Chapter Text
Evelyn sat crisscross on the floor across from Dick. She really should be taking notes right now but was more focused on the way Dick walked her through the hallucinations he'd been drugged to see the week before.
Dick was always good at spinning tragedies into stories, too good really. The worst moments in his life played out like a performance. It almost didn't feel real sometimes. She'd asked about that once and he'd accredited it to a childhood in the circus, he was a performer at heart. He'd claimed that reality made the best shows.
Most people came into her office after events like these. Triggers than bring trauma to the surface, much less a toxin that literally made someone relive their worst fears. Yet, Richard Grayson, had waited almost a full week to their next appointment. He really needed to work on his self care.
"...that's' most of it." Dick finished, still only looking at the little blue fidget in his hand. "Dead brother, B hurting the boys, Amy and the precinct murdered, my parents dying.."
He trailed off slightly. She knew from Jason's last appointment that he wasn't telling her the whole story, but she couldn't ask about something one of his boys had brought up.
"..Cat."
There it was.
"Who's Cat?"
The fidgeting stopped. "Skip."
Alright, that was kind of expected. She didn't actually know who Cat was, just that it was traumatic enough that Jason thought knocking him out would be better than reliving it.
"That's just fine. Can I ask you why you always call him B? Not Bruce or Dad. I think you've only ever called him B."
Dick looked up at that, staring at the ceiling. "Bruce and B are very different people."
She waited a moment.
"Neither of them have ever been my dad."
Oh. That was interesting.
"I ..." Evelyn paused, careful to not fill in the blanks in her mind. She didn't have enough answers for that. "I thought he raised you."
Dick snorted and started spinning the little toy again. "He did a lot of things, Evie. But he didn't raise me. B isn't a dad and if he ever was to the other boys, I never got the same treatment. My dad's dead, murdered. If anyone fills that slot, it's Slade but not B."
That was unexpected.
"Tell me about Slade, then. Why is he your father figure?"
Dick looked up suddenly, mouth slightly open and eyes wide with realization. "Evie!"
"Yes?" She had no idea how he went from detached to panic so quickly.
"I haven't called him since the boys moved here! How did I do that?"
She didn't know, she didn't even know who Slade was. "You're a busy person who's been dealing with a lot of really crazy things. You adopted four children, Dick."
He looked a little more panicked at this. "I know! And I haven't told him!"
Oh Dick. So smart, but sometimes, in her professional opinion, so stupid.
Dick's phone was ringing, balanced on the seat of his bike as he shoved the bottom of his joggers into his riding pants and for the second time that day, regretting the crop top as his bare stomach rubbed against the leather jacket's interior. The phone was answered right as he pulled on the helmet, connecting automatically to the Bluetooth.
"Hey, Little Bird."
His chest eased as he kicked his bike into gear. Relief crashing down at the fact that Slade answered like no time had passed. Dick had just gone months without calling and yet there was no cruel remark or snapping words. Slade had never done that, and it was a relief every time.
"Hi."
He had no idea what to say, how to explain any of this.
"Everything alright?"
"Yeah, um. I just realized that I haven't called you in a while. I miss you."
There was a long, agonizing moment of silence.
"Kid, you do realize that you broke an eight year cover with no warning, adopted three highly traumatized children, and moved all of them to a new state, right?"
"Four." Dick couldn't help the grin under his helmet at the confused 'hm' on the other side of the line. "It's four kids now. I found Cass on a rooftop."
Slade muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'of course you did' before he actually chuffed out a laugh. "Well, as much as I'm not a fan of the radio silence, it is understandable."
"Oh."
A sign over the line, "Yeah, oh. You do more than you think. And for the record, I miss you too."
He smiled even as he turned onto their street, easing the throttle and letting the bikes RPM drop. His neighbor across the street had a new baby and he was not going to be the one to wake her up.
"Do you want to meet them?" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Who was he kidding, an invite after months of silence was not the way to go. "Only if you want to, I mean."
"Dick." Slade cut off his rambling. "I'll be there tonight. Send me the address?"
"Yeah, I will." Dick killed the bike and kicked down the stand. "Thanks, Slade."
He was rolling the bike into the garage when Slade replied before hanging up. "Anytime, Little Bird. Anytime."
Dick took of his helmet and smiled wistfully. Slade was coming over, and somehow, that made everything a little easier.
"Unhand me, you fool!"
Dick laughed as he heard Damian's screech from inside the house. There was a loud thump and then Jason was loudly swearing.
Yeah, it was good to be home.
"I'm perfectly capable of standing!"
"Not on the counter you ain't!"
Dick's eyes widened and he hurried inside, hanging his gear up on the way. "Hey guys!"
"Baba!"
