Chapter Text
The large home creaked to settle itself in absolute silence. Its antique furniture made for worthy obstacles due to their fragility. Glass vases filled to the brim with a variety of flowers plucked from the garden would tremble at the slightest movement, potentially giving Dickie’s position away as he ran through the halls of Wayne Manor.
He made next to no noise at all despite the rapidity of his footsteps, already having memorized each creak in the mahogany wood beneath him. Sporadic rugs made for better cushioning, but he had to be extra careful given the likelihood that they swept out beneath him.
Thankfully he didn’t run into any waiting adversaries. A pair of noise blocking headphones adorned his head to diminish his superhuman hearing, the strap beneath chin scraping his neck when he looked rapidly between his left and right.
Dickie grinned when he saw the bookshelf at the end of the hall. It provided excellent cover and supplied him with a height advantage. He scaled up the side and pressed himself flat to the top. Intricate decorated wood rose above him so that he remained invisible from below to anyone that searched for him. It offered reprieve, albeit briefly, but Dickie knew that the man searching for him would catch on soon enough.
The only noise came from strong winds outside, occasionally shaking the panes of glass that overlooked an expansive yard. Even at night sporadic lamps ensured its visibility and the expanse of color calmed him enough to drink from the pouch of water around his torso.
“You can’t hide forever.”
Dickie heard the sing-song voice before the footsteps. He squirmed to both flatten his body more and position his head to peer through the gaps in the wood in front of him. The second he noticed a shadow enter the hall he let it drop once more.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
To remain as invisible as possible Dickie held his breath and focused on decreasing his heart rate, just as he did during his training. He made a mistake in turning left rather than right at the last fork and he could only hope that it wouldn’t give him away so early on in the chase.
Miraculously, the man searching for him continued on without pause.
Dickie let himself take a few tiny breaths, waiting only until he heard the footsteps disappear to move. Though his surroundings varied from the labyrinths he dominated in his past Dickie knew the terrain well enough to sneak off confidently.
From somewhere too close for comfort a sharp scream rang out, maniacal laughter following close behind. The shout gave him a brief pause of anxiety, but he moved somewhat quicker to make up for it.
Dickie kept low to the ground, sliding along the walls as he retraced his steps. When he approached the route he originally meant to take a wave of calm rushed over him. It helped to have a goal in mind rather than running aimlessly through the halls so he pressed on, eager to reach his destination.
It opened into the mouth of a staircase, railings on each side to prevent an accidental fall off of the side. Dickie paused at the entrance, waiting for any sign of movement nearby. Finally, the pounding of boots rang out from an area at least forty five seconds away.
Dickie bolted out, hoisting himself onto the railing with ease. He checked one final time for any onlookers before leaping over the edge, arms outstretched in anticipation. When he felt metal beneath his fingers he shifted his weight to limit the chandelier from swinging back and forth.
Just as he settled in he saw the man searching for him dart out from the shadows below.
“I know you can hear me,” he whistled, dark hair swishing as he craned his head to search the lower level.
Dickie waited patiently for the man to walk closer to him. Surprisingly, he didn’t look at the chandelier once despite its miniscule sway. The second he stepped beneath Dickie he dove off of the side, angling himself to land directly on top of the man’s shoulders.
He lifted onto the tips of his toes, flipping forward to land on the ground. Dickie completed his movement by holding his arms high in the air before springing backwards, putting another two feet between them. The second he saw a hand reach out for him he ducked out of the way, taking off once again in the direction of the front door.
“You’re going to regret that!” the voice bellowed behind him.
Dickie barrelled towards his destination, feet borderline audible now that he didn’t have to hide anymore. He only had a few yards of distance left to cover, and though he had a second’s head start and superhuman speed he knew the man’s stride practically tripled his own.
Perhaps it had been a mistake to jump down so early, but Dickie hadn’t been able to help himself. He lunged forward with his arms extended and felt the iron doorknob against his palm. It creaked with the strength of his grip, and Dickie barely stopped himself from crashing into the heavy barrier with an inch to spare.
“Seriously? Again ?”
“I told you, you don’t stand a chance against him.”
“Shut up , Damian, no one asked you!”
Tim shot a pointed look in his older brother’s direction. Damian sat at a table in the foyer, a series of documents spread out before him. He didn’t bother looking in his younger brother’s direction, instead turning to offer Dickie a supportive smile.
He beamed right back, fingers still wrapped around the door knob. Tim sighed and shook his head, calling out to the others that their game of hide and seek ended the same way it had the previous four rounds. With Dickie making it to home base without being found.
“Yeah, yeah, you won again. You can let go,” Tim laughed when Dickie wiggled his arm.
