Archive of Our Own

1. Damian

Dick slowly moved through the halls of Wayne Manor, listening intensely to any small sound or bump that would pinpoint where she was. He didn’t know who let her in, or why, but he was going to be prepared this time. 

He peered slowly around the corner of the hall, eyes catching the fleeting shadow that lacked any amount of practiced grace, and waited. She would be near him soon enough. 

Dick counted down the seconds, listened as the footsteps got closer, and took a deep breath. 

It would be quick. 

It would be easy. 

It would be-

“Stephanie!” He yelled as she rounded the corner. 

Stephanie's wide eyes landed on him, the plate of pizza she had been holding had fallen to the floor, and her now empty hand became a fist aimed at the center of Dick’s stomach. The punch made its mark and Dick doubled over, laughing even as the pain started to settle in. 

“You- You dick!”

“That’s my name,” Dick muttered between weak laughs. He had been planning on getting his revenge for weeks, waiting until the moment she was alone, but in a place that wasn’t dangerous. 

As it turned out, being a vigilante, and a former Robin, meant that neither circumstance happened frequently. It had taken so long that Dick had even considered asking Cass to help, but he knew that would only end in trouble for himself. Those two were as thick as thieves. 

Stephanie rolled her eyes, dropping to the floor and picking up her discarded pizza, expertly placing it back on the plate and shoving a piece in her mouth. 

“You’re seriously going to eat that?” Dick asked. 

Stephanie looked up at him as though he had just asked one of the dumbest questions she had ever heard. 

“Yeah. The five second rule-”

“That was at least 10 seconds-”

“Alfred’s cleaning doubles the time limit-”

“Says who?”

“Says me.” 

Dick shook his head. 

Stephanie stood up, eyes intensely locked on Dick. Her plate was firm against her body, arm wrapped protectively around it like a mother holding her newborn child. She put the piece of pizza she had been eating back on the plate-

“Why are you here?” 

Dick shrugged. 

“I thought you and Bruce were fighting-”

“We are.”

Blunt. As always. 

Stephanie didn’t beat around the bush. She used care and caution when the moment called for it, but sometimes she could still be a bull in a china shop. 

Then again, sometimes it felt like Dick was always fighting with Bruce. The question shouldn’t have held weight or pulled at Dick’s skin—it shouldn’t have hit him at all, yet it did. He felt his smile slip a bit, but he forced it back up. 

“Did you really come here just to get back at me for accidentally spray painting your car-”

“Accidentally!”

Stephanie nodded. 

“I didn’t mean to-”

“You,” Dick cut her off, “Didn’t mean to spray paint my entire car green-”

“No-” Stephanie shook her head “-it was supposed to be purple.” 

Dick rolled his eyes, the smile on his face no longer as forced as it had been a minute ago. 

“Damian’s asleep in the library,” Stephanie said, a shit-eating grin still on her face. 

Dick raised an eyebrow. 

“I figured that’s why you’re here.” 

Dick nodded. It wasn’t. He wasn’t sure why he was there, at the manor, or in Gotham at all. 

He had gone on a drive to clear his head and now he was standing there with Stephanie, watching as she ate floor pizza. 

“I’ll move him to his room.” 

“Good plan,” Stephanie spoke between bites. 

“Unless you want to-”

“And risk being bit?” 

Dick rolled his eyes, and a small laugh passed through his lips. 

------

Dick made his way to the library, the interaction with Stephanie fresh on his mind. His chest didn’t feel as tight anymore. His skin didn’t itch and his head felt a bit more clear. 

It was hard sometimes, talking to people just to talk to them—just to be with them. Something always ended up in the way. 

Brief mentions of hero work that killed the mood, some trauma or another being brought up, visible cuts and bruises that were impossible to ignore, the soft ache of knowing that so much had been lost and so little had been gained—it always loomed over Dick’s head.

Sometimes, he just wanted to exist. Not as Nightwing, not as a former Robin, not even as Dick Grayson. But as a friend, as a brother, as a coworker-

Dick shook his head. He was getting lost in his thoughts again. He needed to get a grip on that or it would cost him. 

Dick slowly pushed open the doors of the library and stilled-

Damian was passed out on the couch near the windows, the fireplace in the center of the wall bathed the room in a warm orange light, and Bruce was crouched down beside the couch, a hand on the top of Damian’s head. 

Dick made to take a step back but stopped watching intensely as Bruce slowly leaned over and kissed Damian’s forehead, before standing up and picking up Damian as though the boy weighed nothing. 

