Chapter Text
“You’re a hero, right?”
At the quiet voice, Nightwing almost jumped out of his skin - the only thing keeping him from reacting more than the tensing of his muscles being his training. Turning, he saw a young-looking teenager standing on the roof across from him. His body language was closed off and curled up, as if he was trying to both protect himself and go as unnoticed as possible. He was skinny and wearing rather beat-up clothing, and seemed only a moment away from bolting.
“Yeah,” Nightwing said, injecting as much brightness as he could into both his posture and his voice. “I like to think so anyway! I’m Nightwing, if you haven’t already heard of me. How did you get up here?”
“I climbed,” the kid said, glancing over his shoulder. Which. Nightwing was pretty sure the fire escape was on the adjacent wall, but it wasn’t worth pushing at the moment. “I saw you up here and wanted to talk to you.”
“What about?”
Here the teenager hesitated for just a moment, before he took a deep breath and met Nightwing’s gaze head-on.
“I think I need help,” he said softly, and Nightwing felt himself focusing in a different way than before at the statement that was all too rare to hear in Gotham. Analyzing the kid a little more closely, he noticed that the boy also seemed stressed, a little dirty, and was subtly holding one limb at a vaguely awkward angle.
To his credit, the boy looked rather wary of him, as well, despite asking him for his help and getting confirmation that he was one of the city’s heroes. If he didn’t know Gotham’s vigilantes enough to recognize them by sight or to trust them, then approaching strangers with his problems wasn’t very safe in general - especially in this city.
“Okay,” Nightwing said, leaning forward as he devoted almost all his attention to the kid in front of him. “What do you need from me?”
“I need to get home,” the kid bit his lip, looking troubled. “I just - I’m not sure how to.”
“You’re lost?” Nightwing was a little surprised that was all the kid needed, but it was easy enough. “Where do you live?”
“New York,” the teenager answered easily, despite Nightwing’s abrupt confusion at how the teen had ended up here of all places. “But it’s more complicated than that. I think I - I think I’m in the wrong universe.”
Nightwing blinked.
“I… see,” he said slowly, frowning behind his domino. “And what makes you think that, exactly?”
“Look, I know how it sounds,” the kid blurted out wringing his hands, words coming quickly as if he was worried Nightwing might decide to leave now. “But it isn’t the first time the multiverse has caused problems for me, and just recently a spell went wrong that had me meeting alternate versions of myself and their villains, so after fixing that we were going to do a different spell, but I think I messed that one up too and now I’m here, but I’ve never heard of Gotham before and it’s such a large city it would be hard not to, and -”
“Kid, breathe,” Nightwing interrupted, taking a step forward and cautiously reaching a hand out to the kid’s shoulder in the hopes of calming him down. He didn’t think it was a trap, but he wasn’t sure the boy would be comfortable with the contact from a stranger and gave him plenty of time to stop the contact. To his surprise, the boy froze at the contact for just a moment, before actually leaning into the careful touch.
“I’m Peter, by the way,” the teen continued softly, staring up at him, wide-eyed. “It’s nice to meet you, Mister Vigilante, sir.”
“Well now you’re making me feel old,” Nightwing laughed. “As I said before, I’m Nightwing - I mainly operate out of our sister city Bludhaven, but I tend to split my time between the two cities. Nice to meet you Peter.”
“Your name is so cool,” Peter breathed, wide eyes gaining a hint of awe. Nightwing preened at the praise for just a moment before refocusing on the problem at hand.
“Thanks, kiddo,” he grinned, before sobering his tone a little. “Now, you said magic was involved?”
“Yeah,” Peter nodded, expression shifting to a little forlorn. “Three days ago I fell out of a portal in an abandoned warehouse, and I’ve spent the time ever since trying to find a way to get back. The portal was probably an accidental side effect of a spell done by one of the strongest sorcerers of Kamar Taj. He used to be the holder of the Time Stone, so I thought I might have time traveled instead, but thankfully not.”
