Warnings: explicit sexual content; breathplay; canon-typical violence
Pairings: Slade Wilson/Dick Grayson
Summary: After losing an enemy's trail, Dick discovers a dog on his boat. At least, he thinks it's a dog.
Credits: This is a non-profit, fanmade work. All characters are owned by DC. This fanfiction was written and created by me.
A/N: I wanted to write at least one light-hearted story for SladeRobinWeek. And I did.
Nothing about this story makes sense. I just wanted to have fun. Hope it's enjoyable. :')
"That's not a dog," Damian said at once.
"What are you talking about? Of course it's a dog. What else could it be?" Dick said.
Titus ran and played across the Wayne property, staying at a far distance from the creature at Dick's heels. Dick glanced down at his new friend. Their meeting was a strange one—he was chasing an old archenemy when he had lost the trail, finally returning to his boat in defeat. Dick had been ready to exit the private island and resume the chase another day when he found the injured animal hiding under a tarp.
Now Dick was back in Gotham—stuck with an animal he couldn't take care of but couldn't find it in his heart to abandon.
Dick could admit that the stowaway was pretty large for a dog—he almost rivalled the height of Damian's great dane—but Dick could find no other word to describe the four-legged canine with the long, shaggy white fur.
"Have you named him yet?" Damian asked.
"Yeah, his name is Blue!" Dick had nicknamed him such for his one blue eye. The other eye was blinded by a heavy scar—one that he must have earned years ago, as opposed to the fresh injury that hindered one of his legs.
"Awful," Damian said without any hesitation.
"What?" Dick said, scowling. Damian rolled his eyes.
"He's clearly some sort of W-name. Like Winston. Or Winthrop. Or Wilson."
"Those are people names. 'Blue' is perfectly fine for a dog."
"As I said before: that beast is no dog. It doesn't even resemble any dog breed that I've seen," Damian said insistently.
"Maybe it's a mutt."
Damian made a face, but he didn't outright object Dick's argument.
"Well, either way, can you take him in? I've never owned a dog," Dick said sheepishly. While he and his new friend had gotten off on the wrong foot, by the time they crossed the ocean, Blue followed him around like a proper pet and Dick was enamored. Still, as much as he would have liked to keep him, Dick lived alone and seemed the least qualified to be an owner.
"I suppose you are rather hopeless," Damian said, sighing. Still, he eyed Dick's dog with caution. Testingly, Damian went to pet Blue but the animal snapped at his fingers. Damian snatched back his hand in time, a betrayed look in his eyes. Even Dick was shocked, his mouth hanging open in surprise—Damian usually had a magic touch when it came to animals.
Almost ruefully, Damian said, "It's not a dog, Grayson, and you shouldn't just pick up wild animals that you don't understand."
"Animals that I don't understand? You fly around on a giant… red… whatever!" Dick said, waving his arms around, as if trying to make charades out of Goliath. Damian crossed his arms, an almost indignant look in his eyes.
"Goliath is a Bialyanese dragon-bat," Damian said, nose turned upwards. "I've known him since he was a pup. Your mangy creature just magically appeared on your grungy boat. I'm not letting that thing anywhere near Titus or any of my other pets. Send him elsewhere."
Dick looked down at Blue, patting his head. Blue exhaled through his nose, an irritated sound, but he didn't try to bite.
"Don't worry, buddy. We'll find you a place."
Damian watched them for a moment and sighed. "I'll give you some of Titus' old things. But I'm telling you—I don't know what that thing is, but it's not a dog."
After Damian had disappointed him, Dick turned to the second biggest dog lover he knew. Jason was shopping with Tim, the two of them trying to pick up something for Alfred's upcoming birthday, when Dick managed to snag them.
Jason stared down Blue with a strange, scrunched-up expression the entire time Dick explained his situation.
"Dick, why are you trying to pawn off your wolf?" he said. Dick deadpanned.
"It's not a wolf, it's a dog."
"I don't want it."
"But I thought you loved dogs!" Dick said. Jason arched an eyebrow.
"Yeah. I love dogs. Not… whatever that is."
"I'm not entirely certain it's a wolf either," Tim said, shifting his weight to his other leg. There was a thoughtful look in his eyes as he closely observed the animal. "He looks too big—even for a wolf—and the long hair is a little too unique. Have you taken pawprint and bite mark samples?"
