I'd like to thank everyone for sticking with this story through its horrendous update schedule. Here is the longest and final chapter of Here Comes the Anxiety (which is named after a very good song by The Wombats, by the way, which inspired it). I'm really proud of it. Hope you like it.
Edit: My Vietnamese was wrong, by the way. Thank you very much to akinos for the correction.
Artemis didn't take the offered seat, but he didn't seem to expect her to. Her eyes held his, and Dick met the threat in them unwaveringly. The small smile on his lips was still present, but instead of the satire and smugness that usually accompanied it, now it seemed only allied with contentment. It was enough to convince the stiffness in her shoulders to fall, but her fists stayed clenched at her sides, almost to prevent herself from hauling him off the couch and flipping him onto his stupid face so he would agree to keep quiet.
He didn't give her the chance; Dick didn't bother to let her break their conversational custom. He spoke first. "'Cheshire , huh? That's an interesting name." The turn of his lips- the one that eliminated any hopeful, foolish doubt she'd clung to on the subject- made the few sips of pungent tea Artemis had managed to swallow want to come back up.
"My name's Artemis." Her voice was flat, but it did nothing to disguise the disgust she had for herself. It had been meant to sound casual, but didn't even manage it to her own ears. In retrospect, she hadn't really expected him to worm anything compromising out of her, mostly because Artemis had expected her own control to be stronger. Both were stupid assumptions to make.
"Yeah, I guess it is. Funny, then," Dick mused, "that there are two vigilantes with those same names." He clearly didn't think that was funny, but her floundering attempts at recovery were hilarious.
Artemis stiffly took a seat on the couch, this stab at composure even more fruitless than the last. It wasn't the only thing she wanted to stab at either, but it seemed to be a one or the other option, and composure took precedence. "Guess I didn't really think of how coincidental that was." That, sadly, wasn't even a lie. She wasn't sure where that would put her point wise; not realizing that her lack of code name could mean leaking her actual name had got to knock her down the bracket, but not lying had to mean a couple bonus points.
"Yeah? Well the mansion gets kinda big and empty, so I research to keep busy. Hero watcher gossip blogs seem to agree that there's a kid hero named Artemis around somewhere. A Green Arrow kid that he's keeping mostly under wraps." The smugness was slowly creeping back into his grin. Artemis wondered if he could help it, or if it was an insidious sort of thing he tried to control. "And as far as the news seems to agree, there was this girl Cheshire who was after Lex Luthor."
Artemis affected her best nonchalance and shrugged. "You learn something new every day."
Dick nodded. "Like identities, eh, học trò của Green Arrow?" She winced. The words would have been far harsher had he not used Vietnamese, a language he'd been dedicating himself to for the last few months so she had someone to talk with. Artemis had been doing likewise with Romanian. They had been teasing each other in it for the last few weeks, so the words took on a lightness she knew they wouldn't have had otherwise.
Artemis bit her lip, realizing that he was distracting her by using the language they had intended to bond through. It seemed like a perversion of their friendship's intent. The meaning was just as dangerous, Vietnamese or not: apprentice of Green Arrow.
"You're being ridiculous," she insisted, crossing her arms and sitting further back into the velvet couch.
Dick sighed, exasperation wearing into his glee. Good. At least he couldn't keep up that grin forever. "Artemis, you get excused from school at least twice a month with shaky excuses at best-"
"I have a lot of health concerns. We've gone over that." Like broken ribs, internal bleeding, being shot at, but health concerns nonetheless.
"You got all the way across Gotham by yourself tonight-"
"I'm not so poor that I can't afford a cab once and a while." Not that it was a liberty she indulged it, by still true.
"You have Daniel Craig biceps."
Artemis didn't have an excuse for that one, but she didn't quite think it was fair that he try to flatter her with her favorite actors.
"Arty, please. I know. You're a superhero."
