Chapter Text
It had been little more than a month since twelve-year-old Jason had left behind the cold, hunger, and constant danger of Crime Alley to move into Wayne Manor. For Bruce, however, that single month had been enough to make a life without him completely unimaginable.
He still fondly remembered the night he caught the boy trying to steal the tires off the Batmobile. That almost ridiculous encounter had been an unexpected light in the middle of one of his darkest moments. It had been half a year since he last saw Dick. Six months since his own overprotective nature ignited the arguments that ended with his eldest son packing his bags, giving up the mantle of Robin, and spreading his wings in Blüdhaven as Nightwing.
His son’s absence still stung like an open wound, but it comforted Bruce to know that Dick at least stayed in touch with Clark, his "second dad," as Dick liked to call him. A year ago, Bruce and Clark had taken the next step in their relationship and gotten married, and now, with Jason’s energetic presence running around the house, the manor finally felt like a real home again.
Though, to be completely honest, at this exact moment, Bruce would rather be anywhere else in the world.
He was trapped in the middle of a bustling charity gala he had organized himself. Since it was Jason’s first official event, Bruce had tried to stick by his side, but a tide of wealthy guests kept interrupting them.
"Bruce..." Jason muttered beside him, gently tugging at his jacket cuff.
"Yes, sweetheart?" Bruce replied instantly, his expression softening.
"I'm bored. Can I go to the buffet table?"
"Go ahead," Bruce smiled, giving him an affectionate pat on the back. "I'll stay here for a moment. I promise I'll break free soon."
Jason slipped quietly through the crowd, leaving Bruce to feign interest in a conversation about investments he couldn't care less about. Truth be told, the boy still struggled to understand the point of these parties; to him, they were nothing more than rich people showing off their money, and it annoyed him that Bruce had to host them. Even though Bruce had patiently explained that it was just a front to protect his identity as Batman, the events were no less irritating.
He would have preferred a thousand times over to stay in the library reading a good book, but with all the noise from the gala, concentrating was impossible, so he settled for grabbing desserts from the buffet and retreating to a quiet corner.
As he ate, he noticed other children scattered across the room. None of them approached him. Jason knew he still carried his past in Crime Alley like an invisible mark—one that matched the sideways glances from several high-society women perfectly. Judgemental looks that told him, without words, that a kid like him didn't belong there. But Jason didn't care at all about what they thought. Bruce had chosen him, and Bruce would never look at him like that; that was the only thing that mattered.
While enjoying his third strawberry tart, a scene across the room made his blood boil. A man visibly older than Bruce had stepped up to him, standing dangerously close. Even from several yards away, Jason caught the instant rigidity in his father's shoulders and the awkward tension as Bruce tried to politely create space.
Jason recognized that posture immediately. He had seen that exact scenario hundreds of times on the streets: sleazy guys trying to take advantage of people they assumed were vulnerable. He had been forced to defend himself one night in an alley when a stranger offered him money for something disgusting. Jason had delivered a brutal kick right between the guy's legs before running off as fast as he could.
Because of that, rage consumed him in a heartbeat. How dared that jerk make Bruce uncomfortable? Didn't he know Bruce was married? If Clark were here, he would've taught him a lesson already, Jason thought, clenching his fists. But Superman was millions of miles away on a space mission with the Justice League; so right now, Jason was the only one available to take action.
He marched across the room with purpose, dodging waiters, until he planted himself right next to Bruce.
"Jay? You're back," Bruce said. His tone was instantly warm, but Jason didn't miss the faint flicker of relief in his eyes.
"Bruce... I'm sleepy," the boy blurted out, forcing a tired grimace. He hoped his father would walk him upstairs and tuck him in like he did every night, though his real goal was to get him away from that guy.
"Bruce, let the butler take the kid to bed and stay a little longer," the man interrupted, locking an insistent gaze onto Bruce that made Jason's stomach turn. "It's your party, you wouldn't want to be a bad host, would you?"
"I'm sorry, Paul, but I have to go with my son," Bruce replied, offering a smile as polite as it was fake. "The gala isn't over yet, I promise I'll be back in a moment."
Without giving the man room to argue, Bruce wrapped a hand around Jason's shoulders and guided him gently toward the stairs, leaving the noise behind.
Once inside the bedroom, with the door closed, the tension seemed to evaporate. Jason dropped onto the bed, crossed his arms, and declared with absolute firmness:
"Bruce, I don't want you going back down there."
Bruce raised an eyebrow, amused as he tucked him in. "Jay... I'm the host. I can't just disappear."
"Then tell everyone the party's over."
"Jason, what's wrong? I know these gatherings are a nightmare, but..."