To Bruce, Damian probably seemed no heavier than a box of papers. 

Dick couldn’t remember the last time Bruce had kissed his forehead or even hugged him. There was a cold feeling washing over Dick as he watched the two of them, father and son, stand there before Dick scolded himself and turned away from the sight. 

It was a good thing. 

Damian deserved it. Damian deserved the man that Dick knew Bruce could be. 

Damian deserved a loving father. 

2. Tim

Dick tossed around on the bed once more. The sheets wrapped around his feet, the blanket tightened around his distressed form, and the air in the room was heavy against his chest. 

It was raining out. 

It was always raining in Gotham. 

There was a time when Dick found the rain to be comforting—when the sound of it would slowly push him into a deep slumber—but not anymore. Not since-

Dick shook his head and ran his hand over his face. 

So much had happened and it was only in the dead of night that life finally caught up to him. It was only in the dead of night that Dick had to face the terrors that hid in the shadows during the day. 

Dick sighed and sat up. He was at the manor, in his old room, and for some reason that unnerved him more than if he had been resting in a guestroom. 

His room felt suffocating in a way that it never had before. The walls seemed closer, the bed seemed smaller, and the soft light that came from the hallway was harsher now than he remembered it being. 

He felt like he didn’t belong there. 

Not anymore. 

Too much had changed, too much of him had changed, but as he looked around at the walls of his room, it felt like everything was the same. 

He’d leave come morning-

Dick heard lightning strike in the distance; rain came down harder against the window. 

Maybe he would leave before the sun came up. 

He pushed the blankets to the side and stood. His body was sore, his back ached, and the cut on his side shot a bolt of pain through his body anytime he moved. 

It was miserable, but that was the life of a vigilante. 

If he finished his notes now, if he didn’t push them off, he could leave before breakfast. He wouldn’t have to sit through a short breakfast or a rushed goodbye. 

The manor was void minus Alfred, Bruce, and Tim. It seemed more empty now than it did when Dick was the only child living in it. There was something cold about the manor when Dick came to visit. 

Maybe it wasn’t the manor. Maybe it was Dick. 

Dick pulled open his bedroom door and slowly, as though not wanting to disturb the ghosts in the rooms around him, made his way to the kitchen. 

Coffee would keep the tiredness away—it wasn’t something Dick drank often but after his time as a police officer, there was something comforting about it. The warm drink pressed against his hands, how social it could be—grabbing coffee with one of his coworkers—chatting about nothing, chatting about everything. It was nice. 

Dick rolled his eyes. He was musing about drinking coffee with a lot of cops that had corrupted blood running through their veins. 

He would have to call up Donna and ask her to catch up at the shitty diner near his apartment. He needed to reshape his memories and stop longing for something that never was. 

Dick entered the kitchen and immediately stopped. One foot was on the kitchen tile, the other still in the hallway. 

Bruce and Tim were sitting at the counter, two cups of steaming liquid in front of them, talking. 

Dick didn’t catch many words, but there was a slight shake to Tim’s body, a rattle to his bones, one that Dick was too familiar with. 

Tim was a silent crier. 

Tim didn’t repress his feelings, but he limited them. He was careful with what he let out, and what he kept in. 

He was too smart for his own good. 

“I miss him.” 

The soft words seemed to echo in the overcrowded kitchen. The moment felt fragile and Dick feared breathing as it seemed even a soft intake of air would shatter the scene in front of him. 

“I know, kiddo,” Bruce mumbled as he wrapped his arm around Tim and pulled the boy close. Tim collapsed against the man. 

It was a brief moment of vulnerability, one that Dick knew neither of them would bring up again. 

“I should have- if I was there-”

“Tim-”

“Maybe he’d still be alive.” 

“Oh, Tim.” 

Bruce leaned down and pressed his lips against the top of Tim’s head. Tim’s body continued to rattle and as the seconds passed, Bruce started to hum quietly while rubbing Tim’s back. 

Dick felt gross watching such an intimate moment, invading a private moment, but he hadn’t meant to. He slowly took a step back, and then another, and another, until he was at the entrance to the study. 

He’d skip out on the coffee for now. Maybe he would come back up in a few hours or when he couldn’t handle the tiredness anymore. 

Dick sighed. 

He needed to do better; be better. He would check in with Tim tomorrow—he wouldn’t be upfront, or ask any prying questions, but he wanted Tim to know that he was there when things got bad. 

But Dick also knew that sometimes a person just needed to cry. They didn’t need to be reminded that someone was in their corner, that someone was there to help, they just needed to break down in the dead of night surrounded by the smell of freshly made tea. 

