Chapter Text
Dick Grayson is an only child. More specifically, he’s John and Mary Grayson’s only child. He’s the youngest and the last living Flying Grayson. But that doesn’t necessarily mean he grew up as one.
Well, no, technically, he did. Both as an only child and as the last living Grayson. He was with his parents up until he was eight. And Bruce, his guardian-turned-adoptive-father, didn’t adopt another kid until he was already eighteen — aka no longer a child. Really, it’s more accurate to say he was an only child during his childhood, but not through and through.
If the opposite had been true, then he wouldn’t have two brothers requesting his presence simultaneously. He wouldn’t have to glare at the universe as he internally debates who to go to and who to turn down . . . just for the other to say that that’s where he wants him to go, anyway.
The two brothers in question are Tim and Jason. The first text from each simply read where are you?, which is quickly followed by are you busy?. By crazy coincidence, the first texts came in at the exact same time — and so did the second texts. The third ones, those that answer his depends, don’t come in at once.
Jason’s response comes first. It’s as vague as it can be. Tim’s reply isn’t any better, either, since it’s also non-specific. He prompts is it an emergency? to both. When they both answer not really, he decides to refuse the two of them — then I’m busy out of Gotham.
That’s the thing about being the eldest. As one, he’s essentially the additional parent to his younger siblings. Involuntarily so and definitely not on purpose. He’s the first to live through their father’s parenting and he knows, firsthand, how . . . lacking . . . it is. He merely wants to compensate while they aren’t used to the parenting they’ll get just yet, making sure that they still feel welcome nonetheless. (He didn’t quite start extending such generosity with newly-adopted Jason and he lives with that piece of unshakable regret everyday.)
As an unintended consequence, his younger siblings are somewhat dependent on him. They go to him first whenever they’re in need of something, rather than going straight to Bruce. He knows that tendency is his fault as much as it’s Bruce’s, since he enabled it to form, but he still feels entitled to not bend to their whims. That is, not without any grumbling or sighing, at least.
So you don’t have anymore questions about Peter?
It’s about Mini Jason.
That’s the thing about his younger siblings. They know exactly what to say to get him to cave in. They know him as well as he knows them.
He answers Jason first. Are you going to answer them?
It’s been more than two months since Selina’s gala, where they first crossed paths with Peter. Which means it’s been more than two months since Jason characteristically discouraged any questioning about the child in question. It’s right around the time his brother finally reveals why he’s been so suspiciously guilty then.
Only if you watch Peter for a few hours, Jason’s reply reads. We can talk after.
Perhaps it’s merely his wishful thinking but, purely based on his brother’s response, he already has an idea what he’ll hear from him. He can’t gauge the intensity, but the bittersweet feeling of his still-unspoken words is already guaranteed. He’s sure of it.
After all, Tim has basically confirmed it for him unknowingly. You’ll want to know this, as the former follows up his previous text. There isn’t a ‘trust me’ at the end of that, but he can hear the implication perfectly clear nonetheless.
Dick ultimately makes arrangements to fulfill his end of an implicit promise with the third eldest. Both choices offer another — hopefully deeper — insight into the child Selina has apparently taken under her protection. It’s just that Jason’s offer sounds like a one-time thing that won’t get re-offered ever. Tim’s offer, albeit has a slight hint of urgency, sounds like something that would still be around when he finally has the time for it.
Of course, he’s not dismissing the progress Tim has finally made on the case after several weeks of fruitless grind. With the amount of times he has seen his brother passed out in front of an almost-empty folder (which the latter creatively titled MJ, short for ‘Mini Jason’), he knows how this case has consumed the other. The least he can do is the let him share the specifics of his much-awaited progress.
Jason just so happens to appear directly involved in all of this, so he figures it’s better to not pass up the only opportunity to hear everything from a direct source.
That’s perfect, then. I’m already back from YJ. You can just come down to the Cave whenever.
Thus, there he is: Walking towards the Wayne Manor’s front door with his keys in hand. He doesn’t stop to admire the architecture and the memories it holds within its walls, as he had been there just two weeks before. Such sentimentality is reserved for visits that are at least a month apart.
