Archive of Our Own ^beta

It started, as many things do in Gotham, with an underling of a Rogue doing their best to impress their master. There was almost always some low-ranking mobster or scientist trying to climb the ladder, which almost always led to something crazy.

Still, Batman and Robin were on the case. With a bit of surveillance and intelligence gathering, they had pinned down a potential Scarecrow lab deep in the warehouse district. Of course it was in the warehouse district. Every time a business within a warehouse went bankrupt and vacated, they pretty much were just posting a “free villain lair here!” sign on the window.

Batman was perched on a window ledge, looking inside. His cape billowed dramatically behind him, and his expression, (what of his expression was visible past his cowl), was serious.

Robin was standing next to him, considering if he had enough room to do a handstand. The ledge was pretty small, but he was pretty good at handstands, so Dick thought that those two facts would cancel out, making it possible to do (at the very least) a mediocre handstand.

He shifted, trying to figure out the best way to go about it.

“Robin.” Batman cut in.

“Yeah?”

“Do not do a handstand.”

Dick deflated, caught before he could even get started. 

"B, Scarecrow isn't even here." Dick said, letting his voice trail off into a whine. "It's just a bunch of his dumb goons who aren't even doing anything."

"Robin," Bruce's voice was low, in a warning tone. 

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Never give up the chance to collect more intelligence." Dick huffed, putting his hands on his hips. The specific window that the pair were camped out on was on the slanted part of the roof. They almost had a bird's eye (ha) view of the warehouse below them. 

If Dick tried, he could probably climb to the top of the roof and then slide all the way down on his butt. From here, he could maybe even just jump right up. Or, if B let him on his shoulders...

Batman met his gaze as he was trying to determine the best way to get onto his shoulders. "No." Dick couldn't help but bristle. He wasn't a puppy, as much as his friends compared him to golden retrievers. 

"Look," Batman pointed to the window. "Do you see what they are moving around?" 

Dick pressed himself against the window, the glass panes chilling his skin. He scanned the interior of the warehouse. As most warehouses-turned-lairs were, it was dirty, and sparsely furnished. There were only a handful of men walking around, some moving crates while others stood in a cluster near the door smoking cigarettes. 

Before Dick could ask what he was supposed to be looking for, Bruce spoke up again. "Center of the room." 

Dick focused his eyes, watching as a man in a lab coat ( really? ) gingerly lifted a test tube rack out of an open crate. There were four different vials in it, all a murky red color. Dick squatted down matching his partner's pose. 

"What do you think it is?" Dick murmured. "New strain of fear toxin?" 

"Perhaps." 

The man in the lab coat placed the rack on a nearby table. He picked up a vial and held it to the light, his lips moving rapidly. Dick was still getting the hang of reading lips, and their current angle through the window made it even more difficult. 

"Something about a serum, and I think he said Crane. Or Bane. But probably Crane. Jane?" Dick tried. 

"Crane," Bruce confirmed. "We need to be careful-- even a drop of something created by Scarecrow could be deadly." 

"Yeah, I know," Dick said dismissively. He pressed himself closer to the window, as if that would allow him to read lips any better. 

One of the men by the door dropped and stamped out his cigarette. Dick's next breath caught in his throat as the man sauntered forward, revealing the large gun that was hanging off of his other shoulder. He walked over to lab-coat-guy, gesturing to the vials. 

The lab-coat guy shook his head at whatever guy-with-a-gun said. 

Jeez. These nicknames were getting confusing. Dick decided to call lab-coat Dr. Evil (Bruce let Dick stay up late and watch Austin Powers last week, much to Dick's delight and Alfred's dismay), and the guy-with-the-gun Rhett because... Because Dick just liked the name Rhett, and now that he had thought of it, he couldn't think of any other name for him. 

"We should go inside, hear what they’re saying." Dick suggested, already looking for a latch to open the window with. 

"No."

"B!" Dick whined. "Things are getting heated! Look!"

Things were getting heated: Rhett's face was becoming steadily more red as his conversation with Dr. Evil continued. His hand had dropped down to his gun, but Dr. Evil didn't seem to notice, his hands gesticulating wildly. 

"That is exactly why we are staying out here." Bruce instructed. "We don't know how many of them are armed, and we don't know what that serum is capable of. We must be cautious."

"But we've been chasing after Crane for like weeks now!" That might have been a slight over-exaggeration, but Bruce huffed slightly in agreement. "Dr. Evil could lead us to Crane, I bet!" 

When Bruce turned and gave Dick a strange look, he realized he slipped up and revealed his assigned nickname.

"I should have looked up the rating of that movie before letting you watch it." Bruce eventually said. Dick couldn't help but smile, knocking his shoulder into Bruce's. 

"Nah, it's good to keep you on your toes. Can't have you getting too complacent during our movie nights." 

"Robin." Bruce turned back to the window. Dick went back to looking for a way inside. He leaned down even further and pushed at the base of the window.

To Dick's surprise, the window moved open a few inches. Him and Bruce froze as it made a loud creaking noise, but no one inside appeared to notice. 

The voices from inside began to filter through the tiny crack in the window. Dick shuffled as close as he could, determined to hear everything. 

"I don't appreciate being talked to like that," Rhett was saying. Dr. Evil scoffed. He wasn't even looking at the man with the gun and was scribbling on a piece of paper. 

"If I tried to speak to you above a third grade level, I fear that you wouldn't understand. Do you know how many years I spent perfecting this? How many failed tests, how much money went into this serum?" 

"So let us sell it. Unless you want to explain to Crane why the new product hasn't hit the streets in weeks." Rhett said. Dr. Evil bristled. He snatched a vial out of the rack, holding it up between the two men. 

"This is imperfect. It is not where it needs to be. But once it is ready, people from across the country will be lining up for just a single drop."

Rhett snorted. Dr. Evil scowled at him, his voice lowering in volume. 

Now that just wouldn't do. Dick pressed on the window even further. The metal frame scraped against each other. Before Dick could push it any further, Bruce grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and shoved him down, out of view. 

"Robin. I will send you back to the car." Bruce threatened, but Dick just shushed him, and poked his head up. 

The gap in the window was much larger now, big enough for Dick to slip through if he wanted. Not that he would. That would be stupid, no matter how awesome being Robin was. Through the window was a straight drop down, nearly directly on top of Dr. Evil and Rhett. 

Neither of the men seemed to have noticed the window creaking open, nor did they notice when Dick lifted himself just enough to poke his head in. Bruce grabbed him from the waist, but Dick held to the window frame as strongly as he could. Bruce either realized how genius Robin was being, or he had just given up, because his hold turned into a hand wrapped securely around his belt. 

From this new vantage point, all of the blood was rushing into Dick's head, yes, but he could also hear better. 

"-not my problem. I'm just here to follow my orders and make sure that you’re following yours." Rhett said. "This isn't a fuckin' science class for you to experiment. What does this shit even do?" 

Dick watched as Rhett leaned forward and snatched the vial right out of Dr. Evil's hands. Dr. Evil began to protest loudly, but Rhett boldly swung his gun around, casually pointing it at the floor where Dr. Evil's feet were.

"We are not going to engage," Bruce reminded Dick softly. Dick couldn't help but roll his eyes. Well duh they weren't going to engage, but what would be the point if they walked away without any information?

 "Give that back! You do not understand the power of what you are holding!" Dr. Evil cried. He didn't approach Rhett, as the other man still had one hand on the gun, but he was staring angrily at him. "It took weeks to synthesize just this one batch, and we have not begun to even consider aerosolizing it!" 

Rhett looked from the vial to Dr. Evil, his grip on his gun growing visibly tighter. Dick looked around, and while the other people in the room had stopped in what they were doing to watch the argument, no one stepped forward to intervene. 

"Just because you think that you are so smart, and that everyone else is so much dumber than you are--" Rhett started to say. 

Dick didn't hear how that statement went, because there was a click underneath him. Dick's blood froze in his veins. His belt was difficult to take off, but the way that he was practically having upside down, his pelvis pressed against a strange angle of concrete, it apparently provided the perfect amount of pressure to click the latch. 

He felt himself slipping out of Bruce's grasp almost immediately. Thankfully, Bruce was already yanking him back, and out of the window. His wrist got caught uncomfortably between his body and the window frame, twinging in pain. 

What happened next was unfortunate. 

Dick's belt, now completely loose, was a victim of gravity. It slipped around him, until it drooped through the window. Dick pushed himself forward, arms outstretched so he could nab it before anyone saw it. The angle, once again, was wonky, but if he  stretched just a bit more--

As Dick pushed forward, he inadvertently kicked Bruce, who made a soft grunting noise. This caused Bruce to slightly lose his grasp on Dick, but Dick was so close to catching the edge of his belt just before it fell through and--

Dick was sliding out of Bruce's grasp and going through the crack in the window himself.

But he hardly had time to think of the sudden fear leaping through his throat, the vision of his parents falling, falling, falling, because Batman's cape was suddenly wrapped around him, cloaking his vision.

No. Batman was suddenly wrapped around him. There was the distant sound of glass shattering, as the window broke, presumably as Batman's entire form barreled through it. Dick was pressed to Bruce's chest, and it was only a few brief, terrifying moments before they hit the ground. His fall was cushioned by Bruce, but it still knocked the wind out of him. 

And now his wrist was really hurting, thanks to him falling right on top of it. B was softer than concrete, but certainly not a pile of pillows.