3. Cass

Cass danced across the stage with practiced ease. Her black dress, which clashed with the white ones of those around her, made her the focus of the routine. 

Though, Dick thought to himself as his eyes tracked her every move, even if Cass were in white, surrounded by the others, she would still stand out amongst the rest. 

Dick loved to watch the movements, the expression of the dancers, as they moved here and there about the stage. He loved the flow of their dresses, moving with them, freeing them in a way that wasn’t possible for an acrobat like Dick. 

It was an expression of self so different from what Dick was used to; yet so familiar at the same time. 

It was beautiful. 

Dick held the yellow roses he bought close to his chest as the recital came to an end and the dancers bowed to the gentle applause of the packed auditorium. 

The recital wasn’t something he had been invited to directly, but the news of it had made its way through the grapevines. Dick wasn’t supposed to be in the States that week, but after hearing about Cass’ first recital, he forced himself to work harder than usual to make sure he could see it. 

A three-month-long case that he managed to close just in the nick of time. 

Granted, even with the push and extra effort, he had only been able to see the last hour of the show, but he had made it. 

And though his head ached, his body screamed in pain every time he moved, and his legs could barely hold his weight for more than five minutes, it was worth it. 

He waited until the last of the crowd left through the small doors of the room before making his move and heading out with them. 

It wasn’t hard to find Cass in the crowd of people. She was surrounded by people, many of them with unfamiliar faces, praising her performance. There was a familiar mop of blonde hair in the crowd, standing just to the side of Cass, in a purple dress that Dick swore she had duplicates of. 

He pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring how each bump of a body made him want to cringe away in pain and stood behind Stephanie. 

“You ever thought about doing ballet?” 

Stephanie whirled around to face him. 

“Dick!”

Dick winced at the loud noise but smiled nonetheless. At least, she hadn’t punched him in the stomach this time. 

“You look like shit-”

“Late night party.”

Stephanie frowned and Dick felt wrong-footed under her intense gaze. There was an unasked question, some weird form of tension, that Dick didn’t want to address. 

He knew, and she knew, and he knew that she knew, and wasn’t that the worst? 

Luckily, before the question could be asked aloud, Cass’ eyes locked on the two of them. She tilted her head slightly before her eyes moved to the yellow roses in Dick’s hands. 

She approached them, as quickly as she could, though she was stopped multiple times by people congratulating her, and even handing her a flower or two. The smile on her face made the air in the room seem lighter. 

As soon as she was within arm’s length, Stephanie pulled her into a tight hug, crushing the numerous flowers Cass had been handed. 

“You were amazing.” 

Cass pulled back, a wide smile on her face, just deranged enough to make a person do a double take, and laughed. 

“Where is-”

“I’ll go get him,” Stephanie interrupted, eyes scanning the crowd. “He probably got caught by some local businessman trying to make a deal.” 

Dick smirked.

That was one of the less-than-fun aspects of being Bruce Wayne.

 If you were Bruce Wayne, you were always Bruce Wayne. You could never just be a parent coming to see his daughter dance. 

Cass watched as Stephanie walked through the crowd, purple dress making her easy to follow before turning back around. 

Her eyes landed on Dick and softened slightly. 

Dick couldn’t help the brief feeling of guilt that festered in his chest. He knew she would be able to see how much pain he was in. Even if he had the energy to mask it better, she would be able to tell, but now, worn down and without sleep, Dick knew how easily he was read. 

Dick forced a bigger smile and pushed the roses her way. 

“You were wonderful.”

“Thank you, Dick,” Cass said, reaching for the roses. She couldn’t seem to keep the smile off her face. 

Cass carefully placed the flowers together against her chest and then looked back up at Dick. 

“I did not see you sitting with-”

“I was in the back,” Dick interrupted, unsure why he didn’t want the sentence to be said aloud. “I was late.” 

Cass nodded, a small down turn to her smile, and part of Dick wished he hadn’t come at all. He tried to look his best, the makeup on his face, done by Kori and Donna, covered the dark under-eye circles, and though he felt a second from passing out, he forced himself to stand straight. 

But it wasn’t enough to ease Cass’ worrying. 

“I-”

“Are you alright, Dick?”

Dick took a second to let the words wash over him. 

Was he alright ? 

Was he alright?

Why wouldn’t he be?

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Dick asked, a hard edge to his tone that he corrected immediately. “After all, I just got to see my little sister kill it on stage.” 

