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Frustration swirled in Wally’s stomach as he turned onto his side for the fourth time in the past hour, irritated and exhausted but unable to sleep. Despite the quiet of the tower, he felt tuned in to every minor creek, echo and movement in the building. He thought of that song, the sound of silence, and thought maybe he finally got what that guy Simon was getting at.
Everything felt wrong - had felt wrong since…
Wally squeezed his eyes closed, his fists curling up into fists, that simmering anger and melancholy that so often turned into nausea rearing its ugly fucking head. God, if he ever got his hands on her, Wally was going to-
The silence of the tower was broken as someone walked onto their floor, quiet, but not so quiet that Wally didn’t notice the light tread of the person's steps. Throwing off the blankets, Wally stepped out into the hall, making his way down to the kitchen quietly, not wanting to wake the others. The lights were off, and if it were anyone else, Wally wouldn’t have been able to tell who the shadowy figure bracing themself against the wall was. But it wasn’t just anyone; it was the person Wally knew so deeply in his bones he was sure that if there were other lifetimes, they would find each other in every one.
“Rob?”
Dick whirled around to find Wally looking at him from a few feet away, his expression relaxing when he realized who he was looking at. Wally’s brow furrowed as he took in his best friend: his rigid stance, the hand braced against the wall, the way he was careful not to put any weight on his left leg.
“Oh, hey, Walls,” Dick greeted quietly, his hand falling away from the wall only for him to lean against it with his shoulder, trying his best to relax his stance. “What’re you doing up?”
“I should ask you the same thing,” Wally replied. Everyone knew Dick had been taking on more solo missions. No one was exactly happy about it, but they were trying to give him his grace, so no one said anything. But now…
“Dude, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Dick assured him, his voice rough, “go back to bed.” With the lights off, Wally struggled to make out Dick’s state, but it was pretty obvious something was up. Sure, vigilantes got hurt, that’s part of the job, but Dick had barely moved in the past two minutes, and that was enough for Wally to know that this time, Nightwing had gotten into trouble.
“Okay, you’re obviously not fine, you’re standing like you’re made out of stone. What happened?” Wally started towards him, but Dick took a step back, drawing out a small cry the second he put weight on his bad leg. Wally forced himself not to rush towards him, knowing it would only freak him out.
“Come on, let me help you get patched up.”
“I’m okay, really,” Dick said through gritted teeth. Wally huffed a laugh, approaching him slowly, trying for casualness.
“Oh yeah, and I’m Batman’s boyfriend.” Giving Dick plenty of opportunity to pull away, Wally gently took one of Dick’s arms and wrapped it around his shoulder.
“And here I was thinking I was your favourite of the bats,” Dick grumbled, wincing as he gave some of his weight to Wally.
“You’re still my one and only, Sunshine,” Wally replied with a grin. “Now are you gonna tell me what happened, or no?” Dick sighed.
“It was supposed to be a simple drug bust, nothing I couldn’t handle alone.”
“Clearly.”
Without even thinking about it, Wally slipped a hand around Dick’s waist, only for his hand to feel sickenly wet. Dick tensed, a barely concealed flinch causing them to miss a step. Wally stumbled, sending Dick forward. Wally caught Dick around the waist, pulling him to his chest to stop him from falling to the floor. Dick bit back a cry, his head dropping to Wally’s shoulder as he sucked in a sharp breath.
“Shit, sorry,” Wally said quickly, his eyes darting across his friend, who was clearly worse off than Wally had initially thought. “I didn’t mean to-”
“No,” Dick interrupted, his voice strained. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I can get to my room on my own.”
“Like hell,” Wally protested. “You’re limping, and bleeding, and I don’t even know what else.”
“Wally,” Dick tried, pulling back. “I can take care of myself.”
“Just because you can doesn’t mean you have to,” Wally told him. “Now come on.” Dick relented, seeming to realize that Wally wasn’t going to let this go. Slowly, they made their way to Dick’s bedroom, and Wally tried not to think too much about the wound oozing blood on Dick’s torso. After helping Dick onto his bed, Wally started digging through his drawers for gauze, saline and pain killers. Supplies in hand, Wally turned back around to Dick only to freeze. Dick had turned on a light, finally revealing his state.