“Right.” Nightwing’s head swam with the number of new questions opening up at the handful of sentences. He was abruptly grateful his mask automatically recorded his conversations on patrol - it would allow him to come back and make sure he didn’t miss asking anything later. He mentally shuffled some tasks around, trying to create a game plan. “I think that we might need to run some tests to figure out exactly what happened to you, and we can get in contact with some magic users and see what they can do to help, too.”
“Oh good,” Peter’s shoulders slumped a little in what seemed to be relief. “I was a little worried magic wasn’t a thing in this universe, and that I sounded even crazier than I knew I would with the portals and everything.”
“No, magic is definitely a thing here.” Nightwing reached a hand up to his earpiece. “Hey, O? I’ve encountered a bit of an anomaly. Mind warning everyone in the Cave that we’ll have a guest?”
“A guest? What’s going on?”
“Long story, either review my footage or wait for my explanation with the others in the Cave,” Nightwing said, glancing back at Peter who was watching curiously.
“Is O your guy in the chair?” he whispered in a way that was probably louder than he meant for it to be. Nightwing smothered an amused grin.
“I’m not entirely sure what a ‘guy in the chair’ is, but if you mean our hacker, comms person, and info gatherer, then yes,” he said, motioning for Peter to follow him as he made his way to the fire escape. He wasn’t sure how Peter got up here to begin with, but he didn’t want to risk a civilian’s safety needlessly by taking a more exciting route. “Oracle is the best in the business, we’d be lost without her.”
“So cool,” Peter said under his breath, just loud enough to be caught. Nightwing smothered a smile at the enthusiasm as they both made their way down the creaky fire escape. To his surprise, the kid seemed to be just as quiet as Nightwing himself, despite the clattery old metal, and he had to glance back several times to make sure he was still there.
Upon reaching ground level, Nightwing motioned for Peter to follow him around the corner. He looked a little confused but followed readily enough, watching curiously as Nightwing walked over to a random mound of garbage in the small alley. Gripping the edge of a tarp, the vigilante made sure to watch Peter’s expression as he flipped the tarp back.
Peter’s reaction didn’t disappoint - his eyes widening and his mouth forming a small ‘o’ as his jaw dropped slightly. The Wingcycle was a glorious machine, and Nightwing was happy to see it appreciated fully. Reaching down into a hidden compartment, he pulled out a helmet and tossed it to the teenager, who caught it deftly despite his surprise.
“Put that on, and we’ll head out,” he said, moving the tarp and other refuse out of the way. A quick glance at Peter showed the teen’s brow was furrowed lightly.
“What about you though?” he asked, holding the helmet uncertainly in front of himself. Nightwing was a little touched at the concern - most civilians were too busy being concerned about their own safety to worry about the safety of the vigilantes with them too.
“I’ll be fine, kid,” he said lightly, swinging a leg over the motorcycle and scooting a little further forward than he’d normally sit to leave room for Peter. “I’d rather the civilian have the helmet while driving - I’ve at least been training my reflexes and ability to take a fall for years, in case something happens. Which, it won’t, I promise.”
Peter still looked a little uncertain, but put the helmet on after a moment anyway. While he seemed comfortable enough in the helmet, the awkward way he approached the bike showed that he’d likely never ridden one before. Nightwing huffed a laugh when the teen gingerly perched on the very edge of the seat, keeping a wide gap between them.
“Kid, you’re going to fall off if you do that,” he said, reaching back and snagging one of Peter’s arms and wrapping it around his waist, hearing a muffled squawk from the boy at the move. “You don’t have to plaster yourself to me by any means, but holding on and being properly seated are a must when traveling by motorcycle. Especially for your first time, and if you’re a passenger.”
It took a bit of adjustment, but shortly Peter was better situated behind Nightwing and was holding on loosely but much more securely than before, and the vigilante felt comfortable starting their drive back to the Cave.