"What the--" Dick heard someone say. He rolled off of Bruce, scrambling to his feet, Bruce doing the same mere moments after him. 

They had landed right in front of Rhett and Dr. Evil. The two looked similarly shellshocked, which was something Dick had spent months learning how to utilize. 

Batman was upright, covering Robin, and falling into a defensive stance. Robin looked around the room as quickly as he could. As far as he could tell, no one else was armed, but just a first glance didn't mean much. Anyone could be hiding a gun of any size anywhere on their person. 

"B!" Robin called out, dancing backwards. Behind him were more crates, but no people. "Heads up!" He snatched a discarded hammer off of a crate's lid and tossed it to his partner. Without looking, Batman's hand snapped out as he snatched it from the air. 

"What the fuck?" Rhett said. 

Dr. Evil seemed to shake out of his shock first, grabbing the remaining three vials and clutching them to his chest. He looked towards the exits, and it was then that Robin realized the goons who had been watching only a moment  before were gone. One of the doors was even swinging open and closed with the force of someone speeding out of there. 

"I got him!" Robin called, breaking into a sprint towards Dr. Evil. The man paled and began to backpedal.

Going after Dr. Evil meant that Robin had to turn his back on Rhett, but he trusted that Batman had his back. Batman always had his back.

Perhaps it was seeing a small child dressed as a traffic light that pushed Rhett into action. The hired thug did the first thing his instincts told him to: he threw the vial with the red liquid at Robin. 

But since Robin's back was turned, and he was focused on the lab-coat-wearing man who was tripping over his feet, Robin did not realize. 

He didn't realize that the vial had been tossed at all, until he heard a splashing noise followed quickly by the shattering of glass. Robin grabbed Dr. Evil by the front of his lab coat and spun around. 

Batman was blocking his view of Rhett, but there was a small pile of shattered glass at his feet. Dr. Evil laughed, but the sound quickly turned into a strangled cry when Robin made a threatening fist and jerked it towards his face. 

"You have a gun, you fool!" Dr. Evil shouted, but by then it was too late. Batman was on top of Rhett, easily overpowering him and pinning him to the ground. 

With a swift hit to the head, Rhett stopped struggling, going limp. Batman got to his feet, using a gloved hand to wipe away residue from the red liquid. Dr. Evil was caught between laughing hysterically and hyperventilating. He could really give the Joker a run for his money. 

"Take one step further--" Dr. Evil's laughter cut off suddenly, and he held the vials in his hand above Robin's head. "And the birdie gets it." Before Robin could dart out of the way, Dr. Evil grabbed the fist that had just been threatening him, clamping his fingers down on his wrist. 

Yup. Something was definitely broken. It took all of his power to not collapse when Dr. Evil's grip made the pain flash hot, white. Robin tugged, but the man's grip was like iron. 

Robin saw the way that Batman hesitated, his eyes darting from Dr. Evil to the vials, to Robin. He knew that Batman was calculating the chances of Robin getting out of the way. If it was just one vial, maybe, but three would have a larger splash radius. 

This was all Robin’s fault. He did his best to shove the thoughts away, because the guilt would only distract him right now. But still, his stomach turned.

"B," Robin started, but before he could finish, Batman slowly took a step back, raising his hands above his shoulders. "B!" 

"Let him go." Batman ordered. 

"As much as I wish I could stay and see the results of an undiluted dosage on someone your size," Dr. Evil, still holding Robin and the vials, started to back up towards the door. "But I'm afraid I have a prior engagement. Though, since I presume we will meet again, why don't you take note of the effects and give me the report then?" 

Robin squirmed as much as he could, but the pain in his wrist felt overwhelming. He had broken bones before, of course he had, but God, he could never get quite used to that sort of pain. 

Suddenly, Dr. Evil shoved Robin forward. Robin hadn't been expecting the sudden push, but before he could blink, Batman was there, gathering him into his arms. 

The moment that he was steady on his feet again, he whirled around. Dr. Evil was gone. Shock rode through his body. They totally could have taken him down! Why wasn’t Batman running after him?

"GCPD is on their way." Batman said lowly. Once he was certain that Robin wasn't going to topple over, he stepped away, inspecting the remnants of the liquid on his hands. 

"B! Why did you let him go?" Robin cried indignantly.  He went to punch Batman in the chest, but paused when he noticed the dripping red liquid. 

"Oh shit." 

"Language." Batman said, distracted. He pressed a button on his own belt, calling the Batmobile to their current location. 

"Does it hurt? Is it acid?" Robin asked. 

Behind Batman, Rhett groaned. Robin froze, until he saw that Batman had kicked his gun far away and had wrapped his hands in rope tethered to a pole. 

"It doesn't hurt." Batman replied, grabbing Robin's belt from where it had fallen onto the ground. 

Robin couldn't help but wince as he took it from his partner, his wrist protesting. Of course, Batman zeroed in on it immediately. 

"Report, Robin." 

Robin sighed loudly, rolling his eyes to the sky. 

"Broke my wrist. Fine other than that. I don't think any of that red stuff got on me." Batman grunted, seemingly pleased with the answer. "B, I--"

Dick hesitated. This wasn't the first time he had screwed up a mission, or patrol, not by a long shot. Still, the embarrassment smarted, right along with the ache in his wrist. 

When Bruce looked at him, he just shook his head. He could find a way to make up for it later. Maybe he could pull a few extra hours doing surveillance and find wherever Dr. Evil went to. 

The roar of the Batmobile grew nearer. Dick hopped from foot to foot, anxious. Bruce wasn't the type to yell when he was angry, but that didn't mean much. They had been working together for a while now, yeah, but as much as Dick insisted that they were partners, Bruce was still the adult. He was Dick's legal guardian. That was still a line that Dick wasn't sure how to toe, or if he even wanted to. 

"So it's not acid. Some type of new fear toxin? Cuddle pollen?" 

"Neither." Bruce replied curtly. "I can... I can feel it, though, so it's impacting me some way." Bruce looked mildly distressed, which only distressed Dick even more. 

"Okaayyy," Dick said. "Does this mean I can drive the car? Or do you want to wait for the cops to get here?" 

Bruce was already shaking his head. He started to move towards the exit, not looking back at Dick as he spoke. "No. No need to show them any sign of weakness. Gordon trusts us, but I can't say the same for anyone else." 

Weakness. Was Bruce hurt? Dick tried to peer at him again, but there were no visible injuries.

"Uh, B?" Dick followed Bruce out of the warehouse. In the distance, he heard sirens. "You sure you are feeling okay?" 

"My head hurts." Bruce responded almost automatically. "Hrn."

The Batmobile was waiting for them outside, perfectly parked along the curb. Dick tried to figure out if he could get into the driver's seat before Bruce. Technically, Dick didn't have his driver's license because he wasn't old enough, not even for a permit, but Bruce was acting capital W weird. 

Bruce looked at him as he opened the car door. Once again, Bruce cut Dick off before he could even try. The man had an eerie sense for that sort of stuff. 

By the time they got into the car, red and blue lights were flashing as the patrol cars raced down the road. Just as seamlessly, Bruce started the Batmobile, and they were off. 

Almost immediately, Bruce punched in the command for the Batmobile to take them home. "Call Alfred." 

"Call Alfred?!" Dick fumbled for his commlink. "Are you dying?" 

"Not dying." Bruce hesitated for a moment before continuing. "I believe the serum is a mixture of chemicals that compels the target to be completely honest, even against their own will."

"You got hit with a truth serum?" Bruce winced as Dick's voice reached a high pitch. "Really?!"

"Yes, really." 

"That's so cool - I mean, we really need to find that Dr. Evil," Dick hastily corrected himself. "So like, you have to answer every question that I ask?" His commlink was sitting in his lap, but Alfred could wait another moment or two. Bruce had a pained expression on his face. 

"Yes. I am finding it difficult to... Resist answering, when it is a direct question." Dick felt a pang of sympathy: Bruce really did sound uncomfortable. "Call Alfred and ask him to set up the X-Ray machine."

"You need an X-Ray machine?" Dick asked, but then immediately remembered his broken wrist the moment he tried to pick up the commlink again. "Oh yeah, right." 

The Batmobile was going at such a high speed, and Alfred had more questions about Dick's wrist and Bruce's condition, so they were back at the cave before Dick could pester Bruce anymore. 

As expected, Alfred was standing near the med-bay as they got out of the Batmobile, hands held behind his back. Bruce merely grunted as he walked past the butler, but when Dick tried to follow, Alfred stopped him. 

"Let me take a look at that wrist, Master Dick," 

"But B's been truth-serumed! I feel like that takes precedent," Dick tried to protest, even as Alfred led him back to one of the cots. 

"I do not believe that being truth-serumed is a proper verb," Alfred said, waiting until Dick hopped onto the cot before beginning his examination. 

By the time Bruce joined them, sans cowl and costume, Dick was picking out what color cast he wanted. 

"B! What color should I pick?" Dick asked as the other man skulked into the med-bay. "Wait, wait. What's your favorite color?" 

Bruce heaved a great sigh, but sat on one of the stools near Dick's cot. 

"Black." 

Dick rolled his eyes. He could have seen that one coming from a million miles away. "Fine. What color do you think I should get then?" 

"Red." 

"Robin red?" Dick checked. When Bruce nodded, Dick looked at Alfred, who nodded as well. "Awesome." 

