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When Dick received his first grappling gun, neither he nor Bruce knew what they were starting. Bruce hadn't had enough time to adjust as a guardian and his protective instincts hadn't quite kicked in; giving Dick a grappling gun was a lapse in judgement that he would spend the next forever thinking about and the rest of his career as a vigilante being both grateful for and regretful over. But something in Bruce had lit up over Dick's excited smile as he shot it into the ceiling of the cave and swung in place, his feet only a metre off the floor.
Bruce - feeling proud for making this kid happy - had smiled at Alfred, who returned it with a tight smile, eyes lined with worry.
The protective instinct kicked in two weeks too late.
Batman was standing atop one of Gotham's tallest, knelt in front of Robin, the ends of his fingers holding the kid's elbows as he instructed Dick again on how to swing between the neighbouring buildings and onto the one after those. Dick wasn't looking at him, but looking at the gun he was turning over in his hands.
'Do you want me to show you again?' Bruce asked. 'And you know you don't have to do this if you're sacred or if you don't want to do this anymore.'
Dick shook his head. 'I'm going to. Can’t be much different from the circus. But last time I was at the circus-'
'It's a lot different from the circus,' Bruce reminded him, cutting Dick off, keeping his tone gentle; he was trying hard not to get too militant, but it felt like Dick had shrunk since they'd left the cave and Bruce couldn't comprehend that this was happening. Dick was so tiny. He cursed himself for making promises he'd decided he didn't want to keep. 'I'll be right behind you.' It was a compromise with himself, more than it was comfort Dick.
Dick nodded and turned away. Bruce let him go. His insides twisted as Dick leapt into the lights and sounds of Gotham. If anyone saw him, this would be his debut as Robin.
Bruce stood on the edge and counted onetwothree before diving in after the bright speck of a kid now swinging off the momentum of the line's momentum as the end caught. Bruce released a breath because there was a landing yet, but he couldn't help smiling when Dick executed a backflip and landed square on his feet, atop the goal building.
It was the first moment Bruce was proud of him.
The day Dick moved out was the least proud Bruce had been of them both.
Yelling wasn't the best way to go about it, but Bruce had never learnt how to handle his emotions in an organised manner. It was a culmination of many things. Bruce was angry that Dick seemed to think his own personal pursuits were more important than assisting Batman and maybe they were. But getting home and finding the manner devoid of Dick or coming back to Dick being patched up by Alfred because Bruce couldn't get there in time, it was tearing at him from every angle. Firing Dick wasn't the answer.
He'd done it anyway.
After Dick ran out of the cave, Bruce had stopped for a few minutes and calmed down. He changed out of the cowl and cape. He became Bruce Wayne again. He became Dick's father.
Bruce stood in front of the door to Dick's bedroom and rapped on the door. Dick yanked it open and scowled an Bruce. He was never going to grow to six foot, but Bruce's inside twisted as he realised just how much Dick had grown over the last seven years.
'Dick, maybe we should-'
'No, Bruce. Whatever you want to say, I'm not going to listen. What happened wasn't just between "Batman" and "Robin," the air quotes hurt a little, 'it was also between you and me. You have to realise that Batman and Bruce can't be two different people, you can't say those things to me down there and then come up here and try fix it.'
Bruce wanted to correct him, because Batman and Bruce were two different people. Sure, sometimes Bruce might remind Dick about his homework when they both still had their capes on, but down there, Batman was Robin's partner, up here, Bruce was Dick's father and he had to stop him from leaving, he had to make them both talk this through - something Batman couldn't do.
Dick turned away and zipped up his duffel bag, gave one last look at the things he would sacrifice in order to leave the manor right now and turned back to Bruce. They looked at each other.
The Bruce's heart cracked as Dick pushed past him and disappeared from sight down the stairs, almost running in his haste to get away. Bruce worried about how he was going to leave. Was he walking? Was Wally picking him up? Or someone else? Would Alfred drive him? Did he have somewhere to stay?
Bruce walked back down to the Batcave and changed back into the cowl and cape. He sat at the computer but left every screen black.
'Master Richard is gone,' said Alfred from behind him.
Bruce remained silent.
'I am disappointed in you,' Alfred continued and Bruce snapped.
'I'm not a child, Alfred.'
'He is.'
'He's sixteen, he can live on his own.'
'Yet he will still require parent permission for everything else. But I assume that you are no longer that either.'
Bruce's heart broke as Alfred left him silence.
+ + +
Bruce had decided this was the last time he would teach someone how to use a grappling gun.
Batman and Robin stood atop the same building each of the Robins had learned to fly from. It had proved to be a gentle start and gave plenty of room for safety to be reached should an error occur. Or: it gave plenty of room for Bruce to catch one should they not be ready.
Damian already stood on the edge, the toes of his boots resting on open air. He was smaller than Dick had been, the smallest of all Bruce's kids and the familiar pain of concern tightened his chest as he watched Damian square his shoulders a tiny bit. Bruce was tense, waiting for him to just leap without any warning and mess up in his haste to show off the world. In his haste to show off for Bruce.
'You don’t have to do this if you don’t feel ready,' Bruce said. He knew that though he'd tried, at the end of the day, nothing would keep Damian from these streets and this kid would find a way to swing between these buildings with our without Bruce's permission. He was glad Dick held more influence in Damian's life than Jason because if he spent too much time with the latter, Bruce might end up with a problem child.
Damian tutted. 'Don't be ridiculous, Father,' he scoffed and leapt from the building.
Bruce sighed and counted two seconds. He already had a problem child.
He didn't take his eyes from Damian. His childhood training had crafted him to be agile and he took to the movements with ease. Though he was new to being Robin, he wasn't new to running around rooftops and he landed square on his feet with the form of a good gymnast - but not quite as good as Dick had been. Bruce grinned and landed behind him.
Damian performed a lot for those around him, he was good at not stuttering, but he couldn’t quite control the slight nervous shaking or how much wider his eyes had gotten since Bruce last looked at him.
'You've done it, we're going home,' Bruce ordered.
'Like this?' Damian asked, gesturing at Gotham.
'No, we're driving.'
'Can I drive?'
'No, Damian.' But Bruce grinned again.
It seemed that nature had gifted Damian the traits of a younger Bruce.
Everything was normal when Bruce's youngest son came to move out.
Damian was nineteen and leading his own life. He hadn't ditched the mantle of Robin, but he had ditched being Bruce's partner over the last year and was instead focusing on his own work. Despite Damian's sketchy childhood years and unbalanced maturity he had turned out to be the most normal of all Bruce's kids when it came to flying the nest.
'Are you sure you don't need a lift?' Bruce asked again. He knew everyone would be back for the holidays, he knew he would see Damian again, but past experience forced his stomach to twist as he watched Damian fill a box with books.
'I already told you that Dick's driving me,' Damian reminded Bruce. 'And Jon is helping me move in, so I don't need you for that either.'
Blindingly normal, Bruce thought. 'Call me if you need anything,' he said.
'I will, Dad, it's fine, you know I was driving at seven right?' Damian turned to roll his eyes at Bruce then continued packing, sealing another box with tape.
Somethings had changed since Bruce gave Damian his first grappling gun, some things hadn't.
'No matter what you can do or how old you are, I'm always going to be your father. Call me if you need anything.'
'I will,' Damian agreed, not looking at Bruce.
Bruce couldn't help a soft smile. 'Let me know when Dick's here, I can at least help you carry some of those to the car.'
Damian's phone buzzed. 'Speak of the devil.' He typed a reply and picked up a box, waltzing towards Bruce and shunting it into his arms. He was exactly Bruce's height.