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Dick Grayson’s small. He doesn’t want to be, far too aware he’s been small for the past week.
He’s trying not to be small- he’s trying. He really was. Trying to not be a useless baby who clung to Bruce’s cape like a leach. Was trying to be a good crime fighting partner- a good Robin. The one reason Bruce kept him around for.
He didn’t feel like Robin, personal sidekick to the greatest hero- as much as he felt like some useless baby bird left abandoned in its nest. Too scared to fly away, too small to defend itself on it’s own. Not till it’s bigger.
And trying to be big is not working out that well.
He’s not ready to be big again, it’s clear in the ways that no matter how hard he tries to be big, to pull himself out of the floaty hazy comfort of that mindset he can’t manage for longer than 10 minutes before he’s feeling tiny again. Before something too big to process comes crashing down on him. His brain forcing him to take a mental break even when he doesn’t want to.
Maybe it’s because his attempts have only been half hearted.
Dick wants to just stay little, let Bruce and Alfred take away all of his cares and troubles and not have to worry about anything at the moment. Besides what Alfred would make him for dinner, and what bedtime story could he convince Bruce to read to him if he stuck around long enough at night, and the tv show he was going to sneakily watch when it was past his bedtime and no one was home to stop him.
He wants family dinner and to play with his stuffed animals while Bruce reads the paper. Help his dad on the crossword section and not have to be an adult for a few more hours without being alone.
It’s not as though he’s got much of a choice.
He’s getting on his caregiver’s nerves, it’s so obvious. Bruce told him when he first found out of Dick’s regression that he didn’t mind watching over him. There was a sad look to his eyes, and Dick didn’t have to explain nearly as much as he first thought he would before Bruce was cutting him off with a soft ‘I know. It’s okay.’ It’s a better coping mechanism than most.’
But Bruce didn’t stick around as much when Dick was constantly small. When the flood of emotions threated to pull him over and when he cried himself asleep. Too small and too scared to explain to his father what happened, only that he wanted Bruce to stay and make it all better.
It’s his clinginess that ruins everything.
So Dick has no choice but to be big.
Batman is leaving for patrol, something he says he can’t put off for any other night despite Dick’s pleading. Despite the fact that Bruce still went on patrol the two nights prior. Despite promises to stay in the manor so Dick could go and find him if he had a nightmare again, and when he did wake up, small and scared, only to find Bruce not in any of the bedrooms in the manor (he checked every single one until Alfred found him small and wailing in the hallway at 2 in the morning) He still left, when all the boy wanted from Bruce is to stay. Stay home and take care of himself, even if he’s selfish, even if he shouldn’t need it, far too old and gone through far too much to still be coddled in such a way.
He’s been on his own for so long, and tonight feels like a breaking point.
“I can come! I come!” Dick calls out, scampering as quickly as he can to get into the Batmobile. “Wait- wait!” The engine is already firing to life, he was almost a moment too late. But he isn’t- Batman hasn’t left yet so Dick can come too!
Batman sighs, equal parts tired and annoyed Dick thinks. His papa does that a lot.
“Dickie, we talked about this,”
No they did not. In fact Dick hadn’t been told at all about the patrol, in his room taking yet another nap because he was always so tired these days, and thus the reason why he was currently rushing, to keep himself from being left behind.
“You can’t patrol when you’re little.” Bruce says sternly.
“Not! Not little! Come too!”
He can’t see behind the cowl, but he can imagine Batman is raising an eyebrow at him.
“Right.” Batman drawls, and he doesn’t sound convinced. “Robin, you can’t even finish a full sentence.”
“Doesn’t matter. Don’t talk on patrol anyways. ‘Sides you need Robin!”
The ‘and you need me’ goes unsaid.
Batman doesn’t even address that last part.
“You’re not coming.” Batman’s voice speak of finality. The kind Dick is currently ignoring with all his might.
He wants to. He wants to so badly. He doesn’t want to be left alone, even if he wasn’t technically alone because Alfred home- but he wants Batman. He wants Bruce, to stay home with him, hold him and watch shows together and feed him and play with him. Actually he doesn't care what they do. It doesn’t even have to be childish. Doesn’t have to cater to him- He just wants his papa.
“Wouldn’t you rather stay with Alfred? Make cookies together, or help with dinner or something…” Bruce’s voice sounds strained.