Alfred worked in silence, while Dick tried to think of more questions to ask Bruce. Bruce was staring stonily at the cot that Dick was sitting on, not quite looking at Dick, but not looking away either. He had changed into sweats from his costume, and his hair was damp, so he had most definitely already had his decontamination shower. 

Dick wondered how long the serum would last. 

"Do you need assistance with the antidote?" Alfred asked idly. Dick looked up just in time to see Bruce shift uncomfortably on his stool. 

"Yes." 

There was clearly more to that answer, so when Alfred didn't press, Dick did. This was his one time to get all of the information he needed on Bruce, so he sure as heck was going to take it! 

"Why do you need Alf's help? You can probably draw your own blood." Alfred sent Dick a look, as Bruce exhaled loudly, looking up to the roof of the cave. 

"I prefer it when Alfred does it. He does a better job." 

Dick grinned wildly. Even the corners of Alfred's mouth kicked up in a slight smile. 

"I cannot disagree with you sir," Alfred eventually said. "Give me a few more moments to finish up with Dick, and then I will come assist you." 

"Hrn."

"Man, Dr. Evil really picked the wrong person to give truth serum." Dick chattered. "Because B and I, we never keep secrets from each other! Isn't that right, Bruce?" He swung his legs where they were hanging off of the cot. "Even Alfred probably knows everything about Bruce." 

"I do not, and I intend to keep it that way," Alfred cut in. Dick frowned in confusion until he understood. 

"Ew, you mean like with his lady friends? Okay, yeah, he can keep his secrets about that stuff. That's gross." Dick waved the thought off with his free hand. "Okay, aside from that, we don't have any secrets. That's why we make such a good team." 

"Quite." Alfred said. When Bruce didn't chime in with his agreement, Dick looked back at him. Bruce was still looking up at the top of the cave, an unreadable expression on his face. 

"Come on, B, don't tell me you have any major secrets you are keeping from me! We are partners, that's not how we do things!" What started out as a tease began to curdle in Dick's stomach the longer that Bruce went without looking at him. "B?" 

"Yes?" Bruce said, his voice gruff. 

"Are you keeping any big secrets from me?" 

"Hrk." The stool wobbled as Bruce stood up suddenly. The movement surprised even Alfred, who looked up from his work on Dick's wrist. 

"B," Dick watched as Bruce kept his gaze steadily in the distance. "Bruce! Come on, really?" 

"Dick," Alfred said in a low tone. "Perhaps now is not the time." 

Dick's mind spun as he tried to think of what sort of secret Bruce would want to keep from him. 

"Is this because I messed up tonight? I'm sorry, okay!" Dick burst out. The guilt that had been festering in his stomach was ready to burst and consume him whole. "I'm sorry. I screwed up, and we lost Dr. Evil, and you got truth-serumed. But that doesn't mean that you can go and start keeping secrets from me now, you promised you wouldn't." 

"Chum," Bruce's voice was pained. 

"Come on, B. What could be so bad that you couldn't tell me?" Dick looked desperately from his guardian to Alfred. The older man was keeping a carefully neutral face. Was he in on it too? 

"Dick," Bruce tried again. He swallowed hard, as if there was a rock in his throat. Dick swore that he could see the way that Bruce tried to change tactics. "I'm going to go see if we can't find an antidote." 

"Bruce!" Dick called, but Bruce was already walking out of the med-bay, his large form disappearing deeper into the cave. "Alfred," he said helplessly, not knowing how to feel. Alfred paused in what he was doing and set both of his hands on Dick's knees. 

"You know that I cannot account for everything that Master Bruce does, says, or thinks." Alfred's words had a comforting tone, but still didn't help the lump that was sinking in Dick's stomach. "All I can tell you for certain, is that he cares deeply for you. And he only wants to do what's best for you."  

Dick swallowed hard, but his mouth was suddenly dry. 

"I know. Thanks, Alfie." 

Bruce avoided Dick for the rest of the night. Once Dick had his cast on and was firmly told by Alfred that no shenanigans involving anything that would strain his wrist would happen (which included patrol and swinging off of chandeliers), he went to look for the older man, but he must have locked himself away in his study, or something. 

Dick spent a little bit of time at the Batcomputer, trying to see if he could get a lead on Dr. Evil, the truth serum, or Scarecrow, but the clunky cast prevented him from making any true strides on his own. Eventually, Alfred shooed him out of the cave and upstairs, where he was fixed a snack, and then ushered off to bed. 

The next morning, Bruce quietly had breakfast with him before school, as he always did. It wasn't out of character for Bruce to be quiet as he flipped through the newspaper, but Dick eyed him suspiciously over his bowl of cereal, as Bruce picked at his own bowl of oatmeal. 

"Are you still truth serumed?" he eventually asked, around a mouthful of Captain Crunch.

"No." 

"Did you figure out an antidote for it?" 

"No. We got close, but we  need more information on the serum itself to be safe." Bruce turned the newspaper page. "But it seemed to last only twelve hours."

"Huh. What did--"

"I believe the agreement is no patrol talk during mealtimes?" Alfred cut in as he walked into the dining room. He put a small bowl of fruit down beside Dick, who narrowed his eyes slightly. Alfred placed another bowl of fruit beside Bruce, who lowered his paper just enough to also give it a disgruntled look. 

"Sorry, Alfred," Bruce and Dick mumbled at the same time. Alfred pressed a hand on Dick's shoulder on his way out. 

"Hurry up if you can, Master Dick. We will have to leave soon." 

Dick nodded, and began to shovel the cereal into his mouth at an even faster rate. Bruce said nothing else, only a curt goodbye before Alfred was hustling Dick out of the house and to the car. 

School was boring, but that wasn't too much of a surprise. Dick spent his time in class doodling on the sidelines of his notes and thinking about last night’s patrol. A couple of his classmates asked to sign his cast, which he allowed. Jenny from English drew a little heart beside her name, but even that wasn't enough to get Dick out of his own head. 

He kept going over the events of last night, over and over. He had completely screwed up. Was Bruce's secret that he was mad at Dick? Because Dick could totally take it, if that was the case. He just hated this in-between space, where he didn't know. Bruce was a tough nut to crack on a regular day. This was not fun. 

B had promised no more secrets between them. They were partners, Batman and Robin, the dynamic duo! They couldn't function properly if they kept secrets from each other! Though, Dick realized, his stomach sinking, they weren't really partners, at least not for the time being. At least not until Dick's wrist healed, and his cast came off. At this rate, Batman would probably be going on solo patrols for the next few weeks. 

When Alfred picked him up from school, Dick tried his best to hide his poor attitude, so naturally the butler saw right through him almost immediately. 

"It's nothing," Dick mumbled when Alfred asked him about it. 

"Did something happen at school?" Alfred paused as Dick shook his head. "Is it about last night's patrol?" he asked kindly.

Fun fact: it was impossible to lie to Alfie, even if you really wanted to and weren't even looking at him . So Dick didn't even try: he just nodded mulishly, staring out the window as the streets of Gotham blurred past. 

"If it is any consolation, Master Bruce is in just as bad a mood." Alfred said. "He has informed me that he will be in the W.E. offices until late tonight." 

Great, so now Bruce was avoiding him even more? This just sucked. Dick huffed. When he tried to cross his arms, his stupid cast got in the way. This whole thing just sucked.

When Dick told Alfred this, he nodded. "Would it perhaps make you feel better, if you helped me with dinner tonight?"

Dick thought about this. "What's for dinner?" 

Out the corner of his eye, Dick saw Alfred smile. "Pancakes." 

"Yes!" Dick shot straight up in his seat, the safety belt nearly choking him out in his excitement. "Can we do blueberry pancakes?" 

"Of course." 

Dick wasn't an idiot-- he knew that Alfred was doing this just because Dick was in a bad mood, and Bruce wasn't going to help matters, but he didn't really care. If it meant he got blueberry pancakes, he was all in. Bruce could suck it. 

"Do we have bananas? Could we do banana pancakes too?" 

"I do not see why not, young master." Dick sat back in his seat, pleased. Him and Alfie were going to make all of the pancakes and not leave any behind for Bruce. It's what he deserved. 

A few days later found Dick poking around Bruce's study. Bruce was in downtown Gotham again, and while he locked his office doors when he wasn't home, it wasn't as if Robin didn't know how to pick a lock. 

It certainly was much harder to do a secret investigation with a cast, but he made it work. Bruce’s office was tidy, so all of the files were easy to find. Dick spent thirty minutes just flipping through memos from Bruce to Lucius, or Lucius to Bruce (the more common version) to see if there were any hidden messages in there.

There weren't, but by the time that Dick had read the fortieth note of Lucius asking Bruce to come in and meet with some random person, he felt like his eyes were going to fall out. That was fine. He just had to look somewhere else. 

He pawed through the desk drawers. There was a boring array of office supplies, and surprisingly, a corny someone who loves me went to Star City, and all they got me was this pen ballpoint. There were so many words on the pen that Dick had to squint to read it all, but by the end of it, he wasn't too surprised that this was buried under a dozen other pens and pencils. It looked like it had never been used, so it was a gift from Oliver Queen, likely. 

Bruce had taken his laptop with him to work, and his desktop computer was locked under a password. Dick tried all of the obvious guesses ( password, BatmanIsCool1234, GerardWay, or 1048 ) before getting locked out of the computer entirely, making that route of detective work a bust. 

Dick was going through another set of Bruce's files when he was interrupted by Alfred. He froze as the butler entered the room, the file on W.E. taxes nearly slipping out of his hands. Alfred raised an eyebrow as he came in. 

