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There had been a time where the Titans monopolized a good amount of Robin's attention. There were ups and downs, and while Robin never let Gotham down, Batman had pressed him to remember his priorities. Many of those nights, Bruce lost himself in rumination, mulling over their past, present, and future. He'd worried that Dick would soon have no room for him in his life.
Bruce remembered thinking he couldn't cope with that loss, but in the end, he'd never had to. Through all their trials, even as Dick left Robin's nest and Nightwing took flight; Bruce knew he could count on his old partner. Over the years, if he called, Dick came running.
Dick was always there to catch him.
It was only natural that Bruce couldn't bear the idea of parting with him. He understood just as well that the feeling was mutual. He'd known for a long time, how Dick really felt about him. He decided it wasn't his place to ask that of him.
So he didn't.
Years followed of watching Dick fall in and out of love. There had been several instances where the jealousy had eaten him alive. It turned his mind sour and made him isolate further, like a scorned lover. He was lucky in turn, that Batman had long since become a helm that boasted many allies. He owed that to, to Dick.
Bruce tried to build a life with other lovers himself and felt the ache deepen when each attempt failed. For years, he became increasingly convinced that this was a consequence of his mission. Gotham city was his burden to bear and she had taken her place as his lifelong companion, unwilling to release him.
But he was not alone.
In truth, Dick was the one constant in his heart. A devotion that never dimmed. Never burned out.
As he dare not ask for the one thing he wanted from Dick, Bruce spent years asking for more and more in other ways. He couldn't help but press his luck. Time and time again, he expected Dick to meet his demands, even if they were unreasonable. And Dick made a point of always rising to the challenge– if only to remind him why he was there in the first place. The oath they'd taken to each other.
Dick would push back, but never pulled away. Not entirely. He'd call Bruce irrational or unyielding, stubborn… but he still did as he asked. A bond of trust tied them to each other through all dangers. The line pulled taut, so Dick could walk high above the shadows.
And Bruce was always there to catch him.
Bruce was painfully aware of what that trust often cost him. Their mutual devotion, built on an unshakeable foundation, defined them. He didn't care to dwell on the alternative. Bruce would have been content to yearn until death took him. But after one too many loved ones lost- Dick couldn't bide his time any longer.
He needed to know for certain. What they could have been, what they were, what they might become.
It agonized Dick for weeks, trying to find the right time or the right way to ask. He debated just up and confessing how he felt, but trying to put it into words was too complicated and the idea of abruptly pouring his heart out was far too melodramatic. He waited patiently for an opening, a sign.
The opportunity came up naturally, when he'd least expected it.
Bruce asked Dick to check out a lead in Gotham city while he'd be occupied hosting an event at the manor. A modest charity gathering, plenty of schmoozing and ass-kissing. But Dick knew it was important to him, and not just because it kept up appearances. It made Dick a little nostalgic, to tell the truth. He could remember a time when those sorts of events were more commonplace, when Bruce had more time and energy to put on a smile for familiar faces.
After a long night of mostly unproductive surveillance work and a brief assist on the beat with Robin, Nightwing returned to the cave to write his report. He could have done it from his apartment, but in truth he was a little curious. Or, homesick? Hard to tell, if he stopped to examine it.
Selfishly, he thought, it had been a long time since he'd seen Bruce in a suit that didn't come with a cape and boots.
Dick finished up and changed into the civvies he'd crammed into the compartment on his bike. A wrinkled linen button down and some sweat pants. It wasn't exactly fancy dress, but he could see on the security camera feed that the last few cars were pulling away down the drive and there were likely only a few stragglers currently saying their goodbyes.
He shut off the overhead lights in the cave and headed upstairs.
He stepped cautiously out of the hidden stairwell that opened into Bruce's office. He'd always preferred it because he knew the room would be significantly warmer than the cave was. He breathed a sigh of relief stepping out and took a few minutes to warm his hands by the fire.
He waited until he heard the front door shut and a familiar quiet returned to the echoing main hall outside. The manor became a haven of privacy again. That was his cue.
It didn't take long to find Bruce. He was stood at the top of the stairs on the landing that overlooked the entrance hall, still in his suit, empty glass in his hand. A short whisky glass instead of wine, which surprised Dick.
Dick knew that while Bruce wasn't expecting him, he certainly knew that he was here by now. He whistled to catch his attention and headed to him. He came to stand by Bruce, who was still looking below with his eyes out of focus, lost in thought.
"Bruce?"
"Mm?"
"How was it?"
"Mm."
Dick nodded. That said enough. They stood in comfortable silence for a minute or two before Bruce spoke again. Dick expected him to ask about the lead.
"I've been thinking-" Bruce began.
"Uh-oh," Dick cut in. Bruce looked over at him, brows creased. "Sorry." Dick smiled and gestured for Bruce to go on.
"This time last year, I thought I was getting married," Bruce finished.
Dick felt a strange ache in his chest. A difficult combination of empathy and jealousy burned in him. He was talking about Selina.
