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A gentle breeze brushed through Dick's hair. Bright sunlight warmed his tan skin, as the spring heat settled into the world around him. He stared at the bushary as he strode up the gravel driveway, admiring the early spring flowers idly.
His hands shook. It was only a small tremor, unnoticeable to most. Unfortunately, the Wayne family was not like most.
He knew his family would notice his anxieties if he wasn't careful. That they would dig their talons into them and pry at the weakest parts of his resolve to examine the ugly insides of his fears.
Dick tried to ignore that his family's prying would be caused by something other than concern this time around.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. Pressing his knuckles into the soft fabric of his jacket.
He didn't know why he was so anxious. He'd been by the mansion a few times recently. Alfred and Damian both had him over occasionally.
Maybe it was the fact it had been two weeks since his last visit. It wasn't the longest he had gone without seeing Wayne Manor, but it was long enough for him to be slightly unnerved by the sudden invitation.
Sure, it was Jason who had invited him over this time. But he shouldn't be scared because of that. It meant his brother was giving Dick another chance.
The acrobat wasn't sure he deserved another chance, not after what he did, but that didn't mean he wouldn't accept it. His own selfish need to make things better had overpowered his guilt.
He took a few calming breaths as he walked up the steps to the entrance, picking the inside of his pockets tightly, uncaring of the pain that stabbed up his wrist.
He jammed his finger against the doorbell after staring at the small button like it was the cause of all his anxieties.
Dick scrunched his nose as he swallowed, letting his hand slowly drop to his side as he stared at the door.
As he waited, his stomach sank deeper and deeper in his body. His mind swirled with the possibilities and questions he hadn't even thought to register until now.
Why was he being called to the manor? It wasn't like Alfred just wanted to catch up or Damian wanted to spend time with him. This was Jason.
Jason rarely called him, even before his time at Spiral. Outside of their vigilante jobs, Jason had no reason to do so. Therefore, calls from the man were either small, few, far between, or all of the above.
Maybe Jason was just going to give him another black eye, or he needed Intel on a case he was working on, or-
Dickson's internal word vomit was cut to an abrupt stop as the door opened slowly.
Speak of the Devil, Dick thought, as he stared into the familiar cyan eyes of his brother, Jason.
Dick gave a small smile, clenching his hand that still remained in his pocket, ignoring how the bandaged limb stung at the strain.
Jason's eyes flashed green the moment Dick smiled, and a small pang of guilt ran through his body. You shouldn't be surprised, he has every right to hate you after that Spiral stunt.
Much to Dick's surprise, Jason simply turned on his heel, waving for Dick to follow as he began to walk away. No words were exchanged, just a silent agreement that Dick was on thin ice.
The eldest Wayne son swallowed nervously as he stepped inside, shutting the door with his good hand, slipping off his shoes, and following after his brother.
He followed Jason for a few seconds, his jaw clenching tighter as every moment of silence was followed by more silence.
He couldn't tell if the silence was good or not. He should know how to read his brother's actions, he was the son of the world's greatest detective after all, but all he came up with was an unsteady stream of red and green flags.
Was this a good thing? Last time Jason had seen Dick he made sure to let the latter know how much of a piece of shit he was. Wouldn't shut up, no matter how hard Dick or anyone else tried.
Then there was the possibility of this being a new form of showing his anger.
Jason knew Dick. He knew that a cold shoulder from family would hurt the older more than any hateful word ever could.
Finally, they rounded a corner, and Dick recognized one of the manors' many kitchens had fallen victim to his family's tragic inability to cook properly.
He snorted as he stared at the sight in front of him.
Duke stood on a chair, scrubbing a mess of dripping cake batter from the ceiling as Damian criticized his cleaning from his spot on the ground.
Batter dropped from Duke's chest and neck, globs of batter falling into the chair beneath him.
"Richard." Damian acknowledged, his scowl faltering as they locked eyes.
Dick smiled, "Hey Dami."
After a second he asked with a chuckle, "What happened?"
Damian crossed his arms with a sharp 'Tut' as he strolled around the mess. Jason followed suit, circling the man coated in cake powder and stopping when he stood in front of Duke.
