Chapter Text
Sarah has never seen a side of Bruce that was stoic and cold. Not like Dick did. There was something about the way Robin needed to be trained that required grace and finesse and sharp criticism, not the love of a father and encouragement that he could do something practically impossible.
Where Bruce gave Sarah love when he could, he gave Dick firm words and snapped far too often for his liking. Dick was 12. He was Robin. That was a great honor but he wasn’t a soldier -
“ Dick .”
Two little hands shook his arm. He was mid dream, frozen on the edge of a rooftop as one of the many goons he’d grown accustomed to was dangling his sister’s arm just right to where if he let go, she would fall.
“Dick, please… I need help, I need you to wake up.”
He knew that look. He’d seen it the same night their parents had died at the circus. Desperation.
Being Robin had granted him the ability to begin pursuing those responsible for the loss of his parents, and he and Bruce had taken the case in stride and promised to work it together. It was no small task.
Dick Grayson had been craving vengeance since he was nine years old. Dealing with Anthony Zucco had given him a peace he didn’t know he desperately needed until he was gone. Justice was served.
But the nightmares still kept coming. It had barely been a year since he’d taken on the mantle. Was it always going to be like this?
“Big Wing!”
Just as Zucco let go of Sarah’s hand, Dick shot up in his bed and very nearly collided with his sister. Sarah yelped and launched herself off the bed at a far enough distance from her brother to avoid being injured. Dicks hand went to his wrist — where a newly finished blue and black threaded bracelet sat - and ran his fingertips along the material. It helped ground him.
His heart rate slowed, his breathing quieted. Home. He was home in the Manor but it was way too early for Sarah to be up-
“Little Bird?” Dick murmured as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Sarah was hovering nervously by the end of the bed, chewing on her thumbnail as she peered at the door. “What’s wrong?”
Sarah sat at his bedside before she replied, “I heard screaming.“
And well, that can only mean one thing. It was him or Bruce. Maybe both.
“Do you want-“
“Bruce shouldn’t have to endure that alone. I heard what it was over. He said his mother’s name.” Sarah said softly as she reached outward to wipe at his cheeks. Dick had been so consumed by the dream he hadn’t even realized he’d been crying. “I want to be there.”
She had a way of comforting Bruce that Dick was not privileged to have. Maybe it was the fact she was the first little girl to ever really be his daughter. Maybe her innocence reminded him that goodness was still present in Gotham. Whatever it was, Sarah Grayson could and would always be able to dig her fingers into the heart of Bruce Wayne.
“I’ll follow you just in case something happens. Other then that, it’s all you. He doesn’t like it when I interrupt him after them.”
Sarah fidgeted with her hands before she said something he’d remember forever.
“I wish you could see yourself as worthy as how I see you, Big Wing. Maybe you’ll get it one day.”
He’s not worthy. Not even close. But to know Dick has his little sister’s unconditional love despite all he’s done and is going to do will be all he ever asks for.
They tread down the red carpeted hall in the dark towards Alfred and Bruce’s rooms. Bruce’s is first, the door just barely ajar with moonlight peeking through the crack as Sarah slips inside. True to her word, Bruce is frozen on the bed with his fingers twisted tightly in the sheets as he stares at something she cannot see.
“B?” His little sister’s voice is so soft, so gentle, as she tries to talk him through whatever he’d just experienced. “It’s me. Sarah. I heard you scream from down the hall… you woke me and Dick up. Scared us.” Her footsteps are practically incoherent, light and quick, as she crawls up the massive bed until she’s right in front of Bruce. “You said your moms name. Do you miss her? I miss mine. She used to sing me a song whenever I was scared too. Went a little something like this…”
And then Sarah was singing the lullaby their mother had sung to them in perfect Romani for Bruce. Dick hadn’t even known she could sing. It was slightly pitchy and not entirely on key, but she was singing.
The sound of his daughter’s voice was what pulled Bruce back into his own body. The room is chilled and his skin is slick with sweat, but it’s the panicked blue eyes and the soft sound of his daughter’s voice that grounds him.
“Sarah?” Bruce asked shakily. The little girl nodded as she crawled closer, hesitant to do what Dick so often did for her when she had nightmares. Bruce wasn’t big into physical touch. Never had been. “What are you doing up, sweetheart?”
