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Bruce glanced at the teenager sulking in the seat beside him, and squeezed his hands harder around the wheel.
This had been...such a bad idea.
God. Bruce was a terrible, terrible parent.
Why was he even a parent? Who thought it was a good idea to let Bruce be in charge of a kid?
Oh, that’s right. Nobody.
Nobody except Bruce.
Stupid, stupid.
In the passenger seat, Dick shifted, and Bruce’s eyes darted towards him again.
Dick caught the glance and rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Bruce,” he muttered.
Bruce gritted his teeth and kept driving.
Dick threw open his door the moment Bruce pulled into a parking space, sprinting up to the door of their motel room as Bruce went around to the trunk, grabbing a bag of weapons that would need to be cleaned down and reloaded.
By the time he’d slammed the trunk closed and trudged through the motel door, Dick had already been swarmed by his siblings.
“--and then Bruce shot it, and that was the end of the sucker,” Dick finished with relish.
Bruce hid his smile as he quietly shut the door, leaning against it. Dick had always been a performer.
Dick sat at the edge of one of the two queen beds, the one scattered with books and crayons that Bruce’s younger boys had evidently claimed as their own. He had one arm wrapped around Tim, who was pressed against his side, knuckle of his index finger in his mouth as he stared at the older boy with wide eyes. Jason was bouncing on the bed by Dick’s other side, just an inch or so away. Dick had his arm on that side resting in his lap.
“And you got scratched?” Jason asked, sounding way too excited for the circumstances.
Dick shrugged. “Well, yeah.”
“Can I see?”
Dick grimaced. “Believe me, Jay, you don’t wanna see.”
Jason looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “Dickie, I’ve come face to face with a shtriga, and Timbo’s spent the last year tripping over bodies after the vampires were done with ‘em.”
Dick looked considering, and before Bruce could make a move to stop him, had pulled off the bandage Bruce had hastily wrapped around his arm.
Bruce felt his own breath hitch, even as Tim gasped and Jason sucked in a loud breath.
“Is it gonna scar?”
“It will if we don’t treat it properly,” Bruce said, and winced a little at the crisp sound of his own voice as the three boys jerked around to look at him.
“Big one, was he, B?” Jason asked, smirk playing on his lips.
Something in Bruce wanted to yell, in that moment. Make Jason understand this was dangerous, it wasn’t a joke, Dick could have been killed--
He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t raise his voice, not at these three strange, amazing children who had decided to worm their way into his life and refused to leave. His children.
So he swallowed his sudden fear and anger, and just grunted in response.
Jason raised an eyebrow at him, before seeming to shrug it off and leaning into Dick. Just gently, against the top of the older boy’s shoulder, and Bruce thought maybe Jason understood more than he let on.
“Dick, we need to get that wrapped properly before you get an infection.”
Dick, who’d been whispering something to Tim that was making the younger boy stifle giggles, looked up. Bruce felt something inside him twist as the smile drained from Dick’s face, and the now solemn boy nodded, disentangling himself from his siblings. Still holding his hurt arm against his chest, he used the free one to shoo the younger boys back against the pillows and tossed the blanket over them with the kind of grace only he could muster with a six-inch gash in his arm. He leaned over the bed to press a kiss against each one’s forehead.
Tim leaned into the touch. Jason squirmed, but for once, didn’t push the older boy away.
“Be right back,” he whispered, swiping a hand through Tim’s hair before he straightened and joined Bruce at the bathroom door. Bruce waited for him to step inside before he pulled the door most of the way closed behind them.
He flipped down the lid of the toilet, before setting the duffle on the floor. Dick perched on the toilet lid while Bruce knelt in front of him, pulling his first aid kit out of the duffle and flipping it open.
“Let’s see it,” he said, and Dick held out his arm silently.
The silence held as Bruce cleaned the scratches, Dick’s only reaction the occasional twitch.
“Good news is you don’t need stitches,” Bruce said, and Dick nodded.
Bruce could feel his heart pumping its way to his head as he reached for the bandages.
Ever since they’d found Jason, than Tim, Dick had been such a constant...ball of sunshine, with his chatter and smiles, that Bruce forgot what he was like when he wasn’t trying to hide his anger or grief.
He hated it.
“Dick,” he said, setting the roll of bandages into his lap.
Dick seemed to take a moment to shake himself out of his own thoughts, before he lifted his head just enough to look at Bruce questioningly from under too—long bangs.
Unthinkingly, Bruce reached out to brush them away. He needed to get Dick a haircut. He felt the boy flinch under his fingertips, and his throat tightened.
“I’m sorry,” he forced out. Dick looked up at him, wide eyed. “I’m so sorry I yelled at you, Dick.”
The words echoed through his mind. Reckless...stupid...never should have brought you along...
“ I was scared,” he murmured. Unable to hold the child’s eyes, he dropped his gaze to the bandages, reaching for them and unrolling a length of bandage. “I turned around and I saw you—and I was terrified, Dickie.” The memory made bile rise in his throat. He started wrapping the bandages around the three scratches that lined Dick’s forearm, but the images filled his mind anyways. Turning around as the half-wolf lunged at Dick, snarling, knocking the gun from the boy’s hands. The teen throwing up an arm to protect his face, shove the beast’s snout away as he swiped with the silver knife he’d pulled out of the holster at his knee, rolling away just enough to give Bruce a clear shot straight into the creature’s heart.
“I’m sorry,” Dick said softly. Bruce, who’d been about to speak again, looked up in surprise.