His face was bruised, his lip split with a cut along his hairline, blood framing his face as it dripped down his temple to his jaw. His suit was torn in places, darkened with blood where his opponent had managed to slice him open. Dick’s face was pale and tense with pain.
“Fuck, Dick…” Wally trailed off, totally unsure of what else to say. He’d done first aid before, but now he was scared to do anything with Dick, terrified of making things worse.
“The bleeding stopped,” Dick told him, ignoring the concerned look Wally was giving him. “I took a blood clotter, already.”
“You’re not supposed to take those without regular blood tests to make sure that you’re taking the right dose,” Wally scolded, his hours spent at Star Labs flicking through his mind. He shook his head, organizing his thoughts. “I think we should call Alfred; he’s better with this.”
“No!” Dick lurched forward before immediately curling back in on himself, hissing in pain. Wally rushed to his side, reaching out before stopping himself. “If we call Alfred, then he’ll tell Bruce, and if Bruce sees me, he’s going to know about-” He stopped himself, swallowing thickly.
Wally didn’t ask him how Bruce could possibly know about what had happened, but something told him Dick was right. Batman was the world’s best detective for a reason. He could read people; take one look at them and understand an entire situation. And that was with strangers; Lord knew how his kids managed to keep anything from him. Of course, Wally thought it would be a good thing to tell Bruce, but Dick didn’t want to, and Wally wasn’t going to press the issue.
“Okay,” Wally conceded, thinking at a mile a minute. “What do you need me to do?”
“I can-”
“Don’t even,” he warned, giving Dick a look. Dick closed his eyes, working his jaw. Wally fought the urge to run a hand through his sweaty curls, itching to comfort him somehow. Wally waited patiently until Dick finally said,
“Could… could you help me to the shower, please?” Wally nodded, his chest clenching at the quiet uncertainty in Dick’s voice.
Careful not to jostle him, Wally helped Dick up, making sure not to stumble this time as he helped him to the bathroom. Once there, the two boys stood frozen for a moment, unsure of where to go from here.
“I’ll start the water,” Wally said, his face slightly pink as he slipped around Dick, running the tap. He kept his back firmly to Dick so he could undress. After several minutes of silence, Wally heard Dick draw an unsteady breath.
“Um, Wally?”
“Yeah?” He stood still as he listened to the boy behind him.
“I- I hurt my shoulder, I can’t reach back… could you…? Um.”
“Oh!” Wally felt his face heat up as he nodded before realizing that Dick might not see his reaction. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”
Turning around, he gave Dick a small smile before gently helping him out of his suit, humming a song under his breath, knowing that, as awkward as Wally might feel, Dick must’ve felt a hundred times worse. Once he had the suit down around his waist, Wally let Dick do the rest, turning his back once again.
“Do you need me to steady you while you get into the shower, or…”
“I’m okay,” Dick said quietly. Wally listened as he limped over to the shower, stepping under the spray, letting the water wash away the blood and grime. Wally didn’t say anything about the pained noise Dick made when he got under the water. He was hesitant to leave, fearful of Dick slipping or falling with his bad leg. He looked down at the torn suit sitting on the floor. He picked it up, filling the sink with water before soaking the suit.
“Is it okay if I clean your suit?” Dick hummed in agreement, and Wally busied himself scrubbing the suit with soap, watching the water turn a rusty red. It had only been a few minutes when he heard Dick curse under his breath.
“Is everything okay?” Wally asked tentatively. There was a moment of silence, and then,
“It’s my shoulder, I can’t- my hair. I can’t wash it.”
“Oh.” He didn't know what else there was to say. Wally should have realized this would happen; lifting your arms above your head with a busted shoulder hurts like hell.
“Wally?” Dick’s voice was barely a whisper.
“Yeah?”
“Would you help me?”
Wally paused, blinking at the request before saying,
“Always.”
