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1. oh fair and flighty love
Surprisingly, Dick didn't have a nightmare his first night in the manor. Dick actually didn't have a nightmare for his first few weeks in the manor.
So, when he finally did, Bruce was at a loss for what to do.
He thought he'd heard the boy cry out, but when he left his study to check on him, Dick's bedroom was empty.
The comforter was still on the bed, but the knit brown blanket that Dick had brought with him from Haly's was missing, as well as his stuffed elephant. The sheets were warm; Dick had been there recently. The hallway was empty as well, so Bruce quietly went downstairs.
Just as Bruce was hoping that he wouldn't have to hunt for Dick for very long, his search was over. Lamplight was spilling out of the door to the library, which was cracked open.
Bruce was loud enough to make his presence known, but not so loud that he'd scare the boy more. He clicked the library door shut behind him and began to search.
The library was one of Bruce's favorite rooms in the house. There were two comfortable couches in the center of the room, backdropped by three grand windows that viewed the garden. Beautiful wood shelves lined the walls all the way up to the ceiling and to Bruce's left, there was a short spiral staircase that led up to the library's lofted second story.
Bruce started to explore the first floor of the library when he heard a sniffle coming from the loft. Bruce changed course, heading up the staircase. He spotted Dick the moment he set foot on the second floor, curled up in the far corner. The blanket was draped around his shoulders, swallowing him up. His knees and his stuffed elephant were tucked to his chest; a book lay forgotten on the ground. Dick was staring out ahead, completely zoned out. His cheeks were wet and every now and then, a slow tear would drip down his face.
He didn't seem to notice Bruce.
Bruce padded across the floor in socked feet, clearing his throat a little. Dick flinched hard.
Bruce was treading water here; he had no idea what to do. But he did know he should probably keep his distance. He sat down on the floor across from Dick a good distance away. Dick didn't acknowledge him.
"Are you okay?" Bruce started and almost immediately cringed. Obviously not, idiot.
"No." Dick's voice was rough, with sleep, tears, or a combination of both.
The silence hung heavy in the air, "Do you want to talk about it?"
Dick scoffed and Bruce was almost taken aback. He'd never heard a sound like that come from the boy. Dick finally looked at Bruce. His body language said anger, but his eyes said fear and sadness, "What are you even doing this?"
"What?"
"What are you getting out of this? Huh? You took me in because, what, you have nothing better to spend your money on? You needed some charity case orphan to show everyone that you actually have a soul?" Dick was sharp, almost yelling at him.
"That's not why," Bruce kept his voice level. He was surprised when he found he wasn't even hurt by the words Dick spewed, "That's not why I took you in."
"Then what is it, huh? Why are you even doing this?" Dick was crying again, faster now. He was trembling, though Bruce wasn't sure if it was from anger or from holding back tears.
Bruce thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully, "Because" He started, "Someone took me in when I had nobody. He didn't have to, but he did. He knew I was hurting, and he knew I was scared, and he loved me like I was his own son."
Dick stared at the ground, suddenly looking embarrassed of his outburst, "Alfred."
"That's right." Bruce moved a little closer to Dick, "I don't care if everyone thinks I have a soul, and I am sure I could find something to spend my money on." Bruce tentatively reached out and cupped Dick's face, coaxing the boy to look at him. Dick's eyes were brimming with tears and Bruce was almost positive he couldn't see, "But you're here because I know what it's like to be where you are. And I knew you needed someone to be there for you the way Alfred was there for me."
Dick sobbed, pulling away from Bruce and burying his face in his knees, "I miss them so much!"
Bruce moved to sit directly next to Dick, wrapping an arm around the boy, "I know you do, buddy." Dick leaned into Bruce, shaking and sobbing, "I know."
Bruce rubbed the boy's back gently, letting him cry the way Alfred had let Bruce cry all those years ago.
