Chapter Text
It started with a letter.
Well, he couldn’t say it actually started with a letter, but that was when Bruce first became aware of anything. Prior to this, he was clueless about a great deal, and after it he remained baffled by everything stemming from it for years.
The letter’s contents were simple, direct, and possibly threatening. Analyzing its make drove him up the wall. The most generic paper. The most generic ink. Letters penned in with a stencil. No DNA. No fingerprints. No traces to find a place of origin. Dropped into a public mailbox during a busy time where cameras couldn’t catch the image clearly. Return address didn’t exist. The writer and sender did not want anything tracing back to them.
But the words on the page made finding them a priority.
If you value your son’s life, give Dick Grayson those adoption papers already!
That was it. The entire letter.
How did the sender even know he had those drawn up? Bruce still hadn’t found a good way to talk to Dick about it, and lately they’d been fighting. Bringing them up now seemed contrived and dishonest. There was a high chance Dick would take it the wrong way. But now… now someone was threatening his life if he didn’t do this. But who would threaten the life of someone they wanted adopted? Were they threatening the life of a son he didn’t know about? What did the ‘Value’ imply?
“Sir,” Alfred started, “I believe a discussion with Master Richard is in order.”
“He has finals.” Bruce insisted, wanting to take care of this before Dick saw anything. What was the sender’s plan? “He needs to focus on schoolwork.”
“Ah yes. That tried and true excuse to barrel through alone.” Alfred’s dry tone did not surprise Bruce in the slightest. Often he told him to just talk to the boy about confusing things, but this really felt like something he could handle alone. Dick was just sixteen and needed to focus on his regular life so he could progress further into adulthood, and hopefully a normal life. School was the best plan he had to drive him to dropping Robin one day. The whole institution was designed to expose him to as many ideas and outlets as possible to find his own path. One of them had to get him away from crime fighting. “Very effective.”
Bruce didn’t flinch. He just kept going over the details he uncovered about the letter and growled. There were no clues to follow. No angles to uncover. He just had to figure out who was smart enough to make the trail impossible to see and demand adoption for his ward’s safety. To use a cheap letter stencil to write it and make this happen took a great deal of forethought and planning. Someone who dealt with clues in the past and decided this was the best way to hide their identity. In making it this difficult, they, in a way, left a signature. He just needed more clues to follow it.
He’d need another letter.
“Dammit…” How to get another letter. Would doing as requested provide one? How would they know he performed that task? Just because he could give out papers didn’t mean Dick would say yes. They drew a boundary years ago regarding this, and offering the papers would cross the line. As much as he wanted to have Dick officially and permanently part of his family, if he did it because of a threat, would it actually mean anything? What would the writer even do to his son ward? What could they do?
He sighed and leaned back in his (bat)chair. He needed to come up with a solution soon. Was there a time limit? The letter was so vague, so simple, he didn’t know what to do with it. He’s had it for two days, and he had no idea how to proceed with this case. Bruce wanted to set it aside and try a different case in its stead, clear his mind, but this concerned Dick, and he could not let anything putting him in danger go for longer than an hour before it dragged him back. Dick shouldn’t suffer anymore. He had to protect him. He had to solve this. Now.
Bruce rubbed his eyes one more time and went back to the details he managed to attain, reviewing every angle he had available. Was there anything on the envelope that could be a lead? The first attempt at collecting DNA revealed nothing, but possibly if he used -
“Hey, Bruce!”
Dick’s voice ringing through the cave made him stiffen. Why was Dick home early from school? He looked at the clock and realized he lost about three hours. It was a good thing Dick learned to drive officially and had his own car these days. Kid loved his independence, even if Bruce missed having to pick him up once in a while. He started turning his chair to look at him and assess his mood. Was he going to pick a fight? Was he there to share something? Ask for help? Telling him about a Titan’s mission? What -
The teen held up a piece of unfolded paper with an envelope, caught somewhere between annoyed and curious. “I got this strange letter today. What’s this about papers?”