She was a pretty terrible excuse for one at that. She couldn't keep her secret from a thirteen year old brat. The fists returned, curling even tighter and, wow, hey, she felt pretty insulted. Her blood was boiling and her heart was pounding and this little shit thought he could just shove his way into the most private and complicated part of her life uninvited.
"Fine!" Artemis threw her hands up in the air, standing up so fast that her knees pushed the couch a good for six inches back. The black, bitter spite leaked past the guards she'd long ago established to smother it. "You caught me, oh great detective! Want a fucking award?"
"That'd be great actually," Dick smirked, and his omnipresent smirk seemed to endure even through having to dodge her sloppy excuse for a punch. "I can forgo it if it comes with a shiner, though."
"I swear to God, Dick, if you tell anyone I will personally make sure Batman gets his hands on you before the League can." It was a ridiculous threat, she knew, because the Bat would never hurt a kid, no matter the decibels he could scream secrets at, but Gotham elevated their guardian to such a mythical status already she figured she could stamp any personality she needed on him.
Of course he called her bluff, she thought as his laughter split the wedge of silence the threat had driven into the conversation. She collapsed back into the folds of the couch, her fisted hands over her eyes.
"I don't think a guy as important as that would spend his time on me," Dick said finally, leaning over to take up his cup again. "And he won't have to, Arty. I'm not going to tell anyone."
"Better not," Artemis growled, but her hands unclenched slowly and Dick took the opportunity to hop from his claimed couch to hers. She flinched when their hands brushed, but he clearly did his best to ignore it when apology flashed to her eyes after she registered the impulse. His features had softened and it made him seem earnest enough, so Artemis decided to leave the secret in his care for at least the night. Green Arrow could deal with it later.
"Still wanna talk?" Dick asked, and she had to give him points for bothering to get permission, considering he usually didn't give her desires any weight in these conversations. Still, she let the question hang for a minute.
Eventually: "Sure, I guess. Now that there aren't any more secrets between us, it kinda seems like the whole blowing open a secret identity thing would go to waste otherwise."
Dick's smile faltered for a split second, a failing that would have probably been lost on Artemis if archery hadn't sharpened her notice, but before she could comment on it a tray bearing Alfred bustled into the room. Both of their eyes snapped to him. She'd only known him for an hour or two, but Alfred was someone to whom you gave your undivided attention.
"I apologize for the delay, Master Richard, but earlier the two of you seemed predisposed."
Dick looked sidelong at Artemis and smiled. "Of course, Alfie, it's fine."
"Vanilla scone, Miss. Crock?" Alfred bent slightly to offer the platter, and she took one for politeness' sake. She wasn't too fond of sweet things, save the traditional desserts her mother would sometimes manage to scrounge together on their budget. Ginger syrup and bahn choux, on the rare occasions they could afford it, were about the only things she could stomach. And Starburst. Those were good.
"Master Richard, your guest's room has been prepared. I imagine you will be able to show her to it. Unless you require me otherwise, I will retire to await Master Bruce's return."
Dick redirected the question to Artemis and, when she assured him that she was fine, he waved Alfred away with another thank you. Dick snatched the scone from her as soon as the butler had left the room.
"You didn't look like you were going to eat it," he managed after shoving half of it into his mouth.
Artemis snorted. "You eat like Wally."
Dick rubbed a few of the crumbs off his face with the back of his hand. "Who's Wally?"
"He's a friend," she started, forgetting for a moment who it was she was talking to and why it was her hands were still trembling ever so slightly in her lap. Artemis swallowed and added, "A teammate."
"A super teammate?" Dick hummed, and the way he stressed super made her roll her eyes.
Still, she allowed the admission past her lips. "Yeah. Kinda one of my problems, too."
"Tell me about it," he urged, and this time Artemis didn't recoil or resist. She did.