“No!” Dick stomps his foot, which in hindsight is not helping convince Batman or himself that he’s big- “No! No! No! No! No!!” He wants to scream. Bruce never listens!
“Richard! Control yourself. I won’t deal with a temper tantrum.” He never deals with temper tantrums, or Dicks’ crying. Usually leaving the room once they start and not returning until Dick calms himself down. “What is this actually about?”
Suddenly Dick is angry. Fine, if Bruce doesn’t want to stay he should just go anyways. “Nofing, jus’ go.” Dick pouts, turning away. His suit is uncomfortable and he feels too little to be wearing it in the first place. He’ll have to go change, though it sounds exhausting. Maybe he’ll just sleep in it, give up trying to be comfortable until the fatigue finally leaves his body. If it ever does.
“You’ve been acting off all week, what’s going on baby bird?”
Dick doesn’t respond and Batman sighs- again.
“Okay I know.” He doesn’t but Dick doesn’t feel like telling, not after being scolded. “I’ll be back soon, and when I return we’re talking about this and then assuming you’re still going to be up, I’ll read to you before bed, how does that sound?”
This is the part the regressor doesn’t understand. How Batman can act so nice, act like he cared, while also knowing full well what he thought about him and his regression. That he was a burden. Not good enough to go on patrol. Not good enough to spend the full day with whenever his headspaces lasted this long. It wasn’t often, Dick wasn’t always small. Some days just felt hard. Something about this week was exhausting in a way that he couldn’t place while regressed. No one seems to be able to translate his frustration past Alfred calling it ‘just a phase’
He whines at the unfairness of it all.
“Baby-“
“Just go.”
He wants to sob, but he’s already takes up so much of the other man’s time. Dick knows this. He’s been trying to be better.
Trying to not bother his caregiver, go to Alfred instead, or better yet take care of himself.
He doesn’t know why he feels so emotional tonight, why he feels like he might break if left on his own. He doesn’t want to bother Batman, to keep him from patrolling, keep him from saving people- but he can’t help it. He just wants to come too.
He doens’t even bother to turn around when the Batmobile speeds out of the cave. If Bruce had called to him, he wouldn’t have heard it anyways.
…
Alfred is in the kitchen making cookies when Dick walks in. He’s changed out of his uniform by some small mercy and only 20 minutes of struggling through itchy clothes that he used to like but now feel horrible on his skin. His room’s a mess and he was too overwhelmed to pick it all up, only feeling marginally bad to give Alfred more work to be doing. The regressor’s now dressed in a soft blue hoodie and black shorts, the only outfit that felt somewhat decent to be wearing.
He carries Zitka in his arms, placing his elephant stuffy on the counter to ‘watch’ as the elder man bakes. It only takes Alfred a moment to notice what’s going on, stuffed trunk nearly dipping into the bowl of batter before Alfred had enough sense to simply lift the little onto the counter to watch.
“Comfortable master Richard?”
Dick shrugs. He doesn’t exactly like being referred to as ‘master’ when he’s little. Makes him feel so much older than he is. He fidgets but once again doesn’t say anything about it. Alfred returns to his baking and Dick watches quietly. There’s a peace between the two as Alfred works.
He lets the little add in handfuls of chocolate chips into the batter bowl and even allows Dick to lick the spoon after the cookies are lined neatly on two trays.
He kind of wants to offer to help with dishes. There aren’t many, what with Alfred already cleaning as he went, but he wants to feel useful.
“You’re being very useful in keeping me company.”
Dick frowns. He feels bad not helping, but then again maybe it’s for the best. His hands feel shaky and he would hate to drop a tray and give Alfred more work to do. He clutches his stuffed friend to his chest and fidgets with her ears, twisting the fabric round and round the way he’s always done. Mami used to tell him to stop, that he’d wear her fur out in the one spot but mami wasn’t here to tell him to stop now…
“Would you like to watch a show while we wait for the cookies to bake?” Alfred asks, breaking the silence and the peace. Dick flinches, startled by the noise, or simply to far into his head.
He shakes his head no quickly. He wants to stay with Alfred, not to be alone. But that’s annoying, and Alfred has better thing to do than babysit a kid. So he shakes his head yes. But that’s annoying feels wrong too and that horrible frustration is coming back, the same as when Bruce left the cave without him and Dick doesn’t;t know the right answer to give to make it go away!