"Todd thought it would be a good idea to startle Thomas while he was mixing cake batter. Consequently, there was a mess of cake batter almost everywhere."
"Cake batter?" Dick asked, watching as Duke climbed down from the chair and thanked Jason, handing him the rag he was using to clean the batter from the ceiling.
"Pennyworth is leaving for his birthday tomorrow. Todd and Tim set up arrangements to do a small celebration tonight."
Dick felt a cool sense of guilt crash into him. Alfred's birthday was soon.
Damn it. Of course Dick was too caught up in his own self loathing to remember his own grandpa's fucking birthday.
Dick nodded, stepping forward, circling around the chair Jason was currently stepping on to, and stopping by the counter.
Even with Jason's silence, Dick could already see why he was called here: to help with preparations, and to make Alfred happy.
"Where is Alfiie?" He asked, staring at the plethora of cake ingredients scattered along the counter.
"The second floor, Drake is distracting him. He told Pennyworth he needed help translating W.E. business emails to italian." Damian reached over the counter, sliding a bowl in front of him as he looked down to a paper of instructions and ingredients.
Dick hummed in acknowledgment. It was a good distraction. While his family was all multilingual, their languages varied. Tim focused on the most used languages, and Alfred focused on European languages, it made sense for Tim to ask Alfred for help with that.
If Dick didn't know it was a distraction, he would have thought nothing of it.
Damian began pouting in ingredients, telling him to mix when necessary. Dick listened, ignoring the stinging of his hand.
Dick ran his hand under the faucet, letting the cake batter run off his right hand as Jason placed the cake in the oven and Damian cleaned the counter of any evidence.
The kitchen was quiet, spare for a few clicks and knocks on the counter.
It wasn't tense or peaceful, just indifferent. Letting the three boys do what they needed without the need to talk.
Dick turned off the tap, drying his hand against his shirt.
A small squeak of static cut through the air as the oven closed, and Dick looked at Hason quizzically.
"Alfred just left the library. Are you guys done yet?"
Dick furrowed his eyebrows at the sound of Tim's voice, watching as Jason quickly pulled a comm from his pocket.
"Not yet, I'll send out plan B, where is he?" Jason asked.
"The cave. He's probably going to use the entrance by your kitchen."
Jason hissed out a curse before whirling around to Dick.
"You." Jason stated, walking forward towards his older brother. "You heard replacement, go and distract Alfred." Jason's voice was hushed but stern.
Dick furrowed his brows as Jason grabbed his arm and led him towards the hall that led to the stairs.
"What- Why me?!" The acrobat whispered, grunting as Jason shoved him to the middle of the hall.
"Because you obviously don't mind lying to your family, and knowing Alfred, he'll want to talk to you for a bit."
Dick snapped his jaw shut at Jason's words. It was like a single sentence had torn every ounce of body heat from his veins and left him frozen in shock.
"Now go, Dickface!" He hissed, turning around to walk back over to the oven.
Dick caught sight of Damians sharp glare. The younger's eyes boring into Jason like he just personally offended his entire bloodline.
Dick walked down the hall, clenching his fists as his chest constricted.
Cruel, thorn ridden vines of guilt wrapped around his chest, making it harder to breathe than normal, and distracting him from trying to form his own thoughts.
"... you obviously don't mind lying to your family…"
It made him feel sick. Is that really what Jason thought? Did everyone else think the same?
He sucked in a breath, nimbly walking down the halls as his hands clenched tighter and tighter.
A dull snap in his palm made him blink away unshed tears, and slowly unbleached his left hand.
Blood pooled in his palm lazily, the stitches that lined his hands were strained or torn, letting the cut re-open.
He cringed, bringing his hand close to his chest as he cupped his other under it, catching a few drops of crimson.
Great. Just fucking great. He really popped his fucking stitches over a simple statement. How fucking dramatic was he? First he forgets Alfred's birthday, and now he's going to ruin his celebration all because Jason just stated something everyone probably knew besides himself.
Did he really lie to his family that much? How d-
"Master Dick..?"
The aforementioned looked up, staring at Alfred for a moment before finally speaking.