Bite mark samples? "He bit my leg when we met, if you can look at that."
Tim looked at Dick, horrified. "Dick, you should probably go to the hospital."
"Eh, it doesn't hurt anymore," Dick said, shrugging a shoulder.
"Dick—"Tim tried to argue.
"Come on, Tim, if I go to the hospital, someone's going to try to euthanize him," Dick said, frowning. At the word euthanize, Blue suddenly picked his head up off the ground, snorting.
"Do you think someone tried to make a wolf-bear hybrid?" Jason pondered out loud. "I mean, there is a Man-Bat, so a wolf-bear can't be that difficult to make… can it?"
"He's not a bear! He's a dog!" Dick said, throwing his hands in the air.
"You mean he's a wolf," Jason corrected. "A wolf-bear."
"He's dangerous, is what he is," Tim said, crossing his arms.
This was pointless. "You know what? Whatever. I have other friends who would be happy to help me. Come on, Blue."
Dick tugged on the leash. Blue didn't budge off the ground. Dick felt his face warm in embarrassment. Jason and Tim watched Dick sympathetically as he pulled on the leash harder, trying to get the heavy beast off the ground without seriously hurting either of them.
"You really need to work on that name, by the way," Jason said. "A thing that looks like that needs an edgier name… like… 'Scar' or something…"
"'Doom'," Tim said thoughtfully.
"I'm not changing his name!"
"'Death Razor'," Tim whispered.
"Well. Have fun with your wolf-horse," Jason said, slinging his shopping bags over his shoulder. He and Tim moved onto the next store. Dick huffed, beginning to sweat.
"He's a wolf-bear! I mean—wolf-dog—"Dick slapped his forehead"—dog. He's a dog."
But Jason and Tim were already long gone. Dick took a seat next to Blue on the sidewalk, trying to catch his breath.
Babs buzzed Dick into her home. Dick found her glued to the computer as always. He leaned against the doorway. It had been a long day and he was exhausted.
"Babs, you would help me with anything, right?" he asked her, unable to contain the weariness from his voice.
Barbara stopped typing, her keyboard going silent.
"Of course I would. What's the matter?"
"It's hard to explain—it's a really big favor but I just can't do it alone, I could really use your help—we could split shifts—"Dick started to stammer. Barbara suddenly laughed.
"Dick, slow down. I'll help you." Barbara spun around in her computer chair. "You can always trust me in your time of—AHH, what the hell is that?!"
Barbara shrieked when she finally looked, her usual composure snapping when she saw the menacing creature Dick had dragged into her home. She had already scrambled up onto her computer desk, a batarang pulled from her hoodie pocket.
Dick opened his mouth to explain—and felt a yawn crawl up instead. Exhausted, he decided fuck it.
"Actually, nevermind. He's going to stay with me. Thanks Babs," Dick said quickly. Barbara just stared at him, wide-eyed, her chest heaving. Dick tugged on Blue's leash and they quickly exited.
Dick picked up some food from the nearest BatBurger and headed home. He set the bag on the table and unleashed Blue, letting his new pet roam around the apartment.
Blue poked his nose against a mess on the ground of Dick's cluttered apartment. He snorted.
"Yeah, well. Your tarp wasn't exactly fancy either," Dick said, annoyed.
He went through the bag of things Damian had given him. He set up a place for Blue's food and water bowls in the kitchen. He pulled a toy from the bag, a small smile on his face.
"Hey, Blue—"he started, but when he flipped around, he noticed something missing on his dining room table.
He quickly followed the trail of ripped up paper and french fries into the living room, his heart racing.
"Wait, Blue, stop—that's people food, not dog food!" Dick said, trying to tug Blue back, but the dog showed amazing strength, barely budging. Dick tried to dart his hand in to grab the bag but Blue seemed to predict his movement and side-stepped, his hind intercepting Dick. Dick growled in frustration, falling back on the ground. He pouted, resting his chin on his fists. "Ugh. How am I supposed to take care of you?"
After he was done gobbling down Dick's dinner, Blue sat across from him. Dick paused, lifting his head. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion as they locked gazes—finding something remarkably familiar, even human, about Blue's expression.
Suddenly Blue's tongue darted up, wiping away the ketchup from his snout. Dick went back to scowling.