“I see. Well the cookies should be done soon. Best we wait and try one right away. To see if they are any good.”
Alfred’s cookies are always good. Dick nods along in agreement anyways.
“Very well, in the meantime how about you tell me what’s on your mind. I promise I am a rather good listener.”
Dick opens his mouth, to complain about the horrible, icky feeling in his chest that win’t go away. The heaviness in his bones. They way his mind wants to wander and in it’s wake leaves him feeling small and helpless, like that little boy in that circus all those years ago. How he doesn’t know how to stop it, or how to keep Bruce from hating him and being a bother to him and- but then the timer dings and Alfred has to pull out the tray of cookies before they burn and the opportunity is lost on the boy.
Back to the quiet feeling as the butler lays out cookies on a cooling rack.
“You were saying young master Richard?”
“I… I jus’ miss him.” Dick said, munching on a still warm from the oven, chocolate chip cookie. He pretends to feed some to Zitka which he thinks she would enjoy very much. It makes him feel really sad too, his beloved stuffy, and he has the urge to throw her across the room. But that’s a foolish thought. Besides she’s scared of falling, and flying across the kitchen would hurt her feelings.
‘I miss all of them.’ But that thought hurts too much to say allowed. Somehow he thinks Alfred knows what he means either way, the way his eyes soften, getting a sort of heartbroken sheen to them.
“I know you do.” Alfred agreed easily and that almost made Dick angry all over again. Not that he wanted the butler to disagree, it just felt, too simple. There was more to it but the thoughts were stuck in a too slow molasses filled mind to get out. To make the other understand.
“It’s not fair!” The regressor pouts, swinging his leg and heel down into the cabinet with a loud ‘bang.’ The action only serves to make his foot hurt so now he feels like crying for a different reason. Alfred says nothing about it, just tells him to eat.
Dick takes and aggressive chomp of his cookie. He wants to stay mad, but it’s kinda hard with warm chocolate melting on his fingers and sugary sweets on his tongue. After his treat, Dick decides, then he will be angry.
“Your quite right. It isn’t fair. I am quite sorry he left without you.” Alfred says, nodding.
“He’s stupid” The regressor goes on, just to see if Alfred is going to agree with him on everything he says tonight or if there is a limit.
“Sometimes.” Alfred agrees solemnly, “Though I feel the term ‘stubborn minded’ is much more adequate.”
Dicks only huffs. Alfred silently hands the boy a second cookie while letting him mull over his thoughts.
“I don’t mean to be like this. Don’ even like it… mostly…. He must hate me…”
“What? Hate you? My boy that is quite literally not possible. Master Bruce is very fond of you.”
“Never spends time with me like this. Always out. An my chest feels bad an I don’t know why an I want papa make it better and he won’t! He won’t stay. It isn’t fair!
Alfred sighs, rubbing the young wards back in slow circles. “I fear he sees a bit of himself in you. He’s afraid of messing up. And inadvertently is doing just that.” Alfred looks tired too all of a sudden, and Dick wonders if he too struggles to sleep cause of nightmares. “I shall talk with him.”
Dick quiets his cries. That’s the opposite of what Dick wants, to make Bruce feel guilty.
“No. Is fine.” He sniffles, feeling rather stupid.
“It is not fine as you put it, if it is causing you so much distress. Especially around such a time that is coming up.”
Dick feels confused at that last part, head tilting to the side.
“Come now, as we wait for master Bruce’s return I think there is a movie or two to be watched, and a certain little one who is a complete mess.”
DIck giggles when Alfred makes to rub off the chocolate no doubt smeared on his face, and certainly covering his hands.
.
.
.
Dick’s walked through a bedtime routine with Alfred. Splashing in the bubble bath Alfred has prepared him while the butler grabs a pair of proper pajamas for him to change into. Somehow they feel better than anything he could have picked out himself.
“When’s Bruce home?”
“Soon little one. Soon.”
He was growing rather bored as the butler fussed around his room, picking up disheveled clothes that needed to be refolded, setting aside toys and game boards back into their proper places.
“Would you like if I read you a bedtime story in his place?”
The regressor shook his head no. He’d simply wait up. Bruce promised after all. He had to keep one promise.