Dick had his hands against the tile walls when Wally poked his head behind the curtain, his eyes widening upon seeing the long cut sliding across his torso, red and angry. True to Dick’s word, it seemed to have stopped bleeding. The rest of his skin was painted with bruises in shades of purple and red, like sponged on watercolour. His hair fell wet into his eyes, drops of rust-coloured water dripping off his nose. His eyes were squeezed shut, and Wally could see the deep breaths he was taking.
“Rob..?” Dick let out a shuddering breath, his body shaking despite the warm water. Fully stepping into the shower, pyjamas still on, Wally tentatively reached out to him, running a gentle hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face. Dick leaned into the touch, turning to lean into Wally’s space.
“I’ve got you,” Wally murmured, resting a hand on his cheek, “you’re okay.” Dick turned into Wally, his face pressed into his soaked Black Canary shirt. Wally was surprised by the contact, but he welcomed it, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy.
“I don’t know how to be a person anymore,” Dick said, voice ragged.
“I know,” Wally told him, heartbroken. “But I’m here to help you figure it out.” He let the comment sit there, holding onto Dick like he was afraid he might slip through his fingers if he wasn’t careful. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Wally was gentle as he massaged shampoo into Dick’s hair, as he helped him wash away the night’s battles. He continued to hum to Dick the way he had heard him do for Tim over the phone when the young boy couldn’t sleep. It seemed to soothe him, and while Wally could tell that he was still hurting – in more ways than one – some of the tension seemed to leave Dick as the steam swirled around them. Stepping out of the shower, Wally held up a towel for Dick, looking away as he dried off. Wally instructed Dick to take a seat on the counter while he gently wiped an antiseptic cream over his cuts before using some sterry strips to ensure the large laceration would stay closed through the night. Finally, Wally brought Dick some pyjamas before leaving him alone to change.
When Dick emerged from the bathroom, he had regained some colour in his face, and it looked like the hot water had done some good for the various aches and pains he had. Wally held out a glass of water and two pills for Dick to take.
“Tylenol,” Wally supplied when Dick hesitated. He nodded, popping the pills before making for the bed. Wally helped him under the covers, turning off the light once he was sure Dick was comfortable. Before he could even think about what he was doing, Wally pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Dick’s forehead. Realization dawned on him, and Wally pulled back, mortified only to find Dick’s eyes closed and his breathing steady. Asleep. Wally looked at him fondly, relishing in the smoothness of his features, devoid of the shame, anger, fear and pain he had been carrying with him.
It wasn’t fair. Dick hadn’t done anything wrong; he had nothing to be ashamed of. And yet, it was never the perpetrator who carried the guilt that came with such heinous acts, was it?
Leaving the door slightly ajar so that he would hear if Dick woke up and needed something, Wally slipped out of his room, leaving him to dream of a world that was kinder to him than this one had been.
If the titans had any notion of what had happened the night before, they didn’t say anything as Dick came into the kitchen, worse for wear but better than he had been. Wally handed him a cup of Earl Grey.
“Milk and two sugars," Wally told him, “just how you like it.”
“Thank you,” Dick said, taking the cup, a small smile on his face. Wally smiled back, turning to his bowl of cereal. Dick hoped to every god out there that he wasn’t blushing as he took a sip of his tea.
“Who kicked your ass?” Donna asked when she came into the kitchen, asking the thing Rachel and Garth had carefully avoided upon seeing their leader. Dick huffed a laugh, his smile rueful as he said, “A rogue meta with claws.”
“What happened to it being a drug bust?” Wally asked incredulously. Dick winced. He hadn’t really explained what had happened when he arrived home the night before.
“I said it was supposed to be a basic drug bust. And it was… until the scary claw-guy showed up.” Plus, the usual hordes of goons trying to take out a vigilante when they were caught doing illegal shit, but he figured that much was obvious. Wally shook his head, amused.
“It’s a miracle you’re alive,” Donna groaned.
“Sure is,” he said brightly, shooting her a wink, only for her to roll her eyes. When he’d awoken that morning, sore, yes, but well rested for the first time in weeks, he was afraid that things would be… weird. But as the day progressed, things were shockingly normal, save for the worried glances Wally shot him when he stumbled in training when he landed on his bad leg, or when he caught Dick rubbing his temples trying to ease the headache behind his eyes. Though the worried glances weren’t exactly unusual, either. Dick just did everything in his power to ignore them.