After Dick ordered a pizza to replace his lost burger and had his dinner, he attempted to play with Blue, who seemed to glare at Dick as he waved the rope in front of his face.
"Alright. Let's get some ground rules across," Dick said. Blue growled as the rope bumped into his nose for the umpteenth time. Dick ignored the sound. "If we're going to live together, then that means you have to be able to behave when I'm gone—otherwise I'll have to put you in a cage."
The toy bumped into Blue's face again. Blue suddenly snagged the rope right out of Dick's hand and flung it across the room, where it smacked loudly against a table, a stack of papers and books crashing to the ground.
Dick tugged at his own hair.
"Why? Why are you so difficult?" Dick said, exasperated. He hurried and went to pick up the mess. "You were much cuter on the boat—well, after you were done biting me, anyways…"
Dick sighed, finally organizing the new mess back into the old mess. He looked over at Blue, all shaggy-haired and sharp-eyed. This beast of an animal scared everyone it met—and admittedly, Dick was beginning to think it wasn't a dog after all—but Dick still found the animal endearing. He reminisced on the boat journey back home and how the animal had passed out next to him, all warm and cuddled up to him, grumbly snores filling the cabin.
Dick approached Blue. Listened to him snarl when his hand got close—but braved through it anyways. He moved to pet Blue's head—and Blue caught him, teeth sinking down on his hand.
Dick winced, feeling the fangs prick his skin, but didn't pull away. Blue glared up at him, waiting for Dick to retract—but Dick didn't.
Blue's growls faded, a single thoughtful eye staring up at Dick. And he released Dick's hand.
Dick massaged his hand, feeling the teeth marks. "You don't scare me, you know. I grew up with Batman."
Blue huffed but didn't attack him again.
After Dick brushed his teeth and dressed down for bed, he caught Blue taking up his bed. His shoulders slouched.
"Blue, you can't sleep there. Dogs sleep on the floor."
When he got closer, he saw that Blue's eye was already shut. Suddenly, Blue jerked in place, and even with his trained reflexes, Dick couldn't help but flinch. Blue growled in his sleep, legs moving against the sheets.
Listening to the timbre of Blue's voice, Dick frowned. His heart thumped a little faster. He didn't know why—but somehow, he had a feeling Blue wasn't chasing a squirrel in his dreams.
In fact, with the way Blue's hurt leg scrambled across the blanket, Dick doubted that Blue was even the one doing the chasing.
It made Dick wonder what Blue's life was like before he had appeared on his boat.
"It's okay," Dick murmured, shutting out the lights. He crawled into bed next to Blue, and in a few minutes, the growling stopped, and the animal was at peace again.
Daylight was beginning to fill Dick's apartment. Dick could hear light breathing next to him—confusing him at first, until he remembered the new addition to his home. He blindly reached across the sheets, his hand finding Blue's fur. He idly scratched Blue, hand travelling downwards to pet the rest of him.
Dick's brow furrowed, feeling something strange. Something smooth. It almost felt like flesh. A patch in his fur, maybe?
Dick slowly opened his eyes.
There was a man in his bed.
Dick's eyes snapped the rest of the way open, his hand immediately retracting from the man's neck. Slowly, Dick leaned over the body, trying to get a look at the stranger's face.
A single blue eye looked back at him.
"Well, don't stop now," Slade said, voice rough.
Dick gave a loud, ungraceful yelp, jumping back and falling off his mattress in a tangle of sheets.
Slade sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eye. Dick crawled back on his hands, never taking his eyes off the Terminator.
"You—you're in my bed—how?"
"You invited me in," Slade said simply.
Dick opened his mouth to argue but then stopped, staring at Slade. Dick took in his silver hair and his one blue eye.
"Holy shit," Dick said, eyes widening with realization. It was Blue. Slade was Blue. Dick unravelled himself from the sheets, slowly standing up. Eyeing Slade cautiously. "But—how?"
"You know some of my powers, Grayson, but not all of them," Slade said. He threw the sheets off of him, standing up—Dick immediately averted his gaze, heat rushing to his face.
"Why are you naked?" Dick demanded, covering his eyes.
He heard Slade walking around his room. Heard him shuffling through things. Dick peeked through his fingers, trying to see what Slade was doing—he caught a glimpse of Slade digging through his drawers but when his gaze landed on Slade's ass, he closed his eyes again, face burning hotter.