Dammit.
Looked like the sender wasn’t going to leave anything to chance.
Bruce crossed the cave to see what he was talking about, not quite taking the paper from his hands yet but reading them to be certain. Two letters could make a profile. Two…
This bastard.
Dick, tell that stoic, emotionally constipated dingBat in your basement to give you the papers already! He’s had them for a year and seriously needs to communicate. The words he’s looking for are, ‘I love you, Dick’. The dumb dumb.
How old was this blackmailer? Bruce just glared at the words and tried to make a profile. Intelligent, no doubts there. Observant if they knew about the adoption papers he had ready for a year. Also a hacker or a spy because he didn’t make that information public. Either knew Dick to know to call him by that nickname and how he preferred to be talked to, or stalked him enough to get the same results. They also knew Bruce Wayne was Batman; why else would they capitalize the B and refer to their basement? And they had some association with children if they used ‘dumb dumb’, especially as a last-second add-on.
“Bruce,” Dick started next to him, “start talking. What is going on?”
“Are you the only one who’s touched this?” He had to analyze it. See if the second letter was made carelessly. Last letter only had mail carriers’ fingerprints and…
Mail carriers…
Was it possible someone in the postal service was behind this? They would know -
“I’m more concerned with content, Bruce.” The teen glared at him, annoyed by his detective mode taking control when he wanted answers and not more questions. “What papers? What have you been holding onto for a year?”
“Nothing you need to be concerned with right now.” Carefully, Bruce took the corner of the letter with two fingers and tried to pull it from Dick’s hand. The teen’s grip tightened. “Dick, we need to have this analyzed. If there’s a single clue -”
“Is there another letter?”
Damn. He taught Dick too well. “Don’t worry about it. I have it in hand.”
“Oh, I’m worried.” Dick snapped the paper out of his delicate grip and stepped away, glaring at his mentor. “A mysterious letter describing you as Batman to a T, tells me to get some year-old papers from you, and you tell me to not worry about it? How could I not be worried, dumb dumb!”
“Dick…” How was he going to navigate this one? He couldn’t just brush it off; Dick wouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t just hand over the adoption papers either. Their relationship was just too fragile right now. He needed to get the second letter and figure out who sent it. Find out who knew their identities and what their goals were. He needed to keep Dick safe from this threat. He needed -
“Is there a second letter? What does it say?” The teen gave him an incredulous look. “Was it addressed to me? Are you opening my mail now?”
“It wasn’t addressed to you.” Bruce was not crossing that boundary, no matter how tempting it was some days. Besides, Alfred never let him. “Now give me that letter so I can look for prints and DNA. There might be a clue I can follow -”
“Only if you let me read the other letter.” Stubborn brat. Dick jutted out his chin, daring Bruce to cross another line. He waved the paper around, taunting him out of reach. They were losing valuable time! “I’ll give this to you ONLY after you let me read the other letter.”
“Dick -”
“I want to know what papers he’s talking about.”
There was an edge to the lad’s voice Bruce didn’t recognize, couldn’t place. Like he was holding his breath for something. Bruce’s insides squirmed, knowing they were at an impasse. A scuffle for the papers would do more damage than good. Dick would learn the truth sooner or later. May as well just pull off the Band-aid.
Bruce sighed and crossed over to the evidence tray holding the paper in question. It wasn’t pristine anymore; parts of it take for analysis confirming how generic it was, but it was 100% legible. Dick followed and placed the second letter on another tray the moment he could see the first one clearly. The man held his breath as he read it, watching his face carefully for every change. Any sign. This… this was more important than getting more clues on the second paper.
Dick just read the letter quietly, his muscles slowly going slack. It was just one sentence, but a loaded one for them. The teen just stared at it for a long time, silent as the grave. Bruce tried not to swallow away tension inside him, but it was hard not to with the question hovering just to the side of them. Waiting.
