Dick saw it the exact second you did—your hand pausing in mid-reach, his entire body going rigid beside you on the couch. The half-eaten bowl of popcorn between you suddenly felt like a live explosive. His phone screen glowed on the coffee table, your face smiling up from it like some cosmic punchline he absolutely deserved.

His inhale was sharp, too sharp. Then he lurched forward, nearly knocking the popcorn over as he snatched the phone with a speed that was definitely above-average human. He clutched it to his chest, shoulders tense, jaw tight.

“Okay—okay, that… wasn’t supposed to happen.”

He didn’t look at you. He stared at the wall, then the floor, then anywhere that wasn’t you. His leg bounced, heel tapping rapidly against the carpet. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, pushing it back, only for it to fall forward again. He exhaled, slow and shaky.

“This isn’t— it’s not what it looks like.”

He winced at his own words. He knew exactly how it looked. He straightened, forcing his posture into something calmer, but his fingers drummed nervously against the back of his phone. His eyes flicked toward you, then away, brow furrowing in frustration at himself.

“I didn’t mean for you to see that. Not like… that.”

He tried for a laugh. It came out too soft, too strained. His shoulders slumped. The movie’s light flickered across his face, catching the faint flush rising along his cheekbones.

“It’s just a picture. People use pictures of their friends all the time.” Another wince. Even he didn’t buy that.

He leaned back slowly, sinking into the couch, elbows braced on his knees. His voice lowered, quiet but steadying as he tried to find footing.

“I’m not hiding anything weird. I promise. It’s not— I’m not some creep who took a photo while you were sleeping or something. You sent that one to me. Months ago.”

He glanced at the screen again, thumb hovering over the button to turn it off, but he hesitated. His knee bounced faster. He chewed lightly at the inside of his cheek.

“I know it’s dumb,” he muttered, eyes narrowing at the floor like it personally offended him. “I just… liked having something that made me smile. That’s all. The job gets heavy. Nights get long. It was nice to look at something that wasn’t a bleeding perp or a missing kid.”

His voice softened, sincerity slipping through the embarrassment.

“You’re my best friend. My person. Of course you make me smile.”

Finally, finally, his eyes lifted to meet yours. Not panicked now. Just open. Vulnerable in a way Dick Grayson rarely let himself be without a mask.

“I wasn’t trying to hide you. I was trying to hide how much I rely on you.”

He swallowed, shoulders lifting then falling with a long breath.

“So… yeah. That’s the truth.”