"I didn't like the way that guy was looking at you," the boy interrupted, scowling. "Like... like he wanted something from you."
Bruce let out a long, tired sigh. He walked over and sat on the edge of the mattress, looking at him with a mix of exhaustion and affection. "Oh, Jay... Everyone wants something from me at these parties. They know Wayne Enterprises has funds—"
"I'm not talking about money!" Jason protested, gripping the blankets tight. "And don't play the clueless playboy with me, you're the greatest detective in the world."
Bruce fell silent for a second and sighed in resignation before offering a small smile at the boy's sharp wit. "Alright... I admit it. I don't want to go back down there either," he confessed softly. "Guys like Paul don't take a polite 'no' for an answer. I made it clear that I'm happily married, but he kept pressing. If you hadn't shown up when you did, I think I'd be on the front page of tomorrow's papers for breaking his jaw in the middle of the ballroom."
"Now I regret interrupting..." Jason muttered under his breath.
Bruce let out a genuine laugh and leaned in to ruffle his messy hair. "Please, Jay. I don't want you worrying about these things, and especially not thinking about solving them with violence."
"Says the guy who goes out to beat up criminals every night," the boy shot back without missing a beat.
"Yes... but I don't do that as Bruce Wayne, do I?"
"No... but... I just wanted to protect you," Jason whispered, looking down at his hands, suddenly self-conscious.
Bruce's stern expression melted completely. He pulled closer and wrapped the little boy in a tight, secure hug.
"And you did," he whispered close to his ear. "Thank you so much, sweetheart."
Jason hesitated for a second before hugging him back, hiding his face against Bruce's shoulder and soaking in his father's warmth. "Hey... Can I tell Clark when he gets back so he can drop Paul off a building?"
Bruce chuckled again against his hair, shaking his head before pulling back slightly. "We don't kill people, Jason... But don't worry. As soon as I go down, I'll inform Paul that Wayne Enterprises is pulling all funding from his company. Believe me, that will hurt him much more."
Jason wanted to protest that it was far too lenient a punishment, but the sense of peace in Bruce's voice won him over. He nodded reluctantly, closed his eyes, and snuggled under the covers, drifting off to sleep with the quiet satisfaction of knowing he was taking care of his new family.
* * *
The next day broke like any other in Jason's new routine: devouring a stack of honey-drenched pancakes prepared by Alfred, sitting at the table alongside Bruce and Clark.
"Jay, tell me, how was your first gala?" Clark asked with an enthusiastic smile.
Jason tensed for a moment and glanced at Bruce. His father offered a nearly imperceptible look, asking for absolute discretion.
"It was... noisy and pretty boring," the boy lied, digging his fork into his breakfast. "The only good part was the desserts."
"I completely understand, the buffet table is always the best part of those events," Clark laughed, before switching topics. "On my end, the mission went really well. We managed to evacuate the planet that issued the distress call in time and relocated them to a safe system."
"I would have liked to join you," Bruce murmured, a faint frown showing his slight disappointment.
"Honey, you had already organized the gala. If you cancelled at the last minute, Gotham's elite would have eaten you alive," Clark replied, leaning over to take Bruce's hand on the table, looking at him with overflowing affection. "Besides, you were the one who designed the entire evacuation plan. If it weren't for your strategy, we wouldn't have pulled it off. You know full well you're the backbone of the League."
A subtle blush betrayed Bruce's cheeks, though he quickly looked away toward his mug in embarrassment. "Alright, alright... I get it."
"I'm glad, sweetheart," Clark smiled, leaning in a little closer to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.
"Hey! I'm still here, please don't get all mushy while I'm trying to eat," Jason protested, making a face of disgust.
To tell the truth, Jason was growing incredibly fond of Clark. After all, he was technically his dad too, and to his surprise, they shared a lot in common: a love for reading, action movies, and above all, a secret devotion to punk rock. So of course he was happy that Bruce had someone as kind and strong as Clark by his side, but that didn't mean he enjoyed watching them shower each other with affection in the middle of breakfast.
Clark pulled back immediately with a nervous chuckle, while Bruce cleared his throat with a fake cough to regain his composure.
"Alright, Jason. Finish up quickly, your tutor will be here in fifteen minutes. After your lessons, if you want, we can go down to the cave's gym to practice martial arts."
Jason wasn't too thrilled about the first part. Bruce insisted that a tutor had to bring his studies up to speed before enrolling him in a formal school, due to the years he had lost on the streets. But studying itself wasn't the issue—he loved learning and could spend entire afternoons devouring books in the library—it was his future classmates that worried him. He was terrified by the thought that kids of the school would turn out to be just as prejudiced as the kids at the gala.