Bruce was just waiting for it.
Finally, “Did… did someone try to blackmail you into giving me adoption papers?”
“It appears so.”
“By threatening me?”
“Mhm.”
“Papers you’ve had for a year?”
Bruce looked away. It was more like thirteen months, two weeks, and four days, but that hardly mattered. “Our blackmailer sent this just two days ago. They must have known it’d take a few days to get here and sent a second one to make sure the first was followed. So far, there’s no discernible way to identify the sender. The most common paper and ink combination, no prints on the letter and only mail carrier prints on the envelope, and no DNA evidence on either. Letters made by a stencil. Gotham sender. Triangulated to a public mailbox in the Diamond District as point of entry, but nothing else -”
“So we have a professional blackmailer who wants you to just adopt me already.” Dick was not going to let that part drop. “Someone more paranoid than you, and it’s paid off. They sent two letters in case you ignored the second. They might know you’re Batman and I’m Robin. And they either are a child or work with kids. Am I right?”
The teen looked back to Bruce, who nodded before looking to the evidence tray with the new letter and envelope. “I’ll start analyzing the second letter momentarily. Maybe they slipped with the second letter. There’s also the possibility they work in the postal service, covering their fingerprints with their coworkers.”
“Would that give them access to your requests to your lawyer to start adoption proceedings?” It was a good question, one that made his mentor freeze. This… was not leading where he wanted it to.
“A hacker can find anything if they’re looking hard enough.”
“And why would a hacker even want to know my adoption status?”
Another good question. Who would actually care if he adopted Dick Grayson? Why was it important to anyone enough to threaten Dick’s life? “Probably an obsessed stalker with a built-in ideal life for you.”
“Or you.” Bruce didn’t acknowledge that one. Dick went on. “So someone really just wants you to adopt me.”
“Possibly. Could also be a sick game in their head.” He took the tray to the computer, a set of latex gloves ready to handle them without leaving prints ready to go. It was time to collect data and pray there was more than a psychological profile to make from the letters.
“Are those adoption papers real?”
Bruce stilled, hesitant to put the gloves on because of the question. What was the best way to answer this one without making things worse? Or sound desperate? Was now really the time to make it a thing? What if it was? Was this his chance to ask? Or was it the wrong time? It always seemed like the wrong time. They fought. A crisis would happen. Some case would drive the idea out of his mind. The Teen Titans or the Justice League would need them. A media circus was looking at them. Something, SOMETHING, always got in the way. There was always a reason to put it off, to ignore the papers drafted for over a year.
Dick didn’t need another father. They established that years ago. He needed a guardian. A mentor. A friend. A brother perhaps. Bruce had no right to take John Grayson’s place. Alfred never took Thomas Wayne’s place. He didn’t deserve -
“Bruce. Do you want to adopt me?”
Dick’s direct question stopped his heart. Bruce hesitated to turn and look at him, anxiety gripping his heart. Was… was his wish… wrong? He heard footsteps, but his head was buzzing so much with his spiraling thoughts, he couldn’t move. Soon, Dick’s eyes were two feet in front of his own, dead serious and reading him as best he could. “Bruce. Please. Tell me. Do you want to adopt me?”
Bruce glanced at him and away again, eyes searching for any reason, any method, any way to escape this situation. Was he breathing? Was he thinking? His throat tightened dangerously closed, unable to form sounds. Why was this so hard for him to do? One word. One simple word. One moment.
Dick’s earnest face.
He needed to answer. He deserved an answer.
Bruce forced himself to breathe, to open his throat, but it wasn’t soon enough to make it work. So he nodded. Once. One nod.
It was enough to get Dick to relax a little, a hint of a smile on his face. Positive. No fight. No anger. Open. The right time.
“Yes.” The teen relaxed even more, air escaping his lungs as well. Bruce continued. “Have for years. Just didn’t…”
“Was… was the thought…” Dick was trying to talk while an airy laugh fought to escape him. “Of me saying ‘no’, that terrifying to you?”