Peter started out pretty tense, but as they continued driving - a little more slowly and carefully than Nightwing usually would without a civilian passenger - he seemed to loosen up and actually begin to have fun on the ride, letting out a laugh at some of the swoopier turns and dips. Nightwing was careful to take a more confusing route back to the Cave than usual too - while he trusted his gut feeling that Peter was sincere, none of the Bats had lived as long as they had without being cautious.
By the time they arrived at the Cave entrance, even Nightwing would have been hard pressed to retrace their exact pathing. They came roaring into the vehicle bay and skidded to a showy stop, done solely for the delighted laugh Peter let out at the trick. Looking up, Nightwing noticed the rest of the family staring down at them with a mixture of curiosity and judgment.
“A whole welcoming committee for us? You shouldn’t have!” Nightwing grinned, letting Peter use him for balance as he dismounted before following suit. “I never knew you missed me so much!”
“Tt.”
“Not a chance, Dickwing,” Red Hood cut in, body language clearly implying rolled eyes. “Who’s the… kid?”
At the abrupt silence that fell across the group of vigilantes, Nightwing’s attention sharpened, catching the way Batman, Hood, and Red Robin in particular stiffened as they stared at something over his shoulder. Glancing back, he saw that Peter had removed the helmet and had frozen halfway through lowering it, staring back at the group of vigilantes with confused wariness.
“Why are they looking at me like that?” he whispered to Nightwing, fingers clenching a little on the helmet.
“Nightwing, report,” Batman ordered, in a tone that had Nightwing’s back straightening on instinct. Bemused, he returned his attention to the man and began his explanation.
“I was on patrol tonight and was taking a breather on a rooftop when Peter here came up and told me he needed help,” he began, gesturing towards Peter upon mentioning him, and watching with interest how his family all stared a moment too long at the teenager behind him. “Seems like he’s run into a bit of multiverse trouble and needs a little extra help getting back. Since we aren’t sure exactly how he got here, I figured it would be best to run some tests so we can get a plan of action.”
Batman grunted in acknowledgement, studying Peter carefully. The teenager to his credit didn’t look intimidated by the attention, simply wary of the increased scrutiny. Not turning his back to the rest of the Bats, Peter carefully handed the helmet back to Nightwing, and the vigilante tucked it away again. He was thoroughly confused by the actions of his family, but willing to let them determine what to do next, as they clearly knew something that he himself didn't know about Peter or his arrival.
“Alright,” Red Robin said in a more upbeat tone than he’d usually use. “If you’re good with it - Peter, right? - we’ll just do a couple scans and run a blood test and we should be able to narrow down what information we need to help you.”
“What do you need my blood for?” Peter asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as he clutched his wrists to his chest and took a step back. The move put him closer to and slightly behind Nightwing’s form, even though Nightwing was sure he hadn’t realized it. Still, the implied trust of the motion was a little touching.
“Nothing bad!” Red said, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “It’s standard practice - make sure nothing here can contaminate or harm you, make sure you can’t contaminate or harm us somehow. General safety practice for visitors to this planet, universe, dimension, whatever.”
“Planet?” Peter asked curiously, body unwinding a little at the reassurance - which, Nightwing knew it was a half-truth, since it was a standard procedure but he was sure there was something more to it too based on how cagey Red Robin and the others were being. “You guys get a lot of aliens here then?”
“Some,” Nightwing said cheerily. “Most end up on our hero teams, so we probably see more than most. Did you have aliens where you’re from?”
“A few - Thor and Loki are the most well-known, but after the Invasion the Chitauri are pretty well known too,” Peter said, looking around the Cave a bit more curiously now as if looking for the aliens in question, seemingly unaware of the way Batman in particular tensed at the mention of an invasion. “After the Blip though, we knew about more; the Guardians were around then, and Thanos of course with his lieutenants. Nebula decided to stick around a bit for Mister Stark, and Quill likes to visit Earth sometimes now that he can. And Captain Marvel sometimes talks about the Kree, so that’s something! Oh, and the Asgardians now live on Earth - I think they’ve settled in Norway, after their planet-construct got destroyed?”
“Captain Marvel?” Batman asked, and Peter perked up a little.