Alfred’s soon and Dick’s soon were too different kinds of soon.
“Very well. Better be comfortable if you plan on waiting for him.” Alfred said, tucking the covers up over Dick, and of course Zitka too, which made the boy giggle.
Dick realizes his mistake after Alfred’s handed him a pacifier. He’s far too content and far too sleepy to ever hope to stay up.
He whines at the unfairness of it all.
“Good night young master…” He hears Alfred start to say, before he’s fast asleep.
.
.
.
Dick wakes up to the sound of arguing. He whines, scrubbing at his eyes. Pacifier lost somewhere in the bed and it takes him a moment too long to find Zitka. He feels like crying. If it’s not nightmares waking him it’s whatever this is. And the worst part is, he still feels small.
He slips out of bed, taking his elephant along with him and creeps to the door.
Down the hallway he can hear Bruce and Alfred arguing. Bruce looks tired walking down the hallway. Alfred shouldn’t have said anything to him tonight. Dick feels nothing but guilt bubbling in his stomach.
“The boy needs you master Bruce. His parents died four years ago tomorrow. He’s distressed and trying to please you is only making his mental state worse. The least you can do is off some comfort for the kid.”
“I don’t know how, Alfred! Everything I’m doing only makes this worse. Not when he cries constantly for his parents! Not when I can’t bring him the one thing he actually needs.”
“What he needs is you.”
“But I’m not them. I can’t take their place! What right do I have of that title?!”
“None sir, but you have the privilege of caring for a young boy who looks up to you. You owe him as much.” It doesn’t seem like Bruce is listening to Alfre as he simply continues on his rant.
“He just slips smaller when I’m there. He needs to be big, then everything won’t seem so overwhelming to him and if I’m around-“
“Perhaps it’s just the opposite. Maybe he simply is unable to express his grief except when he’s small.”
It’s quiet for a moment, before Bruce speaks up again, “I think I’m making it worse. He can’t stay little forever. I thought giving him space…”
“I agree sir that he can’t stay like this” Dick wilts slightly at Alfred’s agreement, so they dothink he’s annoying and needs to grow up, “But for the moment Richard needs time to heal without feeling as though he will be left behind for doing so.”
“Left behind… I wouldn’t- why would he think-?” Alfred must be giving him a look because Bruce cuts himself off with a groan. “I need to talk to him.”
“That you do sir.”
Bruce chuckles darkly. “Alfred, how did you ever handle me when I was like this.”
“With the patience of a saint.”
Bruce chuckles. “Tomorrow I will.”
“Actually I believe if you head to his room there is a certain little boy who should be in bed right now.” Alfred’s voice raised slightly at the end, pointed.
Dick squeaked- how did he know?
He scrambled back into his room, before he could be spotted, and jumped back into bed.
A moment later and the door to his room is slowly creaking open.
Dick pulls the covers up higher, childishly, as though if he couldn’t see Bruce, then Bruce couldn’t see him.
“Hi there Chum. Thought you’d be alseep by now.” Bruce says softly.
“No. Was waiting for you. Promised ‘tory. But is fine. Don’t have to…”
“No your right I don’t.”
Dick flinches and wishes more than ever the hole in his chest would just swallow him up already-
“But I want to. More than that I want to care for you. However you need.” There’s no doubt Dick wasn’t listening in, but Bruce knew he owed the boy more than just an overheard conversation. “And if you need me here with you, then I will find the time- no- I will make the time to be here. And I’m sorry that I didn’t do that before.”
“It’s…” Dick doesn’t know what to say. He wants to say it’s fine. He understands he’s a burden and too much all the time and the other man has better things to be doing. But he doesn’t want to. It’s dark and quiet and he’s exhausted, so all the boy settles on is. “Thanks.”
Bruce smiles, some sort of mix of sadness and fondness. “I should be the one thanking you.” That doesn’t make any sense and Bruce doesn’t elaborate.
He goes to grab a chair from the desk in Dick’s room and pulls it over to the edge of the bed. Bruce fusses for a moment with the regressor’s covers, making sure both he and Zitka were all snug once again. He manages to locate the pacifier the little was using, this time grabbing a strap from the bedside table and clipping it onto Dick’s shirt so it wouldn’t get lost again.
“There, now, what books would you like?”