She recounted the members of her team, and how they could love her so much and still make her feel so alone. She described her feelings for Wally, and the fears that he would reject her the moment one of them found out about the family she had inherited. She talked about the small glimmer of attraction she used to have towards Superboy and then Robin, glaring a Dick when he giggled and mentioned that he'd love to see how Green Arrow and Batman would react to that. She traced back her history, told him about her mother's time in jail and her sister's neglect and her father's drunken blows late in the night. She explained her worry that she had never really earned her place by Green Arrow's side, that it was just something given to her out of pity. She even detailed Paula and Jade, not as Huntress and Cheshire but as her mother and sister, and how sometimes she would wake up covered in sweat because if the Light or the League of Assassins wanted to kill either of them, she didn't think she'd be able to stop it.
As the short hand of the clock on the wall above their heads swept across its face, past the one and the two and the three, Artemis told him everything she could think of, every pain knotted in her chest and delight she had managed to smother them with. Dick was silent as she spoke, only asking for an occasional clarification or bumping her shoulder with his to pull her from the misery of a particularly raw memory. Sometimes she would laugh, and he would follow her lead, but more often than not Dick would let her sink into silence while she trembled and shook as she tried to fight back the emotion welling to her eyes, because Artemis Crock wouldn't cry. She clenched her fists or wrapped her arms across her chest or lashed out but she, under no circumstances, cried.
"Did you ever think of leaving?" Dick asked eventually, after the histories had finally tapered off into silence. Their tea sat on the table next to them, cold and forgotten, and Artemis withdrew her reach for it when she wasn't greeted with the warm touch she was expecting. "I mean, with everything Gotham and heroing has put you through, did you ever consider just walking away? Why not go to Star City to focus on being Artemis? Or just leave the hero gig period?"
Artemis wanted to brush away the questions, but she couldn't negate it. In truth, she had considered it a thousand times. A hundred reasons why she never could waited on her tongue- responsibility, the Team, fear of turning out like Jade, worry over her mother- but none of them were really the truth, and she was trying a new thing where she actually trusted people with that.
"Yeah," she admitted, smothering another of her increasingly frequent yawns. "I have. But Gotham," Artemis' mouth quirked into an odd sort of half smile, touching on a fondness she didn't realize she had for the place, "Gotham is my city. If I can't stick with it, how can I expect anyone else to stick with me?" Gotham, at least, was just as broken as she was.
Even while they spoke, Artemis had faded to a sort of hazy state between being awake and being asleep and didn't even notice when Dick matched her smile and pointed out how late it had gotten. He poked her and she jolted up. His sympathetic smile reminded her how terrible she looked and that their heart to heart has done absolutely nothing to mitigate it.
"I know you're tired and Imma let you finish, but maybe you wanna sleep in an actual bed." She looks at him dumbly for a moment, sluggish brain uncomprehending, then, "It's late."
"Early, you mean. Late passed." Artemis squinted through exhaustion strained eyes at the clock. 4:52.
"Shall I show you to your room, m'lady?" Dick stood up and swept into a low bow, offering a hand to Artemis.
"Only if you stop talking like that."
Dick made a face but agreed nonetheless. "Got it."
The room he led Artemis to was simple, but she was fairly certain it was bigger than her living room and kitchen together. A bed sat against the middle of the far wall, flanked by a vanity and dresser. The walls continued the beige trend set by the hallway, but these were just a shade darker, more welcoming.
"This good?"
Artemis nodded. "Better than my digs."
"You could probably earn some money for better 'digs' as a social media organizer, what with your fancy, up-to-date parlance."
"You just said the word parlance, so don't even talk to me." She rolled her shoulders and leaned into the doorframe, slipping off her sweatshirt when it finally occurred to her that she could. The strap of the quiver she had hidden under it had pressed a pattern into her skin, and Artemis was more than relieved to finally get it off her shoulder.
Dick looked her up and down curiously, and Artemis was still slight irked by how shameless he was. "So that's your costume? Very Green Arrow wannabe."
"I am his học trò ," she said, flicking his arm in minor reparation. "You aren't going to tell anyone about that, right?"
"Cross my heart and hope to resist the lure of gossip."
She narrowed her eyes, but decided to let his lightness on the topic drop. "Good night, Dick. And I mean that both ways."