"Alf, it's not what it looks like!" Dick said immediately. Alfred was holding a feather duster, and he immediately began to dust down the nearest bookshelf. 

"I am sure I have no idea what you mean, Master Dick," Alfred said, looking at Dick for only a split second more before turning to his work. 

"Please, please, please, please don't tell Bruce that I was snooping!" Dick begged. He put the file back in it's place, before dropping himself into Bruce's fancy leather chair. "I just need to find out what he's keeping from me." 

"May I offer some advice?" Alfred asked, but a hint of bright yellow peeking out from under a book caught Dick's attention. He slid the book off, revealing a sticky note with Bruce's neat handwriting on it. There were three written lines on it.

CALL GOTHAM FOSTER CARE

FAX PAPERWORK

TELL DICK???

"Master Dick?" Alfred said, but Dick could hardly hear him over the roaring in his ears. His heart was beating faster than he could keep up with, and suddenly, his breath was short. 

Call foster care? What paperwork? What was Bruce not telling him? 

Dick clumsily slid the book back over the sticky note, and slid off of the chair. Alfred was looking at him with a worried expression, so Dick mumbled an excuse about him having homework to do before slipping out of the office entirely. 

Was Bruce going to send him back to the group home? Was he tired of being Dick's guardian? Was this the exact thing that he didn't want to tell Dick?

His head spun with thoughts and nausea. At first, his instinct was to run into the cave, where the darkness and the cool air always made it easier to breathe, but the thought of going down and seeing reminders of that screwed up patrol felt even worse. So Dick ran past his room, then Bruce's room, and up what was once a servant's corridor. He was moving so fast he was practically flying up the narrow staircase.

When he reached the attic, he all but collapsed in a dusty corner. He hadn't been up here since the first few months of his placement in the Wayne house. Back then he was freaked out, and so angry, that he spent all of his time hiding in whatever corner that he could find. 

He had crammed himself into every nook and cranny in the library, or random unused guest bedroom every time his grief threatened to topple him over. Over time, he got better at dealing, with the help of Alf and Bruce, and through Robin training, but the tucked away attic corner was his favorite place to go to be alone.  

Dick had assumed that no one had ever found this spot, but as he pressed his knees against his chest and scooted himself as far back into the corner as he could fit, his hand brushed over something plastic. He pulled it out frowning-- he didn't remember leaving anything up here. 

It was a small unopened bag of Goldfish crackers. There was something else back there: a juice box. But not that gross brand that Bruce had when Dick first moved in (Ocean Spray = yuck ), but the tastier alternative, HI-C. 

There was a very thin layer of dust on it, but when Dick checked the best by dates, they were months away. 

Someone had found his hiding spot, and left him his favorite snacks. 

Shame ran through Dick, like a wave of fire. There was only one person who could have done this. Alfred had stated many times that the steep climb into this part of the attic was too much on his knees. It must have been Bruce, but why? Why would he pretend to care like that? Why would he do things, act like he knew Dick so well and actually cared about him, if he just wanted to give Dick away?

Though he had been thinking about it, the fully realized thought hit him like a train.

Bruce wanted to give him away. Dick was going to go back to the group home. 

The betrayal was sinking in. When did Bruce start to think about this? When did he decide? When was he planning on telling Dick, or was he ever going to tell Dick? Was Dick just going to be picked up by Child Services from school one day, never to see Alfred or Bruce again? Could they do that? Well-- he supposed when you have money like Bruce Wayne, anything is possible. 

Dick skipped lunch. He only came down for dinner when Alfred stood at the bottom of the stairs and told Dick that if he wasn't going to come down for dinner, he couldn't have dessert. So Dick begrudgingly came down, muttering an apology to Alfred. He left the juice box up there. At first he resisted the allure of the Goldfish crackers, but skipping lunch really took a toll on him, so he ate them. But because Alfred would somehow know if Dick left trash on the floor when he could have picked it up, he shoved the bag into his pocket and tossed it in the garbage can on his way to the dining room. 

Bruce had that pained, constipated expression on his face when Dick arrived at the dinner, indicating that he was trying to figure out the best way to talk about feelings. Dick chose to ignore him and started stabbing at the broccoli that was on his plate. 

Bruce cleared his throat. Dick didn't look up. 

"How was your day?" Bruce asked. Dick shrugged.

"Fine."

"Did anything interesting happen at school?" 

"Not really." 

"Master Bruce, elbows off of the table please," Alfred reminded as he swept into the dining room with a bowl of spaghetti in his hands. Bruce grumbled, but did as he was asked. 

"How is your wrist feeling?" Bruce tried again as he served himself some spaghetti. Dick just shrugged again. He instinctively went to grab his glass of water, but forgot about his cast and nearly knocked the glass over entirely. 

"Fine." 

"You got some signatures on it. Those from your friends?" 

Dick tired quickly of Bruce trying to make small talk, especially when it was obvious that Dick didn't want to talk, especially not to him. 

Why was Bruce even trying to be nice? Didn't he just want to get rid of Dick? Why was he drawing this out?

Dick kept his gaze firmly glued to his plate, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Bruce open his mouth, and then shut it again. 

"Is-" Bruce paused to take a long drink of his water before continuing. "Is everything alright, Dick?" 

"Yeah, just perfect," Dick muttered sarcastically under his breath. He poked at a meatball that was on his plate, wondering how mad Alfie would be if he flung it at Bruce. 

"If you are still upset over the truth serum incident, you shouldn't be." Dick's head shot up-- was B actually acknowledging it? "It was my fault to take you to such a close surveillance location. I understand that the temptation was too great." 

"Are you kidding me?" Dick sputtered. "We only got the information that we did because of me!"

"And at what cost?" Bruce asked, looking pointedly at Dick's cast. Dick frowned at him and shoved his cast under the table, out of sight. 

"You’re only mad because when you got hit with that serum, you had to tell the truth for once." 

The crease in Bruce's head deepened. 

"Dick, that's not--"

"You promised me no secrets, B! Because look what happens! If you can't trust me, I can't trust you, it's as simple as that!" 

"This is not an issue of trust--"

"Why can't you just tell me then?" There was so much restless energy in Dick that he had to stand up. The chair behind him nearly toppled as he got to his feet. 

"While I understand what you are saying, that does not change the fact that I am your guardian. I hold the right to not tell you everything." Bruce was insufferably calm. He placed his silverware down to fold his hands over the table. It only infuriated Dick even more. 

"You aren't just my guardian, you’re my partner!" Dick cried back. "Batman can't keep secrets from Robin!" 

"We aren't just who we are in those costumes," Bruce countered darkly. Dick seethed. Bruce was being so hypocritical it was going to make his head explode. 

"I just want you to tell me the truth! What's so bad that you can't tell me?" 

When Bruce didn't answer, Dick broke. 

"I hate you!" he screamed. 

Bruce was an immovable force. He was a brick wall, at all times, both as Batman and as himself. But when Dick shouted those words, something flickered across his face. Bruce was standing up from his chair, but he paused in a half hunched over position before slowly sitting back down. 

"You aren't my dad, and you never will be," Dick continued, his shoulders heaving up and down with the efforts from his breath. "You’re just a big liar, that's what you are. You lie to everyone around you, and you lie to yourself!" 

He paused just long enough to witness the look on Bruce's face. It was unreadable, but raw in a way that made Dick's skin crawl. He knew that he had messed up, probably made things even worse, but the nervous energy vibrating within him was only making things worse. Dick spun around and left before Bruce could respond in any way. 

Alfred was standing around the corner from the dining room, and when Dick stormed out, he tried to step in his way. "Now, Master Dick-"

"Not now, Alfie," Dick snapped, only softening moments later. He paused long enough to give the butler a remorseful look. "Sorry. I didn't mean to ruin dinner. It was really good." 

Alfred softened as well, placing a hand on Dick's shoulder.

"That is quite alright. If you want more later, I would be more than happy to keep some leftovers on a plate for you." 

Stupid Bruce. Now he was ruining Alfred's dinners too. Dick nodded mulishly before darting up to his bedroom and shutting the door behind him. 

A week later, his cast came off. Alfred ended up doing it because Leslie was busy, but Dick was too excited to be free to really care about it. Freedom! He could shower without taping a garbage bag around his arm! He could itch that super itchy spot on the back of his hand! Alfred gave Dick the honors of throwing the cast into the trash, which Dick did with glee. 

But that excitement wore off quickly, the longer that Bruce went without mentioning patrol to him. Apparently the cast wasn't the only thing keeping Dick from being Robin: Bruce decided to bench Dick entirely, without a word. 

Dick tried to not think about his screaming match with Bruce from last week, and how it probably made Bruce want to get rid of him even more. 

Although he and Bruce had already been avoiding each other, Dick did it even harder. He was staying in his room most of the time, when usually he would be in the cave, swinging on the gymnastic bars that Bruce had set up months ago. 

There were a couple of instances where Bruce would come to him and open his mouth, but unless it was Bruce saying sorry, or at least you can come on patrol with me , Dick didn't want to hear it.

He wasn't sure how long this could go on for. As the days ticked by, Dick began to feel more and more sick. 

There was obviously only one thing left for Dick to do. He had to run away. 

The idea had come to him in the middle of the night. If Bruce wanted to get rid of him, Dick wasn't going to even give him a chance. He would slip out the next day, under the cover of night. 