Dick was staring at the floor. “I know I—I messed up. And I could’ve gotten us both killed and--”
“Dick,” Bruce said firmly, and the boy stopped rambling. Bruce tied off the bandage, then reached up to cup Dick’s face, gently but firmly lifting until the boy was looking at him.
“You did good,” he said, and Dick’s eyes widened in surprise. He went to speak, but Bruce interrupted him, voice still gentle. “That was your first time going out with me, and it went wrong, and sometimes—a lot of times, really—that's what happens. And I freaked out. But you were so brave, chum. You kept your head, and you made it out. You made it out safe, and we got the werewolves.”
That’s all that matters, chum. I just want you all to be safe. I don’t want this for you. For any of you. I want you to be safe and happy, but I can’t stop, and I can’t let you go. I’m terrified to let you go. Terrified that you’ll make good on your promise and go somewhere I can’t protect you.
“I’m proud of you, Dickie.”
Dick blinked. A tear slipped out the corner of his eye, rolled down his cheek. “But I messed up.”
Bruce figured he didn’t exactly know what had happened in the moments between him turning around to deal with one werewolf, and turning around just as another lunged for Dick—seemingly appearing out of nowhere. But right now, Dick looked exhausted, and his eyes were full of tears, and Bruce knew from painful experience that his arm would be hurting him, but he seemed determined not to show it.
So he shifted his fingers to brush the tears away, said, “It was your first time, Dickie. You’ll learn.” As much as it pained him to let those words—that promise—out into the world.
Dick watched him for a few moments, and Bruce willed his face to stay steady until Dick nodded against his hands. Swallowing, Bruce let go and rummaged through the bag for painkillers, popping open the bottle and shaking out two pills before handing them to Dick.
He cracked open a water bottle and held it out. Dick popped the pills in his mouth and took the water bottle, swallowing down a large gulp.
Bruce packed up the first aid kit. “Wash up, then it’s time for bed. Careful of the bandages.”
Dick leaned forward to rest an elbow on his knee, bandaged arm lying across his lap, and nodded. He kept his eyes on Bruce until the man left the bathroom, gently pulling the door closed behind him.
Tim seemed to be asleep, thumb pressed against his lips, but Jason eyed him over the top of the covers.
“Dickie okay?” he asked.
“He’ll be fine,” Bruce said, and headed for the bags dumped on the desk in the corner. He unzipped one, hoping to God that this was the one with Dick’s clothes in it.
Dick was a whiz at keeping things in some semblance of order, and Bruce loved the kid for it, even if it hurt sometimes when it was Dick that the two younger boys turned to, looked to, swarmed with their affections. It made sense. They’d chosen to come with Bruce, but Dick was the one who took care of them.
Anyways. The point of this train of thought was that, for all that Dick could keep track of important dates and favorite foods and make a motel feel like home for anywhere between one and fifteen nights, whenever he was the one to pack the bags, there was no guarantee that half their belongings wouldn’t go missing.
Bruce himself had always been good with packing things in an orderly way, be it bags, books, information, or a certain car trunk. But even Jason was a better packer than Dick. Even if he had a tendency to slip in tiny shampoo or soap bars or all the free coffee cups or a pack of batteries that Bruce wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know where they’d come from.
Dick might’ve known. Timmy definitely did. But Tim, Bruce had learned, was very good at keeping secrets.
God. These kids.
He took his turn in the shower as soon as Dick got out, and he came out, rubbing his hair with a towel, to find Dick had managed to squeeze himself in between Tim and Jason, who were both awake. Tim’s head against Dick’s shoulder was nothing new. Jason pressed against his back was...a little different.
Please be careful, Dick. I don’t want you to aggravate your injury and start bleeding all over the bed. For one thing, it’s not good for you, for another, it’ll scare your brothers. “Watch the arm.”
“It’s fine,” Dick said, pulling Tim a little closer. Bruce hummed as he settled on the other bed, noting the book sitting on the nightstand. Holes.
“Can we read tonight?” Tim’s quiet voice piped up. Bruce looked up to find big, hopeful blue eyes watching him.
Behind him, Dick frowned and flitted a glance at Bruce over the top of Tim’s head. “Timmy...”
“Of course,” Bruce said.
Dick looked surprised. So did Tim, in a gleefully childish way, and Jason, whose head had popped up from behind Dick.
Bruce supposed he couldn’t blame them. He had a tendency to be...reserved, after he came back from a job. Grumpy, and a little nasty on the inside but he hoped he kept that locked up well enough.
And Bruce was exhausted, really he was, but he knew he wouldn’t actually be getting any rest, not for the next few hours at least, and he rather expected Dick might not either.
No. What did make him feel a bit better was picking up the book and flipping to the bookmark as he settled on the edge of the boys’ mattress, feeling their eyes on him the whole way. What made him feel better was reaching out a hand to place over Dick’s blanket-covered ankle and squeezing, looking over to see the little smile on Dick’s face, the excitement in Tim’s eyes as he snuggled up close to his older brother, the anticipation in Jason’s as he levered himself up to cross his arms on top of Dick’s side and rested his chin on top.
What felt right was hearing his own voice, smoother now, telling them about Stanley Yelnats teaching Zero how to write. Listening as three breathing patterns evened out into sleep. Setting down the book and just watching, for a moment, taking in closed eyes and faces that were completely at peace, at the moment. Taking the opportunity to lean over them, tuck the blankets around them, run fingers through their hair and press kisses against their foreheads, before he made his way to his own bed, leaving the small light on.
He wouldn’t go to sleep, not yet. Just in case. For Dick. But he thought he could rest now.