Chapter Text
The shock of air conditioning hit Dick’s chest as he stepped indoors—quite a rude welcome back from an afternoon spent on the lake.
They’d come to the lakehouse on the perfect early fall weekend—beautiful warm sunny days followed by cool September nights. Thanks perhaps to Martha Wayne's heritage, no one at school had so much as blinked when Dick had declared that he would be absent the days before and Rosh Hashanah despite not being Jewish himself. He didn't see the need to elaborate that Bruce was not even remotely observant and that their Friday plans mostly involved waterskiing. They deserved the break, the time away from Gotham, and Clark had been able to take the time off to join them.
“Boy, I’m wiped,” he said.
“Too much sun will do that,” Bruce said.
Clark rolled his eyes spectacularly.
“It’s true,” Bruce insisted. “Prolonged sun raises your body temperature, dehydrates, and demands energy for processing the vitamin D. Four hours in the sun is draining—at least for us feeble humans.”
Clark laughed. “I know all that, Bruce. But you could at least try to sound less like a vampire.”
Dick snickered at that and flopped onto the oversized sectional, nestling his towel under his wet hair. It probably was partially the sun. Partially the sports. And partially the lack of sleep Thursday night after they’d arrived, when he’d stayed up until three in the morning talking to Wally and reading mystery novels that had been left in the house at some earlier point.
“Wake me up when there’s food,” he said, yawning through his command.
“Alfred’s back in Gotham,” Bruce reminded him, “so food isn’t going to drop into your lap, chum.”
“I can cook,” Clark volunteered. “But help would be nice. I mean. From Dick. Bruce, you’re, uh, welcome to relax. Too much sun an’ all.”
“If you’re trying to avoid insulting Bruce’s kitchen skills,” Dick said, “you aren’t doing a good job.”
Clark looked away from Bruce, who folded his arms.
“I’m a perfectly fine cook, thank you.”
Dick grimaced. “Are you, though?”
“I had to make my own food the whole time I was in Tibet, and—”
“Cooking for yourself doesn’t count.”
“I made you macaroni once! When Alfred was sick, remember?”
“Uh, Bruce… You burned the pasta. I made myself macaroni after we had to throw out the first batch.”
Bruce retreated, furrowing his brow and looking off to the side, as if the memory were hidden out of view. “You may be right.”
“Yeah, I am. Now move along. I’m sleeping.” Dick dragged a decorative throw off the side of the couch and pulled it over his head.
***
He woke up in a cold sweat, blinking away the remnants of a horrible dream. He’d been alone, surrounded by darkness, with only enough light to see the bloody sawdust at his feet. He’d tried calling for his parents, even though he knew they wouldn’t come. He’d called for Bruce, for Alfred, for Clark, for Wally, for Ma and Pa Kent. Nothing. And then the darkness had tightened closer and closer until the ground dropped from under him and he was falling.
And then he was awake.
He swung his feet to the ground and felt the solid floor, opened his eyes wide to take in as much of the fading sunlight as he could.
It had only been a dream.
There’d been a time, once, when nightmares like this had woken him up nearly every night. These days, it didn’t happen so much. At least not at home, in the Manor, with Alfred’s food in his stomach and Bruce back from patrol. And not when he’d pushed himself past the point of exhaustion, like he had last night.
He dragged himself up and toward the stairs. Maybe in his bedroom, he’d have a better chance of it. Or maybe he’d just go watch TV and give up on the stupid idea of napping.
As he walked down the hall, still trying to shake off the lingering feeling of dread, he found himself stopping in front of Bruce’s door. Bruce’s presence always helped. And his TV was bigger, anyway. Though Bruce probably wanted rest himself. And Dick would look like a stupid little kid in front of Clark, running into his guardian’s room.
But then the feeling of the darkness closing in started surrounding him again, leaving him shuddering in an imagined cold, and he made his choice. At the very least, he had to let Bruce know that this was happening, that he needed to learn some trick for staying asleep when away from home. He threw open the door and—
And Bruce was not asleep. Not remotely.
“OHMYGODI’MSORRY,” Dick shouted, squeezing his eyes shut and turning around. Thankfully, Clark had moved pretty much instantaneously to be a good twenty feet away from either Bruce or Dick, but Dick didn’t want to take any chances seeing anything more than he already had.
“Haven’t you people heard of a lock?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He rounded the corner and sprinted down the hall as fast as his feet could carry him.
Did he like that Bruce was dating Clark? Absolutely.