After coming up with that idea, he stayed up the rest of the night planning. Dick heard when Bruce came home from patrol, because the floorboards creaked. It sounded like Bruce was standing outside his door, so Dick dove back under his bed covers, pretending to be asleep. But it was weird, because even though Dick knew Bruce was out there, he could hear his breathing, Bruce didn't knock, or even enter the room at all. He just stood there for a few minutes, before walking away. Dick waited until he heard Bruce's door down the hallway open and close before going back to his desk. 

Dick had a lot to plan for. Not only did he have to figure out how to escape the Wayne Manor without being caught, but he also had to decide where the heck he was going to go, and what essentials he needed to bring. 

The next day was a Saturday, and a sunny one at that, so Dick ran around in the backyard for most of the afternoon. Bruce was hovering awkwardly, and there were multiple times when he opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, only to mutter some excuse and walk away moments later. 

Part of Dick desperately just wanted to talk to Bruce and beg for him to not kick Dick out. He definitely didn't want to go back to a group home, but he really didn't want to leave Alfie and the manor. Dick really didn't want to lose Bruce, who was the closest and perhaps only family that Dick had left in this world. 

But Dick worked to ignore that part. He made the intentional effort to stew in his anger. If Bruce wasn't going to come clean to Dick, why should Dick come clean to him? It was only fair.

Alfred was out of town for the weekend, meeting one of his butler friends in New York or something like that. Dick had assured Alfred that he would be totally fine on his own. After all, Bruce would be home, so how much trouble could he really get into? 

The guilt festered in Dick's stomach as he packed. He hated leaving without saying goodbye to Alfred, it wasn't fair to him. Dick was leaving because Bruce didn't want him anymore, but Alfred had never given him any indication of that. Dick knew that Alfred had been talking to Bruce almost every night, trying to get his head out of his butt, but such a thing was impossible with Bruce Wayne. 

Bruce was probably born with his head up his butt, Dick thought to himself as he shoved his favorite t-shirts into his backpack. 

If Dick was going to run away, it had to be now. Bruce wasn't going out on patrol tonight, to "watch" Dick since Alfred wouldn't be around, even though Dick hadn't seen him since dinner. But that meant that Gotham was safe from Batman, meaning that Dick could head right there. Once he was in the city, he would... Figure it out. Robin was good at improvising, that was one of his powers. 

Robin. Dick paused. He was just about to lay Zitka in his backpack, and then he would be good to go. There was no way he could take his Robin costume with him. Bruce being Bruce, had at least two separate trackers hidden in the fabric that Dick knew about, and undoubtedly at least another one that Dick didn't know about. Not to mention his costume was currently in the cave, where Bruce would be alerted if Dick tried to take it out. 

This sucked. Just another thing to blame Bruce for taking away. Robin was his, his creation, his way of connecting with his mom, and now he had to give it up. Or at least give the costume up. Bruce couldn't really take his training away. 

Dick shook the thoughts out of his head. They were only distracting him, and he only had a small period of time to slip out. He could escape through the window, scale down the tree, and run all the way to the bus stop. Sure, the bus stop was a couple of miles away, and he would have to walk along the road in the dark, but no one said that running away was going to be  easy. 

If anything, Dick was up for a challenge. He may be  Robin, but first he was a Grayson, which meant that he could do anything that he put his mind to. 

Scrambling out of the window proved more difficult than he thought– his cast was off, but his wrist still twinged if he moved it in the wrong way. Somehow, he reached the ground with only a few scrapes on his hands and knees. The moment his foot touched the ground though, the sky above him rumbled. Dick gulped, looking up. Even though the sky was dark, he could still see a few clouds rolling overhead. 

That was  all the more reason to get going. Dick granted himself one last glance to the manor, before taking off. He had scouted out where the security cameras were before and was able to duck those easily. 

Dick realized, much later on, that he had forgotten his watch. He had no idea what time it was, or how long he had been walking. Once he had gotten off the Wayne property, the long road to Gotham seemed endless. Not to mention, the clouds above him were only growing more dense and threatening. 

He hugged his arms to his chest and made himself keep walking. He tried to remind himself that he was leaving Bruce before the man could kick him out, that this was necessary. Dick had to leave. 

But the more  he walked, the more  his stomach ached. His limbs began to weigh him down. 

It was a miracle that he reached the bus stop when he did. The moment he ducked under the small covered shelter was only seconds before the skies opened up, and rain began to pour. Dick took his backpack off and set it on the bench, squinting at the sign with the bus times. There wouldn't be a stop here for another two hours. 

Dick sighed heavily, but sat next to his bag. There was nothing to do but wait. 

And wait, he did. 

The rain came down harder, the sound of it hitting the bus stop's roof sounded like a million tiny hammers coming down from the sky. It rebounded from the concrete sidewalk, hitting his sneakers, so he pulled his feet up to the bench, wrapping an arm around his knees. 

He was a Grayson. He could do anything, and he  didn't need stupid Bruce to watch after him.
There was a bright flash before thunder boomed. Dick flinched, hiding his face behind his knees. He was a Grayson, and he wasn't scared of anything, not even stupid thunderstorms.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw himself falling, falling, just like his parents did on that fateful night. His nightmares were never really truly gone, but Dick hadn't realized how few and far between they had gotten until he was having them every night again. And in his dreams, he had the stupid cast on, so he could do even less to help. Bruce was always in the crowd, but he would turn away every time Dick called for him, as if he couldn't hear him. 

The howl of the wind sounded like a low moan, chilling Dick to his bones. 

Okay. Maybe he didn't need Bruce to watch after him, but not being out here alone would be nice. And there was someone who had told him that if Dick ever needed any help, he would be there for him. 

Another rolling boom of thunder made him jump, erasing any apprehension he had about calling for help.

"Uncle Clark?" Dick said softly, to the air in front of him. "If you aren't busy, I'm kinda--"

There was a whoosh of air, and Superman was standing in front of him. Well, Clark Kent was. He was wearing pajama pants with little ears of corn, and a ratty t-shirt, and seemed to be slightly out of breath.

"Dick? What are you doing out here? Are you okay?" Clark didn't seem to be bothered, or even notice how he was standing in the rain. His hair was slowly getting weighed down by fat raindrops. But since Uncle Clark was awesome, way more than Bruce, he was already stepping out of the rain to fold Dick into a hug.

Dick sniffed against Clark's shirt. He wasn't crying... Much. He was only crying a little bit, and it was okay, because he had been having a really stressful time lately. Plus, Clark's shirt was really soft, and his corn pajama pants looked so fuzzy that it was really hard to stay scared. 

"Where's Bruce?" Clark asked, though he didn't pull away from the embrace. Dick could feel the moment that Clark noticed his backpack, because he stiffened, holding Dick a bit tighter. 

There was another flash of lightning and crack of thunder. The fear that spiked along with it sent the entire story pouring out of Dick's lips, from Scarecrow, to falling through the window, to the truth serum and Bruce's sticky note, to his decision to run away. 

Clark had made him sit down on the bench, and had pulled the one blanket Dick had taken from the manor, wrapping it around Dick's shoulders. No-- first, Clark had said that he was going to take Dick back to the manor, but those words sent Dick into another flurry of tears which distressed the super so much that they both migrated to the bench instead.

Dick rubbed at his eyes, holding the blanket closer to himself. 

"I don't want to go back to the group home," he said quietly. Clark nodded, as he had been the entire time. "There's never enough room there, and they always pick on the little kids, but if you try to stand up for the little kids, then they pick on you, and-"

"Dick," Clark said gently. "I don't think Bruce is going to send you back to the group home." 

Dick frowned at him, eyebrows furrowed. "You didn't see him. He hates me. I bet he would be happy if he never had to see me again."

"Bud," Clark said, wrapping an arm around Dick's shoulders and holding him a bit closer. "He doesn't hate you. He loves you. He just... Has a bit of trouble dealing with that sort of stuff, sometimes."

"That's what Alfred said." Dick kicked at a small pebble that was at his feet, watching as it bounced out of the shelter and into the rain. 

"Alfred is a very smart man. And perhaps the one person who knows Bruce the best, so you can trust what he says." Clark frowned suddenly. "How did you get out of the manor, anyway?"

"I climbed out of the window."

"I thought Bruce had alarms on the windows after the last time you tried to run away." Dick rolled his eyes.

"You just rig them with magnets, duh . Plus, I haven't tried to run away in ages."

" Duh ," Clark repeated to himself, as if it was obvious. "What I'm trying to say is that Bruce treats everything like a secret that he needs to keep, even if it's something that you and I would think is minor. He's used to people... using him, or using his feelings against him."

"B has enough feelings for that to happen?" Dick asked, tone half incredulous, but when Clark gave him a pointed look and nudge to the shoulder, he deflated. "Sorry."

"That's okay. I know you are worried."

"I don't want Bruce to kick me out. And I said some really mean stuff to him, so now he's definitely going to do it. So I thought it would be better if I left before he could kick me out."

"As I recall, you said a lot worse things to Bruce earlier in your partnership." Clark mused. "He loves you, and he doesn't know how to express that. Sometimes he just needs some time to get his words in order before he feels prepared to say them." 

Dick didn't have it in himself to respond-- instead, he just rested his head on Clark's shoulder. Though it was damp and cold outside, the super was still warm. 

"Okay. I need to get you home. Bruce is not going to get rid of you. And-" Clark looked at Dick, face open and honest. "If he does, I want you to call for me, just like you did tonight. I'll talk some sense into him, and then take you to my home. Ma would love to see you." 

