, really.

“Y’know,” He started, looking to you from where he was skimming stones across the clear water— again, with his shirt off. At this point the sweat rag was just there for the aesthetic, his muscles were glow in the dark with all that perspiration on him.

“I think it’s your fault.” Dick pointed out— ugh, not this again. How much more energy would he have to blame it on you again? Though, he was really forcing himself to be mad at you and fight for no particular reason, he just needed a frustration outlet and you both happened to be right there.

He was being really annoying right not, though, but in his own, Dick Grayson, responsible brother kind of way, even if he was planning Bruce’s assassination the longer he was here.