"Hey, bro?" You say it into your communicator, even though he's standing right next to you. Your hands are almost touching. He's watching the rooftops. He doesn't even turn towards you. "No names in the field, Robin." He shoots the grappling hook again, and he's off.
"You asshole, your name isn't fucking Bro," you say as you follow him, get up on roof level, jumping and climbing and doing some sweet ass flips just for the hell of it. Today is just a recog mission, which means don't be seen, which means boring stealth uniform and the works, no fucking flips, Robin - but what's supposed to go down is supposed to go down several blocks from here, so if someone sees you? Call it preventative measures against crime. No one fucks with Robin.
He's waiting for you behind a gargoyle. You creep across the roof to croach down by another one, the one on the corner, probably.
"Hey, little man," he whispers, and you almost fall of the roof. Holy engorged dicks, Batman! You get to safety behind a particularly hideous gargoyle, and whip out your communicator again.
"Bro, what the hell?" You ask. "Earlier you seemed like you wanted to talk about something," he growls. "According to Roxy we have probably 14 minutes to kill before something goes down. Talk."
Well, this is new. You glance over at him, he's still crouched behind some godawful stone creature, staring intently at the ground below you.
"Actually I sort of wondered if you needed to talk," you say after a while. "You seem kind of out of it, man." To be fair, your bro always seems kind of out of it, he dresses up as a bat to fight crime, for god's sake, that's about as healthy and normal as... dressing up as some ironic colorful abomination to help him out. And that's not even mentioning the puppets. But still. You arrange your legs into a slightly more comfortable position, take a look at your watch. Eleven minutes, probably.
"I was just... thinking." "About..." you grimace to indicate that you're referring to your dead parents. He probably has some way to see your facial expressions far away and in the dark, that creep. Or maybe he can just plain tell. He sighs. "No, it's not that it's. It's this guy, he's, wait, fuck, I shouldn't be telling you this." No guy problems in the field, he doesn't say.
"... Do you think about them?" Dirk asks, as if this just suddenly occurred to him. He's dropped the Batman voice. He's looking right at you. You give him a small smile.
"Do I hell. Never even got to know them, did I?"
He looks away.
"You are my family, man." And also Roxy and her kid, you guess. And maybe that guy who cleans the pool at Casa Strider.
"Great," he replies, as if you just told him you did the 100 pushups he ordered you to do, or some shit like that. "Let's go kick some criminal ass, and by 'kick some criminal ass', I really mean that we'll sit on our asses right here and do fuck all while some shit goes down."
"Love you too, bro," you say, and you know he can tell that it's ironic as hell but also totally not.
FILL: TEAM KARKAT<3KARKAT
"No names in the field, Robin."
He shoots the grappling hook again, and he's off.
"You asshole, your name isn't fucking Bro," you say as you follow him, get up on roof level, jumping and climbing and doing some sweet ass flips just for the hell of it. Today is just a recog mission, which means don't be seen, which means boring stealth uniform and the works, no fucking flips, Robin - but what's supposed to go down is supposed to go down several blocks from here, so if someone sees you? Call it preventative measures against crime. No one fucks with Robin.
He's waiting for you behind a gargoyle. You creep across the roof to croach down by another one, the one on the corner, probably.
"Hey, little man," he whispers, and you almost fall of the roof. Holy engorged dicks, Batman! You get to safety behind a particularly hideous gargoyle, and whip out your communicator again.
"Bro, what the hell?" You ask.
"Earlier you seemed like you wanted to talk about something," he growls. "According to Roxy we have probably 14 minutes to kill before something goes down. Talk."
Well, this is new. You glance over at him, he's still crouched behind some godawful stone creature, staring intently at the ground below you.
"Actually I sort of wondered if you needed to talk," you say after a while. "You seem kind of out of it, man."
To be fair, your bro always seems kind of out of it, he dresses up as a bat to fight crime, for god's sake, that's about as healthy and normal as... dressing up as some ironic colorful abomination to help him out. And that's not even mentioning the puppets. But still. You arrange your legs into a slightly more comfortable position, take a look at your watch. Eleven minutes, probably.
"I was just... thinking."
"About..." you grimace to indicate that you're referring to your dead parents. He probably has some way to see your facial expressions far away and in the dark, that creep. Or maybe he can just plain tell. He sighs.
"No, it's not that it's. It's this guy, he's, wait, fuck, I shouldn't be telling you this." No guy problems in the field, he doesn't say.
"... Do you think about them?" Dirk asks, as if this just suddenly occurred to him. He's dropped the Batman voice. He's looking right at you. You give him a small smile.
"Do I hell. Never even got to know them, did I?"
He looks away.
"You are my family, man." And also Roxy and her kid, you guess. And maybe that guy who cleans the pool at Casa Strider.
"Great," he replies, as if you just told him you did the 100 pushups he ordered you to do, or some shit like that. "Let's go kick some criminal ass, and by 'kick some criminal ass', I really mean that we'll sit on our asses right here and do fuck all while some shit goes down."
"Love you too, bro," you say, and you know he can tell that it's ironic as hell but also totally not.