She started to close the door, but he stuck a foot against it before she fully could. "You're sure you're okay for the night?"
"Better than I've been in a while. I'll be fine."
"Actually fine, or 'Dick'll wake up with a horse head in his bed tomorrow' fine?"
Artemis rolled her eyes kicked his foot from its blockade of the door. "Actually fine. Go to bed."
"Night, Arty!" Dick called through the closing door, and his footsteps retreated to whatever part of the manor his bedroom was tucked into. It was strange, really, how happy she was right then, through the bleariness and aches; she had reason enough to be upset and she should probably have been thinking about what she was going to say to Green Arrow and the team later- she was going to see them the next night, she couldn't not say anything because they were her family and this wouldn't just compromise her. There were plenty of compromising things she'd keep to herself- nominally her family- but civilians figuring out an identity was particularly bad. But she found that her attempts to think about what to say were thwarted by the most profound sense of relief she could imagine. She didn't even remember everything she admitted to him or everything they talked about, just that they did, and, hey, Dick's not bad company in a place of misery—he's not bad company at all. With shoulders lighter than she could remember in years, Artemis dropped her weapons to the carpet and fell into bed, met with one of the soundest sleeps she would ever have
Artemis's alarm was loud and obnoxious enough that she was surprised to find that it didn't do its job of jogging her from her dreams, though it was a sound she'd grown accustomed to and maybe that was part of it. A tiny icon in her phone screen's corner reminded her that she'd gotten a message earlier, one of the mass texts the Academy's media organizers would send. Inclimate weather. Classes cancelled for the day. She yawned and did her best to avoid the temptation to rest her eyes again, distracting herself by searching for flaws in the paint on the ceiling. After a few minutes, she was properly awake and rolled out of bed, tucking her phone into the pocket of her sweatpants, whose ripeness she does her best to ignore. A peek past the curtains that framed the wide window on the opposite wall did reveal dreary, gray skies but whatever rain that there had been earlier seemed to have passed already.
It would explain why it was ten and Dick hadn't frantically woken her up so they could go to school, though without the text she would have just as easily attributed it to him forgetting she'd slept over. After one more paranoid glance at her phone, she retrieved her bow and quiver from where she'd dropped them the night before and concealed them under the sweatshirt again. Her hair was a whole other demon to tackle, so Artemis settled for restraining it into haphazard braid and pulling the hood over the frizzy mess that it ended up settling into.
It took her a few minutes to navigate her way through the huge mansion and would've taken considerably longer if Alfred- Alfred Pennyworth, he informed her when she asked- hadn't intercepted her exploration to direct her to the dining room.
"Young Master Richard insisted that he make breakfast for you," he'd said, and she could almost hear how sorry he was for that.
As she trudged down the indicated hall, it occurred to her how much Dick had screwed her up, taking her from the contented school charity and secret vigilane case to the girl who'd stayed overnight at the house of the richest and most desired boy in school and slightly less secret vigilante. Before then, she'd been satisfied with her lot, able to convince herself that smothering was something everyone did since she'd never had proof that they didn't. Artemis had been able to lull herself into that security. It worked for her. She could deal because she was one of a kind, original, and she was gonna kick insecurity in the face, or at least push it away with a ten foot pole.
Until she met Dick Grayson.
Dick Grayson with the seemingly endless supply of hair gel and even greater supply of things to say, from the moment she steps onto school grounds to the moment they part ways after their shared P.E. class. Dick Grayson, with his witty commentary at the expense of whoever happens to be in front of the class and his obstinate debates whenever they happen to disagree. Dick Grayson, the boy now known as Artemis's speed because even though she used to pass him with little more than a thought, he'd been ubiquitous since that still unexplained photo the first day of school. He managed to outcompete her need for sleep and her failings in math and, apparently, even her caution, the one frontier she'd stayed secure in. Dick Grayson managed to leap into her life like he's always been there, but Artemis hadn't minded much, events of the night before aside.
