Chapter Text
1.
Bruce might not have thought things through when he decided to become a foster parent. Alfred had told him he was making that decision with his heart and not his head, but Bruce had steadfastly refused to consider his comment.
He’d seen himself in Dick, angry, afraid, and, above all, alone.
Bruce had wanted to give Dick the support he’d needed after his parents had died.
Clearly, he just hadn’t considered all angles.
Such as a tiny, excited nine-year-old dressed in Batman PJs jumping around the Batcave.
The outfit had been a gift from Clark and Bruce hadn’t had the heart to make them disappear after Dick had accepted them so cheerfully, proclaiming Batman to be his favorite hero. Bruce hadn’t thought he might care about being anyone’s favorite until Dick had said so and clearly it had impacted his decision-making skills.
Much the same now, Bruce didn’t have the heart to use any of his proven methods to erase Dick’s memory. The boy hadn’t cried much after his parents’ deaths but, unlike Bruce, picked himself up again quickly. Bruce hadn’t smiled for a year, Dick was doing cartwheels on the dining table when Alfred wasn’t looking. There were already miles of difference between Dick and Bruce, and he’d decided to take it as a personal victory.
Still, Bruce hadn’t known what pale imitations Dick’s smiles and laughs were to the pure joy he expressed now.
Wide-eyed, Dick looked around the Cave, vibrating with energy yet hesitant to truly move forward and discover this treasure trove. Maybe Bruce wouldn’t have to steal these memories from Dick, but let him keep this first genuine cheer. Dick was a bright boy; he could be convinced to keep a secret, especially when he knew it was necessary.
And Batman was his favorite, after all.
Mind made up, an explanation half-formed, Bruce stepped out of the shadows. The suit was already back in its case, safely locked away, and he’d traded its protection for sweatpants and hoodie. They didn’t heat the Cave – Bruce still had to figure out how to achieve something like it without noticeably wasting energy – and hours in front of the computer in a simple tank top ended with him getting sick.
Or annoying Alfred, which was a far greater danger on most days.
“Bruce!” Dick shouted when he finally spotted him. “Look! This has to be the Batcave!”
The what Cave?
“Can you believe it? Did you know it was right here under the manor all this time? This must have taken years to set up and look at all that cool tech! Of course, Batman has the best. Have you seen him…”
Dick trailed off and studied Bruce cautiously. His gaze lingered on Bruce’s neck, where this night’s fights had resulted in a small bruise, and the coffee mug in Bruce’s hands.
“Look, Dick, I know this is a lot to take in—” Bruce began to speak, but Dick interrupted him.
“You’re dating Batman!” he exclaimed, his voice somehow rising to even higher octaves.
Bruce blinked.
That wasn’t exactly the conclusion he had expected Dick to reach.
Or anywhere near it, really.
Before he could set the boy on the right path, Dick was already talking again.
“Of course! It makes so much sense! That’s why he immediately knew who I was and found me so fast when I was trying to find Zucco. You sent him after me, right? Can I meet him again? Please, please, please, I haven’t thanked him properly yet, and Alfred said it’s important to do that always.”
Dick jumped up and down, vibrating with energy. Behind him, Alfred stood with another tray of treats for Bruce, and for once, he looked about as caught off-guard as Bruce felt. There was a small victory in that.
Bruce shared a look with Alfred, but he just shrugged and indicated with a hand wave that Bruce should reply to his still rambling ward.
Right.
Looking back at Dick, Bruce could see him smiling brightly. He should correct Dick’s false assumptions, but then again, it would be a good cover.
If anybody ever got too close to the truth and Dick accidentally talked – not that Bruce assumed he would, but he didn’t earn his title as ‘The World’s Greatest Detective and Most Paranoid Bastard’ by being unprepared – Batman’s identity would be safe still. Once Dick got older, Bruce could tell him the truth. For now, though...
“It’s a secret,” Bruce said seriously. “You can’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t!” Dick promised earnestly.
Bruce nodded and kneeled in front of Dick. When he’d been a kid, he loved swearing oaths, taking them as serious as the fealty a knight pleaded to their king.
“You have to swear an oath,” he told Dick.