(Dick doesn’t even stop to realize the memories the Wayne Manor holds will also include his official meeting with Peter in just a few minutes.)
When he reaches the sitting room, Dick is greeted by someone lounging about on the chandelier. Not swinging, like he used to do, but merely sitting there like the chandelier is just an unconventionally elevated high chair. The person — whose stature makes them appear like a child — has their back turned towards him, so he can’t see their face. Nevertheless, he knows his siblings well enough to not mistake the person as one of them.
"How did you get up there?" Dick inquires with his head tilted upwards. His voice is more intrigued and amused, rather than concerned and borderline chastising like other responsible adults would’ve. It would’ve been hypocritical of him to use that tone, considering he used to do the same thing in his younger days.
The person swiftly descends from the chandelier with a summersault. It’s obvious from that move alone that it isn’t the first time the person has done that, like descending from inaccessible high places is as easy as breathing for them.
They land in front of him with well-practiced ease. Their landing is soundless upon impact, void of even the softest thud. The landing pose they take reminds him of Damian’s Robin, albeit they aren’t necessarily similar. Perhaps if he has more time to dwell on it, he’ll see a little of himself, too. But, alas, he’s already distracted by the sunglasses sitting on top of the person’s nose — as it barely budged on impact.
The person in question straightens in a blink. "I climbed," they answer nonchalantly, almost with an accompanying shrug.
Dick doesn’t need a second more to realize the person he’s faced with isn’t as unfamiliar as he initially assumed. For that unique complexion can only belong to one person.
It’s Peter.
Of course, it’s Peter.
"I see at least one of you has the decency to climb down to greet guests," Alfred appears by the doorway seemingly out of nowhere. "Welcome back, Master Dick."
He’s almost afraid to look away from Peter, in fear of him vanishing the moment he turns. "Thanks, Alfred." He knows he won’t, but he can’t help it. After all, Peter — his son — is only supposed to exist in his dreams. He’s yet to understand how exactly Peter manifested in his reality. "Is Jason here?"
"Master Jason left after he made sure Master Peter was situated," the Wayne family butler answers indirectly. "I was informed you were to act as the young master’s guardian until he returns in the evening."
Dick nods in affirmation. It’s certainly one way to put it, the bargain Jason asked of him. He couldn’t’ve said it any better, truly, without revealing much of his wishful thinking.
He turns to Peter, who immediately meets his eyes. "Jason has told me a lot of you, Peter." It’s a lie — a white one, but a lie nevertheless. He hopes that’ll help him feel more comfortable in his presence.
Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to have the effect he’s hoping for. Or any effect at all, really. For Peter’s expression remains unchanged, as is the subtle guard embodied by his shoulders. "What’s your name?"
There’s no malice in his voice, but the pain that followed such a harmless question is undeniable. It might not be the first time his son has asked him a variation of that question, considering he has met him as Nightwing some time ago, but— he can’t help it. Nightwing might need some introduction, sure, but Dick Grayson shouldn’t’ve. Because he should’ve been someone Peter knew from the moment he first opened his eyes in this world, too.
"Everyone calls me Dick," he responses as soon as a veil falls onto place. He didn’t want to lie to his own son by masking his true emotions, but it’s necessary in this situation. After all, he’s not Peter’s dad right now — he’s just someone the latter is officially meeting because no one else was available to watch him.
Peter nods in acknowledgment. "What do I call you?" Had Dick not already placed a mask on, he would’ve stilled. He would’ve debated on the fact that it was a perfect chance to properly introduce himself as his father. He would’ve despaired — or had to bite his tongue until it bleeds. Fortunately, the mask has already settled. "Most of the people I’ve met so far have ‘aunt’ attach to their names. The only exceptions so far are Uncle Jason and Alfred."
Unfortunately, it isn’t strapped on as tight as he initially believed. For it almost slips the second he hears what Peter just called Jason. It’s an undeniable proof that Jason has already reclaimed his title. It’s also a knife driven deeper into an open wound, as it also reserves as a unignorable reminder that he can’t reclaim his rightful name just yet.