Dick was looking through files on his computer when someone knocked on his door, pulling him away from his work for the first time in…
Dick blinked as he looked at the time. It had been five hours since he’d taken a break. Rubbing his eyes, Dick stood up, going to answer the door. Wally stood in front of him, a bag of Chinese takeout in his hand, paired with a smile.
“Figured you probably hadn't eaten,” Wally said. “Thought I’d pick something up.” Dick didn’t have to look in the mirror to know that his face was pinker than it ought to be, but ignored it as he opened the door, letting Wally in.
“Whatcha working on?” Dick shrugged.
“Just looking over some files B sent me.” Wally cast him a sideways glance.
“More missions for you to go off on?” Dick looked at the floor, wincing slightly. He’d been careful to try and keep the lighter stuff for him, and it wasn’t like the Titans hadn’t been on any cases, but…
“Sorry, it’s just…”
“I know,” Wally said, and funnily enough, Dick believed him. Then Wally smiled and plopped down on the floor, tearing open a pack of chopsticks before digging into a carton of ginger pork. Dick joined him, and the two talked about nothing and everything, and Dick thought faintly that this was the most normal he’d felt since waking up that morning all those days ago. Wally was in the middle of a rant about how magic is just science we don’t understand yet! when Dick’s phone buzzed. Dick glanced at it, catching the incoming call from Bruce before turning it off and flipping it over. Wally raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t you think you should answer that?” Dick shrugged.
“If it’s important, he can use the bat computer.”
“When was the last time you talked to him?” Wally asked, but Dick got the distinct feeling he already knew the answer.
“Like, two days ago when he sent over those files,” Dick replied instead. Wally groaned.
“Dude, I mean, the last time you talk talked to him. About something other than, y’know, crime?” Dick turned back to his chow mein, taking a bite of the noodles. Wally smirked. “Exactly.” Dick sighed, shooting Wally a look who raised his hands in surrender.
“I get that you two don’t exactly have the fluffiest relationship-” Dick snorted, “-but don’t you think he’s worried? I mean, you’ve barely even responded to Jason or Tim. They probably think you’re dead or something!”
“B probably told them I was busy or something,” Dick grumbled, but even as he said it, the guilt of his minimal contact over the past weeks seeped in. He fiddled with his chopsticks, pointedly avoiding Wally’s gaze.
“You miss them,” the ginger stated.
“Well, of course I miss them,” he said, “but that doesn’t- that’s not the point!”
“Don’t you think it could be?” Dick didn’t really know how to respond to that. Wally forged on in his silence. “I get that you don’t want them to know, but… would it really be a bad thing to have someone else to lean on? Like an adult?” Dick clenched his jaw, his appetite gone. He didn’t want to talk about this. Nothing had happened, he had decided that. It was easier that way. But Wally was stubborn, and Dick had a sinking feeling that if they didn’t talk about this now, they would eventually.
“He’ll just tell me that I should’ve known better than to trust a shape-shifter,” he said bitterly. He could practically hear Bruce’s voice in his head. Dick tried to ignore it. “And he was right, I should have known better. I had a gut feeling about her, and I ignored it. God, I’m so-”
“Dick,” Wally said firmly, suddenly solemn, stopping him in his tracks. “Just because you had a gut feeling about Miriam doesn’t mean that you could've known what she was going to do. And it certainly doesn’t make it your fault.” Dick blinked rapidly, his throat feeling tight. He resisted the urge to pull his knees up to his chest.
“I shouldn’t have drunk that tea,” he whispered, voice thick.
“She shouldn’t have given it to you,” Wally murmured. The two sat in silence, unsure of what else there was to say. Dick glanced back at his phone, weary of the voice messages he was sure to find upon opening it. Wally sighed and turned back to the food, stabbing a piece of sensami chicken with his chopstick.