"My clothes don't change with me," Slade said. There was a sound of ruffling fabric. With a huff, Slade grumbled, "Jesus, kid, do you ever eat?"
"I didn't give you permission to wear my clothes! Get out of my apartment!" Dick spat.
"You don't have to tell me twice," Slade grumbled. Dick's eyes snapped open with realization.
He remembered why he went to that island in the first place.
"Wait, wait—don't move—"Dick said. He removed a hand from his eyes, backing up into his armoire, using one arm to reach behind him and find his escrima sticks. Slade had already pulled on a pair of Dick's gym shorts—they were so short it was almost funny, but the elastic waistband was probably preferable to Dick's fitted jeans. Slade grabbed the biggest shirt he could find, throwing it over his head. The shirt hugged his arms, was riding up, and looked like it was about to pop at the side seams at any moment.
Dick couldn't grab his weapons in time—he intercepted Slade anyways, standing in front of the door.
"You're a wanted criminal. I won't let you leave."
"The only reason I didn't choke you in your sleep is because no one's paid me to do it," Slade said with a growl. "And the only reason I'm not punching you right now is because I figure I owe you a small repayment for letting me crash at your place until my leg healed. Now move before I change my mind."
When Dick didn't, Slade roughly grabbed Dick by the shoulder to push him out of the way. Dick was getting ready to counter but a loud rip stopped them both. Dick and Slade stared at the torn sleeve hanging off of Slade's bicep.
Slade ripped the sleeve all the way off and tossed it in Dick's face. Dick, not expecting it, flinched—and that was all the opening Slade needed to sneak out the door.
Dick followed after him.
"Wait!" he said.
Surprisingly, Slade stopped in the middle of his living room. He looked back at him.
Dick swallowed. "So… so there's no dog?"
Slade deadpanned. "That's what you're worried about?"
"But… it was a dog, right?"
"It was me!" Slade yelled.
"I know but—"
Slade huffed—Dick felt betrayed when his heart suddenly fluttered at the familiar sound—and stormed out of the apartment.
"How the fuck did you find me anyways?"
Dick shifted in place uncomfortably, ignoring Slade's irritated sigh behind him. Surprisingly, their captors actually knew how to tie a proper knot, unlike ninety percent of Dick's kidnappers in the past. He and Slade were tied together in a series of seemingly impossible knots.
"I followed the trackers in the clothes you stole," Dick said simply, trying to shimmy out of the ropes. Slade grunted when Dick pulled a little too hard. "I mean, it was kind of obvious you would go back to chasing your target anyways. Picking up the trail again would have been easy."
"Why the fuck do you have trackers in your shorts? How often are people stealing your—"Slade stopped himself. "Oh."
"It's not like that. Batman put them there," Dick said, frowning.
"That's…" Slade seemed at a genuine loss of words.
Dick growled in frustration when the loop he was trying to shimmy out of slid back to its natural resting place.
"They couldn't have tied us separately?" Dick grumbled.
"What's wrong, Nightwing?" Slade said behind him with a heavy sigh. "Is this too close to comfort for you? Would you rather be huddled up with a dog in your bed?"
Dick's face burned. "If I had known it was you—"
"It was so obvious." Slade snorted. At that familiar sound, Dick wondered if maybe it was obvious. "Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't guess right away. When I realized it was your boat I was hiding on, I thought for sure you were going to toss me in the water and keep me stranded."
"I don't want to kill you, Slade," Dick said. "I just want you to pay for your crimes."
"Well that's not going to happen. I'm not getting captured by anyone tonight," Slade muttered. Dick felt Slade's arms moving behind his back. Dick narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
"You keep a blade under your skin, don't you?" Dick said. Slade stopped moving.
"How do you know that?"
"Lucky guess," Dick said, choosing not to reveal any more of Batman's secrets. "If you pass it to me, I can cut us out of here."
"I can cut myself out, thanks," Slade said, with more than a touch of sarcasm, his voice gruff.
"My hands are more nimble than yours."
"You do give good pets, yes."
Dick's ears went hot. "Will you stop that? I'm being serious."
"It's your fault we even got captured in the first place!" Slade said, on the verge of yelling. Dick suspected that if there weren't armed guards in the room, he probably would have.
