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“You’re alright, chum. You’re okay. You’re gonna be just fine…”
“Bruce, let’s go. We can’t stop the mission just because stupid Dickie Bird has a tummy ache!”
“Jason, that’s enough. We’re going home as soon as Dick is ready, and—“
Dick let out a moan he’d been trying so, so hard to hold… Bruce could tell by his expression that he hadn’t wanted to let it out. Dick wanted always to be strong, so he didn’t need to fall apart. But Bruce knew he had to, sometimes; had to fall apart because of how strong he’d needed to be… So much because of him…
“Oh, son, oh! You… You’re alright, Richard…” Bruce whispered, carding a finger through Dick’s sweat-damp hair, “let it all out… Daddy needs you to breathe with him now, son.”
Dick tried his best, quickly realizing he couldn’t hold in his moans and breathe at the same time, but desperately trying to comply with Bruce’s orders;
“Oooh! Uhh… Ooh!”
“That’s it, Dickie,” Bruce whispered, “you can make any sounds you want or need… Any sounds that help. What sounds do you need to make right now, chum?”
“Hng… Ooh, oooh! Oow! Uuuhn…”
“Good boy, Dickie. Good boy…”
Red Hood was not happy, though— burying his worry for Dick, he instead expressed it as anger…
“Would you hurry him the fuck up, Bruce? I’m tired of standing around… No one’s even here!”
Nightwing was too sick to retort, only groaning as he tucked further into his father’s chest, sobbing louder as Batman began rubbing his back.
“It’s not your fault, chum,” he whispered to Dick.
Bruce knew Jason was jealous, despite having been treated with infinitely more care than Dick had. He couldn’t comprehend why his older brother occasionally needed this special attention, unaware it was because he’d never had enough as a child. Bruce couldn’t take away Jason’s death and revival any more than he could Dick’s horrible, lonely childhood— but he could, at least, keep trying his best in the present…
“Hood, that’s… That’s enough. You can sit down if you’re tired, but I’m not making Dick have an accident for you convenience, Jason!” Bruce said his name as though it were a warning, and Red Hood sighed in defeat, realizing it wasn’t worth instigating something.
“B-Bruce?”
“Yes, chum?”
“I’m… I’m finished,” Dick stuttered, seeming unsure if he really was or not…
“Son, if you need to be sick again, it’s okay.”
Dick nodded, face still reddened and wet from crying, as Bruce pulled out a package of wipes. Instinctively, Dick leaned forward, allowing Bruce to clean him up easier.
“Oh, son… You’re… You’re so good for me… So, so good, son…” Bruce whispered sweet nothings as he wiped the sick off of his boy, himself in pain knowing Dick had made it easier to access his body not out of familial trust, but out of the trained obedience he’d learned as Robin…
Dick’s sobbing returned, absolutely mortified and overwhelmed with humiliation and pain, not wanting to be where or who he was. Bruce hoped desperately that his gentle kindness was reaching Dick’s heart, knowing full well he could be stuck dissociating for weeks if Batman wasn’t careful. The tension was infinitely more fierce than if they’d gone on with their training mission after all, at least for Bruce.
“That’s it, son. I’m going to pick you up, now. Shhh… No fear. Everything is alright. It’s okay for Nightwing to be sick, Grayson… Even Batman gets sick, sometimes. But you don’t have to worry about that anymore, son. Let me take care of you, just like I should have before…”
In the past, Dick had been the one to comfort Bruce. His first son knew well that Batman could be sick; that Bruce Wayne wasn’t invincible or all-knowing… But he never thought that applied to him. Robin took care of Batman, not the other way around, despite the public thinking otherwise.
Alfred was the first one there for him after his parents died, but the old man wasn’t the comforting type. He’d make Dick sandwiches and fuss over this or that, but when it came to the boy being unwell, or unhappy… He had been alone. Completely and utterly alone.
No one but the imagined ghosts of his parents were there to comfort him.
Yeah…
Bruce really, really fucked up, and now—
how could Bruce comfort the son he’d betrayed, and how could he ever regain his boy’s trust?
Hell, did he even deserve it? Maybe it would only harm Dick’s shattered self even more, being cared for by the person who broke him…
“Dick?” Bruce asked the boy swaddled in his arms, trying to gain his fading attention, “I’m sorry daddy wasn’t there for you, son. You can relax now, Dick. I’m not going anywhere anymore when you need help. I don’t want you to hide it when you need daddy, son.”