There was a faint blush on Cass’ cheeks. She smiled and the tense moment was broken. 

Cass leaned in-

“I could teach you ballet.”

Dick smiled. This one real—not an inch of it forced. 

“And I can show you how to tap dance-” 

Cass’ eyes widened. 

“Like the pretty blonde lady on the television.” 

Dick couldn’t help but feel amused. He knew Cass would love the idea of learning tap, something his mother had taught him during their time between performances when he was young, but he wasn’t sure who she was referring to. 

“Yeah,” Dick agreed anyway, “Like the woman on tv.” 

Cass opened her mouth to speak once more only to stop as her eyes landed on someone behind Dick. Dick turned around and was greeted with the charming smile of Bruce Wayne. He pushed his way through the remaining crowd of people, saying hi to those who spoke to him, with Stephanie close behind him. 

He stepped to the side for a second and let Stephanie lead the way, eyes watching each person in a way that seemed natural, but one that Dick knew was critical. 

He couldn’t not be Bruce Wayne, and he couldn’t not be Batman. 

When Bruce finally made his way to Cass, he took her into his arms without hesitance. Lifting her into the arm and spinning her in a circle. Her black dress flowed with the movement. 

Cass laughed at the theatrics and when her feet were back on the ground she shook her head. 

“You were amazing,” Bruce said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and dropping a kiss on the top of her neat black hair. “You think you’re going to stick with ballet?” 

Cass shrugged her shoulders. 

“Dick said he would teach me tap.”

Bruce’s eyes moved from Cass and over to Dick. His smile dropped slightly and Dick looked away. 

“And I’ll teach you how to waltz,” Bruce said, the smile returning when he looked at Cass. 

“I’ll teach you the robot,” Stephanie offered, and though Dick didn’t have the energy to laugh, he felt his face light up a bit at her words and the image of Stephanie and Cass doing the robot in an empty room in the manor. 

4. Duke

Dick’s hands tightly squeezed the hastily wrapped package in his hands. He was late. 

Duke’s 16th birthday party, and God Dick was starting to feel old, had already ended, though Dick knew birthday parties at the manor only ended when patrolling started. 

So, technically, he wasn’t late. 

But the technicality didn’t lessen the slight guilt Dick felt as he made his way through the manor and took in the decorations strung about. 

He made his way to the dining room and stood in the entrance way, eyes taking in the nearly empty room. Duke was still sitting at the table, eyes closed, a half-eaten piece of cake in front of him. The others were likely getting ready for patrol-

That train of thought was immediately discarded when Dick saw Bruce walking into the room. 

Dick stood in silence as Bruce approached Duke. His eyes met Dick’s and for a moment his face morphed into an expression that Dick couldn’t decipher before it returned to indifference. 

Dick opened his mouth to speak, but Bruce leaned down and muttered something to Duke. 

“Busy day, kiddo?” 

Duke shot up straight, eyes now alert, body now awake. Bruce had a small smile on his face, and once again, Dick felt like he was intruding on a moment that he wasn’t meant to see. 

“I have too many beds in this place for you to be sleeping on the table-”

“I wasn’t sleeping-”

“No?”

Duke shook his head, smiling as he looked up at Bruce. 

“I was just resting my eyes.” 

“I recommend the couch for eye resting activities,” Bruce replied, hand reaching to grab the plate with the half-eaten cake on it. He didn’t grab it until Duke nodded, indicating he was done with it. 

“You sound like Alfred.” 

Bruce just smiled in response. He leaned back down and pressed a kiss to the top of Duke’s forehead before exiting the room with the plate. 

Duke’s eyes finally landed on Dick. 

“Dick-”

“Sorry I’m late,” Dick rushed out as he approached the table. His hands were still tight on the present, tighter now than they had been before. 

“I hope it isn’t breakable.”

“What- oh.” Dick forced out a laugh. “No. I just-”

Dick cut himself off, thrusting the present into Duke’s hands. 

“I was just kidding,” Duke muttered, using his leg to push out the chair across from him. He nodded at it once and Dick sat down. 

Dick hadn’t planned on staying, then again Dick hadn’t planned on being late. It was easier to slip out when others were around. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend time with Duke, but the manor… he just-

Dick pushed his thoughts aside. He wasn't there to have a pity party, he was there to celebrate Duke’s birthday. 

“Long day?” Dick asked, his words echoing but not mimicking Bruce’s. 

Duke nodded as he flipped the present over in his hands. 

“One party after another-”

“Sounds tough.”

“And patrol,” Duke amended. 

