Chapter Text
At 4 am on the first day of spring, Mary and John Grayson greeted their first born into the world. Another Grayson was welcomed with open arms into Haly’s circus.
From a young age, little Grayson wore their hair short like their papas, claiming that way they could perform their acrobatics with further ease, and that wearing their “hair up like mamas” was too much of a fuss. No one paid no mind to a girl with a pixie cut, the circus had seen stranger.
Soon, when little Grayson was 11, their first debut performance in the circus was to be prepared, practicing the routine over and over again until they were certain it was perfect. By this time, It was clear that the Grayson’s little bird did not look nor act the part of society’s expectations of a young girl, but John and Mary were not deterred, they simply turned their heads and changed the posters from “The Flying Grayson’s daughter” to the “Flying Grayson’s child”. Who would question the lack of gendered words used when adressing their child? Not the brainless public, no.
So, when on a gloomy night in Gotham, The Grayson’s died in a tragic accident. It is the “parentless daughter”, “troubled little miss”, and “orphan girl” that is sent to be dealt with by the Gotham police, and then the local orphanage, and when that is too full, the teen juvenile detention.
With barely a lick of English, and a strong sense of the circus, young Grayson is quickly tormented within the juvenile system, facing judgement with the wrath of a tiger and immense — yet stubborn—pride. Each time, escaping with numerous bruises and scrapes and a newfound sense of hatred for the Gotham justice system. Why put her him here? He had done no wrong, could they not have found another placement if the orphanage were to be full?
Besides this, Grayson’s time in juvie had fuelled a growing loathing for the man who had killed his parents: Tony Zucco. Before long, he was sneaking out in attempts to locate the man— and murder Zucco themself. If the Gotham couldn’t do it, then Grayson would.
Then one fateful day, a guard (as Grayson had called him in his mind “short and pimply”) banged on the steal door of his holding cell, leading him down the hallway and into a room with-
Bruce Wayne?
Gotham’s most eligible bachelor, bimbo billionaire was waiting for Grayson at a table. Dismissing the guard with a sharp thanks and a nod, he gestured at the chair encouraging Grayson to sit.
“Hello R-“
“It’s Richard.” he spat
“Hello Richard,” Wayne said softly, undeterred.
Two hours and a lot of glares later, Wayne made the promise to come visit again, with hopes to get him out of there.
And so he did.
One week passed, and then two, and suddenly six, and soon enough papers were signed and Richard (“Can my nickname be Dick?”
“Sure Chum, it can be whatever you want it to be.”) was hopped into the back of another police car and driven to Wayne manor.
Richard was greeted with an elderly British man who introduced himself as Alfred Pennyworth- the Wayne familys butler. Mr Wayne (“Just Bruce, please.”) had shown him the family wing, letting him pick a room to his liking. He eventually settled on the one just across the stairs and the large window. That way, he could leave faster if he needed and had a good scope of the outside world.
There was never a need for that however, as two months later Dick Grayson discovered that Bruce Wayne, womaniser, bimbo, airhead Bruce Wayne, was the Batman.
“So, what were we thinking for our hero name?”
“Robin.”
“Are- are you sure about that Dick?”
“Yes. To honour mama and papa.”
“Okay chum. Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Robin and Batman. Sounds like a good duo.”
Six years later, when Dick had stormed out with a fight, and Bruce had yelled at him that robin was no longer his, and Dick moved far away, (but never to far) to Gothams sister city Bludhaven. And, Bruce had adopted another kid.
Dick was never really his of course. Legally, he was his ward. And soon, he would have no relation to him at all. His 18th birthday was approaching and he was both terrified and excited.
But he was mad. This kid… who Bruce barely knew was adopted. No hesitation, barely knowing him for a couple months and yet...
He tried of course. He visited, hung out with Jason whenever he could. Took him out to arcades, bowling, the movies or maybe just hung around the manor with him. Jason would drag him to the library and ramble about his latest’s reads, making Dicks cheeks hurt from smiling, and Dick would clap and laugh after teaching Jason new skills in the home gym. One time Dick slipped off the bar and tumbled into the foam pit so badly that Jason had at first gasped but then laughed so hard until his ribs hurt. The little shit. The bruise on his arm had been gnarly afterwards, but it was “So worth it Jay.”
Bruce and him were getting along better too. Nightwing and Batman would sometimes patrol together. They would solve cases together here and there, and he was always open to a game of chess and a cup of tea.
When Jason became Robin, he thought he would be mad. Mad at Bruce. Mad at Jason.
He was at first, of course. But then it got so much better. Now it was Nightwing, Batman and Robin who patrolled the streets. And there were so many less secrets and so many more memories. Giggles after ice-cream on patrol and complains after sparring.
One night, Dick had crept onto the roof of the manor, splayed on his back and watching the stars. He turned his head as a creak followed.
He smiled,“Hey Jason.”
“Hey Dick.” Jason grinned, eyes crinkling as he scrambled over to lay beside his brother, “Bruce has me practicing on some cases” his face scrunching up in disgust.
Dick laughed, “Yeah? And how’s that going. God, he always falls asleep working on cases with me.”
“Really? He seems pretty adamant on Robin needing case solving skills.”
“Ehh, you’ll get there eventually.” Dick smiled, stretching his arms above his head.
“You know, how I’m uh trans right?” Dick said, voice soft
Jason nodded, eyes locked onto his brother.
“Well, uh, Robin used to be actually- It was- it was my birth name. Well, dead name now. In honour of my parents.”
Pause. Jason was silent.
“ Is that why- is that why you were so mad at Bruce?”
Dick sighed, dragging his hands down his face. “Uh yeah. But I’m not anymore. I’m glad I got to share my name with you.”
Suddenly, small arms entwined around him and he was engulfed with Jason pressed into his chest.
“I’m glad you shared Robin with me too.” He whispered
Dick relaxed, not realising he was tensed, before wrapping his arms around his brother tightly.
“Love you Jay.” he whispered into his shoulder
“Love you too Dickhead.” came the muffled response.
All was good. Dick and Bruce were on good terms again. Jason was happy. Nightwing, Batman and Robin all worked together.
And then Jason died.