Tim opens the door, sees Dick’s guilty puppy smile, and immediately slams it shut.
A muffled whine of, “Timmy, come on!” comes from the outside. Tim waits. He knows he will eventually let Dick come in. But he’s still pissed. So let the bastard wait. “Seriously, Tim, this is important. An emergency, even. Please let us in.”
Us? Relenting- out of curiosity, mind you, not because Dick actually persuaded him- he opens the door again. This time he notices that Jason is standing next to Dick.
“What do you want?”
Dick hesitates, grimacing but also smiling, trying to be placating, until his face twists hilariously and Tim wants to laugh at it but keeps it in. When Dick continues to struggle to find words that will appease, Tim looks to Jason.
Jason just shrugs. Really helpful.
Dick starts babbling, “He doesn’t know, I figured I would wait until we were all together to explain and I don’t want to bother you but we kind of need some hel-”
“Dick,” Tim snaps. “You know what I want to hear right now. Next words out your mouth better be a fucking apology.” Tim stares the man down, using his most threatening glare. Which is actually pretty intimidating. He’s proud of it.
Squirming under the stare, Dick finally cracks. “I’m sorry. Really super-duper sorry.”
Not enough. Say it. “What for?”
He glances at Jason and then looks back at Tim imploringly. “Now?”
The whimper Dick lets out is sweet poetry to Tim’s betrayed ears. “I’m… sorry for breaking in to your apartment last week.” He adds softly, “I thought you were still out of town.”
Tim crosses his arms over his chest. “Not an excuse, Dick. What else?”
“And I’m sorry for having sex in your bed.”
“For not telling you until after you had already slept in it.”
“You didn’t tell me, Dick. You confessed when I cornered you with the condom wrapper I found in my sheets.”
Jason looks suitably horrified. He mutters, “Oh, shit…”
Yes. Oh, shit indeed. Tim glares at Dick. “Go on.”
“I’m sorry for leaving Wally drunk on your couch and I’m sorry you had to take care of him and clean up after him the next morning.”
“One more thing,” Tim growls.
Hanging his head in shame, Dick whispers, “…I’m sorry I ate all of your poptarts.”
Tim yells. “All of my fucking poptarts, Dick! And they were s’mores!”
Throwing his hands over his face, Dick shrieks, “I know! I’m so sorry, Tim. I’ll buy you so many poptarts- all the poptarts in Gotham!”
“Damn right you will.”
Shaking his head, Jason says, “He said you might be mad at him for something, but… fuck.”
“Am I forgiven?”
“You’ll be forgiven when I get those poptarts.”