“It’s not even fair that he joined the game. No one ever wins when he plays,” Jason griped.
“Chill out, Jason, it’s not like he’s the one that caught you peeking out of a wardrobe,” Tim smirked.
Jason crossed his arms over his chest and made a show of releasing a huge breath. He had been caught relatively early on this round after losing his hiding spot to Stephanie, but Tim managed to catch her within a minute or two as well.
“ Good job playing, Jay ,” Dickie tried to turn his mood around.
“My name is Jason ,” he snapped, “And nobody asked you.”
“You know that the single letter is easier for him,” Damian closed the file in front of him.
“Yeah, well, that’s not my problem.”
Dickie’s bottom lip jutted out without his knowledge. When Jason turned back to him he still appeared irritated but no longer hostile.
“Fine,” he gritted, “Good job playing, Dickie. Happy?”
Dickie nodded excitedly at the compliment. From the look on Tim’s face he knew that there was something in the exchange that he didn’t pick up on but he didn’t care. He even took a single step closer to Jason, doing his best to keep it subtle so that he wouldn’t move away immediately.
“Uh-oh, is someone bitter that they lost?”
Stephanie entered the room with Cass clinging to her back upside down, the girl’s legs wrapped around her shoulders as she painted her fingernails. Cass kept the bottle in her mouth, something that Bruce had grunted over three times now, and managed to finish the second coat flawlessly.
Dickie craned his head to discern the color, feeling a jolt of excitement when he realized it matched that on his own thumb. Cass beckoned him over and used the brush to swipe across his pinky finger as well. Dickie mimicked the way she blew over the wet paint to help it dry quicker.
“ Very pretty, little Duck ,” she shot him a wink before returning to her work.
Dickie grinned at the use of his nickname. He lifted his own fist in front of his mouth, his pointer and index fingers pressed together and patting the pad of his thumb three times. The excitement of his own nickname left him bouncing on the balls of his feet.
The first time Dickie met someone outside of their family came six weeks after his move into Wayne Manor. Bruce and Damian decided that they had exhausted their ability to teach him American Sign Language without professional help.
After days of preparation Dickie attended his first ASL class with a Deaf woman named Melinda.
She didn’t so much as flinch at his appearance as he expected her to and never commented on how cold his skin felt against her warm hands. Sometimes Dickie pretended not to remember a word so that she reached across the table to position his fingers correctly. Melinda spent a lot of time expanding on what Damian and Cass taught him thus far, and before long he felt more confident in his conversations.
She often commented on his abundance of belongings themed around ducks, even bringing stickers with the birds on them to reward him for his progress. Damian often sat in on their lessons to learn more as well, and Dickie followed him around the room just as closely as he did when they traversed the rest of the property.
“ He’s struggling with spelling his name ,” Melinda commented after a particularly long lesson, “ He needs something shorter. ”
“ I am not calling my kid Dick ,” Damian frowned.
Melinda shook her head, laughing so hard that her coiled black hair bounced with the movement. Damian chuckled alongside her and shrugged in surrender. They brainstormed for a moment while Dickie fixed the blanket around his shoulders and tapped his plush on the head.
When he turned back to Melinda and Damian they still studied him intently.
“ What about Duck ?” she suggested with a smile.
It didn’t take long for most of the family to pick up on the nickname. They typically used the word plush when referring to his favorite toy so they carried on without confusion for the most part. Dickie enjoyed having a name that he considered to be fun, especially when they accompanied it with a quack or two.
“I’m not bitter,” Jason argued.
Dickie turned to Damian and shrugged in confusion.
“Bitter means that you’re angry because you feel like something that happened to you isn’t fair,” he explained.
“ Jay is angry ?” Dickie began to tremble.
“No I’m not!” Jason glowered, “It’s just a stupid game. And you guys are all so annoying .”
“ I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry ,” Dickie shielded his body so that only Jason could see his apology.
Jason deflated, glancing at the others. After a few seconds he sighed and turned back to Dickie.
“I’m really not mad, I swear,” he admitted quietly, “And even if I was it wouldn’t be at you. Okay?”
Jason turned on his heel and walked to the kitchen without waiting for a reply. Cass reached out for him but her fingers brushed against his shirt and he kept moving. Dickie relaxed at the reassurance and settled enough to rejoin the conversation when it began again.
“Where’d the kid pop out from this time?” Stephanie asked, mouth half full with a handful of crackers.
“He jumped down from the chandelier,” Tim pointed to the fixture.
Duke’s laugh rang out from the top of the stairs, mere feet from where Dickie leapt off of the side. He peered over the railing, letting out a low whistle when he saw how severe of a drop it would be. Damian met his eyes for one of their unspoken conversations.