"Hey Alfie." He greeted, smiling at the man.
"I certainly wasn't expecting a visit from you today." Alfred smiled warmly, walking towards Jim.
Dick smiled back, ignoring the guilt that swelled in his chest. "I just wanted to stop by, Damian told me you were leaving tomorrow for your birthday."
Alfred nodded curtly, his eyes flickering towards Dicks hands.
"And your hand?"
Dick plastered on a sheepish smile, "I tripped up the steps, popped a few stitches from last night's patrol."
Alfred hummed, "Would you like me to tend to your hand? I was already heading towards the cave to take stock of medical supplies."
Dick nodded, "That'd be great Alfie."
The butler nodded, placing a hand on his shoulder as he began walking.
It took a moment for Dick to realize was being led in the direction of the kitchen. There was no way Dick could change Alfred's route to the cave so he chose another way to keep Alfred from seeing the kitchen.
Distraction.
"Where are you going tomorrow?" Dick asked.
Thankfully Alfred turned to him.
"I am going to catch up with some old friends from my time in the armed forces."
Dick hummed, "You're still in contact with them?"
"Of course, most of my mail is letters from them."
"Really?"
Alfred nodded.
Dick kept his shoulders from tensing as the entrance to the kitchen approached.
"Are you flying out?"
"Yes, London."
As they passed the kitchen he could see Jason and Damian still, immediately stopping whatever they were doing to watch Alfred and Dick walk passed.
Thankfully, Alfred stopped, opening a door.
Dick walked through, thanking Alfred.
The ender walked through, shutting the door behind him. Dick nearly sighed out of relief, his hands slower just a bit from their spot near his chest as Alfred opened an entrance to the Batcave.
He was led to the medical wing of the cave and sat down on one of the cots.
Small talk echoed in the room as Alfred wiped away the blood and examined the wound on Dick's hand. Alfred said something as he walked away, grabbing a small kit from a shelf and dragging a chair in front of Dick.
Numbly, Dick watched as Alfred slipped off his gloves and replaced them with sanitary medical ones.
He spoke about something that didn't quite reach his ears, but Dick found comfort at the white noise.
The butler took his hand and wiped it off with a cloth and began stitching. Dick watched silently.
"How did this happen? It seems like a rather nasty cut." Alfred spoke. He gently held Dicks hand steady as he unzipped the kit and pulled out small medical scissors.
Dick looked up, locking eyes with Alfred for a moment before looking back down to his hand. "A mugger," He paused as the needle pierced his skin again. "Technically three of them. One of them got a good slice on my hand." He explained. Alfred hummed, accepting the explanation. "Please do be more careful, especially with hand injuries. I do not believe paralyzing your arm would be a pleasant experience."
Dick chuckled at that, or course it wouldn't be. "I will, sorry Alfie." The both took a pause of comfortable silence.
"No need." Alfred hummed, snipping at the useless stitches on Dicks palm.
The acrobat focused on Alfred's warm hands. The cave was cold, always had been, and it made Dick regret leaving his jacket back at the kitchen.
The remainder of Alfred's time dressing his wound was mainly silent, spare for a few warnings that something was going to hurt and reminders to stay still.
Dick didn't mind, the pain and Alfred's warm hands were enough of a distraction for him.
Which was ironic considering Dick was the one that was supposed to be distracting Alfred right now.
When Alfred had finished, Dick looked at him with a smile, "Thank you."
"Of course, Master Dick."
They both smiled at each other, and dick stared at his now bandaged hand as Alfred rose from his seat.
The butler was silent as he took off his gloves and placed the kit back onto its shelf. Dick rose to his feet, dragging Alfred's stool to its spot with his good hand.
It was the least he could do. Alfred just spent his birthday eve patching up his adult grandchild. Dick didn't deserve that kind of kindness. Especially since…
"... you obviously don't mind lying to your family…"
"Master Dick," Alfred's gloved hand landed on his shoulder and gently pushed him back down.
Dick looked up from the stool, examining Alfred's features as he let out a hum.