“Yeah, do you know her?” he asked, looking hopeful. “She’s super cool, definitely one of the strongest heroes we have. Her cat thing is also super awesome, but kind of freaky too.”
“So not our Captain Marvel, then,” Batman mused aloud, brow furrowed.
“Cat thing?” Hood sounded reluctantly fascinated by that and Robin was paying a little too much attention to the answer, too. Peter eyed him before strangely seeming to relax a little at the heavily armed tank of a vigilante, which was likely a first.
“Yeah, he’s actually an alien - oh, I guess that’s another for the list then,” Peter said with a fond looking smile. “HIs name is Goose and most of the time he looks like an orange cat, but he’s actually a Flerken, so basically his face opens up into an eldritch horror and he eats everything. I’d die for him in a heartbeat, he’s the best.”
There was a beat of silence as everyone tried to absorb that new information, and Nightwing watched in amusement as Hood’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he seemingly decided to just not ask.
“You seem to be very familiar with your world’s heroes and aliens, from what you’ve described,” Robin interjected, eyes narrowed in a way that reminded Nightwing so much of Batman he had to smother a fond sound before it could leave his throat. Then his words registered, and Nightwing turned to study Peter a little more intently as their conversation on the roof came back.
“That’s right, you also mentioned having a run-in recently with your alternate selves and ‘their villains’, implying you also have villains,” Nightwing said, watching as Peter blinked in surprise. “Are you a hero too?”
“Oh, I guess I forgot to say,” Peter said, looking a little sheepish. He waved awkwardly. “I’m Spider-Man. I’m a vigilante in Queens. New York? I don’t know if you guys have that here. I probably should have said that earlier, since I was asking for help, but. I kind of got distracted? I was expecting more of a fight, and definitely more disbelief, but it seems like you guys kind of deal with this stuff more than we did? I’m also not used to telling people, even though it won’t matter at all here since it’s another universe - most people who know my identity found out by accident, so. I think aside from that time I got abducted into space on a flying donut, this is the only time I’ve told someone on my own accord, so that’s kind of exciting actually!”
To the side, Red Robin was mouthing ‘abducted’ and ‘flying donut’ looking kind of baffled, and Hood seemed a little dazed as he looked between Nightwing and Peter for whatever reason. Robin was just squinting at the kid, and Batman was still staring at Peter, though there was a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips that was surprising to see.
“Well said, young sir,” Agent A stepped around a corner, holding a tray with a few kinds of scanners and the tools to collect a blood sample. Peter blinked at him, brown eyes wide as a baby deer’s. “Now, if you are comfortable here, we can begin the scans and take the needed sample. If not, you may step aside with me to our medical bay for a bit of privacy.”
“Agent A,” Batman said, a sudden tense undertone to his voice.
“Batman,” Agent A responded evenly, raising an eyebrow at the dark-clad vigilante. There was a silent stare-off for a moment, before Batman relented, turning back to the Batcomputer with the slightest hint of a slump to his shoulders. It never failed to amaze Nightwing, the way Agent A could get Batman to back down.
“Er, I’m fine here,” Peter said, looking between the two with a little uncertainly. His voice quieted a bit. “I know I’m a stranger, I don’t blame you for being protective. I get it. I had people to protect too.”
Nightwing’s stomach twisted at the quiet admission, and the past tense used.
“Had?” he asked as gently as he could, tipping his head to see Peter’s face better, to get a read about if the teenager needed space or comfort more at the memories clearly being brought up.
“Most of them forgot I ever existed - another spell,” Peter said, explaining a little at the hint of confusion in Nightwing’s body language. “The others -”
Peter cut off, and his throat clicked as he turned his face away, body language closing off for the first time since Nightwing had met him. Trying his best to read the situation accurately, Nightwing rested a hand on the teenager’s shoulder and squeezed gently. He had a feeling he knew what the teenager was insinuating, and from a quick glance at the others, they did too.