His father seems to, though.
He's there when she finally finds her way into the dining room or dining space or dining closet, whatever rich people called these. It was about twice the size of her bedroom, but she was certain that there had to be other ones. What else could a mansion be filled with but duplicate rooms? There was too much space for every other door to just lead to a hot tub.
Bruce Wayne was slightly paler than his ward's Romani complexion, but his dark hair and calculating blue eyes were strangely reminiscent of Dick. He stood when she came into the room, laying the latest Gazette onto the table, and the resemblance was immediately lost in his towering height, a good two foot advantage over her.
"Uh…Mr. Wayne, right?"
He nodded. "Artemis Crock, I assume? Dick's mentioned you on occasion. I see you stayed the night."
There was the slightest hint of accusation tacked to the end of the sentence, not enough for Artemis to be sure that she hadn't imagined it but she bristled all the same.
Dick's lilting baritone- and she could guarantee she'd never associate "lilting" with any baritone other than his- followed his father's before she could reply. Briefly, she wondered if he actually had impeccable timing, or if he just waited giggling to himself for the perfect moment to interject into the conversation.
"You said she could, Bruce, right? We stayed up a little late and I put her up in that third guest suite on the second floor." He put him arm around Artemis to the best of his ability, which did entail standing on his toes, and smiled at the man. She noticed that he still had flour powdering his hair and that the dusting of white trailed down his circus elephant pajamas. So Dick had been cooking after all.
Bruce raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. Instead he turned to Artemis and smiled. It startled her for a moment, because a man that large and imposing should not be so easily placated. "The table won't be so empty for breakfast, then."
She returned the smile uneasily- his sudden change in demeanor had thrown her off- and sat down in the seat Dick offered to her. When he took an adjacent one, Artemis leaned over and whispered, "Where were you?"
"The depths of burnt food hell," he replied, his voice less hushed than hers. He placed a plate she hadn't noticed before on the table- it must have been tucked under his other arm- and she scrutinized the blackened disks of batter with a turning stomach. "Wanna try?"
Artemis took one of them delicately and nibbled on a corner. She chewed in over-exaggerated motions for a moment, like she was actually considering whether they were good or not, before declaring, "They're dry and tasteless."
"They're made from your humor," he scowled, and Artemis grinned.
"How hard can making waffles actually be, Dickie?"
"Hey, that Brown's Waffle Mix stuff you get at Shop n' Go is really delicious but way too complicated for me."
"I wouldn't give Master Richard too much credit, Miss Crock," Alfred added from the post he'd taken at the door behind them. "His failure in the kitchen can be largely explained by his attempts to crisp up the waffles in a skillet." She wasn't going to anyway. Artemis had made that stuff before. All you had to do was add milk and eggs.
"Speaking of, Alfie, could you-?"
"-remedy your current lack of an edible breakfast? Of course, sir."
"Thank you," Dick called as Alfred disappeared into what she assumed was the kitchen, a sentiment Artemis added her own voice to. She'd rather eat her own cooking than Dick's at this point.
"You didn't tell me I'd have to talk to your dad," Artemis whispered once Dick looked back to her, but there was enough frustration in this one to turn it to a hiss.
"Legal guardian," Dick corrected quickly before adding, "I didn't expect him to be up this early without a morning meeting. Sunshine kinda depresses him."
Artemis felt Bruce's eyes on her and when she turned to meet them, he held up a remote. "Do either of you mind my turning on the news?" The two of them shook their heads and the screen that hung on the wall across from them flickered to life to hum Good Morning, Gotham. They were showing footage of the Batman appearances of the night before, a panel of people debating his legitimacy over the montage. Artemis snickered when they paused over a clip pulled from security cameras. A blurry, indistinct Batman drew a collapsed sword from his belt and unfolded it with the press of a button before slicing through the advance of Clock King robots.
"What doesn't he have in that belt?" she snorted.
"Patience," Dick mockingly dropped his voice as far as he could, rasping the word, "for harlequin hoodlums like yourself!"
