When Cleo Perich wakes up, the first thing she does is check her own pulse on her wrist. Dick doesn't know why but he senses there is no good reason behind it.

He watches through barely opened eyes, feigning sleep. 

To bed, she wears a white singlet and grey shorts. Her hair is pulled back in an uncharacteristic braid. He had only ever seen her hair sprawled out on the pillows because, well, no one does their hair before spontaneous sex.

Some time in the night his own arm had thrown itself on her, wrapping over her torso. Seeing this makes her frown at him and his betraying limb. Despite the disgruntled look she removes it gently.

Then she sits up in bed. Her fingers work over her brain until wavy curls are left in their wake. Her hand combs through them before she reties it, this time in a bun for her shower. 

She glances at him briefly, shirtless with the blanket pooled at his waist. He expects to be touched or at the very least for the blanket to be lifted up over his cold bare chest. Instead she glares at him before stepping out of the bed robotically. He'd pout if he weren't hiding his consciousness.

Still, she continues the courtesy of not waking him up. With no noise she crosses their vast bedroom and heads into the ensuite. He hears the shower running and finally relaxes with the release of his ruse.

This is not like Paris. He can't blame her for being mad; she doesn't know what he had to put up with. She probably thinks he was off with Barbara or another girl. He had, after all, told her he doesn't exactly 'work' with Bruce so what other excuse is there?

As he sits up, he lets out a relaxed but dramatic sigh. His last best sleep was long before he even met Cleo. Last night was pure luck. The week had been quiet and Bruce allowed him to take the night off to spend with his wife. 

Even if he and Cleo had not fallen into previous patterns it had still been nice to sleep- actually sleep together. The last time he had felt such a comfort was as a teenager with Kori.

These days Jason has more contact with her than Dick does. At first Dick considered that a reason as to why Jason was so apprehensive of Cleo. The idea sounded as silly as the enlightenment that Starfire could barely remember Dick's name.

That was hard enough, so he went running back to Babs. He hasn't even seen her over these past few weeks.

Perhaps living with a girl again will be less...lonely, even if it is fake.

His thoughts are snapped by the sound of the shower turning off. A quick one, then. She is probably hoping he'll be asleep until she leaves so they won't have to say goodbye.

The door opens and a single wisp of steam curls out above her head as she steps onto the carpet wrapped in a white towel.

"Morning," he says quickly, knuckles flying into his own eyes so it doesn't look like he is staring.

"I knew you were awake," she scoffs, soft steps padding across the room. 

"What? When?"

She lets her hair down and darkwaves fling over her shoulder when she turns to glare at him. His confused look trades for a playful smile. Instead of returning it, she heads into the walk-in robe.

"Can I ask you something?" He voices, hoping she'll hear him on the other side of their ginormous bedroom.

"No," she calls back. 

He ignores it, "What do you actually do at your office?"

Strangely enough it hadn't been a topic of discussion the previous night. He understands she likes her boss and her office, but other than that she does not seem to even hold a title.

"If you must know, I move backburner companies into your guardian's stock. That's all."

It seems they truly are back to the bare minimum of conversation. Had he upset her that much?

When she walks out, she's beautiful. Not that he minded her in a towel but seeing the girl normally in black pants and denim jackets, or bikinis, wearing a pencil skirt and a blue button-up blouse is something else entirely.

"You look nice," he says. 

Her head twitches to the side like she might look over her shoulder at him, but she doesn't. Instead her head remains bowed down to her vanity as she slips on jewellery he knows she hates. After that, she strides out of the room with heels clutched in her hand.

Dick follows.

"You struck me as the kind of person who goes for a swim the moment she wakes up. That not you?" He asks lightly as he plonks himself down onto one of the bar stools.

Cleo sighs before she answers, like talking to him is a reluctant chore, "I intended to wake up earlier. I usually do."

That is possibly a jab at him. Dick is a warm person, so when he shares a bed with someone, of course the bed is going to say warm and keep its users asleep. He has never been reprimanded for it though.

"Why didn't you go to your own bed?" She finally asks, taking her coffee from the machine when it finishes. She turns and leans back against the counter to stare at him.

"I did," he chirps, "my bed, with my wife."

