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Bruce sighed as hot water pounded at the knots in his shoulder, running down his back. Patrol had been rough, as had his day, and even before that, as had his week. He’d been busy at WayneTech for most of it, straddling the line between Brucie Wayne and actually getting stuff done.
The week had been long, and he was just looking forward to falling into bed, and then preferably, sleeping in until noon, Alfred’s breakfast be damned.
Turning off the shower, Bruce dried off, pulling on a pair of his nicer silk pajamas. Even he deserved to be comfortable, to use the exorbitant wealth he had. Who cared if all of his kids teased him about them, claiming their sweats and t-shirts were better?
Hanging his towel on the hook, Bruce opened the door that connected to his room, steam billowing out from around him. The room was dim, but years of practice at seeing in the dark allowed him to make out more details than a normal person would be able to, mainly the lump in his bed that hadn’t been there before.
Stepping closer, Bruce saw a tuft of black hair, which didn’t really narrow down the list of possibilities. Or, well, the list of children it could be. It was only when he pulled the covers back slightly, trying his best to not wake whoever had taken up residence there, that he realized it was Dick.
Bruce couldn't remember the last time Dick had slept in his bed. While he was home, that is. Often, Bruce’d come home from trips or long missions to find some evidence of his eldest’s presence in the room, but since Dick never brought it up, Bruce didn’t either, not wanting to make Dick feel like he should stop.
Dick used to sleep with him sometimes, back when he was Robin. At first, he was hesitant, still angry and dead-set on revenge, terrified of admitting he needed comfort, but as the years passed and their relationship grew, Dick soon treated Bruce’s bed like his own, jumping in eagerly whenever he felt like it. Bruce couldn’t count the times he’d awoken to Dick vaulting into his pillows or flipping onto the foot of the bed, wild and free.
Bruce hadn’t minded, of course. Never could. Sleeping with someone else was foreign and awkward at first, but waking up with a small head on his shoulder or cold toes pressed into his leg became comforting. He soon preferred it to waking up alone, even though Dick was just in the next room over.
When Dick had stopped crawling into bed with him, it took longer than Bruce was willing to admit for him to learn how to sleep well again. The sheets were just too free, the space too large. Many a sleepless night had been spent down in the cave.
Shaking himself out of his reverie, Bruce stared down at Dick, whose normally smooth brow was furrowed even in sleep. That was concerning, nearly as much as finding him in his bed was. It wasn’t like Dick thought he was on a mission or something- he had no plans to go out of town on Wayne or League business, and, as far as he knew, Dick had planned on being in Bludhaven for the weekend.
Stop, Bruce told himself. Dick obviously came here to sleep, so you should let him do that.
Whatever had happened could wait until the morning, or, at least Dick thought it could. And since Dick was here, had come to him, Bruce would follow his lead by sleeping as well.
Quietly getting ready for bed, Bruce debated whether he should just slip in beside Dick or not. He knew his bed was a source of comfort to Dick - lately, without him in it - and he didn’t want to make Dick feel like it was no longer a safe option, not when Dick was already hiding his use of it.
On the other hand, though, Dick knew he was going to be returning to his room and going to bed. And he had chosen Bruce’s room anyway.
Not letting himself think too much about it, Bruce pulled the covers back, easing under them. Dick always ran warm so it was no surprise that he’d already made a small bubble of body heat. He was on his side, curled into the pillow, and before Bruce had disturbed them, the covers had been pulled up almost over his face.
Putting them back and tucking them in around him, Bruce couldn't resist the urge to smooth his hand through Dick’s hair, which was as soft and silky as it has always been. Dick sighed a little but didn’t wake up.
Swallowing, Bruce laid back, pulling the comforter over himself too. It was hard to not wrap an arm around Dick, press him into his side like he always used to, but he didn’t want to disturb him, break the fragile silence the room had fallen into.
Sleep came for Bruce more quickly than he had expected, the exhaustion he had felt before seeing Dick returning with a vengeance.
*
When Bruce awoke, it was to the bed moving slightly, shifting underneath his back. Blindly, he reached out, catching Dick right as he was getting up.
“Where are you going?” he asked, clearing his throat. “It’s still dark out.”
Dick froze. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Bruce huffed out a laugh because the alternative was to start crying. “I’ve told you before, chum. Wake me whenever, wherever. I’ll always get up for you.”
“That was for when I was a kid.” In the dark, Bruce couldn't make out the exact look in his eyes but he knew that tone of voice.
“Dick,” he said, firm but soft. “That’s for forever. The offer didn’t just time out when you turned eighteen. You know that’s not how it works.”
Silence. “I know,” Dick said eventually. “I’m just…”
“You want to talk about it?” Bruce asked, and Dick shrugged, shoulder muscles bunching up under his t-shirt.
“Not really. I’m sorry for waking you,” he said again. “I should just go.”
Pushing himself up, Bruce kept his posture loose, welcoming. Unthreatening. “You don’t have to talk about it. Nor do you have to go.” He still didn’t know what had made Dick come to him in the first place, but he didn’t want him to regret it. “Sweetheart,” he said, “it’s alright.”
Dick scrubbed a hand over his face, falling back onto the bed. “God, B you’re so bad with words.” The fondness was evident in his voice and it made Bruce feel all sorts of warm.
“You know what I mean, though,” Bruce said, giving into his earlier urge and pulling Dick closer to him. Dick moved with him easily, not resisting. “You always do.”
“Not always” Dick protested half-heartedly, and Bruce knew he was thinking about their particularly nasty fights, the ones that lasted far too long.
“Not always,” agreed Bruce. “But we make up for it, in the end. You know,” he continued, “even when we fought, I still wished you’d come sleep with me, crawl in like you did when you were a kid.”
“Really?” Dick asked. “You liked having me here with you?”
“Like,” Bruce corrected, courteously ignoring Dick’s small jerk. “Chum, I know things haven’t always been easy for us, but never have I ever not wanted you with me. Well, sometimes, it was for your safety, and-”
“I get it, B,” said Dick, cutting him off. Bruce could hear the smile in his voice. “I don’t know why I came here tonight. It wasn’t even like something terrible happened. Everything just felt off.”
“I’m glad you did,” Bruce replied honestly. “And I’m sorry your day was like that. Sometimes they just are, and nothing but sleep can make it better. Or a nice, hot bath, but I know your apartment in Bludhven doesn’t have a bathtub.”
“Creep,” Dick whispered affectionately. “Thanks, Bruce.”
“Anytime, son,” Bruce said, throat thick. “Now we should probably get some sleep. That is, if you’re staying?”
“After all of your pleading and whining how could I not?” Dick snuggled more firmly into Bruce’s side and Bruce buried his face in his hair, inhaling deep. He still smelled the same, all ozone and oranges, and Bruce felt so violently nostalgic it made it hard to breathe for a moment. “Night, B. Love you.”
“I love you too,” Bruce managed. They went quiet then, but neither slept. Bruce just breathed, breathed in the scent of his son, breathed in the feeling of heady relief that he’d gotten him to stay, and breathed in the lingering traces of the laundry detergent Alfred used, which was the same brand as all of those years ago when Dick had first started sleeping with him.
In the last decade, so much has changed, Bruce thought. But, he amended, finally feeling Dick’s breaths even out, slowing, deepening. Some things never do.