"Oh, and you'd know?"
He scoffed, leaning back into the chair that looked old enough to creak but expensive enough to defy the laws of time. "Of course. I know so much about Batman I could… I could beat him in a fight!"
"You wouldn't stand a chance if you had all of Seal Team 6 at your back."
"Hey, I totally would! I'm street smart."
Artemis snorted and plucked a pair of scones off the tray Alfred had reappeared with. "Which street? Sesame?"
"What do you think of the Batman, Artemis?"
She had honestly forgotten that Dick's father-guardian, or whatever he was, was in the room with them and Artemis could feel the hot realization crawl up to touch her cheeks. Had it been her sister, there would have been wild accusations of flirting.
Still, the answer came easily and Artemis had to hold her tongue to keep it from rolling off suspiciously quick. "I think he does a necessary job, and that people are only against him because he brings to attention that we need that job done in the first place."
"Well there's that whole vigilante thing," Dick added, hooking his pointer fingers in front of his mouth to look like fangs. "Creature of the night with no regard for the law."
"He doesn't kill and he doesn't torture and as far as I'm concerned as long as he only scares crooks so bad that they piss themselves, Batman's good by me."
"Just like that? The bats in Gotham's belfry don't scare you at all?"
There was a question that begged hesitation. It was strange; she remembered days in Gotham playgrounds where kids would say that Batman wasn't that scary, that he was like a garbage man with cool, explosive toys cleaning up after all the villains and keeping the city safe, but Artemis couldn't help it- she'd always fear him a little bit, if only because he was the opposite of what she was supposed to grow up to be. Even now, when she'd warmed up as much as anyone could to the company of the man himself- save Robin, who probably played hide and seek with the guy in the batcave- he was still the most intimidating person she could imagine.
Eventually: "Not as much as the idea of a Gotham without them."
Bruce nodded, and she used the lull in conversation to sneak a bite of the scone. Even these were too sweet for her taste, but she rolled the tangier bits of orange in them around her taste buds and enjoyed the flavor of wealth anyway. "How do you feel about him, Mr. Wayne?"
"I've debated the legitimacy of his activities myself, but I don't think Gotham can afford to do away with him. It's interesting to have your take on him. A unique opportunity."
Her insides turned to lead and the chunk of scone lodged in her throat. "Why my take?"
"A fellow vigilante would certainly see things differently than a civilian, correct?"
"Yeah," Artemis replied shortly, standing abruptly from the table. Her fingers curled into Dick's collar to all but haul him into the next room. "I guess we would."
The next room, as it turned out, wasn't the kitchen but rather what appeared to be some sort of intermediary, since the walls were hidden behind racks of plates and silverware and the cheery whistling and clanking the accompanied a cook were coming from behind a door on the far wall. Artemis carded her fingers through her hair, fighting back a newer wave a nausea, which, it seemed, were paired with sudden and crippling headaches.
"You told him?" she demanded, but Dick shook his head insistently.
"He didn't have to." Artemis winced, and traded a wide-eyed horror with Dick's (she was sure faked) confusion. The voice had come from behind them, but was far too close to be from the man they had left sitting at the far side of the table. Bruce had moved from his chair way faster than he should have been able to.
Dick smiled sheepishly at his father-guardian before returning to the placating frown. "Ears like a bat," he explained to Artemis apologetically.
"You left this in the foyer." Bruce fished into his pockets when he reached them and presented a green mask to Artemis, the same dark shade as the uniform she concealed under the sweatshirt.
"Shit," Artemis cursed, not even caring to mediate her language so she was more presentable to the billionaire. She snatched it from him with one hand while the other searched desperately through her front pocket to confirm that, yes, she had dropped it when she had arrived the night before.
Bruce looked slightly bemused, and it was an expression she had long ago decided had no place in serious matters like these. "Rest assured: your secret is safe in this house. I promise that to you, Artemis Crock." He glanced at his watch, which was glowing a faintly alarming red. "I have to go."