“Anyway,” the teen said, forced cheer injected back into his voice, in a move that was all too familiar to Nightwing. “Blood, right? You might want to double layer the gloves - my blood has trace amounts of gamma radiation in it.”
“...You have radioactive blood?” Hood asked flatly, face tipped towards Peter in a move that Nightwing recognized as slight disbelief. “And you’re telling us now?”
“It’s trace amounts only!” Peter said, waving his hands a little frantically as he tried to reassure them. “Completely harmless inside my body - we checked. Outside it’s only slightly potentially harmful if you, like, touch it directly. And even that isn’t likely to do anything to you. Though I don’t know why you would want to, but accidents happen and Doctor Banner always said safety first in the lab, especially when it comes to radiation. And well, if anyone would know, it would be him , right?”
Silence greets Peter at the end of that rush of words, and Nightwing is torn between trying to make some sense out of the young hero’s life and just laughing at the sheer chaos the teen exudes.
“Right then,” Agent A said primly, setting the tray of tools down nearby and double-gloving as suggested. “I’m glad to see someone here takes safety seriously. Do you have a preference for which arm I use, young sir?”
Amidst the quiet protests of the others, Peter just shrugs and shakes his head before offering the arm closest to Agent A for him to use.
“Not really, but my other arm is still a little broken, so this one might be better,” he said. At that, even Agent A paused, turning an incredulous look at the teenager who only seemed to realize that was maybe alarming after the fact. “Just a little though! It’s already mostly healed - I heal fast, and it’s so much better than it was when I fell out of the portal! So. You know. It’s totally fine!”
“You climbed a building with that,” Nightwing said, voice going a little higher in his alarm. “ Twice . And rode on my motorcycle! Why didn’t you say anything?”
“It didn’t hurt that much, and I heal fast,” Peter said again, something creeping into his tone telling them to drop it, as he turned back to Agent A. “You said you’re Agent A, right? Feel free to take my blood whenever, I’m not squeamish.”
Deciding to set aside their growing list of questions and concerns for the moment, Agent A seemed to regain his composure and quickly began taking a sample of Peter’s blood. The vial filled quickly with normal looking blood, and Nightwing relaxed a little. He’d been half-expecting for the kid’s blood to glow or something, once he’d said it had trace amounts of radiation.
The process was fast enough, and before long, Agent A was handing the vial of blood over to Red Robin and Batman for analysis over at the Batcomputer. There was a momentary awkward pause, as they all waited for the computer to work its magic on the sample.
“So,” Peter said, rocking on his heels a bit. “Where are we?”
“Oh,” Red Robin said in realization, and they all winced a bit at not putting together the obvious.
“Tt. We are in the Batcave,” Robin said, narrowing his eyes at the teenager. “It is the home base of the majority of Gotham’s vigilantes.”
“That’s cool!” Peter said, looking around again. “In my world, I think that was Stark-slash-Avengers Tower for a bit? Then the SHIELD Helicarrier. Then the Avengers Compound? That part’s a little confusing though, since there was a split in the team around that time. There’s a lot of you guys then, huh?”
“Gotham’s a big city,” Batman stated simply, watching the progress on the computer.
“Even we don’t know how many of us there are exactly,” Hood snorted. “The roster of heroes in this city who are in town and actively on the scene varies from week to week, sometimes.”
“Sounds like New York for me,” Peter hummed. “There’s… a lot of us. Though most of us work independently - though we’re usually allies and have the occasional teamups. A few of the teams are more permanent, and a few of us have bad blood, but mostly we all get along.”
A quiet chime from the computer drew all their attention in the ensuing silence, and Red and Batman leaned forward, before freezing at the results on the screen. Red frowned and clicked a few things on screen, then leaned back in apparent bafflement at whatever was there.
“B?” he asked, tipping his head back to look up at the other vigilante. Batman grunted in response, pressing a few more things, as the others nearby drifted over to see what had caught their attentions, only to freeze as well.
“What’s up?” Nightwing asked as casually as possible, shifting his weight to a single hip. “Something we should know?”