“How’s Kori handling it?” Dick asked finally, not fully meeting Wally’s gaze. He seemed to falter at that, putting the food back down, a hand coming up to rub the side of his jaw.
“She’s… upset,” Wally lamented. Dick nodded, not blaming her. She had wanted to try and make it work, but Dick knew it wouldn’t work. Their relationship had been forever changed, and as unfair as it was, Dick would never be able to look at Kori without thinking about her. He doubted it was any different for Kori, looking at him. Dick’s gaze shifted to the loose bed sheet tossed over the mirror hanging on his wall like a sad, lifeless ghost, banished to a broken man’s room.
“I think I’m gonna go to bed,” he told Wally, rubbing a hand over his face. “Thanks for the dinner.”
“Yeah, of course.” Wally stood up, and Dick helped him collect all of the empty cartons and plastic wrappers from their fortune cookies, wishing him a good night as he left. Flopping down onto his bed, Dick stared up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the feeling of someone watching him. Since that night, his room had felt dangerous, contaminated; a physical representation of everything swirling up inside of him.
Turning over to his side, Dick grabbed his phone, swiping through old photos to try and distract himself. There were plenty of shots of the Titans: Gar stacking increasingly ridiculous items on top of a sleeping Roy; Donna holding Wally upside down by the ankle in mid-air; Donna and Starfire braiding tiny plaits into Dick’s hair while Rachel painted his fingers a bright blue. But amongst the team, there were photos of his family in the mix; Jason being physically held back by Bruce after Tim beat him in Uno; Tim, Jason and Bruce lined up in various states of exhaustion, waiting for Alfred to help them with their ties before leaving the house; even a photo of Dick holding Jason over his shoulder while Tim sat mid-laugh on the floor, pointing a finger at Jason. Bruce must have taken that one, Dick thought, a small smile on his face.
His phone buzzed again, this time an incoming call from Alfred. Dick hesitated before answering it.
“Master Dick?” Alfred’s surprised voice said over the receiver. Dick smiled, immediately relaxing upon hearing his accented voice.
“Hey, Alfred.”
“Are you quite well, my boy? Master Bruce informed me of your… distance, as of late.” Dick’s stomach flipped, guilt slithering through his veins.
“I’m fine,” he lied, “just busy with the team. What’s up?”
“I called to inquire about your presence this Sunday for family dinner,” the butler said, graciously ignoring Dick’s lame excuse. Dick chewed on his cheek.
“I don’t know…”
“The young Masters have been in quite a state,” Alfred continued, voice as calm as ever.
“Are they okay? They haven’t killed each other, have they?” Dick sat up, his eyes darting to the door, calculating how long it would take him to get to Gotham. Of course, he’d use the zeta tubes-
“They miss you, Master Dick,” Alfred told him gently. “It is… not quite the same around the manor without your presence.” Dick swallowed thickly, a ball of uncomfortable emotions sticking in his throat.
“You do not have to give me an answer now,” Alfred continued in his silence, “but regardless of your decision, the door is always open.”
“I know,” Dick said honestly. “Thank you, Alfred.”
“Of course. Goodnight, Master Dick.”
“Goodnight.”
The phone call ended, leaving Alfred’s words to echo in his ears. He thought of his brothers trudging through school and training, looking at their phones for a response they wouldn’t get. He thought of Jason’s face when he told him he was leaving the manor, the betrayal and anguish so palpable, Dick thought Jason might have slapped him. He had promised Jason that he would visit. With shaking fingers, Dick picked up his phone once more.
“Hey, Jay…”
Staring up at the manor had never felt so intimidating as it did in that moment, his hair still damp from the shower he had taken after training, freezing in the cold February air. Dick stood in front of the door for several moments, willing his heart to slow as he watched his breath turn to smoke in front of him. He didn’t know how long it took for him to raise his hand and knock, but the door swung open only seconds later, Alfred’s smiling eyes looking down at him fondly.
“Master Dick,” he said, stepping aside, “it’s good to have you home.” Dick only smiled, not trusting his voice to say anything. Thankfully, Alfred seemed to understand, no doubt noticing the still-fading bruise on his cheekbone and scabbed-over cut nearly hidden by his dark hair. The manor was the same as ever, the pleasant smell of mahogany and baking drifting through the halls, leaving the place with a much warmer feeling than most would associate with the old building.