Her eyes practically roll back into her head and Dick can only imagine the violent things running rampant in there. Stabbing him, perhaps, with the knives resting on the island bench between them. Or she could burn him.

Suddenly, one of Cleo's cats takes it upon itself to leap onto the bench right in front of Dick. The cat's movement startles him. She pushes her head into his arm.

"This one is Cookie, right? Does this mean she likes me?" He asks, patting her on the head.

"Don't you know anything about cats?" She counters quietly. He hears the thunk of her mug on the bench.

"Some cats," Dick murmurs, though Cookie and Luscious seem less aggressive.

He hadn't taken note of her movements enough and suddenly Cleo is standing behind him.

"There," she says, taking his hand and moving it behind the cat's ears, "Scratch." The moment he does, Cookie starts to purr louder, clearly enjoying the treatment, "Then go under."

Her hand atop of his, Dick scratches Cookie under the chin. The cat arches, head dipping side to side as she manipulates her new human to go where she wants him to.

"I think she likes me," he grins, turning to look up at Cleo.

His wife is already staring at him. They meet eyes and Dick seems unable to glance away as she seems to be searching into his very being. It's almost like she has him trapped as she takes him apart.

He leans up and kisses her.

Cleo rolls her eyes at him again when he pulls back, grinning like he has achieved something. She picks Cookie up, turns around and heads back into the bedroom.

Dick picks up her coffee, claiming it, casting his gaze out onto the gigantic living space of their apartment.

"Where's that other cat?" He murmurs, excited to gain more ground with her.

◊

◊

"While you're out at lunch with your husband tomorrow, I'm going to restock your meds. You need to tell the guard so that he'll let me in, okay?" Mai says to me, standing in front of my desk at the office.

I'm watching the fourth or fifth absorption happening. This time a production company called Castarian Films. It has produced a total of, you guessed it, zero movies.

Another front for money laundering.

"Yeah yeah," I wave Mai off, "Security guard tomorrow."

The phone starts ringing from the open door where her office is. She glares at me before she turns around and jogs back to her place.

"Run Mai run," I tease, making her stare sharpen over her shoulder as she fiddles with her skirt, riding up with her movement. 

When she answers I can't hear what she's saying, but it patches through to me.

"It's Ethan," she says, sounding dead.

"Why didn't he just call my mobile?" 

"Ask him yourself."

With a grumpy look on her face, she heaves the heavy glass door shut. I flip her off and pick up the desk phone.

"Why the work phone?"

"Cleo, I called your cell. Do you have it with you?"

...Oh. I take a peek through my bag and then in the top drawer.

"I think I left it at home," I mumble quietly.

Ethan stays silent for a moment, probably asking himself if I'm okay.

Instead, "Were your distracted this morning or something?"

"You could say that," I respond, the image of a shirtless Dick Grayson petting Cookie and smiling up at me flashing through my mind.

"Are you at least getting along?" 

"Of course," he doesn't need to know much more than that. I don't want him to, "What about you? What have you been up to?"

"Oh, you know, working," he sounds bored but my brother's like that. He has probably missed me and is trying to cover it up. "I saw you fiddling with background business. Dad know you're doing that? He might get mad."

"Come on," I chuckle, rocking back into the chair, "I don't want to talk about work. How's the wedding planning going? You getting any help?"

Ethan gives his own vain chuckle. It reminds me how alike we are.

"They gave me a budget but it's about an eighth of yours, not that I care. I'm happy to go to the courthouse," then he adds quietly, "I'd rather go to the courthouse."

"Oh no," I warn, "No way Eth. If I had to do it, you do too."

That gets a low laugh out of him. When we were kids it was hard to make him laugh, but I was the best at it. Normally it was at the expense of others and when he got too old for that, we'd just mock our parents.

"I miss you."

He sighs into the receiver, "We miss you too. Although, Hallow wouldn't mind if you stayed away a bit longer. She's already had two parties in your apartment."

"No!" I groan, "I said no parties!" He laughs again and I'm beginning to realise how much I miss that sound.

"Seriously though Cleo. This backburner stuff, it could be bigger than both of us. I don't want dad to be any more mad at you than he already is." 

