Chapter Text
Home
When Dick was small, home was people.
Home was a small trailer that was always broken down at the worst possible moments. Home was the Big Top, a tent that was like a palace. Home was the trapeze, swing and fly. Home was the aplause of hundreds of people in awe because they were the best.
But home wasn't things. Home was people. Home was mom and dad and uncle Rick and Aunty and Johnny all crammed together in their little trailer, until they couldn't stand each other, but loved each other anyway. It was Mr. Haley, his voice booming and jovial, the ruler of the Big Top who could make the whole world feel like an adventure. Home was flying because he knew he could trust his family to be his wings, home was the dance of the trapeze, the six of them swinging and catching and acting with one mind because they were all of one heart. Home was the applause because the Graysons were the best.
When Dick was eight years old, home fell, and home left.
But. Wayne Manner is big and strange and wonderful in a terrifying way. But Dick's room is smallish and full of bright colors and it's home.
Because home is people, and Bruce is sad and intense and has no idea what he's doing, and when he looks at Dick he smiles, and he puts a hand on his shoulder and it's warm and safe. And Alfred is stern and formal and is the best at jokes and he says "Master Dick" like he's precious and is always, always kind.
And Dick is home.
Precious
Alfred watches the young master. The boy with dark hair and blue eyes and a strangely solemn expression. There's always something going on in that boy's head, he's far too intelligent for his own good. The child's parents die and leave him broken, and Alfred is left as Bruce's guardian, wondering how he could possibly have been entrusted with something so precious.
Incomparable
Lots of people think that Dick Grayson is Bruce's favorite. In fact, pretty much everyone except Dick thinks it. And Bruce himself, of course. There's plenty of reason for it of course. Before Dick came along Bruce was alone. He had Alfred of course, but Alfred was Alfred. Dick Grayson was a light in Bruce's darkness. He loved blindingly and unconditionally in a way that Bruce couldn't help but reciprocate. And he grew up, which was harder than it should of been. But in the end he grew up into a man who was so Good so kind and giving and fearless, And Bruce was indescribably proud of him.
But then came Jason. Oh Jason. Jason, who had been stepped on over and over again but refused to stop fighting. Jason, with his unquenchable, irrational optimism, his unending commitment to giving people a better shot at life. Jason who had been Bruce's son in ways that Dick never was, because Dick had already had a father. Bruce had loved Jason with all his heart, and when he died it nearly broke him, and when he came back, vengeful and lost and so, so angry, Bruce still loved him. He loved him so much that if love could kill, Bruce would be a dead man.
Then along came Tim. Wide eyed, intelligent, determined Tim. Tim who was so brilliant, but unsure, somehow both incredibly shy and a natural leader when called to be. Tim who gave and gave and gave but wouldn't give even a fraction of an inch if he thought he was right and someone else was wrong. Bruce loved Tim even when he thought Tim wasn't his to love. Because he couldn't help himself.
And there was Cass. His only daughter. His beautiful strong, amazing girl. He loved her uncomplicatedly, unabashedly, completely. She loved and smiled. She was far to good for him, but that was alright.
Last of all was Damian. His actual biological son. The boy with far too much of his father in him. He hadn't been broken so much as misformed. But he was trying so, so hard. It turned out, underneath all the murder, he really was a good kid, a great kid. Damian tried so hard to make his father proud, and Bruce was proud, so very, very proud of who his son was, and who he would one day become.
Bruce does not have a favorite child. They are incomparable.