Dick stared out into the dark, raining night. 

"Would you beat him up?" 

Dick's sudden question made Clark snort, which he tried unsuccessfully to turn into a cough. 

"Uh-- no. Probably not."

"Yeah, you couldn't fight him at the manor. He'd have the higher ground, the home advantage there." Dick continued in a knowing voice. "You would have to draw him out to a different location, where you both could be on an even playing field." 

Clark was smiling slightly, which made Dick smile. 

"Come on. We should get you out of the rain sooner than later." 

A thought suddenly occurred to Dick, and he sat upright, the blanket over his shoulders beginning to slip off. "You can't tell him about this!" 

Clark pursed his lips, so Dick made his eyes as big as they could go and batted them. Clark narrowed his eyes back at him, but sighed. 

"Fine. But if he asks, I am not going to lie to him." 

Dick accepted this, because he knew it was the best he was going to get.  

Even though Dick wasn't a baby, he let Clark pick him up. He also let Clark pick up his backpack, and together, they flew in the direction of the manor. 

It took only a few seconds until Dick pointed out his bedroom window, which was still open. Clark patiently hovered outside the window until Dick tumbled in, and then handed his backpack through. 

"Thanks for coming, Uncle Clark," Dick said, rubbing his eyes. He hadn't really been in the rain for that long, but he was still a bit damp and plenty cold. Clark smiled at him.

"Anytime. Talk to B, or tell him to talk to me. It's never been a secret of how much he loves you Dick, really." 

Dick stared at Clark, and couldn't find any sign of a lie. Eventually he sighed, looking back down at the floor. 

"Yeah, yeah."

"And remember, you can-"

"Call you anytime, yeah I know," Dick finished. "Go before your corn pants get wet." 

With a quick smile, and a flash, Clark was gone. Dick slid the window closed, and took the magnets off of it. 

Dick then turned and stared at his bed. He looked at it for only a few seconds before kicking off his shoes, grabbing Zitka from his bag, and padding out the door and through the hallway. 

Bruce's door was probably unlocked, because it always was. His office? Locked. The Batcave? Sealed up tight behind a hidden entrance. His bedroom, where he slept, and was arguably at his most vulnerable? Accessible for anyone. 

Dick knew this because Bruce had told him that his door was open, if he ever needed Bruce, at any time of night. Dick had scoffed at first, but had come to crawl into Bruce's bed on dark, stormy nights just like this, when he had nightmares. Not once had Bruce's door been locked. 

Still-- what if Bruce had locked it? If he was really done and tired of Dick, he would probably have locked his door.

Dick gulped, trying to force down his anxiety, and turned the doorknob. 

The door swung open.

Bruce's bedroom was almost as dark as the night itself, but Dick knew it well enough to navigate to Bruce's bed. Bruce was fast asleep, a light snore echoing through the room. He only stirred when Dick climbed into his bed, between the satin sheets. 

Dick hugged Zitka to his chest, and tried to relax.

"Dick?" Bruce asked, his voice heavy with sleep. Dick squirmed further into the sheets. 

"Yeah." 

"Come 'ere," Bruce lifted the arm closest to Dick, inviting him closer to his chest. Dick made himself hold out for only a second before diving next to him. Bruce dropped his arm over Dick's shoulders and dragged him closer, smacking his lips in his half-awake state. "You're cold," 

Dick huffed a small laugh, and pressed his bare feet to Bruce's calves. Bruce hissed at the cold sensation, but didn't pull away. "I'll turn the heat up in your room, kay?" 

"Okay, B," Dick said softly. This close, he could see that Bruce's eyes weren't even open. Bruce pulled him close enough to press a kiss to the top of Dick's head, and then promptly fell asleep. 

Dick tried to savor the warmth, for as long as he was awake. He might miss this, most of all.

-

Honestly, Dick didn't think that he would actually be here again.

As he stood on the roof's edge,  his cape flapping in the wind behind him, he tried to commit the view to memory. Gotham at night was always a sight to behold, but seeing it at night through the eyes of a vigilante, as a hero of the night? That was something different entirely. 

Dick hadn't expected to be allowed onto patrol, but that night when Bruce went to get suited up, he had looked at Dick expectantly, as if he was surprised that Dick wasn't following behind like a little duckling. 

He wasn't sure if Clark had told Bruce about his attempt at running away, but since Bruce hadn't mentioned it, he assumed not. Alfred had come back from his quick vacation, and things had gone back to their pseudo-normalness. It sucked.

But still Dick had put his Robin costume on for the first time in weeks, making sure to mutter about how people aren't all mind readers, Bruce, just loud enough to be heard. 

Bruce had only uttered something about tracking down Scarecrow, and then they were off. Now they were perched on a rooftop, watching a deal go down in an alleyway. Bruce was lurking behind Dick, because of course he was. 

So far, there hadn't been a single sign of Dr. Evil, but the men down below were certainly some of Scarecrow's goons. From what Dick could hear, they were waiting for someone else to show up, so they could begin the deal. Apparently someone was late, which was making the rest antsy. 

Dick made sure to keep his feet firmly planted on the rooftop this time. There was no way he was going to screw this up again. He didn't want to give Bruce a chance to reprimand him, or somehow prove Bruce right, that Dick was a terrible partner and shouldn't be Robin. 

"I'm just saying, we should get at least a cut of this shit, for all of the bull that we have to go through," A man who was leaning against a wall was saying. "First, this dude takes months to even give us a taste of the product, and then when he does, he immediately gets caught by the Bats. And we haven't seen a single spec of product, let alone any profit." 

"You want to go to Scarecrow with that?" Another man countered. "Yeah, let's build a fucking union, and ask for a living wage or something like that, how's that sound?"

A few of the other men chuckled. The first one huffed, and kicked at the ground. Before anyone else could say more, someone new, in a dark trench coat appeared at the mouth of the alleyway. Dick straightened up, and jerked his chin over at Bruce. B came closer, dropping into a squat beside him. 

"Dr. Evil," Dick murmured. The man looked haggard. The past few weeks evidently had not been kind to him. 

"Crane's back in Arkham," Dr. Evil said, once the men were looking at him. Dick jerked his head at Bruce, shocked, but the other man looked impassive. "The deal's off."

"Like hell the deal's off," the man who had been leaning against the wall pushed up, and strode over to Dr. Evil. "Just because he's back in the padded cell doesn't mean that he can't still pull all the strings. Don't bullshit us. Give us the product, and we'll take care of it."

"No," Dr. Evil laughed curtly. "This is the perfected serum. Better than any of the other versions. I'm not giving it to anyone but Crane."

"Too bad." 

Dick was looking between Dr. Evil and Bruce. Should they jump in? Should they intervene? What should they do? 

Dr. Evil scowled. Dick then noticed the satchel that was hanging off of his shoulder. When he motioned to Bruce, B simply nodded. They weren't just going to let Dr. Evil get away, were they? Sure, Crane was back in Arkham, but the goon had a point: there really wasn't anything preventing the evil scientist from pulling strings from inside the institute. 

"I do not know if you are aware," Dr. Evil hissed, shifting the satchel so it was hanging behind his back. "But the Bat and his little freak are after me. I am not about to take any undue risk regarding my research. This is my life's work, and I intend on handing it to Crane only, no one else." 

"You think we are scared of the big bat and his little birdie?" The goon taunted, coming even closer. "Because I'm not. At all. Just hand the serum over, and everything will be alright. I'll have someone send you a check in the mail." 

The goon lunged forward suddenly, making a grab for the strap on Dr. Evil's shoulder. Dr. Evil took a sudden step back, but stumbled. 

"B," Dick said softly. Bruce held up a single finger, telling Dick to wait. Dick bit his tongue-- the last time that he didn't follow Bruce's instructions during patrol was what got them into this mess in the first place, so he had to be extra careful right now. 

"Wait," Dr. Evil said, fear entering his voice for the first time. "You can't just take the serum; you need me!" 

"I don't think we do." The goon was close enough that all he had to do was reach out his hand and hook a finger around the strap before pulling the satchel closer to him. Dr. Evil tried to tug it out of his grasp, but the goon was unyielding. "I mean, just divide the little vials into smaller doses, and sell. How hard could that be? We certainly don't need someone as expensive as you on our payroll." 

"Plus, we heard that you wasted a whole dose on Batman last time." Someone else deeper in the alley called. Dr. Evil was turning pale in the darkness, still struggling to rip the satchel out of the man's hands. 

"That wasn't me, you buffoon! It was that idiot Ramsey! And this is the final product, much more sophisticated than any previous version."

Suddenly, Bruce tensed. Dick looked at him, confused, but Bruce was staring out onto the street. Dick followed his gaze. There was a couple walking down the street, holding hands and chatting. They were going to pass right by the alleyway.

There was no telling that the goons in the alleyway would see the couple, or what they would do if they did.

"How about we see a demonstration?" one man called. There were murmurs of approval throughout the crowd.

"B," Dick whispered. His gut was screaming at him to jump off the roof but the last time he took a leap on patrol, things went south quickly. 

Bruce was silent for a moment longer, his gaze calculating. The couple walked under a light post, illuminating their features for a second before the darkness covered them again. 

"Go. Distract them." Bruce finally muttered. Dick gave a curt nod before running to the front side of the building, and dropping down off the roof. 