Did he know that Bruce was an adult who did adult things with the people he dated? Yeah, duh.
But he had zero interest in seeing it.
He flung himself into his room and threw his door closed behind him.
He closed his eyes tight, as if that would erase the memory. Thanks to Clark’s quick reaction, there hadn’t been much time to sear the image into his brain, but it was enough.
Maybe he shouldn’t have come. Bruce probably was wishing right now that he’d left Dick behind in Gotham.
But Clark was the one who was out of place here, at the lake. Before, it had been a special retreat for him and Bruce, a place to pretend like they led normal lives and be something almost sort of like a father and son. Fishing, hiking, eating frozen meals and terrible pizza from the only place that delivered in the small town.
But that was stupid and petty. Dick liked Clark. Dick had been the one to invite him, after all. But now, it all seemed like a terrible idea.
He reached for his phone, flipped it open to text Wally, and typed:
Oh my GOD HELP. Can yr powers rewind time yet bc that would be great? I saw something I never want to see or remember again.
Wally: ???
SO u remember how Im at the lake for the weekend? With B n C?
Wally: Omg please tell me this is what I think it is
I walked in on them????!!! I want to tear out my eyes
Wally: LOLOLOLOLOL
Wally: Was it hot tho
Dick’s face contorted reading the words and he frantically typed his response.
WHAT???
GET OUT OF MY LIFE
Wally: Idk what shit youre into ok
Not BRUCE
GROSS
Wally: Just saying. Could be worse. Couldve been MY parents. 100 per cent disgusting right there
How do I ever look at either of them again??
Wally: Ur a survivor. I believe in you. Want to call? Or I can come over? Not all of us have unlimited text plans rich boy
Um did you forget about how C can hear everything I say? No thank you
Dick didn’t have superhearing himself, but the footsteps outside his room still reached his ears and jarred him from his texts.
Wally: I can come over and kidnap you if you want?
A knock rang out just as Dick shouted, “I’m good, Bruce. I don’t want to talk about it.”
His phone buzzed. Wally again.
If you dont answer in sixty sec Im taking that as a yes
“It’s not Bruce.”
Dick swore under his breath and quickly typed out a message.
Hold off. C is here. If u dont hear back in twenty min assume Ive died of embarrassment.
“The door’s unlocked,” Dick called.
Clark opened the door and stood there, shuffling from side to side. “Can I… come in?”
Dick shrugged and looked down at his phone, which buzzed again and lit up.
Can I have your phone if you die? And gaming system?
“Talking to someone?”
Dick slid his phone face-down on the midnight-blue rug and shook his head, keeping his eyes on the ground. “Just Wally being an idiot.”
“Listen… You… weren’t meant to’ve seen that.”
“No shit.” Dick blinked his eyes open and looked up, but seeing Clark just brought the scene right back.
He’d seen Bruce making out with people, sure. Really, he’d seen worse with Selina, but that hadn’t been nearly as scarring. Because this was Clark. Clark. His friend.
“I’m sorry,” Clark said.
At least he didn’t make excuses.
“I don’t want you to… to think of me differently, knowing…”
Dick laughed. “I’m not a kid,” he insisted. “I know what you do. I know… lots of things.”
“You do?”
“Uh, yeah. I don’t know what school was like in Kansas, but I live in Gotham. We go over all those things in health class like, every year.”
“You’re not… doing any… things… yourself, right?”
“No!” Dick’s face fell in horror. “I mean. Some things. Not things-things.”
“You know, words exist for a reason. It’s helpful to use the ones you mean.”
Dick shrugged. “You know exactly what I mean.”
“Fair enough.” Clark wrapped a hand around one of the bedposts and looked around at the walls of Dick’s room. “Has Bruce talked to you about all of that yet?”
“Ugh, he tried,” he said, failing to push aside the memory of the attempt. “It was like… thirty percent scientific terms, sixty percent intense lecture on consent, and ten percent awkward silence. After that he gave up and shoved some book in my hands and walked away.”
It was hard to blame him. It’s not like Bruce’s own father had been able to teach little Bruce much of anything of the sort before being horrifically murdered, and he couldn’t imagine a teenage Bruce allowing Alfred to spend more than sixty seconds covering the subject. Nor could he imagine Alfred talking about it, wonderful as Alfred was. He cringed at the thought.