"Dick!"
"Todd's being a mother hen!" Damian spit out.
"Excuse me! Of course I am! You were climbing on the counter!"
"I can't fall, Jason. That doesn't mean I can't stand."
"Counters! In socks Damian! If that's not a falling hazard, I don't know what is!"
Dick grinned, deciding to just let them argue it out. Jason really was a mother hen.
Damian straightened impossibly more and Dick knew that if he could stand on a chair to make them eye level he would.
"Well excuse me if I don't want to dress like Richard."
Okay, that was excessive. He put on a face of annoyance and was promptly ignored by both boys.
"Does anyone want to dress like Richard?" Jason shot back.
"Hey!" They pointedly looked at him and motioned to the navy joggers and yellow crop top. "What?"
"Nevermind." Damian muttered, rolling his eyes as he left the room.
"Idiot." Jason mumbled, turning back to pull a pan out of a cupboard.
"Thanks Jay. It takes a team to keep that kid in one piece."
Jason snorted, "Not just him." He tossed a cutting board at him followed by a bag of produce.
He didn't have an argument for that and he obediently turned to dice the vegetables. He had the oddest feeling that he was suppose to tell Jason something. No matter, it would come back to him eventually.
Slade was maybe a little more excited than he'd been expecting as he knocked on the house's door, helmet under one arm and a bag of pies in the other.
The door opened in seconds and he was yanked into a hug with a joyful "Slade!" echoing in his ears.
"Hey, Little Bird." He stepped out of the hug as he came into the house, starting to kick off his shoes when he froze at the click, of a gun safety. "Take the helmet and the bag."
Dick did, a little more quickly than he would have liked for the situation, and he turned slowly with his hands up to find a gun leveled at his chest.
Jason Todd, now Jason Grayson he supposed, was standing in front of both Tim and Damian with the girl, he assumed it was Cass, slightly to his side.
"Little Bird, did you not tell them I was coming."
There was a quiet, apologetic laugh from Dick. "Oops?"
"Hang on," Tim started, shoving his way in front of Jason and side stepping the retriever that was pawing at Jason's legs. "you invited Deathstroke to our house?"
Jason still hadn't lowered the gun and honestly, Slade couldn't blame him. He looked at Cass again, something clicking.
"You're David Cain's kid."
"What?" Dick turned to face him before looking back to the kids. "Sorry, yeah. Guys, meet my not quite but kind of dad."
"Hello?" Damian had pushed his way past Jason to look at him better.
"Excuse me?" Tim seemed more confused than concerned, that was good.
Cass gave a single wave, stance relaxing as she nudged Jason till the gun lowered.
Dick grinned at them, "Yep! I guess you all know him though. Sorry for the not heads up, I think I distracted."
"The 'kind of dad' thing?" Jason asked, gun now on the shelf but still tense and ignoring Sally. "Explain."
Slade stepped in here, knowing that Dick was just going to confuse them more. "I found him hurt as Robin, offered a hand. A few years later he needed somewhere to go and he came with me."
Jason frowned. "Just, came with you?"
Dick nodded, moving them all towards the living room seats. "Yeah. I called him and he drove eight hours straight to pick me up from New York."
"The gas station and bar!" Jason snapped his fingers, realizing something. "B tracked your bike there after you left that night and we found it there, abandoned."
Slade nodded. "Yes. Also, hi again, sorry for shooting at you."
"You what?" Dick turned on Slade, "Why?"
"What? He was Red Hood and I had a contract. I realized who he was and left."
"Do you know all my kids?"
Damian actually smirked as Slade nodded.
"Kind of. Jason from the contract, Tim from stuff with Ra's he tried to get me to kidnap him, Damian from time at the League, and Cass from working with David."
"Slade. Nice"
"Slade is nice or Slade was nice." Jason corrected softly before pausing, "Wait, what?"
Slade didn't think she could talk, they must have been teaching her.
"Slade is nice. Slade kill mean."
Damian shifted back and forth slightly before tossing in his two cents. "Slade took care of some mean men for me too."
"Did you really kill people in front of two of my kids?"
"Three." Jason corrected, grinning now that he knew Slade really wasn't a threat to any of them. "He may have missed me but he didn't miss my lieutenant."
Slade winced at that. "Sorry."
"What's the bag?" Tim asked, and Slade realized he never actually took of his shoes. He left the couch to kick off his shoes and bring the bag to the coffee table, pulling out boxes and cutlery.
"I brought pie," he offered, not sure if it would be appreciated right now.
They just kind of staired at him even as Dick beamed.
"You know what?" Jason leaned forward and started to open the box tops. "I'll take it. Guess you're not too bad for a grandpa."
Slade choked on his spit. What?