"I've been meaning to talk to you about something for quite some time." Alfred stated. His voice was soft, like he was scared of startling Dick. The younger perked his head slightly.
Alfred let his hand fall from his shoulder.
"How, exactly, are you feeling?"
Dick paused, raising a brow. Alfred sighed, "I imagine having Master's Bruce, Jason, and Timothy upset with you might be," Alfred paused, furrowing his brows.
Dick swallowed the lump in his throat. "Stressful. Especially for you." Alfred set down the tray; Dick stared at Alfred dumbly, hjs hand clenching on the stool.
"On top of that, what happened while you were missing. I doubt you have had much time to process that."
Dick cleared his throat nervously, "It doesn't matter what happened Alfie, that was months ago. It doesn't bug me anymore."
Alfred frowned as he raised a brow, "Master Dick," Alfred spoke, with a grimly humorous tone, "I believe you have taken me for a fool." Alfred played his hand over Dicks, gently easing the stool from his grip.
The butler was silent for a moment longer before speaking. "You've changed. A great amount. I'd be dense if I didn't relate it to both your capture, and aftermath of your mission."
Dick couldn't help but spare a glance down at his hands.
It is weird. Suddenly realizing how much you have changed. Especially since it's hard to realize it by yourself.
He stared at his pale hands. Examining how his wrist was thinner than he remembered and his nails were bitten into uneven shapes.
He really did change.
"What I am trying to say is, I am here for you. If you ever need to talk, or process anything, I will always lend you my aid." Alfred's hand landed on his arm, just above his elbow.
Dick's head sprung up and he felt his throat strain to hold everything back. His vision rippled with unshed tears as he tried to keep everything back.
Alfred spoke again, "If I am not your first option, may I suggest talking to your friends? I fear that keeping everything to yourself is doing more harm than you realize." Dick took a shaky breath.
"It pains me to see the boy I've watched grow up suffer in silence. So please, humor my old heart and talk to someone about what is going on in that stubborn brain of yours."
In a moment Dick felt everything shatter. The guilt squeezed the emotions that had been brewing in his chest for months, forcing them to exit his throat in the form of a tight sob. His eyes flooded with tears. He swallowed harshly, quickly dragging his uninjured hand across his face.
Dick felt warm arms wrapping around him. He buried his head into Alfred's shoulder and held the elder in a tight grip.
He shouldn't be doing this to Alfred. Not now. His birthday was tomorrow for Christmas sake, he should be worried about packing for his flight, not a grown man who's sulking about how he ruined his own life.
Alfred squeezed him a bit tighter, rubbing a comforting circle between his shoulder blades. "I-I'm sorry-" Dick began, digging his face deeper into Alfred's shoulder as shame heated his face.
"No need. It's alright, just let it all out."
And Dick listened, another sob tearing it way out of his throat.
He held onto Alfred like he was a life line and cried. He cried for himself. If he wasn't so emotionally overwhelmed he probably would've called himself selfish for doing so.
He just wanted to go back in time, before returning, before spiral, before Lex and undo it all. It wasn't fair. He always did his best, he tried to help everyone he could, he did everything that was asked of him. He just wanted Bruce to acknowledge him, he wanted Jason and Tim to stop being mad at him, he wanted Barabra to stop avoiding him. He wanted to stop fucking up and stop being so fucked up.
He told Alfred everything, every detail he remembered about Lex and dying, about how Bruce was and still is mad at him for that, how he was sent to do an undercover mission by Bruce immediately after his recovery, and how he just wanted everything to change back to how it was.
Alfred listened, rubbing gentle circles on his back. He didn't get mad, he didn't ask any prodding questions, he just listened, accepting Dick's raw emotions as they were and not batting an eye at the ugly sobs and wails escaping him.
Dick just cried until his throat was dry and his face was damp and salty.
He still remained in the embrace, soaking up every ounce of warmth he got from the elder, even after his sobs had died down and his explanations came to an end.
He sniffed, raising a hand to wipe at his face. He furrowed his brow as a rough spot on his sleeve scratched his face. He stared down at the cloth, examining the small drop of dried cake batter before sighing, squeezing Alfred a bit tighter.
That better be one amazing cake.