Forgotten Bonds

Thirteen - Smothered

October 13th, 2008. Monday, 7:03 am. 

The next morning, Dick opened his eyes slowly. He waited for the usual wave of aches and pains he normally felt when he woke up, but found there weren't any. After all... 

Dick bolted up in bed; his eyes wide as he remembered the events of last night. 

The man had walloped him like a little child! Dick's face burned with mortification and embarrassment. He had been draped over the man's knees like a bratty kid! He dropped his face into his hands; shaking his head slightly. That was not cool – completely uncool if ever he saw. He'd never live this down. That had to be the strangest thing yet. How could this be happening to him? He seriously must've offended some higher power that he had to be tortured like this. 

But... 

There weren't any bruises. There weren't any broken bones. There weren't any lasting aches and pains. Lifting from his hands slowly, Dick wiggled his seat in bed, just to test. Nope. He was perfectly fine; physically, that is – he wasn't about to say mentally he was okay. That fiery sting had long since faded overnight. He was no worse for wear. 

Last night, he had fallen asleep after a few minutes of brooding on the previous event. He had woken once in the middle of the night to see a tray of food and he had eaten some of it before falling back asleep. But he had completely forgotten to set his alarm. He was a bit later than normal this morning. 

Dick threw the covers off and stood up. He didn't bother getting dressed right away; walking against the carpeted floor to his door and opening it. He peeked his head through, looking for any sign of life. He could hear the usual sounds of Wintergreen in the kitchen, but there wasn't any talking. 

So, maybe Slade wasn't out and about yet. 

Dick walked down the hallway, holding himself nervously. His bare feet touched cool wood flooring of the hallway and then tiles as he walked into the kitchen. It wasn't cold, yet he still felt the need to wrap his arms around himself. He was extremely confused over the entire matter yesterday. He felt docile and skittish; ready to bolt away at the first sign of danger. 

Wintergreen was at his usual station: at the stove. Dick couldn't hold back the strong wave of betrayal that he felt as he watched him cook. This old man was the reason Slade got it into his head to wallop his backside like some bratty little kid. That was a far too childish punishment for Dick. It was invasive and also just downright embarrassing. 

If Slade was really trying a different approach with him, then Dick would just rather die. Bury him right then and there – six feet under in the dirt, if you please. There was no way on the entire planet that Dick wanted to be familiar with the man. He should've thought of that a month ago. This totally screamed parenting. What was the man trying to do – bond with him or something? Dick nearly shivered at the thought. 

Good grief, heaven forbid. 

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" asked Wintergreen, turning slightly to acknowledge Dick once he saw him. Dick gave the old man a slight jerky nod, not giving him a proper greeting. He was annoyed that the old man was acting as if nothing had happened. 

It irritated him. A lot. 

"Why'd you tell Slade to wallop me?" demanded Dick. He refused to say the word 'spank'. That sounded something a five year old received for acting like a brat. No, thank you; he had been 'walloped'. 

Wintergreen raised an eyebrow, before chuckling. "Right to the point as usual." 

"Answer me," said Dick, narrowing his eyes. "Why now?"