2. my aerolite above
Bruce was trudging up the stairs and into his bedroom after a long patrol a few days later when he heard a whine from Dick's bedroom. Bruce paused. Maybe he had heard that incorrectly. Maybe Dick was just trying to get comfortable.
But it was 3 in the morning, and Dick should've been long asleep by now.
Dick was speaking now, but Bruce couldn't hear what the boy was saying. Tentatively, he cracked Dick's door and poked his head in. The room was dark and quiet, and Bruce almost kicked himself for overreacting. Just as Bruce was about to close the door, Dick cried out again, "Please!" It was a desperate whimper; one he had never heard from Dick before.
Bruce found himself feeling very helpless. Sure, he'd dealt with the aftermath of a nightmare, but he'd never had to help Dick in the throes of one. He looked around the hallway, half-hoping Alfred would magically appear and know what to do.
But the man was fast asleep, and Bruce would have to handle this on his own.
Bruce tiptoed into the room, watching Dick. He wasn't thrashing so much as he was rolling over, like he was trying to get comfortable. Another whimper escaped from Dick's lips, the boy's eyebrows knitting together, "Don't-I'm sorry!"
"Dick." Bruce said, trying to push gentleness into his voice as he crossed the room.
Dick flinched at the sound of Bruce's voice, and something twisted in Bruce's gut. He crossed the room and sat down on the edge of Dick's bed.
"Dick? Wake up, buddy." Bruce placed a gentle hand on Dick's chest. At the touch, Dick's eyes flew open, and he pushed Bruce away. Bruce held his hands up in mock surrender, "Hey, hey. It's just me."
Dick stared at Bruce, then at Bruce's hands. His breathing was ragged and wild as he knelt on the bed.
Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off by Dick, "I'm sorry I woke you up, B. I'm fine. You can go back to bed." The words rushed out, like Dick was trying to push Bruce away before Bruce could ridicule him. It was a habit that Bruce was trying to break him of, but it seemed to slip out in vulnerable moments.
"You didn't wake me up. I just got home from patrol." Dick rushed to scrub the tears from his face. His breathing wasn't calming down at all and Bruce noted that the boy's hands were trembling, "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No." Dick seemed to have a lot of anxious energy and Bruce watched as the boy stared at the sheets, fiddling with his hands.
Now Bruce was lost. He had kind of been banking on Dick wanting to talk about it; Dick wanted to talk about everything else, it seemed. Bruce looked around the room, desperate for anything to give him an idea. When his eyes settled on the window, he got an idea. He stood and walked to Dick's closet, "Where's your sweater?"
"Huh?"
"Your sweater. Is it in your closet or downstairs?" Bruce answered his own question when he spotted Dick's navy-blue sweatshirt on the hanger and pulled it off. He crossed the room to Dick, who looked positively confused but allowed Bruce to slip the sweatshirt over his head, "We've got to make a pitstop at my bedroom and then we can go, okay?"
Dick dutifully followed Bruce into the other bedroom. Bruce flipped on the lamp and Dick sat on the edge of Bruce's bed while Bruce dug through a trunk at the foot of the bed, "Where are we going?"
"Outside."
"Why?"
Bruce found the blanket he was looking for, a blue and white checked blanket, and didn't answer. He looked at Dick, giving him a smile, "You ready?"
Dick didn't respond but he hauled himself off the bed and followed Bruce down the stairs and out into the backyard. Dick let out a small giggle when his bare feet touched the dewy grass. Bruce found a spot he liked, then spread the blanket out and sat down on it cross-legged. He caught Dick watching him curiously and held out a hand, "C'mere."
Dick took Bruce's hand and sat down in his lap, "My father used to do this with me," Bruce said, pointing to the sky, "Watch," He whispered, pointing a finger to the sky.
Dick looked straight up and watched with wide eyes. Just as he was about to ask Bruce what he was supposed to be looking for, he spied a shooting star with a long tail. He gasped and Bruce let out a deep chuckle, "There's one."