Of course it was. Losing Dick was his greatest nightmare. He tried to make the kid quit being Robin so many times because he feared his death. Nearly lost him so many times. But trying to take the identity away from him always resulted in a fight worse than their others, and Dick would run away or ignore him entirely, and he’d have to let Robin continue just to have him in his life. If he said ‘no’ to the adoption, his rejection would be complete and final. Legally, he only had access to Dick for a little over a year more. The thought of him leaving for good terrified him. “Clearly.”
Dick laughed. A wet yet breathy laugh filled with disbelief and relief and tension leaving him like a waterfall. Tears were in his eyes. Why was he ready to cry? Was the idea that horrible? Why was -
“The answer is YES! You dumb dumb!”
“Yes?” The word shot every other thought out of his mind. Having an empty head almost pitched him backwards. Dick said yes? To the adoption?
“Yes!” Dick made sure the evidence tray was out of the way as he talked, a grin taking over his face in a way Bruce hadn’t seen in a while. He could do anything he wanted at that moment, and Bruce wouldn’t object in the slightest.
“But… I thought…” The boundary they set years ago. Didn’t…
“Ever heard of the term, ‘Bonus Dad’?” Bruce blinked, staring at Dick’s smile. He hadn’t. “It’s something I heard at school. Some people get step-dads or men in their lives that just step up when they need it most. You’re my Bonus Dad. And I would LOVE to make it official.
“Now I’m gonna hug you. And I’m not going to let go until you finally know I want this more than anything.”
Dick almost leapt at him as he wrapped his arms around his torso, gripping him tightly with all his heart. Bruce’s arms were slow to wrap around him, still in shock that he accepted the idea so easily, but once they were there, he held him fiercely, burying his head into the teen’s hair. His teen. His boy.
His son.
“I love you, Bruce. Always have. Always will.”
He couldn’t trust his voice. He just held his son tighter and kissed the top of his head. Bruce loved him too. He just had to learn how to say it.
“Oh, would you look at that?” Jack Drake read the paper to his family as they ate at the breakfast table, amused at the current setup. His wife was exasperated as she cut her grapefruit further away than was proper because their nine-year-old son refused to eat breakfast anywhere but her lap for the past two weeks. Timothy sat on his lap, though, during dinner, so he wasn’t too jealous, just amused. It allowed him to read in peace, and the kid was happy, even if Janet wasn’t.
“What?” Janet didn’t hide her mild annoyance, trying to endure her son’s overly attached regression lately. At least his other table manners had improved, and he wasn’t trying to eat with his hands in the slightest. Timothy even listened to what they had to say otherwise.
“Looks like Bruce Wayne officially adopted his ward.” Jack didn’t see Tim jerk up with a bright grin like he won a prize. “Took him long enough.”
“I thought he adopted him years ago.” Honestly, the woman didn’t care so long as Wayne didn’t do anything opposing their company. The one most interested was the boy in her lap.
“Looks like he hadn’t. Think Richard will inherit the company?”
Timothy actually laughed like it was the funniest idea in the world, getting stares from both his parents. “Not a chance! He’d rather die than be stuck behind a desk.”
“And how would you know that?” Janet looked down to her son skeptically. His behavior lately was odd, and they were seriously debating talking to a child psychologist about it. They couldn’t go on their next trip until they knew their son wouldn’t do something stupid out of their sight.
Tim gave them a very knowing look, the kind kids gave when they acted like they knew more than they actually did. “Because I’ve seen the future and he’s my big brother!”
The adults gave him identical looks saying they didn’t believe him, that he was playing pretend, and they let it go. “Of course he is, dear. Of course.”
He didn’t get upset with their skepticism, just settled back into his mother’s lap, glad he had a second chance to do this. Later he’d get the article and add it to his collection. He’d get as many articles about them as possible, keeping track of everything. That was his job now, and he was going to do it right.