I scoff, "Dad can choke on a fat one."

This time his laugh is a little huff of breath, like when you read something funny on your phone.

"I gotta go," he says, shuffling noises backing his voice, "Meeting in ten. Talk later?"

Letting him go hurts, but I give a bright, "Okay, bye!"

When the line dies I drop the phone and lean back again, rubbing my face. That felt too close to home. Too real, like I could have been back there.

Nothing mattered.

The computer beeps as it races through files. Some come up with locks on them. Rights and stock and companies going to Klover and Logan and Jeremy and Ignatier when they're old enough.

Consistently under all our names is the file 'France'. I assume it has all of the French companies in it. Trust my dad to use my mother's family's foundations for business.

After all, that's what family is to him. Business.

Cranky with the reminder that I'm here without any of my family, apart from Mai, I want nothing more than to go home. As soon as the files are done I shut the computer, grab my bag and leave the office.

"Where are you going?" Mai frowns, jumping to her feet.

"I'm done for the day. I'm going home." I need a swim. 

"Then I'm coming too. I'm supposed to be with you for at least six hours a day," she asserts.

"Whatever."

Even though the office and the apartment are close, I take my car to work. I don't want to have to walk through crowds of people every morning, especially if they recognise me.

Mai asks about the previous night as soon as we get into the car. I give a bare-minimum explanation which likely irks her to no end, but she doesn't press any further on the topic.

"What did Ethan want?"

"He was asking what I was doing with the company and want to know if I was getting along with Dick," I tell her as we etch through the narrow city streets, doused in noise pollution and caked with people. 

Most eyes seem drawn to my ugly ass car.

"Dick? You're calling him by his name now?" She asks.

I scoff, "Why is that a shock? You really think I was calling him Grayson or Richard when we were in bed?" 

"Calling him Dick doesn't seem any sexier," she murmurs. It's out of character for her entirely. I catch her trying to hide her smirk when I stare at her wide-eyed.

"Nice car!" A pedestrian shouts as he crosses the lights, scaring the shit out of both of us.

"I need you to change this," I complain, "I hate it. I know you did it for revenge but it's a no from me."

Instead of responding she just continues with that same snide little smirk. Only when we're out of the car and heading into the lobby does she finally agree.

"I'll get you something black and less extravagant. Understood?"

"Pfft, yes boss."

Mai can do her stupid check-up on me, but I want to go for a swim. Not just a dip like last time, an actual swim where I exhaust myself so I'm already asleep before Di-...Grayson gets home.

Voices coming from the livingroom when the lift opens crush those dreams however. With an irritated sigh I only get to the end of our entry hallway when I stop, frozen.

No. No. No no no. 

"What is that doing in here?" Mai demands, pointing at the I don't even want to know what sitting by Damian Wayne's leg.

"-Tt-, Titus is-"

The big dog gets up and starts trotting over to us and that's when Mai starts shouting, which makes them shout.

I don't want to hear it. I turn around and slam my hands over my ears as the images of three great mutts invade my mind. Great hulking beasts with saliva quaking by their jowls, pulled back over bloody canines.

Jack's torn and chewed body clings to life as they eat from him, not even dead yet. The panic starts rising in my chest and I know I'm embedding my nails into my head too hard.

No dogs. No dogs. Dogs are dangerous- dogs kill people. But I can barely hear that in my own mind over their fighting.

"Enough!" I shout, turning around to see Damian holding the monster back in the livingroom, Mai and Dick and Jason arguing right by me. I grit my teeth and turn my head away. "It can't be in here. Get it out."

"Your cats are outside," Asshole says plainly.

"That's not the issue!" Mai snaps.

Jason frowns, then offhandedly asks, "What? Is she afraid of them?"

In that second Mai balls her fist, looking like she's about to sock him one. I beat her to the response by looking directly at him.

I speak very tiredly, very mildly, "If you had to watch someone you love be eaten alive by dogs while you're hanging from the ceiling bleeding to death, you'd be afraid of them too."

With those the final words of the night having shocked everyone into silence, I walk past all of them to my room and shut the door behind me. I lock it, then walk into the bathroom, lock that up too and slide down the door.

I stay there for hours trying to fight the memories away.