“Master Bruce is still tied up at work,” Alfred explained, “but the young Masters have returned from school.”
“Do they know I’m here?” Dick asked. He had told Jason he would be coming up that weekend, but the thought of spending another two nights in his room at the tower made his skin crawl, and in a moment of impulsivity, he had called Alfred to let him know he’d be coming up early.
“I have said nothing of your early arrival,” Alfred assured him, taking him to the living room where Dick could already hear the two boys fighting over one videogame or another. “They’re right in there.” Dick nodded in thanks, stepping into the warmest room in the manor, with thick carpets, leather chairs and heavy blankets teaming up to create what Dick thought of as the most normal room they had.
Dick quietly approached Tim and Jason, watching in amusement as they battled each other over their controllers, their faces trained on the television. Tim cheered at the same time Jason cried out in frustration, looking at the screen in horror, as Tim’s avatar stood victorious over Jason’s very dead, very sad-looking avatar.
“What the fuck?!”
“Language,” Dick scolded, grinning as Jason and Tim’s heads whipped around, staring at him for a moment of shock before breaking into delight.
“Dick!” He had only a second to brace himself before Tim crashed into him, arms wrapping tightly around his waist. He would have kept his balance if it weren’t for Jason crashing into him not even a second later, taking him to the ground, leaving the boys in a mess of limbs on the floor.
“I thought you weren’t coming until Sunday,” Tim laughed.
“Thought I’d come to surprise you,” Dick told him as he tried to sit up, doing everything in his power not to pull away from the touch of his brothers.
“Asshole,” Jason grumbled, but he was smiling, and there was no malice in his words. Dick ruffled his hair before pulling himself to his feet.
“I see Tim’s managed to one-up you,” Dick teased, barely stifling a laugh when Jason grimaced, huffing.
“That was only one time,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.
“Oh yeah? You wanna put that to the test?”
“You suck at video games.” Dick shrugged, not denying it.
“Then I’ll have Tim on my team.”
“That’s not fair,” Jason protested.
“Why?” Dick asked smugly, “Scared you’ll lose, Little Wing?” That was all it took for Jason to stalk back over to the couch, taking the controller with renewed vigour. Dick winked at Tim, who giggled and jumped on the sofa while Dick opted to sit on the floor. Even with Tim’s help, Dick lost, painfully, pathetically, over and over until he finally threw up his hands and gave the controller back to Tim, who had been laughing himself senseless over Dick’s antics.
“You're really bad at this,” Tim said with a smile. Dick only shrugged, not bothered in the slightest. He thinks he may have dozed off at some point, because before he knew it, Alfred was calling them for dinner. Dick’s mouth watered as he walked into the dining room, Alfred’s impeccable cooking filling the air with a savoury smell that made his stomach growl.
“Hungry, Master Dick?” He smiled at Alfred sheepishly.
“I didn’t really eat before coming,” he explained. Alfred shook his head, silently scorning Dick for his less-than-ideal eating habits. Bruce entered then, tie undone, his suit jacket shrugged off. He froze upon seeing his eldest.
“Dick,” he said lightly, shooting the butler a look, “Alfred informed me you were arriving later this weekend.”
“Thought I’d surprise you.” Bruce’s gaze felt heavy on his shoulders. Dick looked away. “Can we eat now? I’m starving,” he said, already moving to the table. Bruce said nothing as they took their usual seats around the table; Bruce at the head, with Dick to his right, Jason to his left, and Tim next to Dick. Tim and Jason filled them in on their days, groaning about homework one moment and regaling them with lunchtime stories the next. Dick beamed when Jason proclaimed he had made the boxing team, and ruffled Tim’s hair gently when he told him about the coding he had been fiddling with on the Batcomputer. It was comfortable, normal. Dick almost forgot why he had stayed away.
Almost.