Nowadays, he knew that they had just been his parents’ convenient way of getting him to avoid telling Alfred about how many sweets he’d already eaten before dinner, but they had been fun regardless.
And they also worked like a charm on Dick. After the promise was made, Dick begged until Bruce showed him around the Cave. They lingered at the rack keeping Batman’s uniforms, Dick hesitantly running his fingers over the armor.
“Say,” Dick started to speak. “Do you think I can accompany Batman in the future?”
“Absolutely not.”
2.
“Bruce said I could join you on patrol.”
Bruce, dressed as Batman, nearly burned his tongue on his coffee as he’d been in the middle of swallowing the drink when Dick approached. Dick’s expression was utterly innocent and if not for the slight twitch of his hand – a tell that could be trained away easily – and the fact that Bruce was not in a committed relationship with himself, he wouldn’t be able to tell Dick was lying. Lately, Dick had been spending a lot of time in the newly christened Batcave. Whenever Bruce was supposed to be sleeping or out in the city working for Wayne Enterprises, Dick went down to the Cave and Batman.
Sometimes Bruce thought that Dick had finally figured it out and was trying to prank him by feigning ignorance, but then he’d paraphrase something to Batman or Bruce that neither had said, and Bruce would know Dick was still in the dark.
“He did not,” Bruce replied.
Dick raised his chin in defiance. “Bet.”
3.
Bruce enjoyed Sunday mornings. They all slept in and ate breakfast together, Alfred for once abandoning his role of a butler and falling more into parenthood. Bruce had no WE work to be done, didn’t allow last night’s horrors to follow him to morning sunlight, and Dick didn’t have school.
After his parents’ passing, the manor had always been a quiet place, but it had never been calm. Alfred taught him self-defense, Bruce blew something up with his chemistry set, or they listened to the wind blowing through his mother’s gardens. Even though Dick’s gleeful shrieks echoed through the halls, Bruce felt at peace. He’d expected to get annoyed with Dick, but that hadn’t happened—
“Batman said I’d be safe in the city patrolling with him!”
—yet.
Bruce opened his eyes, staring directly into Dick’s blue ones. He had wondered about the sudden weight on his chest.
“No.”
“Awww, come on, B!”
4.
Dick kept on asking, Bruce kept on protesting, Alfred raised a brow at their antics, and somehow it ended with Robin following Batman on the streets. Bruce still couldn’t believe he had let a child, practically a baby, talk him into taking him out to fight crime.
Not that Dick was doing any of that until he was at least thirteen. For now, Batman would make his rounds first, then take Dick out for an hour to accompany vulnerable people home in the dark, carry food to the homeless and track down lost pets.
Dick didn’t complain about it but poured all his energy into his task. He knew his job was serious and that the goal was to help people. If Dick dedicated as much motivation to his homework, he could skip several grades. Honestly, it was like Dick simply enjoyed spending time with Batman, which was weird, to say the least.
Batman wasn’t exactly the most sociable.
Bruce tried to go out more with his public persona as the last Wayne and was more or less successful in crafting an image standing in contrast to Batman. And, as he loathed to admit it, part of it was the mindset he got into when he was out as Batman. He focused on the mission, the city he had to protect. It left very little room for the man behind the mask.
Dick’s presence made it easier to remember himself. He got more careless about his posture as well the more often they patrolled together.
And then, one night, after an almost fun patrol, he took off the cowl. It would be better if Dick knew the truth, even if he hadn’t deduced it himself. After all, his detection skills were something they were still working on.
“Bruce!” Dick gasped. “You were fighting with me tonight?”
“Of course. It’s always been—”
Dick rushed over to Bruce’s side, worry written all over his face.
“Is Batman alright?! Has he gotten hurt? He should have told me, I’d have been fine without going on patrol, and you shouldn’t endanger yourself. You’re already doing enough for Gotham during the day. Can I see him? Do you always jump in for him when he can’t fight? Has he gotten hurt often?”
Bruce took a deep breath and pinched his nose.
Maybe it was too early still.
“Sure,” he said, unknowing that this would be the beginning of a life-long commitment to self-love. “I stand in for Batman when he can’t patrol Gotham. What’s the purpose of funding all of this if I don’t contribute?”