Dick's anger rose. "What am I supposed to do, let you kill someone?"
"He's a fucking mafia boss, what the fuck do you care if he gets a bullet between the eyes?"
"Because it's my job to catch criminals! Which you both are!"
"I can't listen to your idiot mouth for another second. Take the stupid blade. The sooner we get out, the better."
There was a light plink on the ground.
Dick's face turned pink.
Slade gave a long, weary sigh.
"Two wars," he murmured with a tone of finality. "I survived through two wars. And now I'm going to die with some kid with a dog fetish strapped to my back."
At that, the lightbulb in Dick's head turned on. "How much control do you have over your shapeshifting?"
Slade paused. "I can't partially shapeshift. It's either all or nothing."
"That's fine. The rope should burst around your middle—and you can use your teeth to bite through the rest."
"Where are they keeping my armor and the rest of my stuff?"
"In a duffel bag near the guard," Dick said, eyeing the black bag on the table near the exit. Luckily, the protection mechanism in Dick's mask warded off the first person that tried to nab his things—but his escrima sticks and a few other tools were also bagged up.
"This underarmor I'm wearing doesn't stretch that far so… I'll probably need it," Slade said, muttering.
Dick liked to think that he was faster than Slade on an average day. But Dick only had two legs.
Bag strapped to his back, Dick was breathing hard as he chased Slade down to the docks.
"You bastard," Dick said, panting, running to catch up.
Slade hopped on before him—but by the time he finished transforming back into a human, Dick had closed the distance somewhat. He was getting closer when Slade took over the controls, the boat beginning to take off. Dick cursed under his breath and took a leap off the docks, hands managing to grab onto the side railing.
The boat was dipping into the water and picking up speed. Dick found it increasingly difficult to hang onto the slippery railing. Slade marched from the control room. He managed to find pants, thankfully—as well as his staff, which looked ready to smash Dick's hands.
Dick looked at him, heart racing, and finding no other choice he resorted to begging. "Come on. I let you onto my boat."
"Yeah, because you didn't realize it was me," Slade said bluntly. Dick gave him an exasperated look.
"So? I would have let you on anyways."
"Because you have a moral code."
"And you don't?" Dick said. When Slade's expression remained flat, Dick realized how foolish his retort was.
Dick gritted his teeth, feeling the wind rush by him and the strain in his arms, threatening to push him off even if Slade didn't.
Slade considered him for a moment, one eye looking at him. Sighing heavily, he grabbed Dick by the back of his uniform and yanked him over the railing. Dick was all but tossed onto the deck. Dick didn't bother to get up, trying to catch his breath.
"They put a tracker around your neck," Slade said, pointing. Dick stopped and felt his throat—true enough, there was a strap around his neck with a tiny device. "They put them on both of us when we were unconscious. Mine snapped off when I transformed—but there are metal prongs in the back, and it'll set off a shock if you try to remove it. Wasn't enough to take me down in my animal state but as for you, a human without accelerated healing, well…" Slade shrugged a shoulder. "However you decide to do it, you have ten minutes to deactivate it or I'm tossing you back in the water."
"Should be easy," Dick said, staring up at the stars, chest still heaving.
"And me letting you on the boat? This changes nothing. I still hate you."
"Obviously," Dick muttered after Slade headed back to the control panel. He rolled over, deciding he should get to work on removing this tracker.
Dick went into the cabin, going through his bag of belongings. One of his devices worked as a multi-purpose tool—he switched it to the screwdriver setting and moved toward the mirror hanging over the sink, tinkering with the tracker on his throat.
He could hear Slade enter the room—likely trying to make sure that Dick followed up on his ten minute deadline—but Dick ignored him. Finally, he figured out how the collar worked. He sighed with relief when the electronic display turned off and the prongs withdrew.
"Hey. Grayson."
Dick turned his head, alarmed to see Slade standing so close. He opened his mouth, ready to demand what Slade wanted, but stopped when they locked gazes. There was something different in Slade's expression, his usual steely coldness replaced with something heated.
Dick backed up, hitting the wall. His hand grabbed the counter for purchase as Slade suddenly leaned in close. Slade hooked a finger underneath the tracker, the tight space making it hard to breathe. The screwdriver slipped from Dick's hand and rolled across the counter, clattering as it fell into the sink.
"You know, with this collar on, you kind of look like a dog," Slade said.