Dick met his eyes. Duke did look tired, but he didn’t look hurt. Then again, when living with, or now given that Duke lived with his cousin, hanging out with a family full of detectives, a person learned to hide their injuries well if they wanted to avoid questions. 

“Anything interesting happen?” Dick asked, beating around the bush in a way that Duke would understand. Dick wouldn’t pry, unless he had a reason to—a cause or a concern—but he was there to listen. 

Duke shook his head. 

“Typical Gotham stuff.”

“That bad?”

Duke laughed and finally set the present back on the table. He looked at Dick and raised an eyebrow. 

“What about you?”

Dick’s eyebrows creased. 

“What?”

“Long day?” Duke asked. 

Dick felt that small flicker of guilt ignite inside him once more. Once again he was making himself the center of attention on someone else’s big day. 

“Busy night,” Dick lied, knowing that it would be enough to get Duke to leave him alone. Though Duke continued to stare as if he knew there was more, was waiting for more, and Dick knew he’d have to offer something else up if he wanted the topic to be dropped. 

“There’s a case, I can’t-” Dick shook his head. “It’s been heavy on my mind.”

It wasn’t a lie; it wasn’t the truth. 

Cases were always heavy on Dick’s mind, but there was not one especially heavy at the moment. There was not one that would have Dick acting so  off —no case that would give him the reason to demand other people’s attention. 

“If you need help-”

“I know,” Dick interrupted. “Thank you.” 

Dick waited a moment. 

“Open your present.” 

Duke nodded, his eyes still on Dick before they turned to the present. He opened the package carefully and his eyes lit up when he saw what was inside the box. 

“How did you-”

“You left your notebook out, and open, at my apartment,” Dick said, shrugging, “I didn’t go through it, but I did read some lines… you’re a great writer, Duke.” 

Duke’s smile turned sheepish. His hands smoothed over the cover of the leather-bound notebook before he set it on the table and slowly took out each poetry book Dick had bought him. 

“I don’t know what you like-”

“I don’t either,” Duke muttered, shaking his head. He flipped through the books slowly, stopping when a bookmark peaked out. His eyes shot up to Dick’s-

“It’s a poem my mother used to read to me,” Dick paused for a moment. “I thought if she liked it, you might too.” 

Duke nodded. 

“Spring and Fall,” he muttered, carefully securing the bookmark back in place before flipping through the other books. His hand stilled once more-

“Jason liked that poem,” Dick said, answering the unasked question. 

“My Papa’s Waltz.” 

Dick nodded. 

Duke slowly closed the book, eyes reading the lines of the poem as he did. He looked up at Dick and smiled before walking over to the man and hugging him. 

“Thanks, Dick.” 

Dick hugged back as tight as he could. 

5. Jason

Jason was sick. 

Jason was sick and Dick wasn’t stupid. 

Though, as he tried, and failed to, disable the alarms of Jason’s safe house for the third time, he was beginning to think that maybe he needed to brush up on his breaking into an apartment because his stupid younger brother was stupid skills. 

He heard a soft click, saw the flash of red turn off, and sighed, dropping his head against the window as he did. He was in and it only took four attempts.

Dick shook his head. He needed to upgrade his security—it only took Tim one try to get into his safe house… then again that was Tim. 

Dick slowly lifted the window and entered the darkened apartment-

“I’ll shoot you.” 

“Don’t miss,” Dick muttered, rolling his eyes, as he turned around and slammed the window shut. 

“What the hell, Dick?” Jason’s tired voice mumbled. There was a roughness to it that made Dick’s throat hurt. “Why are you here?”

“I was in town,” Dick lied, flipping on the lamp beside the couch and taking in the lump that was his brother. “You don’t even have a gun.” 

Jason grunted, turning on the couch and reaching beneath it to pull out one of his weapons. 

“Well.”

“Well?” Jason asked, eyes still shut even as he slid the gun back under the couch. 

“You look like shit.”

“Fuck off.” 

Dick rolled his eyes and knelt beside his brother. He reached his head up and cupped Jason’s face, feeling his forehead. 

“Jesus, Jason.”

“Just Jason, actually,” Jason muttered, opening one eye to catch the look of annoyance Dick was sending his way. He smirked. 

Dick stood back up and moved further into Jason’s safe house, though by the looks of things it seemed to be closer to a lived-in semi-permanent apartment than a safe house. 

“What are you doing?” Jason asked, voice barely loud enough for Dick to hear. Dick stepped back into the living room, his eyes taking in the mess of the apartment. 

“Go back to sleep, Jason. I’ll wake you up when the soup’s ready.”