Those at the computer turned to stare at them in unison, before most of them split off into a tight circle and began to hiss out whispered comments to each other - their mouths blocked from sight so Nightwing couldn’t even lip read.
It left Batman and Red Robin at the computer again, both staring rather blank-faced at the pair of them who were still standing near Nightwing’s motorcycle - especially as Agent A had moved off to the side to properly sanitize and dispose of the medical equipment used earlier. It only took another moment of intent staring, before the silence was finally broken.
“What is your father’s name?” Red asked carefully, eyes narrowed at Peter pensively.
“What? Why is that relevant?” Peter frowned, a little tense, looking between the crowd of vigilantes over at the computer, who seem to be going back and forth between whispering heatedly among themselves and glancing over in Nightwing and Peter’s directions.
“Just - answer the question, please.”
“Alright, geez. I never really knew him, but his name was Richard. Why?”
At Peter’s words, a sinking feeling entered Nightwing’s stomach, at the same time his heart rose into his throat. He didn’t know why, but he had a gut feeling this was going to be something important. Important to him specifically. He found himself staring unblinking at the others, waiting with bated breath to hear where this was going, almost dreading but somehow almost excitedly anticipatory.
“Well, it seems he also exists in this universe too. The only difference is his background and last name,” Red said slowly. He was clearly hesitant to say what they’d discovered, which only increased the duelling feelings Nightwing was experiencing.
“He’s - he’s alive here?” Peter breathed, and the taste of old grief in the words was enough to make Nightwing’s own breathing catch at remembered pain. Whoever this teenager was, he didn’t deserve to know that pain.
The other Bats and Birds paused for a moment at that, a quiet suck of air the only sign that they had heard the quietly pained statement too.
“Yeah,” Red Robin said softly. “Yeah, Peter. Here, your dad is alive, and his name is Richard Grayson.”
Static filled Nightwing’s ears, and abruptly he felt his hero persona fall away, leaving behind just Dick. And, somewhere deep inside Dick, there was Robin, desperately missing his family after being entirely alone in the world for so long - in a way that he couldn’t even describe, surrounded by new family for years now. Together, they turned to look at the teenager beside them, not of this universe or of their name, but a Grayson nonetheless, somehow.
“Hm, I wonder if that was Dad’s original name too - he was adopted as a kid and took on his adoptive family’s name,” Peter mused aloud, unaware of the turmoil that was prompting in everyone. “My aunt didn’t know enough about the Parkers to tell me more, and my uncle didn’t get a chance to tell me himself, either. I was too young when they first passed, and then, well.”
“Did they ever say anything about him being an acrobat?” Dick asked faintly, his eyes studying Peter’s features with renewed intensity behind the white-outs of his mask. Now that he was looking for it, there were a lot of features they seemed to have in common. Peter’s eyes were darker, but the shape of them was the same as Dick’s, his hair the wrong color but the same texture and level of curls, his jawline still with some baby fat but matching Dick’s own, the wrinkle of his frown forming the same way.
“Yeah, actually,” Peter said, glancing at him in surprise. “How did you know that? It was part of why he got recruited by SHIELD - our world’s version of… whoever deals with extraterrestrial threats, superpowered people, etc - aside from his work in genetics. He had the physical skills to go with the knowledge they were looking for.”
“That would be the Justice League here, I think,” Dick said faintly, still drinking in the sight of Peter and cataloguing all the differences and similarities between them. “Richard Grayson was part of the Flying Graysons here - a circus act, before an accident led to his parents dying when he was young. He was taken in by a young man who had witnessed the accident, and now lives with him and his - now - multitude of siblings.”
“Really? That’s so cool!” Peter burst out, excitement growing in his eyes at the story of his sort-of father. Meanwhile, Agent A had finished carefully tidying up after everything. “Well, aside from the accident thing obviously - that’s never cool. I wonder if Dad was like that back in my world too? That would explain why even though I couldn’t run a city block without coughing up my lungs growing up, I could fold like a pretzel since I could walk. I think I freaked out my aunt and uncle a lot doing those tricks, since they thought I’d hurt myself.”