Dick's face burned.
"What do you want?" Dick said, narrowing his eyes.
Slade stared for a moment, as if considering him. "What to share a bed again?"
"No," Dick said at once.
"Why not?"
Throwing Slade's words back at him, Dick said, "Because letting me on your boat changes nothing. I still hate you."
"And I hate you," Slade said, without skipping a beat.
The cabin fell silent for a moment.
"There's no bed."
Slade looked at him.
Dick let out a cry that filled the cabin.
Slade kept fucking him, his hard thrusts rocking him forward, bumping Dick's knees up against the counter. Slade's cock was buried deep inside of Dick, who had to keep his legs spread to accommodate his girth.
His hands slipped on the polished surface of the counter, elbows landing on the surface instead, as Slade drove in.
Slade's hands held him by the hips, grabbing him hard. The rough hands gripped and bruised. Dick's skin was hot and flushed—he could feel sweat roll down the curve of his spine, his hair hanging in his eyes as he lowered his head between his shoulders and moaned.
Their sounds easily filled the cabin—Dick was hardly quiet, every breath and curse audible in the space, the loud claps of skin against skin following suit. Dick stopped holding in his voice long ago, back when Slade was still fingering his ass—which now seemed like hours ago.
Fuck, he thought, brushing back his hair. He stared wearily at the plastic counter. When was this fucker going to come already?
There was still a gasp left in him, which sounded as sharp teeth dug into his shoulder.
God forbid anyone see his neck and shoulders in the next few days—he wasn't going to be able to explain it.
Slade tugged on Dick's tracking collar, forcing him to crane his neck. Dick saw himself in the mirror and barely recognized himself. He convinced himself that he had transformed into someone else. Sweaty hair pushed back, face flushed, eyes glassy, mouth parted with the pink of his tongue visible...
"God, Grayson, look at you," Slade murmured. He thrusted in particularly rough, a growl rumbling in his throat. "You're even bent over and panting like a dog."
Dick groaned as a hard thrust brushed against his prostate.
"Just—just shut up," Dick said, his teeth bared.
Slade pulled harder on the collar, ripping the breath out of Dick's throat. Dick's cock pulsed between his legs as his airways were restricted. He gasped for air, eyes rolling back. His hands scrambled along the counter, trying to find purchase. Heat prickling his skin as he struggled to breathe.
Slade released, Dick's body falling back forward. He inhaled deeply, catching oxygen. He felt this warm buzz throughout his body. A sudden rush as the color returned to his face.
Dick swallowed, staring at the counter. His body rising and falling as he panted. Trying to process what just happened.
"Again," he said, the word slipping past his lips.
At least he didn't have to beg.
The strap dug into his throat. Dick's body trembled, his vision spotting. His eyes shuddered to a close. His head went fuzzy and light. Breathless, he came. His cock trembled, hot seed rolling down the curve of his member and dripping onto the floor.
Slade finally dropped his grip, letting Dick fall over the counter. Dick's body was drained of energy, he struggled to catch his breath. But fuck, it had felt good—his body was all sensitive, his head felt like it was floating. He laid there for a moment, basking in his orgasm.
He was rudely jerked back to life when Slade thrusted, the sensation seeming to electrify every nerve in Dick's body. Dick yelped in surprise.
Dick felt Slade's breath on the back of his neck as he chortled.
Dick blushed hard when he heard:
"Good pup."
"Grayson. What in the world happened to your neck?"
Dick immediately slapped a hand over the mark on his skin. He flipped around and saw Damian standing there, squinting his eyes up at him.
Dick struggled for an excuse, looking around the cave. The rest of the team was still getting into uniform—though Damian's exclamation had attracted the attention of a few batfam members.
"I, uh, got in a fight," Dick said.
Damian seemed unconvinced. "Those are bite marks. From that foul animal, no doubt. Tt. That's what you get for taking an untamed creature from the wild. No wonder it ran off."
"How'd your dog bite you on the neck?" Tim said incredulously. As soon as he asked the question out loud, his face fell with realization. "Oh."
"'Oh'?" Damian repeated. "'Oh', what?"
Jason finished pulling on his gloves and walked right up to Dick.
"It's like I've been saying…" He pointed directly at Dick's neck, a crooked smirk on his face. "...that's not a dog."