Another shooting star appeared, and Dick pointed, "There's another one!"
"Good eye."
And they went back and forth, pointing out the trails of light they could see in the sky. In between, Bruce showed Dick the constellations he could remember. When Dick yawned, Bruce helped him lay down on the blanket. Dick cuddled close to Bruce, resting his head on Bruce's stomach and giving a happy sigh.
The next time Bruce looked down, Dick was sound asleep, curled up next to Bruce. Bruce carefully sat up and picked Dick up into his arms, doing his best not to jostle the boy as he stood and gathered up the blanket.
Inside, Bruce paused outside Dick's bedroom. He was holding the boy so that his head was tucked against Bruce's neck. His breathing was steady again and his arms were wrapped around Bruce's neck. Something in Bruce just couldn't bear the idea of leaving Dick alone in his bed again, so Bruce entered his own bedroom.
Gently depositing Dick into bed was a skill Bruce had not yet mastered, so as he lay Dick in the large bed, the boy stirred a bit, "Bruce?" Dick slurred.
"Here, buddy. Go back to sleep."
"Don't leave" He mumbled.
"I'm not leaving."
"Mmkay. G'night, Bruce." Dick punctuated his statement by grabbing onto one of Bruce's hands. A warm smile crept across Bruce's face as he fell into bed next to Dick and fell asleep.
3. the beast that can't be killed
Another few weeks passed before Dick had another bad night.
This time, Bruce had been asleep too when he heard Dick shouting for his mother, a few hours after they’d gotten home from a shared patrol. It only took a second of recognition before Bruce was out of bed and bursting into Dick's bedroom.
Dick was awake already, kicking the blankets off of himself and looking around wildly until his eyes locked on Bruce. He panted and moved his mouth like he was trying to speak but he couldn't.
Bruce had panic attacks semi-regularly. He found himself simultaneously grateful to be navigating charted waters and heartbroken that Dick had to experience this. Bruce did his best to look non-threatening as he crossed the room and sat on Dick's bed, giving him some space, "Hey, buddy."
"I can't breathe," Dick panted, clawing at his throat, "You have to h-help me!"
Bruce reached out and gently stopped the motion, holding Dick's hands in his and ignoring his own breaking heart, "I know it feels like you can't, but I promise you are breathing. I won't let anything happen to you."
Dick still continued to gasp. After a moment of Bruce holding his hands, Dick opted to just fling himself at Bruce, tucking himself under Bruce's chin. Bruce wrapped his arms around the boy firmly, but not so tight as to hurt him, "Take some deep breaths with me. You can do it." Bruce exaggerated his breathing, but Dick couldn't seem to follow.
"I'm gonna die, B. I don't want to die."
"You're not going to die," Bruce replied evenly, "I know this is scary, buddy. I'm here. I won't let anything happen to you. You're safe."
Dick took a deep breath in, finally able to slow himself down a bit, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" He cried, clutching Bruce's t-shirt.
"It's okay, Dickie. I'm here. You're safe."
Dick did his best, with some coaxing from Bruce, to slow his breathing down and his efforts seemed to pay off. He hiccupped a little bit, but he was no longer breathing so shallowly. Bruce had himself propped up on the headboard, with Dick laying on top of him. He had his arms wrapped around the boy securely, trying to provide a grounding pressure.
Bruce released his grip when Dick pushed himself to sit up on Bruce's lap, leaving his hands to rest on Dick's back. The young boy looked exhausted and miserable, "What was that?"
"That was a panic attack."
He shuddered, laying back down on top of Bruce, "I didn't like that."
"I don't like getting them either."
Dick was sitting back up again, looking floored, "You get them too?"
Bruce nodded, "Sure I do."
Dick stared at him, searching his eyes as if trying to tell if Bruce was lying, "Why?"
Bruce shrugged, "I've never thought about it, I guess,” He lied. Dick didn’t seem to notice.
"Do they go away?"
