*Movie's over. Please come get me.*

After sending the text, Dick slipped his phone back into his pocket and sat down on the edge of the sidewalk to wait.

He was annoyed for various reasons. One was that Bruce hadn't agreed to come to the theater with him, so he'd had to come all by himself, which made him look like a total loser. Another was that he'd promised to be there to pick him up when it was done, so now he was waiting and looking like even more of a loser.

And, last but not least, somebody had neglected to tell him just how heavy the rain would be by the time he came out.

It honestly wouldn't have been so bad if it was cold. At least then it would feel justified. But right now it was the middle of summer in Gotham City and the night was stinking hot. All the rain was doing was making the secret superhero sidekick feel sticky, sweaty and altogether stupid as he rested his chin on his hands.

Man, was this annoying.

As he sat there, already bored out of his mind, at least five or six cop cars came blazing down the street, sirens wailing, lights flashing so fast Dick wondered if he was going to have an epileptic fit. Nothing special. This was an average night in Gotham City. He secretly wished one of them would crash if only to relieve this monotony a little more.

'And now,' he said to himself, 'in three… two… one…'

There.

Right on cue, it appeared. That familiar circle of white light, like a second moon imprinted on the clouds, except the moon didn't have anything as cool-looking as that bat design this projection boasted.

Did this mean Dick was going to have to walk home?

In this weather?

Another car rolled past, this one an ordinary-looking piece of future scrap filled with a bunch of guys around Dick's own age. He knew this because they pulled over not far down the road from where he was seated and one of them leaned out.

"Hey, loser!" he yelled. "Your girlfriend dump you or what?"

Dick ignored him, or at least tried to. Mentally he was flipping him off.

"Hey!"

He didn't flinch as a scrunched-up can that smelled like beer bounced off his head.

"I'm talking to you, dickweed!"

'Just go away,' Dick thought.

And then it happened.

His prayers were answered in perhaps the best possible way.

Squealing around the corner came the Batmobile, tyres spinning wildly in an attempt to gain purchase on the wet asphalt, twirling around and around like a psychotic ballerina and Dick jumped back as it came to an abrupt halt in front of him.

The door on the other side opened and he ran around to be faced by the Batman himself.

"I got your text," he growled. "Get in."

Grinning like an idiot, Dick gratefully jumped into the warm vehicle, but not before showing those gaping dweebs in the crummy car just how long his middle finger was.