One of the women shrieked when Dick jumped down in front of them, while the other jumped in front of her partner in a defensive position. 

"I have mace!" 

"No, no, no, no!" Dick hurried to say. "It's just me, Robin! Listen, there’s some--"

"Oh god, Robin, I thought you were a rogue or something," the woman in front said, putting a hand over her chest. "Christ, really gave me a heart attack." Dick looked behind him towards the alleyway nervously. He couldn't hear the conversation from here, but he trusted that B would have it handled. 

"I need you guys to go in a different direction. Do you live in the area?" 

The woman behind the first shook her head. "We just were at a bar, a couple blocks down. We live closer to the hospital." That was a thirty minute walk. Dick grimaced. 

"Things might get a little dicey here," Dick said, right as he heard someone grunt loudly. By the sounds of it, the fighting had already begun. "Can you call the cops? And find somewhere safe to go, not in this direction." 

The two nodded. Dick flashed what he hoped was a reassuring smile before spinning around and bolting around the corner. 

The goons were in the midst of a fist fight with what looked like a shadow. It took Dick a few extra seconds to fully locate Batman in the middle of all of the fighting. 

Dick was behind Dr. Evil, who was gripping a vial full of the truth serum in his hand and seemed like he was trying to slowly back out of the alleyway without anyone noticing. . 

"Oh no you don't!" Dick called, launching himself onto Dr. Evil's back. Dr. Evil gave a squawk of surprise, flailing his arms. Dick used his weight to topple the scientist. The vial crushed under Dr. Evil's body as he hit the ground flat on his face. 

"No! You brat!" Dr. Evil cried, pulling the satchel into his arms. "Do you have any idea--"

"How long that took? Yeah, I heard your whole lecture," Dick finished. He snagged the satchel out of Dr. Evil's hands, but not before a second vial slipped out, landing delicately on the concrete in front of him. 

Dr. Evil kicked his legs at Dick, forcing him to quickly dart out of the way. This granted the scientist the chance to grab the vial, and hold it over his head as he pushed himself to his feet. 

"Now, I would love to know how the previous dose worked out on the Bat," Dr. Evil said. "Let's find the truth, why don't we?" 

Dick watched with horror as Dr. Evil uncorked the vial, and turned to where Bruce was fighting. Batman was a flurry of darkness and punches, focusing intensely on the fight in front of him

"Respect people's boundaries, you weirdo!" Dick yelled, taking a running start. Right as Dr. Evil lobbed the vial into the air towards Batman, Robin rushed in front, and let the vial crash into him. 

The serum splattered all over Dick's chest, but more noticeably on his hair and face. He immediately wiped what he could off with his gloved hand, but he knew it was too late. 

"You complete fool," Dr. Evil growled. There was a grunting noise, and a thud as Batman downed another goon behind Dick. 

Dick's skin started to itch, but he still fell into a defensive fighting position.

"Robin!" Bruce shouted, just as Dick noticed the way his hands were shaking. Dang, this stuff was really fast acting, huh? 

Dick lashed out at Dr. Evil. The other man was much older and larger, but clearly lacked the fighting skill, so within moments he was dazed, laying on his back. Dick let out a shaky breath. 

"B," Dick felt the panic start to claw its way up his throat. Bruce dropped the goon that he had in a hold, letting the man crumble to the floor as he rushed to Dick's side. "I got hit, I can feel it--" 

Bruce growled lowly. He shoved Dick to the side, knocking out someone who had tried to come at Robin with a wrench. Dick let himself be pushed out of the way, and tried to focus on his breathing. Bruce hadn't freaked out when he got hit, but what had Dr. Evil said? That this was the more sophisticated version? 

Batman made quick work of the rest of  Scarecrow’s cronies. Within moments, most of them were knocked out on the floor, and Bruce was finishing typing rope around their hands. 

"Agent A," Bruce uttered, pressing a finger to his comm. "Send the car to our location, and inform Commissioner Gordon. Robin has been hit with the serum." 

"Oh dear," Dick heard Alfred's voice crackle in his ear. "Right away sir." 

Surely enough, the Batmobile came roaring around the block moments later. Dick's palms were sweating, but he still picked up the satchel and slid it over his shoulder. From the looks of it, there was a journal and at least one other vial inside, so hopefully that would be enough to make an accurate antidote. 

"Robin," Bruce called after tying a groaning Dr. Evil to a pole. 

"Hold up, B," Dick said. He stepped carefully over to the scientist and poked him in the face. "Hey. Hey, you. Wake up." 

Dr. Evil groaned again, but his eyes fluttered open. "Wh--"

"How is this truth serum different from the other one?" Dick asked. Dr. Evil screwed up his face in a scowl. 

"Like I'd ever tell you." 

"Fine." Dick stood back up, but was stopped by Bruce. He took the bag off of Dick's shoulder and snagged the final remaining vial. Dick watched as he unplugged it, and tipped it over Dr. Evil's head. He did so gently, so only the smallest drop fell onto Dr. Evil's hair, but it seemed to be enough.

"How is this serum different from the other?" Bruce asked, his voice harsh. Dr. Evil grimaced, shaking his head back and forth. 

"B, I really don't feel good," Dick said. It felt like there was a title wave behind his lips, and the longer he tried to hold it back, the more queasy he got. 

Very quickly, Dr. Evil started to look the same. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. Bruce crouched down, getting closer to the scientist. 

"How is this serum different. I won't ask again." 

"It adds a compulsory factor," Dr. Evil grit out. "You have to tell the truth, or else it will hurt more."

"Is it deadly?"

Dr. Evil groaned, jerking his head back as his throat worked. He seemed to be in pain, and Dick was starting to feel it too, a numbness creeping up from his fingers. 

"Only if you don't tell the truth. Staying silent isn't an option," he eventually said. "Your brain might melt out of your head, if you don't comply. Telling lies isn't difficult, it's impossible."

"How long will it last?" When Dr. Evil didn't respond, Bruce grabbed him by the chin and forced eye contact. " How long. Will it last. "

"Fuck," Dr. Evil hissed. "A few hours. I haven't figured out an antidote yet, so you  have to wait it out. But it should be just enough time to get all of the secrets we need." 

Then, Dr. Evil smiled, which was a horrifying sight as his nose started to bleed. He rolled his head out of Bruce's grasp and looked at Dick. "Now, why don't you tell me who your real identities are?" 

Dick felt like he had been punched in the stomach. His mouth opened without his permission, and when he raised his hands to cover his lips, they felt like they didn't want to cooperate. 

Before the words could slip out into the air though, Bruce punched Dr. Evil in the face, knocking him out cleanly. 

"B," Dick whispered, his body beginning to shudder. The Batmobile sped up to the curb and parked neatly. Dick let Bruce grab him and haul him into the car, slamming the door shut. 

The moment that the door was closed, words began to fall out of Dick's mouth. 

"Bruce Wayne is Batman, but he's also my dad, I'm Dick Grayson, my parents were--" 

Bruce hit the gas pedal, and they were speeding off. 

"Robin-- Dick," Bruce said, his voice sounding strained. "Report." 

"My hands, they- they feel numb," Dick stuttered. "But the more I talk, the less they feel weird."

"Hrn." 

"I'm not going to die, am I? I'm scared I'm going to die." Dick blabbered. The feeling of his domino mask suddenly was oppressive, and he scrambled to dig his fingernails under the edges of it so he could rip it off. "I don't want to die. My parents died, and I miss them but I don't want to die."

"You aren't going to die," Bruce's voice was as tight as  his grip on the steering wheel. "Just keep talking." 

"About what?" Dick cried. 

"What's your favorite... meal?" 

"My dad's pirogo," He didn't have the time to think about his words before they fell out of his mouth. "I haven't had it since they died. I miss it, but I'm worried that if I try to make it myself, it won't be as good as my dad's, and that it will just makes me feel worse."

"What’s that?" 

"It's like a noodle pudding. A dessert. My dad said it was the only way to get me to eat raisins." 

Bruce made a sharp turn in the car, swerving around a corner with an almost terrifying amount of speed and precision. 

"What about..." The longer that Bruce thought, the more that the numb feeling came back into Dick's hands. 

"I gotta keep talking!" Dick blurted. "Uh, I like Alfred's Shepard's Pie the best, but every time I try to help him make it, I mess it up, so I've stopped trying to help him in the kitchen because I don't want to be a bother. Thunderstorms scare me, and whenever there is one, I have a nightmare about my parents. I--"

"What’s your favorite movie?" Bruce cut in. Dick appreciated the effort to steer him towards more tame, neutral questions. 

"I like the Mission Impossible movies!" 

"Tom Cruise is cool," Bruce tried. Dick gave a stressed laugh, but nodded. 

"Yeah. I also like Dumbo, but it makes me too sad sometimes. I never say it's my favorite movie though, because it feels too cliche." 

The rest of the car ride went in a similar fashion. Bruce asked simple questions, while Dick squirmed, answering those questions with as many words as he could. 

Once they pulled into the cave, Dick was overcome with the feeling of deja vu. In this mess of a night, he had forgotten about Bruce wanting to get rid of him. His emotions were so fried that he couldn't fight the sudden rush of tears that came to his eyes. 

Bruce had just gotten out of the car and looked at Dick with alarm when he sniffled. 

"Are you alright?" 

Alfred was standing where he had stood the last time, though now he came to Dick's side and helped him out of the car. 

"No!" Dick burst out. Bruce awkwardly followed Alfred and Dick further into the cave. 