Bruce wasn't sure how to answer that. He'd been having panic attacks for over 15 years. Maybe they did go away, but not in any span of time that was conceivable to an 8-year-old, "Not quite. But it does get easier to get through them. I can help you learn, but it takes some time."
Dick sighed deeply, laying back down and fidgeting a moment to get comfortable, "I was really scared, B."
Bruce rubbed Dick's back and kissed the top of his head, "I know you were. It's a really scary experience. You did a really good job."
"I'm glad you were here."
Bruce's heart warmed. He pressed another kiss to the top of Dick's head, a long one, "Me too, buddy."
4. the terrible fire of old regret is honey on my tongue
One night, when Dick woke up in tears and shouting for his mother for the fifth night in a row, Bruce knew something had to give.
So, he held Dick while he cried, coaxing him to breathe deeply, as he always did. When Dick had finally calmed down, Bruce looked down at him, "Come down to the cave with me."
Bruce waited for Dick to nod his permission before carrying Dick down the stairs and into the cave.
He set Dick on a chair just off the training mat while he fished around in a bin for what he was looking for, "What are we doing?"
"Training."
"Isn't it a late?"
"Do you want to go back to sleep?" Bruce asked not unkindly.
"No."
Bruce was silent as he finally pulled out his supplies: a roll of white cotton hand wrap and two punch mitts. He tossed the punch mitts onto the training mat and crossed the room to Dick with the roll of cotton.
Bruce knelt in front of the boy, gently tugging on one of his hands until Dick held it out. He deftly wrapped each of Dick's hands, then helped him out onto the training mat. Bruce got on his knees to be on the same level as his boy, slipping the punch mitts over his hands and holding them up, "Alright. Hit me."
Dick threw a punch at Bruce's left hand. Then the right.
"You know your parents' death wasn't your fault, right?"
Dick faltered a minute, then threw another punch, "I know."
Bruce let him get a few more hits in, "It wasn't your fault."
"I know that."
"It wasn't your fault."
Dick's hits were getting marginally harder, and slightly messier, "Okay."
Bruce gave another pause, "It wasn't your fault."
Silence. Punch. Punch. Punch.
"It wasn't your fault."
There were tears welling in Dick's eyes, "Stop," He whispered.
Punch. Punch. Punch.
"It wasn't your fault."
"Stop," Dick said louder. His punches were hard, sloppy. He was being fueled by anger now.
"It wasn't your fault."
Punch. Punch. Punch.
"It wasn't your fault."
Punch. Punch. Punch. Tears were streaming down Dick's face.
"It wasn't your fault."
Dick was hitting Bruce now, directly in the chest. Dick was small enough that he couldn't really hurt Bruce, so Bruce let him do it.
"It wasn't your fault."
"Stop it!" Dick shouted. His face was red, his tears dripping onto the training mat.
Punch. Punch. Punch. Punch.
This time, Bruce caught Dick's hand. Stunned, Dick's tear-filled eyes met Bruce's, "Dick."
"Stop it. Don't say that to me. Don't say that to me."
"Dick-"
"No!" Another punch from Dick's other hand and Bruce reached up to catch that one when he reared back to hit Bruce again.
"Look at me." Dick was crying, his eyes shut, "Look at me, Dick." Dick opened his eye. Bruce's heart broke at how utterly broken Dick looked, "Your parents' death was not your fault."
Dick fell to his knees in front of Bruce, letting his head drop. Tears splattered on the floor and Dick's shoulder's shook from his sobs, "God, I should've helped them!" He wailed.
Bruce pulled Dick close, letting the boy sob into his shoulder, "It wasn't your fault, Dick." He kissed the top of Dick's head, "I promise you; it was not your fault."
5. and i feel it in my blood
Bruce had been reckless.
He’d known Scarecrow was in there, he’d know he was carrying fear toxin, and he still let Robin walk right in. Bruce had spent every minute since Dick had been hit square in the face with a cloud of fear toxin wishing that he had been the one to burst through the skylight.