She swallowed the knot in her throat before replying quietly, “I thought you were dying."
Bruce swallowed a whimper - because how pathetic would it be if his kids heard that — and opened his arms, a silent invitation for her to crawl into them. It’s only been 3 years.. but he loves her. And Dick. It’s just harder to say to his son.
They deserve better then him.
“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.” His fingers are running through her hair before he can stop himself, slow and deliberate as she goes limp against him. Bruce was almost positive that from a distance she would appear so small against him that no one would even notice her presence. His eyes flicker upward to where he knows Dick is hiding in the shadows. It doesn’t take the worlds greatest detective to feel those piercing blue eyes watching his every move. “Never. You have me… always.”
He really hoped he could keep that promise.
When Alfred comes to gather his little family the next morning, to say he’s surprised when he finds Master Bruce asleep hours past the normal time and the littlest Grayson curled up in his arms in his bed would be an understatement.
So he takes Dick downstairs and indulges him in what would be his new favorite food. Chocolate chip pancakes slathered in peanut butter.
It’s a yes from their Robin.
***
“What do you give a thirteen year old for his birthday? He and Sarah are turning 10 and 13 soon.” Bruce poured himself his third cup of coffee that morning as he and Alfred took a late breakfast together in the Manor’s kitchen. The one place he was forbidden from working in. Or making a meal. Typical.
“Well sir, if I’m being honest… I believe a perfect present for the girl would be showing her the suit. Give her her name, and tell her the same thing you told Master Grayson. I would wait until she’s just a bit older to allow her to do what her brother does. He will fight you at every turn on it.”
Sarah and Dick had been his saving grace at a time he hadn’t realized he needed it. He had known fatherhood, had known his father was a good man. Even if he’d had his doubts in the beginning of his time as Batman. That had been a difficult first two years.
He wasn’t going to be perfect, but he would try.
“Good idea.” Bruce flashed a weak smile over the rim of his coffee cup as Alfred collected his plate, gently squeezing his wrist as he did so. “Thanks, Al.”
It was ten minutes later when Sarah emerged from the hall. She was dressed in her uniform and struggling to do something with her hair. She always did.
Bruce cleared his throat and turned his chair toward her with a small, hesitant smile. For someone who was so large in comparison to her, it constantly amazed Sarah that he always seemed so small when she was around. Like he was trying to put himself at her level.
“Sarah? Do you want some help with your hair before I take you and Dick to school?” Bruce asked.
She eyed him suspiciously as she expertly navigated the too tall chair - because what acrobatic child couldn’t? - and reached her free hand out for her plate. “You haven’t done my hair the entire time I’ve lived here, B. You don’t need to. Dick can handle it.”
“Can I try ?” He repeated.
Sarah hesitated. Part of her had spent half the night wondering why he was more open with her then with Dick. Why her brother had latched himself onto her body like an octopus and had taken an hour to coax off of her when she woke up. Why he seemed sad every time he looked at her and Bruce together.
What was she missing?
“On one condition.” She replied.
Bruce nodded immediately and stood to his feet to move behind her. “Anything, sweetheart.” He had been preparing for this for weeks. YouTube videos had been a godsend to learn how to do little girl hair. It was time to put his research to good use.
“Tell Dick you love him more. He thinks you don’t.”
He’d been hurt by so many people over the years. Injuries were a part of the life he’d chosen to lead whenever his parents died. This, though… that was the proverbial crack to his ribs. She might as well have clawed into his chest and ripped out his heart herself.
Like it was said, they deserve better.
Bruce nodded and slowly began weaving his calloused, worn fingers through her hair while she scarfed down her breakfast and threw Alfred a “thanks, Alfie!” in passing. He’d spent the past week perusing YouTube for videos on how to do something simple: a 3 strand braid. Hours had been spent watching a screen. He would do this. If he couldn’t do something as simple as his daughters hair, how was he going to be a father?
By the time he was done, Sarah was fidgeting in the chair and anxious to get out of the Manor. He tied off the braid with one of her hair ties and bent his head to press a kiss to the crown of black hair.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
Alfred’s emergence and the worried expression he wore was what stopped both Sarah and Bruce in their tracks. “Master Bruce,” His butler called. “I will take Sarah to school. I believe you’re needed upstairs in Master Grayson’s quarters.”