"We should get you into some more comfortable clothes," Alfred said softly, but Dick shook his head, even though the skin-tight costume made his skin feel like it was crawling. 

"Chum," Bruce hesitated as Alfred sat Dick down on a cot. Dick was becoming mortified by the way that his tears refused to go away, but at least none of them had spilled over his cheeks yet. "Can I come closer?"

"Of course you can come closer," Dick snapped irritably. "I always want a hug from you." Since Dick was looking down at his lap, he missed the series of emotions that flickered over Bruce's face, and the way that Alfred literally pushed Bruce forward.

Bruce awkwardly came to sit beside Dick. Dick automatically collapsed his weight onto Bruce's shoulder, watching as Bruce placed a hand on his knee. 

"Chum. Dick. What’s going on?" 

Dick bit his lip so hard that he nearly drew blood. Alfred flitted around them, preparing to take a blood draw from Dick and  set him on an IV just to be safe. Bruce had  handed the butler the satchel with the last vial and journal, and Dick appreciated that Bruce didn't go right to the machines to try and find an antidote. He wouldn't admit it unless Bruce asked, but Dick really, really missed Bruce. 

"Breathe," Alfred chided, the longer that Dick went without answering. There was the sudden sensation of wetness on Dick's face, and when he touched his upper lip, his fingers came away with blood. His nose was bleeding. 

"I don't want to go back to the group home," Dick finally whispered. He didn't want to look at Bruce's face, so he didn't, but he felt the way that both Bruce and Alfred went completely still. 

Maybe the truth serum wasn't such a bad thing. Aside from the whole "feeling like his head was going to explode if he didn't speak right now" thing. 

“I don’t want you to kick me out. I don’t want to leave you guys, because my family is gone and you guys are all that I have left. And then I’ll lose you guys, and Robin too.”

Dick lost the battle with his tears, and they started to stream down his face. He angrily tried to wipe them away with his fist, but it was a lost cause. 

"Dick," Bruce said softly. He sounded gutted, but Dick couldn't fathom why. Was he that upset that Dick had found out his plans?

"I saw the sticky note, and it made sense. I messed up patrol so bad that you got hit with truth serum, and then I got hit with it tonight. I'm no good at being your partner." The pain slightly lessened the more he spoke, but the words didn't stop flowing out. "Because of course you didn't want to tell me that you were getting rid of me, but I don't understand why you just keep dragging it out!" 

There was the sound of shuffling footsteps. Bruce disappeared from his side, but before Dick could react, he was crouching in front of Dick, forcing himself into Dick's line of sight. 

"Dick." 

Dick sniffed, looking at Bruce. Bruce's eyes were red as well, and there was a mournful expression on his face. Dick's stomach swooped, but he wasn't sure why. 

"I was never planning on getting rid of you." Dick started to shake his head, disbelieving, but Bruce continued. "I am so sorry that I ever made you feel as if that was the case. That was never, ever, my intention, and I hope that you will be content to stay with me for as long as possible." 

"But the sticky note--"

"The sticky note was for myself. I didn't put any context on it, because I was not expecting for anyone else to see it." Dick couldn't help but flush, knowing that Bruce was likely to hide all of his personal notes under lock and key now. "I can show you what I was talking about though. Do you feel up to changing out of your costume?" 

Dick nodded, realizing for the first time that not only was he still dressed as Robin, but Bruce was still in full Batman regalia. He had taken off the cowl at some point, but it couldn't be comfortable to be sitting in that for so long. 

Alfred reappeared as Bruce and Dick started to leave the med-bay. He asked Dick simple questions while Dick changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt, just to keep the serum content. Dick found himself talking about his favorite subjects in school, what his favorite attractions were in the circus, and other mundane things. Though Alfred almost certainly knew the answers, he kept asking. 

The butler also managed to coerce Dick into the shower, so by the time he was done, Bruce was standing by the Batcomputer, also in more comfortable clothes. He turned when Dick approached and thanked Alfred for his help. He then led Dick past the computer and to a wall that was covered with various filing cabinets and  shelves. 

Bruce bypassed all of the old paper copies and reports, and moved to an inconspicuous looking bookshelf. Bruce shoved a few books out of the way, and Dick's eyes widened as he caught sight of the safe that was hidden behind it. 

"I kept this a secret, because I didn’t want to push any boundaries." Bruce started. He swallowed hard, but continued. "It was not because I didn't trust you, it was because... I was scared."

"Scared?" Dick repeated. What could Batman be scared of?

"When you first came to live with me, you told me that you did not need nor want anyone to replace your parents. I understood that then, as I understand it now." Bruce reached back and spun the dial on the safe back and forth until it clicked, letting the door swing open. Dick had to stand on his toes to look inside, but he could only see a small stack of papers.

Bruce grabbed these papers, and held them to his chest. 

"I love you, Dick." Bruce said seriously. The words struck Dick right in his heart, strumming chords within his soul. "Not just as Robin, but as my son. And I want nothing more than for you to be happy. I didn't tell you about this, because..." Bruce trailed off, his eyes growing distant before he refocused. "You are being very brave right now, telling the truth." 

Dick flushed, looking down to scuff his shoe against the floor. "It's just the serum," he mumbled, but when he looked up, Bruce was shaking his head. 

"No, you are always prepared to tell the truth. You care about the truth and the pursuit of it, and it's something that I've always deeply admired about you." Bruce smiled softly. "I am trying to channel that bravery right now. I couldn't, earlier, which is why I pulled away. I was worried that if you found out the truth,  you would be angry at me."

"Great going on that one," Dick said, though he still smiled so Bruce knew that he wasn't super mad. "I even tried to run away." Bruce's expression suddenly turned alarmed, and Dick realized that Bruce really hadn't known about that whole adventure. "But don't worry about that!" Dick flapped a hand, though it didn't seem to ease Bruce's expression at all. "I didn't make it that far. And then Uncle Clark came and got me, and he took me back here, so it wasn't really a big deal at all." 

Bruce didn’t look like he thought it wasn't a big deal, but he still cleared his throat and continued. 

"What I was hiding from you was this." Bruce slowly lowered the stack of papers from his chest and held it out to Dick. Dick hesitated just for a moment before snatching it out of his hands. 

REPORT OF ADOPTION

Underneath, the entire paper was filled out, except for a few signatures at the bottom. Someone had written Dick's full name beside Bruce's, in clean, neat, handwriting. 

Bruce was silent as Dick read, and when he was finished, he saw Bruce staring at him with a nervous expression.

"I don't want to replace your father, or either of your parents. But I would be honored, if you would allow me to legally call you my son. If you would be okay, with me being... Another parent." 

"B." Dick said. He was gripping the paper so tightly that it was crumpling in his fists. 

"Yes?" Bruce looked a bit queasy. 

"I've been truth-serumed." The corner of Bruce's lip quirked briefly, but he still nodded seriously. 

"Yes. I am aware." 

"So, if you ask me how I feel about you adopting me, I can only tell you the truth." 

"But I would never want to force you to admit something that you aren't ready to admit." 

Dick rolled his eyes. The itch was starting to come back, so it was up to Dick to help Bruce along with this. 

"I know. But I'm telling you, right now, to ask me." When Bruce opened his mouth, clearly about to object, Dick shot him a look. "Bruce!" 

"Okay!" Bruce responded. He wiped his palms on his sweatpants, took a deep breath, and looked at Dick once again. "Dick. How do you feel about me adopting you, officially?" 

"Of course, B!" Dick shouted. "I thought you hated me! Why didn't you just ask me? I would have said yes, like, months ago!" 

"Months ago?" Bruce asked, in a dazed voice. 

"Yeah!" Dick looked at the paper again. "Wait, how long ago did you get this?" 

"A year ago." 

Dick dissolved into giggles, clutching at his own stomach. He had somehow gone from being sick to his stomach with anxiety, to being ready to bounce off of the walls with joy. "B, you are such an idiot! I would have said yes if you had just asked!" 

"But last week," Bruce pointed out weakly. He looked a little bit like he needed to sit down. Dick frowned, thinking of the incident that Bruce was referring to. Dick had said that he hated him, and that Bruce would never be his dad.

Even if the truth serum wasn't running through his veins, Dick would have answered as honestly as he could.

"I didn't really mean it. I was scared that you were going to kick me out, so I thought it would be easier if I just pushed you away or something. I thought you didn't care." 

"Chum," Bruce said softly. "I've always cared. I will never stop caring." 

"Well, you are an idiot." Dick declared. Bruce snorted softly, eyes crinkling in amusement. 

"I'm beginning to understand that now, I believe." 

Dick let go of the paper long enough to put his fists on his hips. "So are you going to hug me, or what?" 

This time, Bruce laughed out loud, even as he took the few steps forward and swept Dick into his arms. 

"You aren't going to replace my dad," Dick said softly in his ear. "Because no one can. But you can also be my dad. There's no rules saying I can't have two dads." He hugged Bruce around his neck as tightly as he could. "Plus, I think my dad would approve of you." 

Bruce squeezed Dick tightly once more before putting him down. His eyes were a bit misty, but Dick's were too, so he didn't tease. Bruce let out a soft laugh looking at the now crumpled piece of paper. 

"We might need to get a new one of these." 

"We can make it into a whole day. Go down to the courthouse, Alfie can dress us up." 

Bruce smiled at Dick and nodded. He let the boy lead him back through the cave, chattering about the party he wanted to hold in honor of the adoption.