He’d hauled ass out of there, Dick in tow. Scarecrow could wait until his son was taken care of. He’d deposited a terrified Dick with Alfred, then returned to finish the job. GCPD took over and Batman disappeared into the night.
When he returned to the Cave, Dick was passed out on a cot in the medbay. Alfred looked thoroughly exhausted in just the 30 minutes that Bruce had been gone. Bruce discarded his cowl and outer armor, then met Alfred in the medbay wearing a soft black t-shirt and black joggers. Alfred sighed, standing up from where he was sitting vigil at Dick’s side. Bruce eyed the restraints on the boy’s arms, “He tuckered himself out with his crying. I had to restrain him so he would stop trying to hurt himself.” Alfred sounded as exhausted as he looked, and Bruce rested a hand on the man’s shoulder.
“Thanks for watching him, Alfred. You can go to bed. I’ll stay with him.”
“Wake me if you need me, Master Bruce.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Alfred.”
Alfred shuffled off to bed, while Bruce took a seat next to his son. There were blunt scratches, ones that didn’t break the skin, on Dick’s wrists, probably from where he tried to rip the restraints off. Guilt settled in Bruce’s stomach. Guilt at letting Dick dive into a trap like that, guilt at leaving Alfred by himself with Dick, who was probably putting up a hell of a fight, guilt at ever dragging Dick into his line of work.
Dick twitched hard in his sleep and Bruce stiffened. Please, god, no. Please sleep until this wears off.
A cry spilled from Dick’s lips, loud and pained, “Get off of me!”
Bruce bit his lip, hard, then reached out to stroke Dick’s knuckles, “I’m here, Dick.”
Dick screamed out like Bruce had just burned him, “No! Please!”
Bruce immediately pulled his hand back, “I’m sorry, honey, I’m sorry. I’m here.”
“Batman!”
Bruce let out a full-body flinch.
“Batman! Batman, help me!”
His son was calling out for him and there was nothing he could do.
“I’m here, Dick. I’m right here. You’re safe.”
“Batman! Ba-Bruce! Bruce, I need you!”
Bruce was acutely aware that he was crying, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. You’re safe.”
“Please! Please, Bruce!”
“I’m here. I’m here, you’re safe, baby.”
Dick suddenly quieted. Bruce carefully reached out a hand and pressed two fingers to Dick’s wrist, feeling for a pulse beating underneath his skin. He let out a relieved breath when he felt it, pounding against Bruce’s calloused fingers.
Semi-satisfied with the fact that Dick seemed to be asleep again, Bruce sagged back against his chair. It was going to be a long night.
6. in the fire and the flood
24 hours later, the fear toxin had mostly worn off, but not completely.
Bruce had never seen a reaction to fear toxin like this, especially after administering the antidote. Dick was awake now and no longer hallucinating, but he had spiked a fever of 103 and was trembling like a leaf. After two doses of fever reducer, nothing seemed to be helping. If Bruce thought Dick’s needle phobia was bad when he wasn’t drugged, it was nothing compared to the way he’d acted when he woke up.
“Please don’t, please!” Dick had plead, “I’ll be good, please don’t!” And Bruce had soothed him the best that he could, tucked him against his chest in a firm hug, and held him still while Alfred inserted an IV needle for fluids. The sound of Dick screaming, begging Bruce to stop, would be etched into Bruce’s brain for the rest of his life.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry,” Bruce had muttered, kissing the top of Dick’s head and praying that he would fall asleep again soon.
Dick had sobbed when Bruce dabbed at his forehead with a damp washcloth, crying that he was cold and burying closer to Bruce. Bruce had tucked the thin blanket around his son’s shivering form.
“Perhaps we should contact Dr. Thompkins, sir,” Alfred suggested sometime later. Bruce was laying on his side, curled around Dick, who was pressed to his stomach.