“Great,” Dick heard Jason mutter, “you’re cooking.”

Dick smirked and got to work. 

------

Cleaning the apartment wasn’t hard. Jason wasn’t naturally a dirty person—he liked cleanliness, he liked order—but when he got sick, things slipped away in his mind. A dirty sock on the floor, a pile of dishes in the sink, a bag of trash that needed to be taken out—it was cleaner than Dick’s apartment was currently, and Dick wasn’t sick. 

On top of that, Jason wasn’t a hassle when he was sick. The only hard part was getting the man to admit that an illness had racked his body, but after that point, Jason never put up a fight about medicine or eating. 

He had accepted the medicine Dick gave him with ease and a quick thanks before falling back asleep on the couch. Dick was sure the food would be just as easily accepted given that he wasn’t sure when the last time Jason last ate was—and part of him had a suspicion that Jason didn’t know either.

Dick watched as the soup finally reached a boil. 

Chicken noodle. A classic, and not from a can. 

The air in the apartment wrapped around Dick comfortably and he took a deep breath. He didn’t get it. 

He didn’t get why his apartment felt suffocating, why even when he moved from one place to the next the air always weighed him down, when Jason’s felt so freeing. 

Dick shook his head. It didn’t matter. 

He moved to stir the noodles when a sound from the living room caught his attention. He moved away from the pot and peered down into the room. 

Jason was still laying on the couch, a lump of a man, but beside him was a dark figure. It loomed over Jason, pale white hand outstretched, finger running through Jason’s hair. 

“How long?” Bruce asked, pulling his cowl off and dropping down beside Jason. 

He didn’t look at Dick, but Dick didn’t need him to. 

“I don’t know,” Dick lied. He knew Jason had been sick for the last two days, but he also knew that if Jason wanted Bruce to know, then Jason could be the one to tell Bruce that. 

Bruce slowly removed the washcloth from Jason’s head, holding it out for Dick to take, before placing his hand against Jason’s warm skin. 

Dick took the cloth and headed into the bathroom. He flipped on the light and sighed. 

Two days. 

Two days and Bruce hadn’t stopped by. 

Two days and Bruce just happened to show up just hours after Dick. 

He ran the cloth under the cold water and slowly looked up at the mirror. Dick wasn’t a vain guy, but the sight of himself in the mirror was unnerving. He was paler under the harsh bathroom light than he expected, he looked skinnier too, and his eyes were more tired than he realized.

Dick flipped off the light and shut off the water. Slowly wringing out the washcloth in the dark before heading back into the living room. 

He watched from a distance as Bruce leaned over and kissed the top of Jason’s forehead, before pulling back and running his fingers through Jason’s hair once more. Dick moved closer, holding out the washcloth without saying a word. 

Bruce took it and placed it back on Jason’s forehead. 

He knew there was no point in telling Bruce what all Dick had done, what medicine had been given, or when, or what Jason’s temperature was when Dick first got to the safe house. 

He knew there was no point in trying to get the man to understand that it was just a fever, that Jason would be okay, and that sometimes people just got sick. 

He knew that Bruce would stay there, or linger around the safe house, until he got confirmation that Jason was back up and running about. He knew that Bruce couldn’t just be hands-off when it came to his kids and-

Dick stopped the train of thought when something ugly and heavy seemed to bloom in his chest. He didn’t know the last time Bruce had checked up on him-

Dick rolled his eyes at himself. 

Jason was sick and Dick was making it about himself. 

Dick turned away from the two and made his way back to the kitchen. 

------

“Dick.”

Dick looked up from the counter he was scrubbing a bit too hard. 

“Bruce.”

Bruce opened his mouth to speak and then shut it. He shook his head. 

“I have a meeting,” Bruce spoke calmly, eyes running over Dick’s face. Dick dropped his eyes back to the counter. “Will you- when he-”

“Yeah,” Dick interrupted. “I’ll have him call you when he wakes up.”

“Thank you, Dick.” 

He heard the sound of soft footsteps leaving and he took a deep breath-

“Dick.”

Dick’s eyes shot back up. Bruce was back, but this time he wouldn’t look at Dick. 

“Bruce,” Dick muttered, unsure what else to say. Bruce remained in the entryway, his hands tight around his cowl as though he would put it on at any moment.

“If you need help-”

“I’ll be fine,” Dick dismissed quickly. “I’ve taken care of Jason when he was sick before-”

“That’s… that’s not-” Bruce shook his head. “Never mind.” 

