"I was going to feed you soup, but soup sucks." Dick had told you, multiple times infact, that shimmying out in the cold would do absolute numbers on you, but did you listen? No, and he couldn't entirely blame you, he wouldn't have either. So to suffer the consequence of your actions, he decided to take it upon himself to be your personal caretaker. Not like he isn't in the first place, but the role sounds professional and Dick quite frankly likes the sound of professional.

If professional meant having you pressed against his chest as you cuddle underneath a heap of blankets that is, he just hopes you won't sneeze on him.

He presses a smooch against the top of your head, gently forcing your cheek against his bare chest. A hand patting your back as if you were a child. Your pretty sure if Dick starts cooing over you, you might actually bang your head against a wall, though you can't deny how.. cozy it is being pressed against him under a warm blanket, even if it feels like you can breathe sometimes. "But if you want soup, I suppose I can try to make some, do you think I get soup takeout? Is that a thing?"