He tried to push those fears aside and focus on what mattered: later he would head down to the Batcave to train one-on-one with Batman.
It was a thought he kept strictly to himself, but Jason was convinced that after a few more months of training, Bruce would formally ask him to be the new Robin. It was obvious Batman needed a partner. Besides, in a few months he would turn thirteen, the exact age the first Robin started patrolling the streets of Gotham. In his mind, all the pieces fit together perfectly.
A couple of hours later, he was packing up his notebooks after finishing his session with the tutor when suddenly, a sharp chime broke the quiet of the main floor: the manor's doorbell.
Jason found it strange. He knew they hardly ever had visitors, and it was way too early for Clark to be back from his work in Metropolis. Driven by instinct, he tiptoed out into the hallway and hid behind one of the thick marble pillars in the foyer to spy on the entrance.
The moment he identified the visitor, he swore a cold sweat ran down his spine.
It was him. Bruce's son. Dick.
Nobody needed to introduce him; Jason knew his face by heart from the dozens of photographs scattered down the halls and across Bruce's desk. Though in person he looked a bit taller and more mature than in the portraits, it was undeniably him.
"Master Richard... what a surprise to see you here," Alfred said, showing a rare moment of visible astonishment. "I believe you haven't visited in..."
"Six months? Yeah, I'm so sorry, Alfred," Dick interrupted, stepping forward to pull the older man into a tight hug, which the butler returned with obvious affection.
"Look at you, Master Richard. How is it possible that you've changed so much in this time?"
"Hey, I just put on a bit of muscle, my height is still the same," Dick teased, offering that warm, familiar smile.
"Master... Master Bruce will be very happy to see you."
From his hiding spot, Jason watched as the spark on Dick's face vanished instantly, replaced by a shadow of hesitation.
"Is he... is he here?"
"Yes, in the cave. He is setting up the training room for..." For the first time since Jason had arrived at the manor, he saw Alfred falter, turning visibly tense as he realized he was about to reveal the existence of the newest family member.
What am I supposed to do? Jason thought, holding his breath and pressing closer to the marble pillar. His heart was hammering against his chest. Dick doesn't know anything about me.
"Just go on down, Master Richard," Alfred stated, regaining his composure and giving him a look full of understanding. "It is high time you two talked."
"I know... That's why I came," the young man admitted, letting out a heavy sigh before turning down the side hallway that led to the grandfather clock.
Jason, unable to suppress his curiosity, began following him from a distance like a shadow.
By the time Dick walked down the stairs and started stepping into the Batcave, nerves threatened to overwhelm him. He had avoided Bruce for half a year. He knew perfectly well it was too long and that they needed to make peace. He had no idea how to rebuild what was broken, but the weight of the distance had become simply unbearable. He had to try.
He walked slowly toward Bruce, who was wearing comfortable workout clothes and adjusting piece of equipment in the training area.
"Hey, B."
Dick's voice echoed through the vastness of the cavern, cutting through the steady hum of the monitors.
Bruce froze on the spot. He spun on his heel with trained instinct, his eyes wide, as if his mind refused to process what stood before him.
"Dick."
"I... I know it's been a long time."
"Six months," Bruce specified. His tone held no reproach, only the weight of pain buried for far too long.
"I know..." Dick took a couple more steps, closing the physical distance between them. "I just want you to know that I read all your messages. I didn't answer before because... I wasn't ready. But I think I am now."
"Ready… for what?"
"To talk, B. To finally talk about everything that happened between us."
Bruce took a step forward and crossed his arms over his chest in a desperate attempt to maintain control of his emotions and hold back the ache tightening his throat.
"I'm glad to hear that, Dick. I want to talk too. Your leaving... the way you chose to walk out was far too abrupt. I know I was overprotective, but you have to understand that everything I did and said was to keep you safe."
"To keep me safe?" Dick spat, letting out a bitter laugh that bounced off the cold stone of the cave. "B, why don't you just admit for once that you were simply worried about not having your Robin around to patrol whenever you wanted? You started treating me like trash and picking fights over every little thing the moment I started spending more time with the Titans. You told me straight up that if my mind was anywhere other than your mission, I should step aside."
"That's not true, Dick," Bruce interrupted. He kept his voice low and steady, trying to contain the storm before it overwhelmed them both. "I mean... yes, I said it, but it was never for that reason. I was terrified of you drifting away, of something happening to you—"
"I'm not a kid anymore, Bruce! I can take care of myself, and you know that better than anyone because you taught me how to fight!" Dick snapped, sick of hearing the same old justifications. "Don't you see what's really happening here? You are completely incapable of accepting that anyone can have a life of their own outside of your damn crusade!"