And with that, Bruce was gone. This time he didn’t come back and Dick tried not to replay the weird interaction they had. 

He could take care of Jason just fine. 

------

Dick slowly brought the bowl of soup over to the couch before placing it on the busted coffee table and gently shaking Jason awake. 

“What?” Jason muttered. 

“You need to eat.” 

“Not hungry.”

“Jason-”

“Ugh-” Jason turned, his movements sluggish and broken, and looked at Dick. “I’m not hungry.”

“When’s the last time you ate?”

“Dick-”

“Have you eaten today?” Dick asked, powering through the conversation. He knew exactly what buttons to press. “If you ate today, I’ll leave you alone.”

Jason glared at him and slowly sat up on the couch. 

Dick smirked. 

“Once you get better,” Dick muttered as he handed Jason the bowl of soup, “I’m going to kick your ass.” 

Jason snorted. 

“I’d like to see you try, Goldie.”

Dick rolled his eyes. 

Jason took one bite of the soup and stilled-

“I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Har har.”

Jason’s head snapped in his direction, his eyes locked onto Dick’s. Dick raised his eyebrows in response.

“You little shit.”

Dick remained quiet, eyes taking in each twitch of Jason’s eyes and noticing how the man kept glancing from the soup to Dick and then back to the soup again. 

“You fucker,” Jason muttered, shaking his head.

“Jason-”

“You made me eat that nasty pizza-”

A loud laugh ripped its way through Dick’s body, forcing its way out before he could repress it and act ignorant of what Jason was saying. The ploy was up, he had been caught, but seeing the look of bewilderment on Jason’s face was worth it. 

“I thought you-”

“You ate that entire pizza because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings,” Dick cooed, trying not to gloat too much. 

“This entire time, you could cook-”

Dick nodded. 

“What about the eggs?”

Dick remained quiet. 

“And the steak?”

Dick’s body shook with repressed laughter. 

“Man, fuck you.” 

Dick couldn’t keep the smile off his face. So many instances of presenting food, with too much salt or water, charred and burnt, made with the wrong ingredient or the right ingredient done in the wrong order, to Jason and Jason accepting it because he didn’t want to be mean. 

Dick finally got a hold of himself and looked at Jason who was eating his soup with a scowl on his face. 

“Don’t tell Tim.”

Jason’s scowl vanished, replaced with a sharp glint in Jason’s eyes, and a smile on his face.

“Never.” 

+1 Dick

It hurt.

That’s all Dick knew. The only thing he knew was what he could feel and the only thing he could feel was pain. 

Everywhere. 

All over. 

All consuming. 

His body screamed at him in agony, there wasn’t a part of him that didn’t hurt, and if Dick wasn’t worried about Robin, he doubted he would have had the strength to get back up. 

He stood on shaking legs and looked around the area. Smoke blew in his face, and the collapsed building, the one that nearly fell on Dick, lay crumbled across the street. 

There was a flicker of red and green and then Robin appeared. His eyes locked onto Dick and a look of anger graced his face. 

“You idiot,” Damian yelled, approaching Dick quickly. 

The words brought a small smile to Dick’s face. Damian was okay. 

They were all okay.

Though, as Dick stood there, he could feel himself slowly slipping in and out of consciousness, his bones getting heavier by the second. 

There was a flicker of black and a deep voice-

“Robin, report.”

Robin didn’t answer and Dick took a small step forward before his knees gave out. He braced himself, expecting more pain, but instead, he felt two arms wrapped around his tired body. 

Bruce had caught him. 

Dick had fallen and Bruce had been there to catch him. 

Dick let himself go limp, tired eyes taking in the worried look on Damian’s face. 

He pushed me out of the way, Dick heard Damian say, but the words sounded like they were spoken underwater. 

Bruce leaned forward, eyes locked on Dick, though his cowl covered his expression. For a brief and fleeting second, Dick thought maybe Bruce would kiss his forehead, tell him things would be okay, offer some comfort, but just as quickly as Bruce had leaned forward, the man was moving back, hands still wrapped around Dick’s weak body. 

Dick tried to ignore the disappointment. He wasn’t a kid. 

Not anymore.

Bruce didn’t kiss his head or hold him tight when he was injured, or when he did something right… or ever. 

And that was fine. 

It just-

It hurt. 

Everything hurt, and for the first time in a long time, Dick let himself feel the hurt. If nothing else, he could blame the tears on the blood loss. When he woke up, he would continue to ignore how much the distance hurt him, how much it hurt to see Bruce offer affection to others that he withheld from Dick, but for now, just at that moment, he would let himself acknowledge the pain. 