His voice comes out tighter than he intended when he lies once more. "Just ‘Dick’ is fine."
Dick isn’t sure how many white lies this new mask can take before it cracks.
Dick might’ve been a well-seasoned additional parent to his younger siblings, but he never once experienced putting them down to sleep. He might’ve carried them to bed at some point, but he never had to help them fall asleep. The closest thing to such was coincidentally meeting them during the nights they couldn’t sleep and conversing with them until dawn.
Really, that is a long-winded way to say he hasn’t had any experience in caring for a child that had a normal upbringing. His siblings have matured and learned to be strongly independent early, in some form or another. As such, they don’t dwell on trivial matters, which unfortunately include ‘childish’ things they missed out on.
Thus, as a result, Dick is essentially going in blind in putting Peter down for a nap. The only reason he isn’t going in completely blind and clueless is because he has very faint memories of being put down for an afternoon nap so he doesn’t get sleepy and cranky during the evening show. It’s rather unfortunate that his own experience isn’t really helpful in this case, as his parents used to just stay in the same room as him and wait until his breathing evens out.
The same effortless lullaby won’t work on Peter, considering he’s just someone the latter’s uncle knows and trusts enough. He’s practically just a stranger to him, as difficult as it is to swallow. His mere presence doesn’t offer comfort and protection to his son, resembling more that of indifference — or worse, of wary. (It will continue to for the time being, unfortunately, until loose ends are uncontestedly confirmed.)
Dick settles for following Jason’s instructions without much — external — fuss. He reads an English translation of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s The Little Prince with Peter, which mostly includes the latter reading by himself and him merely acting like someone who is supervising him. He helps him pronounce unfamiliar words he comes across and occasionally gives him definitions when he asks. It vaguely reminds him of his younger self, freshly taken under Bruce Wayne’s wing: still getting used to a house that doesn’t move and learning more English to integrate. It’s not the same circumstance, but it reminds him enough of the time he did the same things with Bruce and Alfred.
Peter finishes reading the thin book in no time. Although he doesn’t appear any sleepier than when he started, he lies down on the bed — Jason’s bed — voluntarily. He lets him adjust the duvet higher to tuck him in more snugly.
A "I’ll stay until you fall asleep" falls from Dick’s lips before he can think better about it. It’s almost like a force of habit, which he shouldn’t even have in the first place. After all, it’s only a phrase that he has unearthed from deep within his early memories — and not something he utters regularly if at all.
There’s a great relief when Peter doesn’t contest and essentially just lets him do whatever. His son merely closes his eyes after a faint mumble of "okay."
And for a moment, Dick allows himself to bask in the realization that he has come full circle — he’s now doing what his parents had done for him for his son.
Frankly, there had been a time when he’s strongly convinced such a full circle moment can’t happen. After all, he’s not meant to live that life — with a spouse and child of his own — given the danger his current life entails. He never gave the idea of settling down a serious thought, in fear of dragging innocents into the mess of the life he chose to live.
He has been convinced for some time that any semblance of domesticity involving a family of his own is strongly reserved for his dreams. However, with the arrival of his son from his dreams to his reality, unexplainable as it may currently be, what was once a ‘never’ and ‘highly unlikely’ suddenly became ‘someday’ and ‘probably likely.’
For such a moment to occur this early . . . despite the intense uncertainty that still fogs the air . . . he supposes he has his younger brother to thank.
Dick wonders if either of his parents ever had their thoughts focus on him as they wait for him to finally fall asleep, just like what he’s doing now with Peter. He can’t pass up the perfect opportunity to unabashedly stare at his son without the fear of accidentally burdening him or making him uncomfortable.
Peter looks so much like him. He may have inherited some notable features from Kori, but majority are from him. He’s his carbon copy in more ways than one, judging from his apparent penchant for high places. He’s his son.
(His parents survive through his son, too.)
When Peter’s breathing evens out long enough, Dick can’t stop himself from planting a feather-like kiss on top of his son’s head. "Sweet dreams, my dearest."