He felt his son go stiff, seemingly not even breathing, before practically melting into his arms as he took a much-needed deep breath. Bruce smiled down at his Dickie, who was allowing himself now to moan softly in pain and keep his tired eyes closed…
“I hate seeing you in pain, chum… But I’m so proud of you for expressing it. So, so proud. You’ve come so far, Dickie. Letting me help you is such a blessing, son.”
If Dick had been a child in this situation, Bruce wasn’t even sure he’d have known he was sick. And if he had, he wasn’t sure he would have comforted Dick beyond allowing them to go home early; they wouldn’t have gone home immediately, just earlier than planned. Bruce had been beyond cruel without even realizing it. He just thought Dick was stronger than the rest… And he’d thought that had been enough of a compliment to excuse neglecting his poor son.
How he wished he could turn back time… Not to save his parents, anymore…but to save Dick. The boy who’d so bravely taught him that there is more to life than your beginning.
He’d truly tried his best learning from his mistakes, and being a parent for Jason. His death by the Joker’s hands wasn’t truly Bruce’s fault, even if he knew he could never, ever shake that guilt. He hadn’t forced Jason to be Robin, and had even tried to prevent it. But Dick? The boy had invented Robin himself, hell-bent on purging the entire Earth of corruption and inequality, knowing that was an impossible mission— and, instead of soothing the lost bird’s deep-seeded wounds, he’d handed him weapons and taught him how to use them.
He had allowed Dick to become another vengeful monster of the night. But Dick had kept his humanity and kindness far more than he had been able to. Bruce knew he couldn’t take the miracle that was Dick Grayson for granted any longer.
Bruce also knew he’d have to break down later, too. But if he had to, he’d talk to Alfred about it. Hell, after tonight, maybe he’d even see a real fucking therapist for once. Alfred had enough stress as it was.
He wouldn’t break in front of Dick again, though.
The boy who was already broken when he’d taken him in, Bruce taking what felt like his first real leap of faith to save him from bouncing around abusive homes…
The boy he’d only broken more, and more, and more, and—
Jason’s hand on his shoulder brought him back to the dank, dark alleyway they were still in.
“Jason… Oh, Jason… I’m alright, son. Let’s go home.”
Jason barely heard his dad mumble “thank you” under his breath, before the two set off.
“What in idiot,” Jason thought.
But he smiled a little, regardless.
At least his idiot dad loved his idiot children.
His smile grew bigger, and suddenly he was thankful to be wearing a full mask, but…
“I hope one day we won’t need them.”
Bruce didn’t yet know it, but his diligence not to make the same mistakes had paid off.
Jason would never get over his death, nor the pit that had brought him back to life…
But he’d been treated well enough by Bruce that he could live with his pain.
He would live.
And he could live with some of Bruce’s pain, too.
And maybe,
even…
his brother’s…
“Batman, when we get home, I’m probably going to help Alf with dinner so you can… S-so you can help deal with Grayson, okay?”
Now it was the bat’s turn to smile,
only his mask didn’t cover his mouth.
But, for once…
he was very, very glad.
Glad he couldn’t hide his happiness.
Glad he didn’t have to.
And so, so glad…
to still have the family…
that Dick had inspired him to create.
“That’s it, chum… You’ve done what you needed to. I’ll help you sleep.”
“And I’ll do it as many times as you need, because I’m the reason you still need help.”
Yeah, Bruce was gonna have a breakdown after making sure Dick could sleep.
Dick…
His brilliant, beautiful flower of a son.
“I’m the reason you’re gonna need a dad forever…
I’m the one who allowed your pain to become permanent…
And I’m the one who you cry for to hold you— so I’ll be there, son.
I love you. And I’m going to show you how,
just like you taught me.
Dick…
I’ll make you proud, son. You deserve it…
But you’ll never, ever know how much.”
Bruce had taken way too long to figure out that it’s the little things in life that matter… And he’d shown that to Dick. Shown him his body and his needs didn’t mean anything beyond simple annoyance.
That’s why Bruce held onto Dick all night, even after he’d fallen asleep moaning in pain, shivering as he clutched his aching stomach. Bruce knew it hurt worse after all his years of dissociation.
Bruce didn’t feel good, either.
But he never realized how good it felt to express his love unabashedly.
Slowly, slowly… Bruce, too, was healing.
Maybe it wasn’t too late for either of them.
“I love you, chum.”
Dick wasn’t awake, but his pained expression calmed as though he’d heard…
Bruce’s expression did, too.
As did the rest of the family, who had absolutely been spying.
And Bruce, being Batman, absolutely knew.
And Batman,
being Bruce…
well, he didn’t mind.