Clark bent his knees and slid down to sit across from Dick, leaning against the tall bedframe. “You… know that I’m here for you, too, right? I’m your friend before I’m Bruce’s boyfriend. If you ever want to talk…”
Dick side-eyed Clark. “We’re not talking about that now,” he said, half-question, half-declaration.
“Right, no, of course not,” Clark said, turning red. “I didn’t mean about us, just… in general. Down the line. Just… if you have questions, or… anything, and you don’t want to go to Bruce. I’m here. If you want.”
Dick didn’t know what he wanted, but Clark did seem like a hell of a lot better of an option than Bruce or Alfred when it came to any questions that he could possibly have.
“Um, yeah,” he said. “Thanks. That’d be… good, I guess. But not until I burn the image of you and Bruce out of my eyes. Can your heat-vision do that?”
“I wish,” said Clark. He sounded like he meant it.
Clark sighed and met Dick’s gaze. The thick lenses of his glasses helped to cut the bright glow of his eyes, but when he looked down, the smallest bit of them gleamed over the edges of his frames. “I’m really sorry about that, Dick.”
“It’s not your fault. I should’ve known better. I should’ve knocked.”
Clark shrugged. “I have super-hearing. Letting anyone sneak up on me is my fault. It won’t happen again.”
“Okay.” Dick stretched one leg out to tap Clark’s ankle. “And you really mean it: we’re still friends? Not just… Bruce’s boyfriend and ward?”
“Absolutely. Blue and Red, right?”
“Red and Blue,” Dick corrected, letting himself smile. “Good. I like being your friend. And I don’t really need another sort-of-dad.”
“Got it.”
“Though… if you did marry Bruce—”
“You’re getting way ahead of yourself there,” Clark interrupted, his face souring a bit.
Did he not want to marry Bruce? Or no—Bruce probably didn’t want to get married, period.
Dick sighed as dramatically as possible. “Fine. But hypo-thet-ically…”
“I’d still be your friend. Unless you wouldn’t want that.”
Dick brightened. “Friend is good.”
“Okay,” said Clark.
“A friend like Bruce,” Dick clarified. It was hard to explain his relationship, but Clark understood Bruce’s role, some sort of weird mix of friend, partner, mentor, brother, and father to Dick. Like Bruce was the best way he had to describe it.
“Oh!” Clark smiled. “I’d like that—if that happens. And Dick—”
Whatever Clark was going to say was cut off by Bruce’s shadow falling across the floor.
“May I… have a word?”
Clark pushed himself off the ground and moved aside, but Dick shook his head.
“It’s fine, Bruce. I should’ve knocked. There’s nothing to say.”
Bruce cleared his throat. “And you’re okay?”
“Oh my God, Bruce. I’m fine. It was like, mildly scarring, but I’ve literally seen people bludgeoned to death. I can handle…” Dick waved his hand in Bruce’s general direction.
“Okay.” Bruce looked back into the hall at the Nothing and No-one out there, and then warily brought his gaze back to Dick. “You came to see me for something?”
Dick shook his head. “It was nothing. Just… didn’t sleep well.”
“Oh.” Bruce nodded in understanding, suddenly softening his stiff posture. He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry, Dick. I didn’t think—it hasn’t been—”
“I’m gonna go start supper,” Clark said, slipping around Bruce and moving to the door. “Come help if you want, when you’re ready.”
“It’s fine,” Dick repeated to Bruce after Clark had left. “I, um. I can deal with it on my own.”
“You shouldn’t have to.”
“Yeah, I should. I’m thirteen. I shouldn’t be running for help anymore.”
Bruce didn’t disagree, though he looked a little sad about it.
Dick took a deep breath and sighed, letting his shoulders fall. “It’s fine when I’m at the Manor. I mean, once you get home.”
A wave of surprise passed over Bruce’s face. “You don’t sleep until I’m home?”
Dick shrugged. “I guess I could try. I just… couldn’t before, so I stopped trying. I got in the habit of listening for you to come back.”
“Jesus, Dick. You need sleep.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“You’re growing. You have school.”
“It’s not like I’m doing jumping jacks. I just lie there. So it’s still resting.”
Bruce sighed. “Okay. Have… have you talked about this in therapy?”
“Not recently.” Dick shrugged. “Anyway, I wasn’t even going to bother you. I shouldn’t’ve.”
“It’s okay. You can… You’re not bothering me. If you aren’t okay, I want you to come to me.” Bruce shoved his hands in his pockets and looked out the window at the sun starting to set over the lake. “You’re family, and that’s the most important thing. You’re my top priority.”