"Do you…" Dick began, but stopped short. He didn't want to ask about it. He didn't want to ask if Bruce still loved her, or if he wished things had turned out differently. He didn't want to know. He couldn't have prepared himself for what Bruce would say next.
"She really loved me, didn't she."
It wasn't a question. Dick's ears had started ringing so he took a deep breath and let the fresh oxygen clear them.
"Yeah. She did."
Bruce wasn't looking at him again. He'd actually had a drink or two, Dick could tell. But that wasn't enough to make Bruce this vulnerable. Something was weighing on him. Dick felt a nagging voice in the back of his mind urge that it was now or never. 'Push him,' It said. 'Let the chips fall how they may.'
"She isn't the only one." Dick heard himself say.
It had been easier than he'd expected in the end. It just fell out of him, as soon as he let it. As soon as he accepted that he was doing this. He hoped he wouldn't need to explain, to clarify what he meant, or defend it. Bruce could be willfully obtuse, but surely he could take this declaration as intended.
Bruce looked… pained, for a second. Dick caught himself thinking, 'Good. I hope it hurts.' Not out of spite or from heartbreak, but because every moment since he'd realized he loved Bruce, it had hurt. And if Bruce felt it too… then it was real.
But the pained expression didn't linger. Before long, it was smoothed over by a subtle warmth. The warm glow was one of those effects in Bruce's face that only Dick could see, but from where he was standing, Bruce was practically glowing with it. He'd loosened his tie long ago and his hair had fallen out of place. He was perfect.
Dick laid a hand on Bruce's shoulder, leant to look at him properly. Their eyes met and Bruce's gaze softened.
"I know." Dick began, bracing himself for any reaction. "How you feel about me," he finished.
Bruce looked puzzled, then frightened, and then relieved. All in a flash. He shut his eyes and let his head hang a bit, regret filling his gut.
"I'm sorry. Dick, I shouldn't- I shouldn't have brought this up."
'No, no, don't go back inside. Don't hide now.' Dick felt his throat tighten. Apologies didn't come easy for Bruce. He didn't want an apology for this. He gripped Bruce's shoulder to ground him. Willing him to meet his eyes again. 'Can't you see what you are to me? Can't you feel it?'
Bruce watched him, and in a moment of weakness, moved to stand before him. Bruce let his arms hang, empty glass loosely dangling in his hand. Dick took the glass from him and set it on the bannister. He placed a hand on the back of Bruce's head, fingers carding through his hair. There wasn't any gel in the strands there and it felt impossibly soft. It had been years since he'd felt Bruce's hair in his fingers.
Bruce's forehead fell on Dick's shoulder.
"How long?" Bruce asked under his breath. How long had Dick known. If Dick asked him the same question, or how long he'd loved him, he wasn't sure he knew the answer. He'd always loved Dick, first in one form and then another.
It had been innocent at first, care for his dearest friend, his partner in all things. Had Dick sensed when it changed? Even when Bruce himself wasn't certain? Maybe it was on the day of his wedding. Watching one dream fall away and looking around to see who had stayed by his side.
Or had it been slow. Years of watching Dick grow into the man, the legend, that he'd become. Watching him grow beyond anything Bruce could have anticipated or planned for.
Did it matter?
Dick shook his head softly, as if to say it didn't. He wasn't going to answer a question when Bruce didn't want to know the answer. There he'd gone again, always knowing Bruce best. Sometimes it really did feel like he could see inside his head.
"We don't have to talk about it, you know. We could just… try." Dick said, as if it was simple.
Bruce stood up straighter, but Dick's hand stayed where it was. The gentle touch sent a rush of affection through Bruce's chest and a pleasant shudder ran down his spine. Now that he looked at him again, Dick looked nervous. No- he looked terrified. But, it was exhilarating wasn't it, like falling. Dick always loved taking risks.
Bruce had always been there to catch him.
Something unsteady inside Bruce came to a center at that moment.
He needed to do something. He wanted to reassure Dick that it wasn't just his imagination, that this mattered. Emboldened, he moved his hand to brace Dick's waist and pull him closer. It wasn't as sensual or desperate as he'd expected.
Instead, their aching muscles almost seemed to finally rest in their shared warmth. Chest to chest they fit perfectly and Bruce was struck by the realization that it did not feel close enough.
Their lips brushed and Dick could smell the oaky liquor on Bruce's breath. The kiss was overly cautious, exploratory. Dick's hand in Bruce's hair kept him near, and his other hand clutched Bruce's clothing for purchase. His fingertips were buzzing as if he'd slipped from a height and was falling.
Bruce kept their kiss chaste, in large part because his heart was pounding and he didn't want to make a fool of himself. He trembled with fear and relief, marveling at the impossible. They'd crossed a threshold and there was no turning back. Bruce's arms tightened around Dick, a protective need to covet and keep him taking hold.
Dick pulled back and grinned up at him, looking every bit like the cat who got the cream.
Maybe it was simple after all.