Dick caught his sleeve before he could brush past them like nothing had happened and there was a hint of imploring in his eyes. Bruce shook his head faintly and Dick's apologetic frown deepened to a resentful one.
"I should probably go," Artemis hummed, embarrassed to have entangled herself this deeply in the Waynes. A vindictive streak in her hoped that the others on the team had as hard a time maintaining their secret identities as she seemed to.
As soon as Dick's grip loosened on Bruce, the older man took his leave and Dick sidled closer to Artemis. "Sorry about all this," he offered, gesturing broadly in what she assumed meant her whole experience at the manor. He didn't have to apologize for it all, she supposed, but it's a nice gesture. "You don't have to go yet."
"I know. But even with school being cancelled, Mom's still at home. She's probably worried."
Dick nodded. "So long as you don't go home a big ball of barely restrained Wayne-directed rage."
Well, she wasn't going to Stepford Wives it and pretend that everything was peachy, but most of the frustration was directed at herself. "I'll try not to."
"Hey, school's out. I'm sure there are some delinquents causing trouble. You could take out all that stress by punching some of them."
"That's not great advice." Artemis frowned, rolling it over teasingly for a second before punching him in the arm. It was hard enough to leave a half-bracelet of bruises on his shoulder, though she didn't realize until after her fist had connected. "But thanks."
Dick rubbed the sore spot, wincing as his fingers skated over it. "Glad I could help. I'll always be here to give you immoral support." At her bequest, he started to lead her to the door, and as they walked he added, "I'm serious about the support thing. If you need to talk, I'm here."
"Thanks, Dick."
"It would behoove you to come here for help," he said, then snapped his fingers. "Two points for word usage. Brainy is sexy now."
Artemis rolled her eyes. Hard. "Thanks, Dick."
As they reached the door, where Alfred had once again miraculously anticipated their being and awaited them beside it, Dick added hesitantly, "Please don't take this wrong, Arty…I'll be at your disposal whenever you need me but maybe a call before hand?"
"Got it, Dick. It's cool. A little more consideration for my hosts. Hakuna Matata."
Alfred opened the door and Artemis pulled her bunched up sleeves down to cover her hands against the barrage of cold air, relieved when her brief moment of hesitation was interrupted by Dick. "Thanks for trusting me with this, Arty. Be safe." There was a certain plead there that Artemis just couldn't find a reason for.
Feeling had never been Artemis's forte. When faced with them, she tended to resolve it the issue by punching the offending emotion in the face and stomping away to eat gummy worms and violently chew said feeling out of her system. And Artemis Crock, under no circumstances, cried. But this had been nice, and if anything, she needed more time for nice. So Artemis swallowed her pride, for the briefest of moments, and pulled Dick into a bone crushing hug. Her fingers dug into his back, meeting the taut resistance of spandex under flannel that she had been searching for, before she pulled away, face painted with a wider grin than he'd managed to charm out of her since they saved the team from the Reds.
"I will," Artemis promised, a slight hum in her voice that, if he'd registered its self-satisfaction, might have been one Dick could mistake for being modeled after his own. She stepped through the door, arms crossed to brace her against the icy wind, before adding to meet his slowly dawning realization, "Stay traught, Batboy. See you tonight."
I would like to sincerely thank everyone who read and especially everyone who left a review, namely Alex Skywalker, TSRosenwood, Angel of Mysteries, lolastarr50, Amelie Nockturne (whose name I keep misspelling), ashley, Vi-Violence, FudoTwin17, rafiki-freak, SailorSaturnthesilencer, fanficfantasies, Syl, Your Local Cow (who I feel like I'm insulting when I write that name) and the unnamed guest. I honestly just stared at your reviews until I was inspired enough to write.
By the way, there is already a 60some% follow-up oneshot written if anyone wants to stay on the lookout for that.
Thank you all so much for indulging my writing. I'd love to answer questions and hear what you thought. Have a wonderful day.