I imagine that some little kids who want to be firefighters really do grow up to be them, but lots of those end up as bartenders, or carpenters too.

[It had been tied back earlier, and Dick almost wishes he'd left it down but he knows that it must be annoying to keep down when Iggy's not feeling well. Still, he wants to lay there next to him running his fingers through it. It's so hard not to be close right now. At least he can kiss Iggy's shoulder, smiling against the skin while Dick shakes his head.]

You. Whatever am I going to do with you. I don't know what I am, except slightly addicted to you and that's both our bad luck then. I mean, there are things I let you do for me, don't get me wrong but I want you to like it too. I want to give you what you want most.