Bruce looked down at his son, watching him shiver and tucked the blanket tighter around him.
“She has experience with fear toxin, Master Bruce, she’ll know what to do.”
Bruce watched Dick quietly. Alfred was right. Leslie would probably know what to do. It’s not like she didn’t already know who Bruce and Dick were, what kind of work they did.
But Dick shying away from the needle clutched in Alfred’s hand, Dick crying for Bruce to let him go and not hurt him; those were things Bruce would take a long time to recover from. The last thing he wanted do to Dick in his fragile state was scare him more. Bruce let out a deep sigh, “Give him a few more hours. If nothing changes, we’ll call her.”
Alfred nodded but didn’t speak. Bruce knew that meant that Alfred vehemently disagreed with Bruce but was not going to say anything. Bruce would live with that.
Dick pressed back against Bruce’s stomach, his breath hitching. Bruce ran a gentle hand down Dick’s arm, “Shh.”
Dick had been in and out of consciousness for the past day. When he was awake, he could barely speak. He’d been able to keep food and water down, but that seemed to knock the energy out of him. When he was asleep, feverish nightmares seemed to torment him. Every so often, Bruce would have to soothe Dick back to sleep.
Dick mumbled something Bruce couldn’t understand, then stiffened.
“I’m here, Dick.”
“Dad…”
Bruce froze.
Dick had never called him that before.
Surely, he didn’t mean Bruce. Surely, he was calling for his father, the man who’d fallen all those months ago.
“Dad…Bruce!” Dick whined.
Nope, definitely meant Bruce.
“I’m here, honey,” Bruce soothed, “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
Dick’s eyes snapped open and before he registered that Bruce was next to him, he let out a choked sob, “Bruce!” Dick rasped, probably from a sore throat.
“Hey, hey.” Bruce soothed, dropping hand into Dick’s hair. Dick stiffened for a moment, then sighed deeply, leaning into Bruce’s touch. His breathing was fast, but deep. It seemed a panic attack was staved off for a moment, “I’m here.”
Dick rolled over to look at Bruce. His eyes were glassy and tired. Then Dick, still warm as ever, threw his arms around Bruce’s neck, “I called you.”
Bruce returned the hug, rolling onto his back so Dick was laying on top of him, “I heard you. I’m here.” Dick sat up and Bruce brushed sweaty bangs out of his face, “How are you feeling?”
“Cold.”
Bruce brought the blanket up to drape over Dick’s shoulders, “Better?”
“Kind of.” Dick flopped back down on top of Bruce, shuffling a bit as he got comfortable. He sighed deeply against Bruce’s chest, then quieted. In his time with Dick, Bruce had learned that if he remained quiet and let Dick think his thoughts, soon enough Dick would share those thoughts with him, “I have a question.”
“Sure, buddy.”
“Do you think…I mean…could someone have two dads?”
“Well, sure.” Bruce rubbed Dick’s back soothingly, hoping that Dick couldn’t hear how hard Bruce’s heart was pounding in his chest, “Think about your friend at school, Micah. He’s got two dads.”
“Yeah, but his dads are married. What if…what if someone had two dads that weren’t married? Is that okay?”
“Of course, it’s okay.”
“Do you think…” Dick sat up again, looking at Bruce and dropping his voice to a whisper, “Do you think my dad would be mad if you were my dad too?”
Bruce felt cold suddenly, “Uh. Well.” Dick’s face fell, looking incredibly dejected at Bruce’s lack of a response, “No, I don’t think so. But you knew him better than I did. What do you think he’d want?”
Dick stared at Bruce’s chest, “I don’t know.”
“I think he’d want you to be happy. I think he’d want you to be taken care of.” Bruce watched Dick for a little while longer, “Would it make you happy?”
Dick shrugged, trying to brush it off, “I don’t know.”
“Dick…” Bruce started, “What would make you happy?”
Dick looked up at him shyly, “I want to you to be my dad.”
“I’d like that.”
