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Bruce doesn’t expect him, not like this, not after he had sent Dick away and back to Bludhaven after their last patrol together in Gotham. Dick hadn’t expected himself to be back quite so fast either, not with Bruce tied up with Red Hood and him tied up with cases in Bludhaven, but things change. Information changes.
As Dick storms in, cold fury coursing rapidly through his veins, he takes in Bruce’s state. Still in the bat suit, very obviously fresh from patrol, typing away on the Bat-Computer. He no doubt knows that Dick is here, but is choosing to let Dick come to him- big mistake on his part. There was no Tim in sight, but he already knew that. Dick had made sure that Tim was staying in the Titan’s Tower before he so much as laid foot in the manor. Unlike . . . unlike with Jason, he wouldn’t condemn his youngest brother to listen to his and Bruce’s inevitable shouting match.
Finally, Bruce turns to him, still typing on the computer. The cowl is off, even with the suit still on, and his face is set into that perpetual gritty look he could never take off his face, not when he was down here. It reminds Dick of long nights, just after he began to spend more time out of Gotham in the aftermath of the formation of the Titans, when Bruce’s irritability had started to push past the safe point.
“You lied-” Dick has to stop himself a few feet away because if he didn’t, Bruce would be getting one hell of a sucker punch. “You lied, you said you didn’t know who Red Hood is but you do-”
“I didn’t lie, Dick,” Bruce’s hands stop, and he finally swivels the chair around to face Dick. “Red Hood’s identity had still been unknown to me when you last came to Gotham.” Something in Dick’s chest burned- not fiery, Dick lost that fire years ago- but icy. Everything within his system had been icy since he found out.
“You- I called you last week and you said you had no leads on his case! And I know for a fact that you knew then! I know you knew!” He clenches his fists, trying desperately to keep the flood of anger inside for as long as he can. Dick already knows that he’s a ticking time bomb, but maybe he can save that bomb for outside if Bruce is able to actually explain himself properly. God, he knows it's almost a hopeless cause, but you can’t blame a guy for hoping his father actually does something right, can you?
Bruce keeps quiet, refraining from answering, and that only serves to make Dick angrier. “When were you going to tell me? When were you going to tell me that my BROTHER is alive? When were you going to tell me that my brother came back from the DEAD-”
Dick had to cut himself off because his breathing had turned into heaving and the air wouldn’t funnel into his lungs. He hated this with every little bit of his being. He hated it- hated how he found out, hated how Bruce had lied, hated how he was here and not out there looking for his Little Wing--
As he forcefully drags air into his lungs, he finally focuses back onto Bruce. There’s that anger he carried now, burrowed deep into his scowling face, but there’s something else, too. It takes Dick a few moments too long to realize that Bruce feels somewhat ashamed, but- Dick knows that Bruce wouldn’t feel ashamed of hiding it. All the bats hid things until it was the best moment to tell (and that does not mean Dick would forgive Bruce for not telling him the second he found out about Jason), but this was . . . different.
It dawns on him, not even a second later.
“ . . . You were never going to tell me, were you?”
Bruce’s lack of answer, lack of reaction, said more than the man ever could.
This ugly, horrid sounding sob escapes him, and before he can turn around and run out of the cave, Bruce’s resolve breaks to pieces. He flies out of his chair, face twisting with the first true regret Dick has seen from him tonight, and he goes to grab Dick-
But Dick doesn’t let him. He takes a solid step back, and another, and another and before he knows it, Dick’s out of the cave and trying to catch his breath outside the gates of the manor. He leans his back against the cool metal, desperately attempting to make his lungs work, as he pulls out his phone and clicks the call button on the first contact he reaches without checking who it is.
Ring . . . Ring . . . CLICK!
“Nightwing?”
Of course the contact he clicked had to be Tim’s.
“Baby Bird?” It comes out cracked, and Dick knows that Tim picks up on it in an instance.
“Shit- Bart! Stop trying to steal my phone-! What’s happening, N?” Dick can hear inane chatter from the other side, most likely Bart’s, followed by a large crash sound, and it causes a flash of hurt through his chest. It was so, so much like Wally’s it hurt.
“Nightwing?” It’s only now that he realizes he forgot to answer, and he hates that he’s the cause of worry that seeps in Tim’s tone.
“Sorry- sorry- you know how you . . . told me about Jason?” He can hear the sharp breath Tim takes.
“Yeah? Did you run into him, or-?”
“I’m outside the manor’s gates.”
Tim seems to be able to put the pieces together in an instant, and there’s a shot of silence, even from Bart, on the other end.
After a few moments, though, there’s a distinct whoosh and distant shout from Tim before Bart’s voice comes across the phone.
“Heyyyyyy, D! I really didn’t mean to listen in but, stufftonight’sbeenreallyboring, and I really needed something to catch my attention, is Bats being anassholeagain?” Dick can’t help but let out a startled laugh, and this prompts Bart to let out his own series of giggles too. God, him and Wally were so much alike- Dick knows they are their own separate people, but the reminder is a gut punch all the same.
“Yeah, yeah he is.” Across the phone, Bart verbalizes his own thinking with an awfully loud hum, but with the way Dick’s chest was finally starting to untighten, Dick didn’t care. Even as short bursts of sobs heave out of him, Bart stays calm and steady, and Dick isn’t sure where Bart learned to do that, but he’s going to personally find them and hug them later.
“Youknowwhat! Do you want me to come get you? You could join our sleepover! ROBINNNNN-” There’s another whoosh, and suddenly Tim’s voice rings out once again.
“I swear-”
“Can Nightwing join the sleepover? I think he should get to join the sleepover- hereallyshouldhavecompannyafterdealingwithBatmanbecausebeingalonewouldsuck-” A chuckle escapes him as Bart continues to ramble at speeds almost too fast for him or Tim to make out.
“Bart- BART-!” The other goes silent, and Dick can almost imagine the sheepish grin that made its way onto his face. “Sorry- Nightwing? You okay?”
It takes a moment to respond, and he knows Tim won’t believe him, but he lies anyway. “Yeah, I’m okay Baby Bird.”
There’s a shuffle on the other side before Tim speaks again.
“Soooo . . . do you want to come to the tower, orrrr-” A smile, soft and fragile, settles onto Dick’s face. If Tim wants him to, then there’s no way he can say no.
“As long as you have an extra one of my masks laying around somewhere.” There’s a loud shout of victory from Bart on the other side, and Dick thinks maybe it’ll be okay. Things with Bruce failed, but tomorrow night he and Tim could go looking for Jason, maybe even sneak Bart along with them, and things would be okay.
The freeze in his chest turned warm and into a crackling ember of a bonfire, and it's good.