They were gathered back in the living room, ice cream bowls in hand, when things went sideways. Bruce watched mildly as the boys argued over which Leaguer had the best branding, lips ticking up in an almost-smile every so often. Alfred tutted about, pretending to clean when really they all knew he was simply enjoying having a full house once again.
“Look, all I’m saying is that Martian Manhunter is pretty hard to confuse with someone else!” Dick proclaimed, pointing his spoon at Tim.
“What, more than Superman?”
“I never said that!”
“He’s probably just defending him because of his girlfriend,” Jason scoffed. Dick froze, but his brothers didn’t notice.
“What do you mean?” Tim looked between Jason and Dick, confused.
“His girlfriend's an alien,” Jason explained, “of course, he’s suddenly going to think Martian Manhunter’s the best.”
“But Superman’s also an alien,” Tim retorted, “the logic doesn’t hold up.”
“I never said Martian Manhunter was the best,” Dick grumbled, eyes downcast. “Besides, Kori barely knows him. And she’s not-” Dick cut himself off, his jaw clicking shut. Jason raised an eyebrow. Dick ignored the look he was getting by turning back to his melted ice cream, scooping it up with his spoon before watching it drip down into the bowl.
“Did something happen?” Tim asked innocently, not quite picking up on the unspoken understanding Jason seemed to have come to. Dick sighed, dropping his head back against the couch behind him.
“Kori and I…” he swallowed, his face burning. “We’re not- it’s over.” He winced at his awkwardness, feeling so entirely unsure of how to even broach the topic of romance – past or otherwise – with his family.
“Oh.” Tim shrugged, seemingly unfazed.
“Is that why you dropped off the face of the earth for five weeks?” Jason prodded, and Dick could tell he wasn’t off the hook for his distance.
“No,” he tried, “that’s not why- it’s complicated.”
“Are you serious?” Jason huffed, crossing his arms. “I get that losing you’re girlfriend sucks and all, but you could have at least called.” Dick bit his tongue, feeling guilt like tar coating his mouth. Dick dropped his head into his hands.
“I’m sorry, Jaybird. I just…” He reached for words that would mean something, hold any kind of weight, but nothing came to him. Jason rolled his eyes.
“Whatever,” he grumbled before making a hasty exit, the door slamming behind him, making Dick flinch. He should have done better, been better; he’s their fucking brother, after all. It was bad enough that he’d left Jason and Tim, now this… God, he was pathetic. A pair of dark, sinisterly sly eyes flashed in his mind, phantom hands dancing across his skin, caressing, pawing, touching. Bile rose in his throat, the night’s event flooding back to him.
The headache. Kori’s silhouette standing in the door, the gasp of betrayal that followed. The too-warm sheets against his bare, prickling skin, the smell of sweat and jasmine perfume heavy in the air. The confusion, and then, the horror. The disgust he felt mirrored in the eyes of his friends. The nausea. The cold of the bathroom tiles under his hands, and the tears in his eyes as he retched into the toilet. The trembling that followed.
A firm hand came down on his shoulder, and Dick pulled back wildly, flinching so strongly it couldn’t possibly be missed.
“Chum?” Bruce looked at him wearily, his hand hovering like he didn’t know what to do with it. Dick stared at him, mouth curled into a snarl, his chest heaving. “Tim,” Bruce said calmly, “go check on Jason.” If the boy said anything before leaving, Dick didn’t hear it. Bruce’s lips were moving, but he couldn’t hear anything over the roaring in his ears. Dick shook his head, trying to snap himself out of whatever was happening to him. His heart was pounding, his throat so tight he wondered disantly if someone had him by the neck.
“Dick,” Bruce said, suddenly kneeling in front of him, his tone firm but gentle. “You need to breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth.” Bruce started the pattern, and without even meaning to, Dick copied him, the air catching in his lungs. “Good,” Bruce murmured once he exhaled. “Let’s do it again.” Dick nodded, sucking in another shaky breath, and then another, and then another.
Dick ran a hand down his face once he had gotten a handle on himself, surprised to find his face wet. He had been crying. In front of Bruce. Fuck.
Dick stood up suddenly, stumbling slightly as he backed away from Bruce, turning his back to his father. His hands tore through his hair, pulling it at the root. What was wrong with him?
