Chapter Text
“Nightwing, B01.”
Dick has barely stepped off the platform before, suddenly, he’s nearly bowled backwards by a certain speedster, slender arms wrapping around his torso and a goggled face burying in his chest. Frowning, the former Robin stared down at the newest addition to their team, brows knitted together as he stared at the mop of messy red hair that belonged to Bart Allen. Normally ‘Impulse’ would be babbling away, eyes shining with delight as they stared up at him, but he seemed rather intent to keep his face buried in his chest armor for the moment.
“…Bart?” Nightwing questioned tentatively after a few silent moments, moving to gently rest his hands on the boy’s shoulders.
There was a quick shake of the small head and a minute increase in the fierceness of the hug, small arms tightening around him. Sighing softly Nightwing’s eyes hooded a little before he glanced around the cave, noting how empty it seemed; it looked like Bart was mostly, if not entirely, alone at Mount Justice. Hesitantly he shifted his grip, sliding gloved fingers into Impulse’s hair to cup the back of his head, holding his face against his chest. His other arm looped around Bart’s back, palm flat and reassuring and noting a fine tremor in the muscles there that he hadn’t before.
“Bad dream?” Dick questioned softly after a moment, his tone a little warmer.
There was a minute nod of the small head but no sign of him relinquishing his hold. Nightwing stared down at him for a few, silent, contemplative moments, wondering what had happened to the boy from the future, wondering what he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, tell them. They had all thought him bubbly and, well, happy but, due to the fact that Bart most likely couldn’t talk to anyone about what was wrong, what his life was like in the future… This little moment, honestly, made a lot of sense, something which made him feel like an idiot for not noticing sooner. Dick was used to using cheer as a mask sometimes, used to putting on a show for others, so he should have seen through the act.
“Take your time.” he finally murmured, lips curving up a little in a small smile; he was glad Bart trusted him to be there for him and not ask questions. “I get them too.”
“Thanks…” Bart’s words are quiet and a little watery, causing Dick to tighten his grip a little, the hand on the boy’s back moving in slow, gentle circles; he’d be there for as long as the Speedster needed him to be.