Sarah frowned. “Where’s he at? Is he okay?”
“He will be, little bird. Master Bruce will take care of him. You and I will be headed to the Academy in the meantime.”
The littlest Grayson seemed put off by that answer. Family is everything, right? Wouldn’t that mean that Dick was her priority and more important then school? He was supposed to go with her. If something was wrong, she deserved to know.
“Tell him, B.” Sarah said firmly. Bruce met her eyes with his own - dark and wide and barely concealing the fright there - and nodded before waving goodbye as Alfred ushered her out the door.
The Knight Bruce Wayne moved to the bottom of the stairs and took a deep breath before he took them, one at a time, and started toward his son’s room.
***
Bruce paused outside of Dick’s room and rested a hand on the door. He couldn’t hear Dick immediately within, which only left one place he could be. Dick might have been twelve and nearly a teenager now but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still a child. And he knew from experience that some children were haunted.
“Chum?” Bruce called out. “Are you in here?”
“Go away!” Dick shouted angrily.
He hadn’t dealt with this more then a handful of times. Dick’s off days - where it was hardest to get out of bed because the world just seemed far too daunting - were getting more frequent the longer he was Robin. He usually held off on allowing himself to feel them until Sarah was not around. The realization of that had made Bruce’s heart ache. Dick was still a kid.. he shouldn’t have felt like he had to hide his emotions from anyone, especially his sister.
He pressed a hand to the bathroom door and leaned in closer to listen. The rumble of the shower head was clear, which meant that Dick was in the shower. He’d been in there far too long for it to be a normal shower.
“Dick,” Bruce said loudly. “I’m coming in.”
There was an incomprehensible wail after that as Bruce opened the door and felt his heart sink at the sight in front of him. Dick was curled against the wall of the shower, back turned to Bruce and knees pressed to his chest with his knees tucked in between them. He can’t see Dicks face.. but the sound of the shower can’t mask the sound of tears when Bruce is so accustomed to doing the same thing.
“You… you love her more then me, and I’ve been so good-“ Dick was murmuring to himself, nearly hysterical, as Bruce turned the water off and turned to collect the nearest towel. “We took care of Zucco and I’ve been the best Robin I can possibly be. What do I have to do? What can I do to make you love me?”
Oh, Dick.
The water trickled to a stop as Bruce toweled Dick off — he seemed far too catatonic to do it himself — and lifted his son to his chest before taking him into his bedroom and tying Dick’s robe around his shivering form. “You don’t have to do anything to make me love you, Dick.” He said quietly. “I already love you so much. I just don’t know how to tell you because-“
It’s been so long since someone told me.
Dick sniffled quietly and yawned as he wound his arms around Bruce’s chest to be able to be closer to the steady pounding of his heart. Dick had used the sound of his mother’s heartbeat as a small child to ground him whenever he’d been in distress.
This would have to do.
“I just want to make you proud.” He whispered, almost shamefully.
“Being your guardian does make me proud.” Bruce whispered in reply. His response was heard by the silence that followed in the midst of Dick’s aching confession. The reality of that statement sinking in made Bruce shiver and involuntarily wrap his arms more tightly around his son.
His son. Not his ward. His little boy, his son.
A long silence passed before Bruce felt the changing in Dick’s breathe and realized that he’d fallen asleep. There was no where to be for several hours, so Bruce secured the robe ties around his hips and laid him in the bed before tucking the covers up and around his shoulders.
“B.” A tiny hand snapped out to wrap around his wrist. “Stay?”
Tell him you love him, Bruce.
Bruce nodded and came around the other side of the bed before laying down in the open space on Dick’s tiny bed. “Of course, Chum.” He mused. “I hope you don’t snore.”
Dick guffawed and lightly pushed on Bruce’s chest as he laid in the crook of his arm. Even with all of the acrobatics and Robin training, his son was so small. Too small. The muscle might’ve made him stronger but that heart of his was so.. vulnerable.
“How dare you-“ A yawn. “Accuse me of something so ridiculous! I’ll have you know I am an exceptional sleeper.”
Within minutes of declaring his skills, Dick was passed out in the crook of Bruce’s arm with his hand fisted into his teeshirt.
Bruce chuckled and ran his fingers through dark hair as he held his son close.
“I bet you are.”