Author's Note: Written for day one of Traught Week, with the prompt 'Revelation.' This isn't my favorite prompt of the week, and I kind of struggled with finding an idea, but I tried my best to make it good. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice.

Identity

We'll laugh about this someday.

Artemis isn't laughing right now, that's for sure. She's mad as hell, racing towards Wayne manor, not even bothering to fix her hair, or even change out of her pajamas for that matter. She knows she looks like crap right now, considering it's almost two o'clock in the morning, but she really doesn't care.

Her old, piece of shit Honda can barely get up to 60 on a good day, and she's pushing 65 right now, driving through the streets like a mad woman in a tizzy of rage and confusion.

God he's such a—well a dick. And when she thinks about it like that, it makes her even more frustrated with him.

Because well, as it turns out, he's the biggest dick of them all.

"Miss Crock, are you aware of the current time?"

Alfred answers the door, in his red silk robe and slippers and for the first time Artemis considers that maybe she should've waited until the morning to do this. But as soon as Alfred opens his mouth to hell her that Master Dick is away on business at the moment, she decides she needs to stay.

"Oh? Away on business, Alfred?" she asks sourly. "When will he be back?"

Alfred raises an eyebrow at her, still not letting her inside the manor. "Well, I would estimate sometime in the next few hours. I believe they've taken a red eye to get home. I will be sure to let them know you've stopped by…?"

"Thanks but I think I'd like to wait," Artemis says, flashing Alfred an over the top smile as she pushes herself into the manor, ignoring the exhausted look Alfred is shooting towards the heavens.

"Would you like some tea while you wait, Miss Crock?" he asks her, and she almost feels bad about how rude she's being right now.

"No thanks," she says, in a slightly calmer tone of voice. "Oh and Alfred? I'd like to wait in the batcave."

He doesn't even flinch.

Artemis spends a few hours waiting for them to come back. She walks around a bit, examines the advanced computer system and even sits on the hood of Batmobile until Alfred comes down with a tray of cookies and milk.

She's in the process of stuffing her face, angrily thinking over the fact that her recently acquired boyfriend Nightwing is the same person as her best friend Dick Grayson, when he finally shows his face.

Or part of it anyways. The domino mask is covering the baby blue eyes that Artemis is sure are behind them.

"Alfred told me you'd be down here," he says easily, approaching her with a wary look on his face. Like he's not sure what she'll say.

"Do you have any idea—any idea—how stupid I feel right now?" she fumes, dropping the plate of cookies on the floor of the cave.

His hand goes to the back of his neck and he rubs it with a sheepish grin on his face. "I can imagine. I mean. . .you're in the wrong city again, Artemis. What? Your cousin have another spelling bee?"

He's trying to be funny, to diffuse her frustration, and get her to calm down. But it's not going to work. She's not going to let it work. Because damn it, she's been thinking Nightwing and Dick Grayson were two separate people for years—like any normal person would—and now that she knows, Artemis feels like the biggest dunce in Gotham City.

"You are such a dick," she seethes, coming over to smack him on the chest.

"That's what they tell me," he says, reaching for her hand, the sheepish smile still on his face.

"No, oh no," she says, pushing his hand away. "You are not going to get out of this one. Ever. I mean. Do you have any idea how idiotic and totally stupid I feel right now? I mean I thought you were—and I thought he was—and now he is you!"

Dick chuckles and Artemis knows that it's because she's blabbering on in the way that she tends to do when she's frustrated and she should probably shut up, but damn it, she's irritated.

"If it makes you feel any better Babs hasn't figured it out yet and we've been friends for years," Dick tells her, finally managing wrap his fingers around her wrist.

"That does not make me feel any better, Dick," she says, glaring at his hand on her wrist. She really just wants to hit him right now, for making her feel so moronic, but she knows he'd have her flat on her back before she could make contact.

"Well this might," he says before pulling her to him and crashing his lips against hers. Her hands automatically go to tangle in his hair and his other hand slides around her waist to grip her closer to his body. She should push him off, talk about why she came here in such a tizzy, but Dick's lips are very distracting.

When they pull away, both of them are breathing a bit heavily.

"You are not getting off that easily," she says, but by the way she's looking at his lips, Dick thinks that maybe just for now, he's forgiven.