Dick pushed himself up from the floor and wrapped his arms around Bruce, who responded with a small grunt and a hand on his head. Dick stayed there for a few seconds, grounding himself in Bruce’s strength and the familiar smell of his cologne.
“What about Clark?” Dick asked. “He’s almost like family. What if he becomes… I don’t know. More important?”
Bruce reached his arm around Dick now and pulled him closer. “That’s not how family works, Dick.”
“Okay,” Dick mumbled into Bruce’s chest. He knew it’d been a silly fear, but it was good to hear Bruce say it.
“Just knock next time.”
“Yeah, got it,” said Dick, looking up and stepping away.
“Did you want to go help cook?”
Dick nodded, and then his phone buzzed. He balanced on one foot to reach across to where it lay on the floor, and read the message.
Taking silence as a yes btw. Im gonna find a book of the worst puns ever told and read them all at your funeral rip
“Yeah, um.” He straightened up and waved his phone. “Wally needs something, but I’ll be right down. You’re… not gonna try to help, are you?”
“I will only do exactly as I’m told.”
Dick snorted. “Okay, well, it’ll be worth it just to see that.”
Bruce turned, but at the door he paused and looked back. “You’re still okay with this? Me seeing Clark?”
Dick bit his lip. He’d never had so much fun as in the past months, spending time with Clark and Bruce for both missions and regular activities. He hated to admit it, but he’d had moments worrying about Bruce side-lining him, since Gotham took enough of his time and then Clark even more, but that feeling seemed selfish and insecure. Bruce didn’t belong to him. And anyway, Bruce was better to be around, ever since he got together with Clark. More relaxed. More patient. Quicker to smile.
That was nice.
“I’m okay. Are… are you happy?” he asked.
Bruce furrowed his brow, like it hadn’t occurred to him to consider it. He shrugged. “I think so?”
“Then yeah. It’s great.”
Bruce nodded and then walked out, allowing Dick to press the green call button on his phone.
A quarter of a ring later, Wally picked up. “Yo! I thought talking was off limits or something.”
“It’s okay. We talked. It’s all good. I mean, you know. Not all good, but…”
Wally laughed on the other end. “I’m so sorry,” he said, not sounding remotely sorry.
“Uh huh. I can hear the sympathy just dripping from every word.”
“Hey man, I told you. Could be worse.”
“Yeah, I guess. You doing anything this weekend?”
“Uh, homework. High school is rough. Like, it’s not even hard. It’s just boring.”
“I’m sure you’ll breeze right through it.”
“Har har. You know I still have to experience all of it, don’t you?”
Dick chuckled and leaned his head toward the door. The aroma of freshly cut onions and garlic was wafting up from the living room. Benefit of an open floor plan—and so unlike the Manor.
“I have to go help with food,” he said. “Just wanted to let you know that I’m alive, and no, you don’t get my video game collection.”
“Ouch. Who else is gonna want it? Your butler?”
“I don’t know, some poor kid in Gotham?”
“Jeez. Way to make it impossible to argue.”
“Yeah, well, knowing Bruce, if I die, all of my things will be preserved and left untouched.” He was pretty sure that every object owned by any and all of Bruce’s ancestors had been kept in the museum of Wayne Manor, so it only seemed obvious that Bruce wouldn’t break that pattern anytime soon.
“Have you… thought about this?”
Dick shrugged, even though Wally couldn’t see. “Yeah, of course. People die all the time.”
“Wow, bro. Morbid much?”
“You know it.” Something crashed downstairs, and Bruce swore. “Okay, Clark definitely needs help. I should go.”
“Sure I can’t come over? I’m a great cook, as you know.”
Dick laughed. “Sorry, no dice. I shouldn’t even really be on the phone. Bonding time or something.”
“I’ll say. Maybe leave the bonding to Bruce and Clark.”
“Ugh, shut up, you total fucknugget.”
“Never.”
Dick grinned. Wally really had a talent for cutting the tension. It was hard to remember how Dick had gotten by before him, even though they’d only met less than three months earlier. “Maybe you can come over next weekend?”
“That’d be awesome. I’ll see if I can get my parents to let me go to Iris’s to cover. I’m sure they’d prefer it, anyway.”
“Let me know.”
He hung up and dropped the phone on his bed.
Things were fine. If Bruce being happy came at the cost of needing to knock on a door, that would be worth it.
For now, he took to the bannister, shouting, “I told you not to let Bruce help!”