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The first time he thought it was a bomb. He approached the silver box with caution, ignoring the spangly holograms in favour of trying to ascertain if there was a beep, a tick, any scent of explosive device.
For one absurd moment, he even wished he were Clark so he could see inside the damn thing. In the end, he settled for throwing open the lid dramatically.
It was a teddy bear.
Batman was incredibly overqualified and at the same time hideously underqualified to deal with this new unforeseen circumstance, so the cowl came back and it was Bruce’s eyes that regarded the now-obvious gift left lying in the middle of the Batcave.
With gloved hands, Bruce lifted the bear from its box and studied it in the shadowy half-light. And stared some more. Carrying it over to the light of the computer screens, Bruce ran his fingers wonderingly over the soft dark fur, letting his fingers slip to the sheen of red and green spandex.
It was a Robin bear.
Bruce set it down rather suddenly and realised he had been there. The computer terminal was too clean, the floor freshly swept and just a hint of cologne in the air, that rich, dark scent Bruce had first bought him when he turned eighteen – yes, Dick had been here.
It didn’t make sense though. He had left home, struck out on his own and completely ignored Bruce for the good of them both, he had to admit. They probably would have killed each other sooner or later and that would’ve been quite the Gotham headline. Still, it had hurt – not that Bruce would confess any such thing, but here was a teddy bear in a Robin suit, its black thread mouth smiling at him and its arms wide in an embrace.
Was it a peace offering? A gesture of goodwill? Or a reminder that despite everything, Robin’s place would always be at Batman’s side even if…
It was with a feeling of something cold and wrenching that Bruce realised what it meant – Dick was giving Robin back. He was letting go of what connected him to Batman yet what was at the same time keeping him and Bruce apart.
With mixed emotion, Bruce showered, changed and headed for bed, still clutching the bear in his right hand. He placed it on his pillow and settled under the covers, trying not to consider what it meant to sleep with Robin.
~
Dick Grayson woke to the sharp metal twang of a dulled Batarang hitting double glazing. He threw open his window to discover a dark shape nestled in the corner of his windowsill.
It was a plush bat.
~
“But where did he find a plush bat?”
“Dunno, but Dick’s a bit freaked.”
“Wouldn’t you be? I mean, the Bat depositing little replicas of himself on your sill?”
“Wonder if he takes it to bed...”
“Tim!”
“Sorry, Babs.”
~
Alfred was upstairs when the doorbell rang. Bruce glanced up at the clock – who would be calling at twenty to eleven? He padded into the hallway, catching sight of Alfred on the stairs but opening the door anyway, drawn to the handle like a moth to flame.
Snowflakes swirled through the opening, dusting Bruce lightly as he took in the sight of a leather-clad Dick Grayson, jacket collar pulled up to protect his neck from the wind, sheen of sweat in the hollow of his throat despite the cold. Without thought, Bruce had pulled him inside, arm more protecting than guiding as he pushed him unceremoniously into the drawing room and planted him in an armchair.
Wordlessly, Dick parted his jacket and removed his offering, holding it up to be observed by the flickering firelight. Bruce took it carefully, fingers sliding over the leather gloves as he drew it away, turning it over and over with raised eyebrows.
Finally, he said,” Did Clark help you design this?”
Dick’s grin was answer enough as Alfred appeared with tea and a slice of chocolate cake. A mumbled frozen ‘thank you’ as Dick gratefully accepted both and bit deeply into the rich, dark cake.
Bruce couldn’t help but watch as the crumbs clung to equally-moist lips, a smudge of cream at the corner of his mouth, and when his dazzling blue eyes met Bruce’s, the cold-rouged cheeks deepened to a florid scarlet blush.
“Master Dick, did you really just ride all the way from Bludhaven to give Master Bruce a teddy bear?”
Alfred appeared shocked and slightly concerned, but Bruce could see the mischievous twinkle in his butler’s eye, knew that the Robin bear didn’t accidentally end up down in the Batcave after a particularly tough mission.
Dick stuck out his chin defiantly, as if to say ‘what of it?’ but Alfred merely shook his head and vacated the room. Bruce didn’t know whether to be grateful or not. Left alone with a cold, chocolate-smeared picture of temptation, he might do something he’d regret. Or, worse, something he did not regret but should.
“You’re…” he gathered his thoughts, “you’re giving this to me?”
“I think Tim’s getting upset about the Robin bear,” Dick said nonchalantly, but Bruce caught the nervous edge. Take me back – I belong with you.
“It’s…blue.”
“Two shades, in fact.”
“You’ll look like…” Bruce swallowed the thought. The less said about Gotham’s nightlife the better.
“I won’t look like Robin. Or Batman.”
No more joking now – just his beautiful young protégée before him, though sometimes they’d both rather deny it, and a teddy bear in his hand.
Waiting.
“Why are you here, Dick?”
He looked down and shook his head, the melting snow dripping onto the carpet. Bruce couldn’t look away.
“I thought I…didn’t need you, that I could be a hero without you,” Dick held up a hand before Bruce could interrupt. “And I can be a hero – just not the man I want to be.”
Dick met his gaze firmly, completely, and Bruce couldn’t speak.