"Watch your mouth, Richard," Bruce warned, his voice dangerously tense.
"I can't believe I came all the way here with the stupid hope that you had changed," Dick continued, his face flushed with accumulated rage. "But you'll never admit when you're wrong, and that's your biggest flaw, B. You're a selfish bastard."
The words sliced through the cavern air like a sharp blade.
Bruce stood completely motionless, rigid, as if the physical impact of that accusation had stolen the air right out of his lungs. A suffocating silence settled between them—until suddenly, the echo of fast, heavy footsteps thundered furiously across the metal catwalks, shattering the ice.
"Shut your damn mouth!" an angry young voice roared, packed with a wild rage that echoed off the cave walls.
Before Dick could process where the shout came from, a small figure shoved his way between them, standing like a wall right in front of Bruce. It was a boy with clenched fists, heavy breathing, and blue eyes glaring with pure venom at the newcomer.
Dick took a step back, his eyes widening. Confusion froze his anger in a fraction of a second.
"What... what is this?" Dick stammered, scanning the kid up and down. "Who are you?"
Jason didn't back down a single millimeter. He stood his ground, dropping into a defensive posture honed by years of street survival.
"I'm Jason. And you're never going to talk to my dad like that again, you idiot," the boy spat, baring his teeth furiously. "He's not selfish! He's the best person I know! He gave you a roof, he gave you a family, and all you do is come here and scream at him like an ungrateful brat! If you hate this place so much, then get the hell out and don't come back!"
Dick froze, his eyes locked onto the kid. The boy was wearing a painfully familiar sweater bearing the Wayne family crest on the chest. Dick felt his stomach drop violently. He looked over the boy's shoulder, desperately searching Bruce's face.
"Bruce..." Dick's voice dropped to a trembling whisper, losing all its previous fury to reveal raw vulnerability. "Who is he? Tell me he's not who I think he is..."
Bruce, still processing the sting of Dick's reproaches and Jason's sudden intervention, placed a firm hand on the little boy's shoulder. The touch helped calm Jason's furious tremors, reminding him that he wasn't alone.
"Dick..." Bruce uttered in a raspy whisper. "This is Jason. Jason Todd. He's... he's my son."
Dick felt as though the Batcave floor had just caved in beneath his feet. He looked at the boy watching him with hostility, and in that second, the weight of the distance and the painful realization that he had been replaced hit him like a freight train.
"Your son?... Is this a joke, B?"
"No. Why would it be?" Bruce answered, his voice steady.
"Because there's no way in six months you went out and got yourself another son just because I left!" Dick exploded, his voice cracking with heartbreak. "Did you find a replacement for me that fast?!"
At the word "replacement," Jason flinched back a millimeter, instinctively leaning his weight into Bruce's side. The anger he felt was suddenly tainted by a sharp pang of fear—an irrational but deep fear that Dick's words were true, and that Bruce had only rescued him to fill an empty chair.
"Jason's adoption has nothing to do with you, Dick," Bruce clarified instantly, tightening his grip on the boy's shoulder to offer comfort.
"Right, keep telling yourself that until you believe it," Dick spat bitterly. "What's next? Are you gonna give him Robin too? Go ahead, you have my permission. You already gave him my life."
Jason couldn't take the crushing weight on his chest any longer. With his eyes stinging with tears, he yanked himself free from Bruce's grip and broke into a sprint, scrambling up the stone stairs toward his room.
The echo of his hurried footsteps faded, leaving the cave in an unbearable, heavy silence. Bruce finally broke the ice.
"Jason lost his parents, just like you. I found him living alone in terrible conditions in Crime Alley, and I brought him here because I thought it was the right thing to do," Bruce said, looking up at Dick. His usually stern eyes glistened with unshed tears. "You want me to be honest? Yes, I am a selfish bastard who didn't want you to leave, but not because of my crusade or because I only wanted you as Robin. I just wanted you to be safe... After Slade kidnapped you when you were a child, I never had peace of mind again, Dick. I know I shouldn't have treated you terribly or said those things, but you know me: I'm terrible at expressing myself, and I ruin everything."
A single tear spilled over Bruce's eyelashes and rolled down his cheek, exposing the suffocating guilt that had been eating away at him for six months.
"So I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. And if you don't want to see me again, I'll accept it... but please, don't reject Jason. He's your little brother. He admires you so much... I wanted so badly for you two to meet, but I never imagined it would be like this."
Dick froze where he stood. Seeing tears on his father's face and feeling the weight of the terrible things he had said right in front of the kid caused all his anger to evaporate in an instant, leaving behind nothing but a suffocating void of remorse.
"Oh, B..." Dick whispered in a broken breath, burying his face in both hands. "I really screwed up."