The Manor's counters were spotless as always, Alfred's cleaning not allowing for a single mote of dust. Which of course made Dick's endeavor all the trickier. He stood on top of a towel, straining to reach the jar of cookies on the top shelf. It was an old ceramic jar, made to look like a toadstool mushroom. Dick's fingers brushed against the edge of the lid. With a look of triumph, he pushed the lid up and snuck his hand inside. 

A single chocolate cookie slipped free from its dark prison. The kitchen door swung open. Dick froze, cookie in his mouth. If it was Alfred, he was grounded. If it was Bruce-- 

"It is probably not safe for you to be up there," said Kaldur. Dick's shoulders fell. Him, he could deal with. 

"I've been higher." His words were muffled and mumbled around the cookie. Dick did a backflip, landing perfectly on his feet. He pulled the cookie from his mouth. "I was an acrobat before Bruce took me in, you know." As much as Dick had to put on an act around the others---he couldn't have them knowing he was Robin, Bruce would never let him out again-- he could allow himself moments like this. The entire situation sucked, but it was in essence a sleepover with his friends. Friends other than Wally who had no idea who he was, but a sleepover nonetheless. 

The loose hanging shirt Dick wore did nothing other than make him look small, fragile, and like a glass figurine you'd keep locked up in a china cabinet. A good thing too, since it made it hard for Kaldur to pick up on the fact he was far more toned and muscular than even an acrobat had business being, much less one who'd technically been retired for years. Kaldur pressed his lips together, a lecture no doubt on his lips. 

Dick didn't mind them really. They were always softer, quieter, and with more emotion than Bruce's. Kaldur would pull him aside and bow his head down, hushed tone only broken by the sharp glares he would send at Superboy as a warning to not listen in. It was almost always something about safety: don't run off, tell me where you're going, respond when we call for you, ask for help against stronger enemies. Sometimes there were smaller things too. Stuff like sitting on the counters or the fridge, sneaking through the vents and scaring Megan--which Dick would admit sometimes made him feel bad, but how could he stop when she had the best reactions--and switching out the protein powder for vanilla Nesquik. 

When the lecture didn't come, Dick walked past him. At least, he tried to. His socked feet slid over the freshly waxed floor. He crashed against Kaldur. Instantly, strong arms wrapped around him. They held him close and steady for as long as it took for him to get his feet back under him. All Dick could do was lean further, melting into the hug. So much tension left his small frame in those short moments. Pale green eyes stared down at the younger boy, he was so young so so young, in shock, but Kaldur sighed and tightened his grip. 

Dick noted that Kaldur was warmer than he thought he'd be before closing his eyes. 

"Are you okay, Dick?"

The only response he received was a muffled groan. Dick slowly pushed away, instantly missing the soft wool of Kaldur's turtleneck. He blinked a few times and shoved the remainder of the cookie in his mouth. Crumbs speckled across the front of his shirt. 

"Do you want to play basketball?" he asked. A blatant change in topic, even a sloppy one, would serve its purpose. 

Kaldur blinked, his eyebrows creased together just so. It reminded Dick of the times he'd tried to explain how he hacked into a supervillains network, Kaldur trying yet failing to connect everything together. Idly, he made a mental note to try to teach him. After all, it would make it easier on him to not have to go on every mission that required his tech skills. Dick schooled his features as anxiety washed through him. No, no, he couldn't teach Kaldur that. Because then there would be even more of a reason to get rid of him. 

"Have you asked Kid Flash?" said Kaldur. 

Snorting, Dick stared up at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. "He has super speed. If I tried to play basketball with him, he'd probably end up ruining the ball."

"Ah, I suppose that is a fair point."

"Is that a yes?" Kaldur nodded. Dick beamed and tugged him out the back door. "Wait here." He rushed off to the small shed tucked flush to the Manor's wall. Old and worn, Dick had a feeling it had existed longer than Bruce, maybe even Alfred. Well, maybe not that old, but the ricketey wood and rusted metal did nothing to dissuade that image. Hinges squealing, Dick hauled the door open. Dust tickled his nose and he sneezed. An orange basketball sat in the corner, pumped full of air from the last time Dick had tried to get Bruce to play with him. 

He wasn't sure why he even tried. 

Dick reached over and grabbed a pair of beat up shoes Alfred would have long ago thrown out. His feet slid easily into them. Exiting the small shack, light stinging his eyes and foot kicking the door closed, Dick tossed the ball to Kaldur. The dribbling basketball, that thud of rubber and rebound, soon drowned out Dick's thoughts, leaving him to enjoy the game. He ducked around Kaldur, using his small stature to his advantage to steal the ball. Which only came back to hurt him, because being short wasn't exactly conducive to playing the game. 

The door opened and Bruce poked his head out. He asked where Dick was, and Kaldur turned confused. He'd vanished, basketball slowly rolling away. 

Bright blue eyes peered down between leaves, and the bird settled among the branches. He was a robin, and he would sit there all day if he had to

Hello! I am not dead! Comments are appreciated

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