“I grew out of Robin and I can’t go back – that’s Tim’s place now, and I could never…fit into that role the way you wanted me to. I’m not your son, Bruce. I will never be your son.” A pause, a smile. “And I never wanted to be.”
The words glided over the surface of his mind and began to penetrate. Bruce sat down heavily in a chair.
“But I can’t be you either.” Dick’s face was shining with earnestness, and Bruce was drawn to those shimmering eyes. All these years of staying quiet, saying nothing…Dick was hauling away all those battered defences with one snow-gilded attack. He needed to meditate. On something other than Dick’s lips.
“I’m going to be Nightwing, Bruce, a hero from Clark’s world. He’s not like Batman, he’s not like anyone – he’s just Nightwing. But I can’t separate my lives like you do, I can’t be two different people because it hurts too much. He has to love you because I do.”
That babbled sentence barely clung to sense but the word love shone out like a beacon and Bruce felt his legendary composure melt.
“Dick, I…” he started, but the young man was already on his feet and halfway to the door.
“I don’t need an answer, I just had to say it. Keep the bear.”
The door slammed as the first tear fell.
~
Dick crawled into bed after a long patrol and nearly jumped out of his skin. He moved the unfamiliar lump onto his pillow, as all his senses screamed ‘intrusion’ and the lights came on without thought.
Another bat. In a suit.
Eyes wide, Dick held the strange sight between finger and thumb, dangling it in front of his eyes and cocking his head to the side. It didn’t help.
He fingered the material absently as his thoughts raced, little finger teasing the black tie undone.
Bruce – or maybe Batman, who could tell – had played a wildcard, changed the rules, messed up this strange game they’d been playing. Because contrary to convention, and reality, he appeared to be holding both Bruce and Batman in his hand.
Was this a sign of everything he wanted? A man who could live one life, use one set of emotions, and possible think of Dick as something more than ‘colleague’ or ‘former ward’ every once in a while?
There was only one way to find out.
~
The first time, they met on a rooftop. Nightwing nodded to Batman and then passed him the binoculars.
“Smugglers?”
“Thieves.”
They crouched in silence for a couple of moments before Nightwing diverted his eyes from the action to the perfect stillness of the Bat lurking. With a lopsided grin, he leaned forward and kissed him.
The villains escaped unnoticed.
~
The second time was at a fundraiser, with Richard Grayson dressed in his finest tuxedo and chatting amiably to the awestruck socialite of the moment.
Bruce Wayne excused himself from his potential customers and stood beside Dick, a proprietary hand resting in the small of his back. The woman looked confused.
“I’m sorry, how rude,” Dick said smoothly. “Bruce, this is Miranda, from the Carlisle family. Miranda, this is Bruce Wayne, my…partner.”
You could feel the reporters twitch for their pens. Bruce just smiled.
~
Tim smoothed out the newspaper on the kitchen table, mindless of the print now staining his hands. “So, let me get this straight…”
“Perhaps the wrong choice of words in this situation, Master Tim,” Alfred interjected smoothly, before setting down the teapot.
“Er…right. Let me clarify this: you kissed Bruce…”
“Nightwing kissed Batman,” Dick corrected, fingers steepled in a pose faintly reminiscent of his history teacher. A terrifying thought.
“Okay…and then you told the social elite of Gotham that you two were seeing each other?”
“That he was my partner, yes.”
“Despite the fact neither of you have talked about any of this since the whole bat-in-the-bed incident?”
“This is all true.”
Tim sat back in his chair with a sigh. “I just don’t understand you two.”
“Welcome to the club, Master Tim.”
~
Batman pushed back his cowl and Bruce saw Nightwing – Dick? – lounging in his chair. The mask was folded across his lap and Dick’s eyes were clear in the murk of the cave.
“A meeting halfway, I think. Where all…four of us can be together,” Dick’s voice was light but Bruce caught the edge of nervousness beneath the façade.
“I’m…sorry about last night.”
“There’s nothing to apologise for.”
“I wanted to give you options but I seem to have just closed us in.”
“I gave that decision to you.”
“With the Bat-Bruce?”
“With the Bat-Bruce. Are we really going to call it that?”
“Babs wants to call it The Dark Suit.”
There was nothing to be said to that.
“So, who are we now? What are we?”
“The Watchtower has photos of Batman and Nightwing.”
“And every Gotham newspaper has a quote from Dick Grayson.”
“Alfred’s already cut them all out.”
“Can’t disappoint Alfred.”
More silence.
“Dick, much as I tried to pretend you were my son, you couldn’t be that. I tried to see you that way to protect you…from me. Batman is where my darkness lives – Batman can’t love. But I do, and you’re the one I always wanted to choose.”
Bruce saw the realisation dawn over Dick’s face.
“All I had to do was take away Robin.”
“The last remaining line.”
“So…this means…?”
Bruce stepped into Dick’s personal space, within attacking distance, with no hope of defence.
“The Justice League are correct in their assumptions and the Gotham press is actually printing the truth.”
Another kiss in the cave, and they climbed the stairs together.
~
Three months later, two bears sit side by side in the centre of a bed. One wears blue and black Lycra, the other black leather and a cowl. They are never placed apart.