Get a grip, Grayson.
“Do you want to tell me what that was about?”
“It was nothing,” Dick bit out, his hands dropping to his sides, refusing to look at Bruce.
“A panic attack is hardly ‘nothing,’” Bruce pointed out. Dick grimaced.
“I just got a bit overwhelmed, is all.” He glanced back at Bruce, who looked entirely unconvinced. “Really, I’m fine.” Bruce sighed heavily, looking… troubled. Dick didn’t know what to make of that.
“I think there’s a conversation we need to have,” Bruce said, stilted.
“I swear, if this is about Kori-” Dick warned.
“Dick.” Something about he way he said his name made him freeze, blood running cold, turning his skin clammy and pale. “I saw your bloodwork.”
Dick stared at him, the words not computing.
I saw your bloodwork,I saw your bloodwork,I saw your bloodwork,I saw your bloodwork,I saw your bloodwork,I saw your bloodwork,I saw your bloodwork,I saw your bloodwork,I saw your bloodwork,I saw your bloodwork,I saw your bloodwork,I saw your bloodwork,I saw your bloodwork,I saw your bloodwork,I saw your bloodwork,I saw your bloodwork,I saw your bloodwork,I saw your bloodwork,I saw your-
“What?” The world slipped out, so quiet it was a wonder Bruce even heard.
“I-” Bruce stopped, pressing his lips tight before trying again. “I saw your lab results from a few weeks ago.”
Horror, anger, fear, betrayal, shame, panic-
Falling. Dick Grayson is falling. Down, down, down…
“Dick-”
“Don’t fucking touch me,” Dick seethed, twisting away from Bruce before he even had the chance to rest a hand on his shoulder. Bruce’s eyes widened, and he took a step back. Dick tried to think; process what Bruce had seen, what that meant. Okay. Okay. Dick could handle this. Right?
“How did you get the results?” He asked, his voice ragged.
“I found them in the system.”
“Bullshit,” Dick cursed. “I told Berry not to upload it.”
“He didn’t,” Bruce told him, his voice soft. “After two weeks without hearing from you, I went digging.” He looked down at his hands, which were clenched at his sides. “I breached your privacy, and for that I’m sorry.” Bruce looked back up at Dick, his gaze soft. Dick was shaking, and he wasn’t sure what to do. What to say. Bruce knew. At least, he knew enough. It didn’t take a genius to look at his results – ketamine, GHB, Viagra – and figure out what had happened. Something in him found the energy to be angry with Bruce for breaching his privacy, but the larger – much larger – part of him blurted out-
“I didn’t want to.”
The words were warbled, choked out, thick with everything he’d been carrying around. Bruce’s face shuttered, and he was there in front of Dick in less than a second.
“I know, chum. I know,” Bruce murmured, his hands stiff at his sides like he was forcing himself not to wrap them around Dick and never let go. Dick opened his mouth to say something – anything – but all that fell out was a strangled sob.
Dick’s legs gave out, and he fell right into Bruce’s chest, his hands clinging to his father’s shirt, ugly, violent sobs wracking his body. Bruce’s arms encircled him and gently lowered them to the ground, gathering his son up in his arms, his head resting gently on Dick’s head. He rocked back and forth soothingly, holding Dick through it all. He didn’t let go, not even when Dick started punching his chest, angry and scared and so, so fucking alone.
His body felt heavy once the fit of tears had subsided, leaving his face splochty and his voice raw as he lay there limp.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I- I shouldn’t have shut you out.”
“Shhhh,” Bruce murmured, hand raking through his hair. “I’ve got you now. That’s all that matters.” Dick nodded into his chest, exhaustion weighing him down. Vaguely, he was aware of being picked up, and carried out of the room, and up the stairs. Bruce lay him gently on his bed, removing his shoes and pulling a blanket up over his body. He bent down, pressing a feather-light kiss to Dick’s head. Dick reached out, grabbing Bruce’s hand.
“Stay?”
Bruce took his hand, holding it like it was something worth protecting.
“Okay, chum. I’ll stay.”