In his three months at Wayne Manor Dickie learned a lot about acceptable behavior , as Bruce called it. Damian’s usual soft smile often went away when his father entered a room, especially when he crouched down to speak to Dickie about serious topics . More than once Damian had scooped Dickie from the floor and walked away, pressing the boy’s head to his chest so that he couldn’t see Bruce’s reaction.
“ Must have been scary ,” Cass commented.
Dickie glanced between her and the light, confused as to whether or not they teased him. It couldn’t have been more than twenty five feet or so, far lower than anything the Masters had him leap off of. In fact, he hadn’t even twisted an ankle when he landed.
“ Joke ?” he clarified.
Tim chuckled, shaking his head. Dickie still couldn’t believe that he had the ability to make others smile, let alone laugh . No feeling triumphed over seeing the people he cared about openly appreciate their interactions, especially when they showed their teeth without reprehension.
Dickie still struggled to understand humor. From the beginning the rest of the family taunted each other with teasing words almost constantly. It often ended in laughter rather than a further argument, much to Dickie’s surprise. Damian attempted to explain jokes to him but Dickie took nearly everything they said literally for weeks.
Finally, Duke suggested that Dickie clarified whenever he felt confused. It limited the amount of misunderstandings between them and even encouraged Dickie to attempt humor on his own. It took time for him to conceptualize comedy but after Stephanie brought him a joke book for kids and painstakingly explained every single pun he learned how to join in.
“You really are a fearless little thing, aren’t you?” Stephanie cooed, hand lifting as if to reach out for him.
Dickie eyed her warily, not wanting to cause an issue but distraught at the idea of being touched by anyone except for Damian at that moment. His desire for physical affection still varied by the day, and though he had let Stephanie take him into her arms a dozen times before he still hadn’t calmed down from their game.
She recognized his hesitance immediately and patted Cass’ ankle instead, the younger girl’s heel digging into her shoulder as retribution.
When Dickie looked up he saw Damian’s eyes on him, as they almost always were, and prepared himself for the look of disappointment that never came. Damian didn’t mind scowling at his siblings, but he always relaxed when he caught Dickie watching him.
Even when Dickie broke a rule Damian did his best to remain patient and understanding. It made him less frightened to push boundaries that encouraged new means of growth.
“It was rather high up for a jump,” Damian clicked his pen, standing up, “I’ll speak to Bruce about having the ceilings vaulted and building a few structures in your playroom so you can practice somewhere a little less dangerous.”
Dickie frowned, pointing back to the chandelier.
“I understand that you don’t think you’ll fall, but that fixture isn’t strong enough to support you. It could come crashing down on someone, including you.”
Dickie considered this for a moment, appreciating the further explanation. Sometimes Bruce said no with a scrunched up face and ended the conversation there. It convinced Dickie each time that they planned to send him back to The Court if he stepped out of line again, so he hid in his room until Damian found him and coaxed him back.
Damian spent as long as he needed to outline the variables that went into his decision making. He repeated concepts that Dickie struggled to understand, often running through the information several times over the course of a few days so that it stuck.
Dickie placed a fist over his heart and rubbed it clockwise around his chest three times.
“No need to apologize,” Damian assured him, “Thank you for understanding.”
“ Can we play again ?”
“I think that Alfred is just about done with-”
“ Dinner !” Jason screamed from the kitchen, the sound of a half hearted scolding following shortly behind.
Dickie flinched, as he usually did when he heard one of the house members shout.
Thus far the Waynes had been nothing but accommodating to his needs. They kept the lights dimmer when he ventured out of the east wing and attempted to limit their noise, but he couldn’t get over the spike in his heart rate every time he heard a loud voice.
He had also grown used to the terse conversations between the family members. They typically ended in decompressed laughter, or Damian glared at them to the point of dropping the subject. Dickie occasionally heard the screaming from his room though, unsure as to whether or not he should run down to help.
Damian took a step in the direction of the kitchen and Dickie immediately fell in line behind him, keeping close to the heels of his feet. On days when he felt particularly silly , as Duke called it, he enjoyed weaving between Damian’s legs as they walked and using his body as a jungle gym. But tonight he was lethargic with an overabundance of playtime.
Dickie knew that big days meant Damian would be gone for the night.
He had learned how to handle his guardian’s absences more regularly. Damian didn’t even try to put Dickie to bed in his own room anymore, immediately leading him into his own bed after bath time. It made it easier for Damian to check on him when he got home, usually opting to shower upstairs rather than the Batcave just to be closer.
But when they took their seats in the dining room Dickie stared longingly at Damian and wished that he wouldn’t have to be alone all night long.