She's kicking and screaming bloody murder, bolting up straight, eyes bloodshot and teary, face fixated in pure horror. Flailing her arms and kicking her legs in opposite directions. Her spasms only worsen when she hears her name being shouted before another pair of arms were around her and trying to keep her still. She still thinks she's dreaming.

"Tara! Tara, it's me!"

Him.

Her hands clasp around his arm, her gaze blurry with tears as she gazed at the messy sheets, her legs lost somewhere in them. Tangled. The arms around her weren't big and threatening, but smaller and comforting - and still strong. Still holding her until she calmed down. And she clung to him for dear life. As if her life depended on it.

"You okay?"

She was rendered speechless for a moment, so he let her take her time before speaking again. He knew what that was like.

"These nightmares are really giving me a whiplash," she muttered in a pant, chest lightly heaving as she released her grip on him; body slouching forward. He let her go around the same time and shifted from behind her to beside her. Hands hovering over each arm just in case. "I'm fine. Really."

"I doubt that." A wry smile made its way across his face, and she returned it weakly. "Was it...was it about-?"

"Yeah."

"And-?"

"Yeah."

He nodded, his finger tracing small circles absentmindedly over the thin sheets, and she watched him through tired eyes.

"You shouldn't be in here...-" she started quietly. She didn't have to look up to know that he shook his head, his hand finding hers; her small one getting lost in his grasp.

"Just because I was alone, that doesn't mean you have to be."

"Yes I do. After all that I've done...I don't even know why you bother with me in the first place. Why?"

He ran his thumb over her knuckles. "I don't know."

"Yes you do."

His gaze met hers, his lips pulling up at the corners.

"What's with the look?"

"What look?"

"That look. You just did it again." Trying not to smile now, but with him, it gets difficult.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Bullshi-"

"Shh." His forefingers closed around her lips, and her eyes narrowed playfully, despite the redness around them. "These walls have ears. No cursing."

"Alferebebebeer-" He chuckled and let go of her mouth so she could continue coherently. "Alfred isn't here."

"You'd be surprised when and where that man can show up."

"...Dick?" She still felt weird calling him by his real name; especially how mature she was.

"Yeah?" He knows.

"Does Bruce even like me?"

"Honestly? Hard to tell. Sometimes I wonder if he just tolerates me." He rolled his eyes. "He thinks you're a distraction."

"Me?"

"Distracting me, yeah."

The blonde was surprised to hear that. An eyebrow quirked up, feeling herself starting to smirk. "Do I?"

"Er-" Dick blushed faintly in the moonlight, coughing awkwardly and letting go of her hand. "He just thinks that because I know you so well. And we're friends. And...um..."

"Yeah? If we're 'just friends'," she held up air quotations, "then what makes him think otherwise?"

"How am I supposed to know?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe it's because of that look-?"

"Dammit, Tara, there's no look!" he snapped, breathing a little heavier. Tara leaned back slowly, and he automatically looked ready to apologize, opening his mouth to apologize.

She beat him to it. But her voice is a lot quieter. Cheeks warm. "...You're doing it again."

Dick tensed, avoiding her gaze altogether. "You should probably get some sleep."

"Hold up." There was no way that she was sleeping again so soon. She didn't want to go back to the screams and the masks. "Why are you sounding like you're leaving?"

"Do you want me to stay?"

"Would it be such a crime?"

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you." Now gazing directly into her eyes. "Do you want me to stay?" he repeated.

Of course she did. "I don't know, do you want to stay?"

"I'm asking you."

"And I'm asking you."

"Quit being stubborn."

"You quit."

"Tara."

"Dick."

"..."

"What? It's your house."

"You're the guest. Guest before host."

"Husbands before wives," she coughed.

He snorted. "Oh we're married now?"

"Looks like it. Jerk."

"Idiot."

"Dummy."

"Shorty."

"...Tall-y."

"Pixie."

"Dick-sie."

She yelped as he lunged himself at her. It was so quick that she didn't have time to react, because her back was against the bed, arms pinned above her head, and he was straddling her.

"Stick."

"Dick." She punched his arm and he automatically swung the limb back, subtly checking for damage. Tara took the opportunity to tackle him instead, pushing him over and down until he was the one on his back, and she towered over him.

"...Well played." Dick flexed and grinned when her eyes flickered to his arms when he did. "But I'm stronger."

"Oh yeah? Then why am I the one above you?" She crossed her arms, giving him a sassy look; he was quick to sass her back, arms behind his head as he looked at her.

"Maybe I just like the view." He winked.

She snorted. "And Bruce wonders why I'm a distraction."

Dick shrugged a shoulder. "I can multitask."

"Suure, lover boy."

"Well we are married. Hypothetically."

"Uh huh." She stifled a yawn.

"Tara." His hands find her hips, shifting underneath her; laying her down on her side, he mirroring the position. "Sleep."

Her eyes widened as if she was about to start crying again. "Stay."

He nodded, and she curled into him, where his arms encircled around her small frame completely, and her head tucked underneath his chin. When she fell asleep again, with him close, she slept free of nightmares. He'll be there when she woke up again.

And they'll both have some explaining to do when Alfred walks in with Tara's breakfast.