Dick slid off as soon as the bike was parked. He moved towards the computer, throwing the cowl and his belt aside. He began to type, ignoring whether anyone else was around.
Damian, who'd been fiddling with a bike glanced at Tim. "What did you do now?"
"Next time I tell you to leave me to do my own thing, I'd appriciate it if you listened." Dick didn't look at Tim as he spoke, instead he was rereading Bruce's account of Jason's death.
"And how, exactly, was I going to get injured or killed by looking for someone?" Dick asked. He moved to a corner of the room where Tim wouldn't be able to see him and removed the costume, he never felt quite right in it. He pulled a pair of (really tight) jeans on instead and moved back to the computer.
"Because normal people don't usually hang out in sewers." Tim blinked when he found himself staring at Dick's arse, but shook it off. He was just tired.
Tim frowned as he saw exactly what Dick had been looking through. This was worse than he'd thought. At that moment, Alfred came back with his tea, asking, "Is everything okay, Master Tim?" "Yeah, just Dick being, well, Dick," He grinned, taking the mug, "Thanks." He then said goodnight, and headed up towards the sleeping quarters, pausing outside Dick's door.