Dick’s energy seemed to return, “Really?”
“Only if that’s what you want.” Bruce corrected.
Dick had made it so clear when he’d first come into Bruce’s care that he didn’t want Bruce replacing his father. And Bruce had made a conscious effort to respect that. Even still, hearing that from Dick made his heart soar.
Dick looked embarrassed but happy as he face-planted into Bruce’s chest, tucking himself under Bruce’s chin. Bruce tucked the blanket around him, then wrapped his arms around Dick firmly, rubbing his back gently.
Dick’s fever broke twenty minutes later.
7. could you love me more if by the sun and moon I swore that I would never flee?
Bruce benched Dick after the fear toxin incident, much to Dick’s extreme dismay.
Leslie had told Bruce that Dick had just gotten a bad batch, that it wouldn’t normally affect him like that. He’d had an adverse reaction, but there was nothing to suggest an actual allergy. Even still, Bruce didn’t think he could handle seeing Dick suffer that way again.
So, every night after dinner, Dick would follow Bruce downstairs to the cave and sit while Bruce donned his Batman suit. Bruce would kiss his forehead and instruct him to be good for Alfred before climbing into the Batmobile and tearing out of the cave. When patrol was over at 4 AM, Bruce would return home, crack Dick’s door open to ensure he was asleep, then shower and head to bed.
And tonight was no different. Dick followed Bruce down to the cave and sat quietly while Bruce tugged on his outer armor and his boots. Bruce slipped into his belt and crossed to Dick, who was seated in the cushy chair at the computer, watching him. He knelt down to Dick’s eye level, “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”
Dick nodded.
Dick had been different since Bruce benched him two weeks ago. He’d been quiet, reserved; everything Dick Grayson was very much not. Bruce had tried to talk to him, had tried to explain the reasoning behind the decision, but Alfred had insisted that Bruce had hurt Dick’s feelings. He’d told Bruce that it would take time for Dick to trust him again.
“You be good for Alfred too, okay?”
Dick nodded again.
Bruce cupped Dick’s face gently, pulling him forward to press a long kiss to Dick’s forehead. Dick wrapped a small hand around Bruce’s wrist, like a silent cry for Bruce not to go. Bruce pulled away, gave him a warm smile, and sped off into the night.
Bruce got home far later than he intended. The sun was nearly rising over the Gotham City skyline by the time Bruce pulled back into the cave. He had already crafted an excuse for coming into the office late that day, and he figured he could convince Alfred to drive Dick to school.
Bruce left his armor downstairs; more than half of it would need to be repaired before his next patrol. In his black t-shirt and gray joggers, Bruce trudged upstairs.
Bruce hesitated for a moment outside Dick’s door. Dick was always asleep by now, and he’d be waking up soon anyway. He was fine. Bruce just really wanted a shower.
Bruce opened his bedroom door and immediately regretted not checking on Dick.
The lamp next to Bruce’s bed was on, illuminating the scene. Dick was kneeling on Bruce’s bed, holding his stuffed elephant tightly in his arms. He was heaving breaths, staring around with wide eyes. When his eyes landed on Bruce, he flung himself off the bed, wrapping his arms around Bruce’s legs. Dick’s elephant lay forgotten on the ground.
Bruce scooped Dick up into his arms, “Woah, hey,” he said gently.
Dick pulled back to look at him. His eyes were full of tears, “I woke up and got scared and you weren’t home, but you were supposed to be because you always said that you didn’t patrol past 4 but it was already 5 and you weren’t here and I—”
“Hey, hey, slow down,” Bruce soothed.
Dick took a gulping breath of air and nodded, but plowed forward, “I thought you left, I thought you weren’t coming back—”
“Okay, okay.” Bruce cupped Dick’s neck, gently pulling him close. Dick didn’t hesitate, wrapping his arms around Bruce’s neck. Bruce rocked him gently, “I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Dick lifted his chin from Bruce’s shoulder, “I thought you left me,” He repeated in a quiet voice, “I thought you weren’t coming back.”
