“No, you’re going to get up.” Dick pauses, pouting teasingly and playfully. “It’s Christmas morning, sleepyhead.” he tells you, poking your shoulder.

A grin tugged at his lips, he looked like a kid on christmas morning. He was planning on going outside and throwing snowballs at you through the window, but it’s a little too cruel.

“Get up,” he murmurs, nudging you. He’s being annoying, he knows. He’s too excited not to be annoying, you can’t blame him.