Abruptly, it’s too much for Dick. Here’s his alternate universe son , a fellow Grayson even if not by name, when he’d been alone for so long and the other had no idea. He sent a quick warning glance towards Bruce - and the man was Bruce right now, not Batman, though the line was thin at the moment. Then he lifted his hands to his face and pulled off the domino, ignoring the surprised noises of the others and the way it pulled harshly at his skin.
Peter himself made a sound of surprise and protest at the movement, that abruptly died off as he met Dick’s desperate gaze. The teen’s mouth fell open in a slight ‘o’ shape as his eyes widened upon seeing Dick’s features. He searched Dick’s face, as if trying to gain confirmation that what he was undoubtedly realizing.
“You’re…”
“Maybe I should introduce myself again,” Dick said a little dazed, as Peter trailed off in shock and didn’t seem to be able to start again. “My real name is Richard Grayson, but everyone calls me Dick.”
“You’re - you are,” Peter stuttered, as his brain slowly started coming back to life. “I - what the hell kind of spell was that, Stephen ?”
Dick blinked at the seeming non-sequitor, but Peter only seemed to pick up steam as he latched on to the alternative train of thought. It seemed his son - Peter was his son, oh gods - had picked up some of the family avoidance for difficult topics despite being from an alternate universe.
“I mean really! The first time we tore a hole in the multiverse so that there were too many Peter Parkers,” Peter said, beginning to look a little outraged, “then he flung me through the fabric of reality to a universe where there are too few and my dead dad is alive? This was supposed to be a memory spell why the hell is it interacting with the multiverse at all ?! Gods fucking damn it, Stephen , see if I call you by your fancy titles anymore.”
“Language,” Bruce seemed to mutter instinctively, before frowning at himself. Under other circumstances, Dick would have thought it funny that his dad instincts overrode his vigilante instincts like that.
“You seem to have some big feelings about this, kid,” Jason - who had shed his helmet and seemed to be torn between being amused and concerned - piped up from the side.
Peter paused for just a moment as he looked at the man, before abruptly bursting into tears. Jason’s expression bypassed concern instantly to full on ‘oh shit’ panic, and the rest of Dick’s siblings seemed similarly lost and alarmed. Dick exchanged a quick glance with Alfred at the emotional incompetence of their family, before stepping forward and hesitantly reaching out to give the kid a hug.
The teen shuddered for a moment, torn for a single breath in and out about whether to lean in or pull away, before suddenly seeming to surrender. Peter fell into Dick with a gasping sob and latched on tightly.
Dick couldn’t help but hug him back just as tightly, tucking the teenager’s head under his chin as he took in a shuddery breath of his own.
His kid’s hair was a little greasy against his skin, and he smelled a little grungy from his time wandering Gotham’s streets, based on his story. But none of that mattered in the moment, and Dick found himself nuzzling his face into the side of Peter’s head anyway and pressing a short kiss to his hair on instinct anyway.
Peter let out a slightly strangled noise, and Dick almost worried he’d overstepped. But Peter’s arms only tightened, to the point Dick was pretty sure his ribs were creaking, even though he didn’t make any move to break the grip. He felt a flash of worry for the state of the teen’s injured arm, but he wasn’t going to be the first to pull away, and it really didn’t seem to be bothering Peter for the moment, so it could wait.
“ Dad -” Peter breathed between sobs, seemingly not even realizing what he’d just called Dick.
Dick noticed though, and it felt like an emotional bullet to the chest. He hadn’t been expecting how much he’d be affected by hearing someone call him that. But, now that he’d heard it, he felt every previously unknown paternal instinct rear their head and latch onto the teenager.
“Shh, I’m here,” he murmured, tightening his hold and rocking his weight back and forth in an attempt to soothe his son. He ran his thumb back and forth across Peter’s back - unwilling to let go enough to do the motion with his full hand. “I’m here, kiddo. You’re alright.”