“Dick…” Bruce breathed, closing his eyes, “I wouldn’t leave you.”
Dick mumbled something into Bruce’s shoulder.
“I didn’t hear that, honey.”
Dick pulled away a little bit, like he was afraid Bruce was going to reject him, “You leave me here to go on patrol though…” Dick looked bated
Bruce felt like a moron. And Alfred was right, because of course he was.
“Dick…” Bruce sat down on the bed with Dick in his arms, “Do you think I benched you because I was going to leave you?”
Dick’s brows furrowed, “I…I don’t know.”
“Buddy, that’s not it at all.” Bruce took a deep breath. He’d drowned these feelings for weeks, telling himself that it was over, and he didn’t need to think about it anymore. But just thinking about it, he was already on the verge of tears, “When you got hit with that fear toxin and you got sick, it really scared me.”
“You get scared?” Dick sounded shocked.
Bruce nodded, still managing to keep the tears at bay, “I do. You scare me.”
Dick’s surprised look quickly morphed into confusion, “Me?”
The dam was breaking. A small tear slipped from Bruce’s eye, “Yeah, buddy. I get scared that something will happen to you. And when you got hit with fear toxin, that fear came true, and I was very scared.” He was trying his hardest to explain this in terms that Dick could understand, “And when you were sick, that was also very scary.” The tears were flowing now. Dick looked lost, and embarrassment crept up Bruce’s neck, “I benched you because when you’re here, I know that you’re safe. And I don’t have to be scared that you’ll get hurt because of me.”
Bruce pressed his fingers to his closed eyes, trying to staunch the tears. He nearly jumped when he felt small arms wrap around his neck, and a face press against his neck, “I’m sorry I scared you,” Dick whispered, “I’m sorry. I’ll be good. Just please don’t leave me.”
“Oh, Dick…” Bruce held onto Dick tightly, “I’m not punishing you, sweetheart. I’m trying to keep you safe.” He pulled back to kiss Dick’s temple, “I’m not going to leave you; I promise that. I’m going to stay right here.”
Dick held on tightly to Bruce for another moment, but pulled back to reveal a serious face, “I want to be Robin, B. I want to help you.”
Bruce sighed.
Dick was looking at him with a conviction Bruce had never seen on the boy’s face before. He was solemn, determined.
“I will think about it. I promise.” A smile broke out on Dick’s face, “But I need you to understand, Dick.” Dick’s smile dropped, “I am not leaving you. I am here; you’ve got me. I am not going anywhere. Do you understand?”
Dick nodded, the smile reappearing. Bruce returned it, stroking the side of Dick’s face and pressing a kiss to his forehead, “I have to get in the shower. But how about this: you’ve been up all night, so if you want, you can stay home from school, we can sleep in, and we’ll spend the day together. Yeah?”
Dick nodded excitedly, “Okay.”
Bruce smiled, “Okay.” He gently lifted Dick from his lap, settling him in the bed. Dick got himself comfortable on the pillow next to Bruce’s. Bruce fetched Dick’s elephant from where she’d fallen to the floor and tucked her next to Dick before laying the blankets out over him. Bruce gave Dick a small smile, “Get some sleep. I’ll be out in a minute.”
Bruce took the fastest shower of his life. It felt good to get the dirt and grime of the patrol off his skin, but he was more than happy to collapse back into bed with his son.
Dick was asleep when Bruce returned to bed, and Bruce was glad for it. There was no reason for a little boy his age to be as sleep deprived as he already was. Bruce climbed into bed next to him and, like a magnet, Dick clung to his side. Bruce let a smile ghost his face.
Tomorrow, they could talk again about Dick rejoining Bruce on patrol. They could talk again about how Dick could trust Bruce not to leave him.
But tonight; tonight they could peacefully sleep, safely tucked into each other’s arms.