Dick nodded, though Bruce could tell he wasn’t satisfied with his answer. Maybe he would try again in another six months.
5.
“Do you think Dad’s worried about us when we’re out on patrol?”
Batman very nearly crashed into the next building. Only his iron grip on his grappling hook and his years of training made his landing on the next roof look as professional as always.
Robin settled on the gargoyle next to him, still deep in thought.
“I mean, we don’t come back hurt often, but he always makes sure to check me for injuries again after you’ve done it. He is worrying, isn’t he?”
Batman was still stuck on Robin’s first sentence.
“… Dad?” He questioned.
Robin looked up at him in confusion before promptly blushing red.
“Don’t tell B I call him that! I’m practicing it still ‘cause it sounds weird, and the first time I say it to his face needs to be perfect. I know I told him I don’t want a new father, and I don’t, I love my Papa. But he could be another dad, you know? Like, everyone has two sets of grandparents as well and I know that’s not the same, and I know he hasn’t adopted me, but I’m pretty sure he does love me like a son, he’s called me that before. I know he didn’t do it consciously or whatever, and Grayson-Wayne would be like super-duper long, and all teachers would hate it, but—”
“Robin .”
His ward, his son, stopped talking, nervously looking down at his gloved hands.
“I am sure B will be thrilled to hear that and call you his son. You just have to tell him.”
Okay, so maybe this whole ‘Batman wasn’t Bruce’ thing did have some positive sides.
6.
Dick grew with every passing month. He got stronger and taller, although he steadily remained the shortest in his class. He didn’t mind at all, citing acrobat wisdom at him and claiming the small statue helped him with his gymnastics. Bruce trusted him with more and more responsibilities, allowing Dick to be a part of more dangerous cases, carefully keeping watch of his progress.
Satisfied with his son’s accomplishments and thoroughly annoyed by his teammates’ pestering, Bruce even took Dick to the Watchtower for his own little recon mission. It was a delight to see him collect clues about everyone’s identity, remembering even small details like Green Arrow’s preferred coffee brand, and inform Bruce of everyone’s identity within a week.
At thirteen, however, Dick still hadn’t figured out who Bruce was.
It was a little frustrating, never mind concerning. Nothing seemed to shake Dick’s belief that they were two separate people.
Alfred, of course, did nothing to aid Bruce in clearing up the misunderstanding.
“Robin,” Bruce growled in his Batman voice before switching to his softer and natural tone. “I’m Batman.”
Dick stared at Bruce, cowl-less and serious, before being overtaken with laughter.
“Oh, jeez, B— you— Holy hell—”
The tears running down his cheeks were only a little insulting.
“Language.”
“That was perfect. Exactly how Batman says it!”
The direct approach really wasn’t working out for Bruce.
Even worse, Dick didn’t seem interested in who Batman was. As long as he was kind to Dick, spent enough time with him, and “treated Bruce right”, he didn’t care about who was behind the mask. Bruce was confident that Dick had theories, he’d peaked at the League files a little too long for just a curious glance, but he’d never voiced a single one.
“The Bat’s the Bat,” he had heard Dick tell Barbara once like that was a proper explanation for anything.
7.
Barbara Gordon was a capital M Menace. An intelligent, blackmailing, innovative, and confident menace hell-bent on putting herself in danger.
Bruce could go to her father, he really should, but Barbara hadn’t even been fazed by the threat. She’d looked right up at him, seeming years older than she was, and crossed her arms.
“I know you’re just trying to look out for us, Mr. Wayne, but I promise you, we’ll be safe with Batman. I just need him to teach me some more kick-ass moves. Training with Dick is good, but he’s only learning himself still. And it would be a bit hypocritical to allow Robin to work alongside Batman but deny Batgirl the same rights.”
Bruce didn’t even know where to start with that line of argumentation. He most certainly could keep track of two children at night, but he didn’t want to. One was dangerous enough to keep with him, two might ease some of the workload, but also added a lot more in other places.
Yet, somehow, he found himself keeping watch over a little bird and bat during nighttime and playing Mario Kart with his son and his best friend during the daytime.
Maybe they’d be alright.