Dick closed his eyes slowly, ignoring the feeling of tears sliding down his face, and let Bruce carry him back to the batmobile. 

------

When Dick woke up, the cave was empty. 

Surprisingly, there was no sting of pain or hurt when he acknowledged that no one was there waiting for him, just a bout of relief. If no one was around, it would be easier to slip out. 

Fewer questions, fewer unwanted conversations. 

Dick stood slowly, swaying slightly as his vision went black for a brief moment. 

He eyed his car and sighed. It wouldn’t be wise to take it… 

Then again, Dick was a good judge of character. If he started to feel faint or dizzy, he could just pull over and wait it out before continuing the drive. Plus he still had safehouses in Gotham, the nearest one was only 14 minutes away. 

He could stay alert and awake for 14 minutes, Dick thought, reasoning with himself. 

Dick moved slowly, forcing himself to take it one step at a time, as he went to retrieve his keys. He moved closer to the workbench he left them on before patrol and stopped, eyes narrowing in confusion-

“Looking for these?” 

Dick turned around, ignoring the slight pain in his head the quick movement caused. 

Jason stood in front of him, swinging Dick’s keys around his finger, with a look of anger on his face even as the tone of his question was light. 

“You offering me a ride?” Dick asked, holding out his hand for the keys. 

Jason shook his head and took a step back. 

“Jason-”

“Dick,”  Jason mocked, an undercut of anger in his tone now. 

Dick took a deep breath and tried to grab the keys. Jason pulled them away once more. 

“Jason,” Dick muttered, breathless from the limited movement. “Please.”

There was a crack to the word, and Dick could feel the tears threatening to spill over. A stern look passed over Jason’s face and he threw the keys far into the cave, eyes never leaving Dick as he did so. 

Dick watched as they landed somewhere with a harsh clatter. He couldn’t- he wouldn’t be able to-

The dam broke. 

Dick felt the tears falling faster now, he could hear how stuttered his breathing was, and he could feel-

Dick tried to take a deep breath. He could feel Jason holding him upright, he could hear Jason speaking to him and guiding him back to the medical bed. 

He could hear faint apologies and a few it’s for your own good, Dickie, mixed with random words and a softer you’ll be alright.  

He doesn't know when they stopped moving, but he knows when Jason’s arms are removed and someone else is picking him up and holding him close to their chest. 

“I can walk-” Dick tried to protest, before being cut off. 

“I know.”

Bruce.

Dick’s hand wrapped around the fabric of Bruce’s shirt. 

“I have to go home.” Dick muttered, ignoring the pain of being settled back on the bed. Bruce still had a hold of him, his grip was firm even as he transferred Dick’s weight onto the bed. 

“You are home,” Bruce whispered back, running his hand over Dick’s forehead and brushing his hair out of the way. 

Dick removed his hand from Bruce’s shirt. 

“No.” Dick closed his eyes and tried to relax. “This isn’t my home.”

There was a dip in the bed, a small rearrangement of Dick’s bruised body until he was being held in Bruce’s arms once more. 

It was- it was unexpected. 

It was nice. 

It was-

Dick could feel the tears threatening to spill over once more. 

He knew Bruce would leave soon, and he knew he didn’t have the energy to ask, to beg, Bruce to stay. Even if he did, his pride, his fear of being rejected so clearly, would have prevented the words from leaving his mouth. 

Dick took a shaky breath. He would leave soon. 

Time would pass as it always did, neither fast nor slow, a constant drip, and Dick would be back in his suffocating apartment. 

Dick startled slightly when he felt Bruce kiss the top of his head multiple times before sighing. 

“This will always be your home, Dick.” 

Bruce didn’t understand- Dick, Dick he had messed up-

“This will always be your home, chum.” 

Bruce’s arms tightened slightly around Dick’s body. Not enough to hurt, just enough for Dick to know that they were there. 

That he was there. 

That he was there for Dick. 

“Bruce-”

“I’m sorry,” Bruce whispered, pressing another kiss against the top of Dick’s head. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I-”

“Shhh,” Bruce mumbled. “We can talk when you wake up. You need to rest.”

Dick nodded slightly, waiting for the moment Bruce pulled away, but it never came.

“Dad-”

“I’m-” Bruce’s voice broke slightly, “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Dick finally let his body relax. He closed his eyes and fell asleep in the safety of his father’s arms. 

Time would pass as it always did, and when it did, they would talk. But for now, all they could do was hold on to one another and rest.