Work Text:
Bruce glanced up when the door to the Cave opened, a sliver of light running down the dark staircase like an animal trying to save its own life. What followed wasn’t a scared rabbit or a frightened fox – what followed was Dick Grayson, dressed in too big pajamas with a stuffed toy in his hands.
His dark blue eyes were big in the low light of the Cave, the shadows underneath them truly impressive for a nine-year-old child. Unable to stop the surge of panic in the face of his young ward, Bruce immediately scanned Dick’s face for any signs of distress or injury. But no tear tracks or bloody cuts could be found, Bruce leaning back in his chair while he waited for Dick to tell him what was wrong.
Nothing.
Bruce had always considered himself to be a master of the oppressive silence, but Dick truly tested him, the child stubborn and angry and so full of love, he could force Bruce to do the unimaginable – like ask first, something not even Gotham’s most seasoned criminals managed.
“Everything alright, Dick?”
“Can’t sleep.”
“Have you tried Alfred’s sleepy time tea yet?”
Bruce tried to force his mouth into an approximation of a smile, his eyes straying away from Dick in a desperate attempt to focus back on the case in front of him. He was this close to cracking the mafia connections to the shareholders of Gotham General Hospital. Maybe another hour or two and he would do it.
“It tastes like ass.” Dick said, his angry frown directed at the floor and not Bruce.
“Hey! Language!”
“I’m right.”
“I mean… yeah.” Bruce admitted. “But you still shouldn’t say it. Alfred really likes that tea and adults find it kinda weird when kids swear a lot.”
“But you’re an adult too and you don’t think it’s weird that I know a lot of curse words.”
Now Dick was looking at him, his black hair sticking up like the ruffled feathers of a small and vulnerable bird. Bruce wanted to reach out and flatten the strands of unruly hair – but he didn’t, the urge to turn back to his case stronger than the weird affection Dick startled out of his heart.
“I’m twenty-six, Dick. I’m not sure Alfred would agree with you calling me an adult.”
“Well, I can’t sleep, and I don’t want Alfred’s tea and I need you to do something about it.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know! Something!”
Dick angrily threw his arms up in the air, dropping the stuffed animal – a rugged looking elephant – on the floor. The boy stopped his tantrum the moment he noticed the fallen toy, his frail shoulders slumping, his head hanging low in defeat.
“Forget it.” Dick mumbled.
“No. I… I’ll come up in an hour or two. I promise, okay? Try to go back to bed. And if you’re still awake when I come up, I’ll think of something, yeah?”
For a long moment Dick simply looked at him, something complicated happening on his tiny face, and then he nodded, a bit of life returning to his listless eyes.
“Okay. Sure… but you promise, yeah?”
“Yeah. As soon as I am done with this case, I’ll come up and help you sleep, I promise.”
A quick smile in his direction later, and Dick was running up the stairs with a nimbleness only children possessed. Bruce felt his old bones complain, turning back to the case in front of him.
He could solve this.
He was so close, he could taste the victory on the tip of his tongue.
It was 11am when Bruce stumbled out of the Cave, the sun a burning enemy above. Everything was bleary, his bones carved from heavy stone, his mind sluggish and wrong. The case had been a lot harder than previously anticipated, a dozen twists and turns waiting behind every right connection Bruce made.
Alfred was in the kitchen, when Bruce walked in, a disapproving frown on his face.
“What?”
“Master Richard is in the living room, Master Bruce. Waiting for you.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, that is quite right, sir. ‘Oh’.”
Alfred’s displeasure was nothing new, and yet shame burned hot at the back of Bruce’s throat. Dick was really waiting for him in the room next to the kitchen, huddled on the couch with two blankets and a cup of tea cradled in his hands.
If his eyebags had been bad ten hours ago when Bruce last saw him, it was nothing compared to now. Every time Dick blinked, Bruce expected him to simply fall asleep on the spot. If Bruce was exhausted, Dick had reached new levels of tiredness previously unknown to man.
“Hi kid, why are you still awake?”
Bruce finally asked, after Dick blinked at him for a handful of minutes, his face carefully blank.
“You didn’t come up.”
“What?”
“You promised. You’d said you’d help me fall asleep, but you didn’t come. I grew tired of waiting so I moved down here.”
“Is that the-?”
Bruce pointed at the cup in Dick’s hands.
“Tea? Yeah… it’s my fifth cup. I think I can taste color. Brown tastes like chocolate pudding covered in pepper corns.”
“Why haven’t you…” Bruce trailed off, unsure what to say.
He should apologize, he knew that. He’d promised Dick to help him fall asleep – but the case had been so important, the lure of a good mystery keeping him entrapped. He was only twenty-six! He didn’t know how to raise a child – hell, Alfred was probably a lot better at getting a kid to sleep than Bruce would ever be.
“I can’t sleep. I don’t know what to tell you, Bruce, but I just really can’t…”
And then Dick was crying, thick tears of utter exhaustion running down his face. His thin shoulders heaved under the force of his sorrow, sleep deprivation making him frail when he was usually so strong. Bruce didn’t hesitate before crossing the room, pulling Dick against his chest to stifle his sobs at least somewhat. The blankets were in the way, but Bruce didn’t let that stop him, a wet spot growing on his shirt where Dick pressed against him.
For a long moment, the two of them simply existed like that.
Bruce, sleepy and ashamed and full of love, with a crying Dick, exhausted and devastated and so openly comforted, in his arms.
“I don’t know what to do, chum…” The word slipped past all of Bruce’s defenses, his father’s endearment for him suddenly something Bruce could only associate with the tiny acrobat in his arms. It didn’t feel like a betrayal – if anything, it felt as if Bruce was doing something right for the first time in forever.
“I don’t know either.” Dick mumbled in the safety of Bruce’s embrace. “But being unable to sleep is a lot less scary when you’re close.”
“But why? I’m not Alfred, I’m just barely an adult! At no point… I know how to catch criminals, not raise a kid.”
“But I don’t want Alfred… at least not for this. I want you. Please, Bruce…”
Dick’s voice was growing more quiet, a slight slur turning his words uneven. He was sleepy, Bruce’s tired brain noted. He was finally falling asleep.
His own eyes burned from the exhaustion of yet another all-nighter, his muscles relaxing against the soft cushions of the living room couch. Dick only grumbled a little bit when Bruce leaned back, dragging the boy and the blankets down with him.
“You can rest now, chum.” Bruce whispered.
“Hn…”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll try to keep my promises next time.”
“You bett’r.”
“Sure… but right now? We can sleep.”
And Dick pressed his face closer against Bruce’s chest, snuggling close to him while still holding onto his blankets. Soon enough, his breathing evened out, his eyes closed, his heartbeat steady and calm. Dick was asleep – and Bruce could feel sleep claim him as well.
Maybe he wasn’t parent material quite yet, but as dreams hid his waking thoughts away, Bruce realized that one day… he wanted to be.
He wanted to be Dick Grayson’s parent, but for now he would simply hold him while they slept.