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Dick had made his way into Bruce’s bed over an hour ago, tears and snot trailing down his face. He’d been trembling like a leaf, haunted by nightmares he refused to speak of. Bruce hadn’t known what to do. He’d pulled Dick into the bed, made sure he and Zitka were tucked in all snug, and flipped on the TV to… whatever the hell was playing on Disney Channel at this hour. Something about a dog and a rabbit in the jungle? Bruce wasn’t really following, but Dick seemed engaged enough with it, so Bruce had left it at that for a time. Fifteen minutes in, Dick had moved from his spot across the bed, snuggling up to Bruce’s side as he hugged Zitka tight between them.
Now, as the clock ticked past two in the morning, Bruce was weighing his options. Dick needed to sleep. It was far too late for boys his age to be up, especially on a school night, but he didn’t want to trigger whatever fears sent the boy spiraling earlier that night. He seemed happy enough now, giggling at the TV and singing along whenever the theme song played, but Bruce knew all too well how his mood could change on a dime. Hesitantly, he rubbed at Dick’s back.
“Hey, chum. Think you’re ready to try sleep again?”
Dick paused in his giggling, freezing for a moment before turning wide, innocent eyes on Bruce. “Do I have to?”
Bruce frowned, brushing the hair out of his eyes. “Dick, you need to rest. I’ll be here to help with any nightmares, but you need to get some sleep.”
Dick’s adorable pout morphed into a scowl. “I don’t wanna sleep. Can’t I just stay up? I don’t need to go to school tomorrow.”
Bruce sighed. “Chum–”
“B,” Dick said, drawing out the sound. “Please?”
Bruce rubbed at his eyes. “Are you saying this because you’re scared, or because you want to stay up late and watch TV?”
Dick hesitated, only a split-second, but it was enough for Bruce to catch. Then, his chin started trembling and his eyes went wide and watery. “I’m scared, Bruce. Please?”
Bruce did his best to stay patient. Dick was just a boy – an angry, grieving boy at that. Testing boundaries was not abnormal – at least, not according to Alfred and the multitude of parenting books Bruce had bought. Bruce wondered if he had been this much trouble when he was a child.
Truthfully, he was probably far worse.
So after a few deep breaths and a bit of brainstorming, an idea came to Bruce. One that wouldn’t traumatize Dick even further, but that would enforce the rules about bedtimes.
“You know… I didn’t want to tell you this and scare you more, but I think you should know.”
Dick hugged Zitka tighter, curling into Bruce’s chest. “What?”
“There’s this monster. It comes for little kids who don’t go to bed when they’re supposed to – attacks them until they do.”
Dick gasped. “A monster ?”
“Oh yes. It’s big and furry, and it’s got these huge claws. You can’t escape it, not unless you agree to its demands.”
Dick frowned. “But – you’re Batman. Can’t you beat it?”
Bruce shook his head, his tone solemn. “No. I’m sorry chum, but not even Batman can beat this monster. And it’s coming for you, soon.”
“What is it?” Dick whispered.
Bruce leaned in close, so close he could whisper in Dick’s ear. “ The Tickle Monster .”
Dick was shrieking before Bruce even started, and he couldn’t help but laugh as his hands connected with the boy’s sides. He took advantage of his current position, blowing a loud raspberry into the crook of Dick’s neck before making “om-nom-nom”-ing sounds to really sell that there was a monster eating Dick right up.
Dick giggled and snorted and shrieked, pushing at Bruce’s head and hands. “No Tickle Monster!”
Bruce pulled back to look Dick in the eyes. “I’m sorry, chum, but it’s already too late! The monster can’t stop until you agree to go to sleep.”
A determined expression flitted over Dick’s face before he tumbled back into laughter. “Never!”
Bruce sighed, as if this was paining him, and clawed his hands into Dick’s ribs. “Then you leave me no choice.”
Dick rolled back and forth, trying to dislodge Bruce’s hands from his ribs. Bruce followed him easily, creeping his hands upward until they were buried in Dick’s armpits. Dick shrieked with childish laughter, kicking his legs out in Bruce’s direction.
“B! No, it tickles !”
Bruce couldn’t help but chuckle. “That’s the point, Dickie.”
With no warning, Bruce jumped down to Dick’s stomach where his pajama shirt had ridden up from all his squirming. Dick cried out and curled up on his back, continuing to kick his feet so that Bruce had to shift out of the way to avoid getting kicked in the face.
“No! Not there!”
“Ticklish tummy, chum? Hmm, the Tickle Monster’s getting hungry.”
“No he’s not!”
“Oh, but he is .”
Shoving his legs out of the way for safety, Bruce leaned down and blew a series of short raspberries around Dick’s stomach. Dick cackled, tossing his head back and shaking it back and forth, scrubbing his hair into tangles against the sheets. Bruce laughed and leaned back down, repeating the raspberries. This time, he squeezed up and down Dick’s sides as he did so. Dick nearly launched out of the bed when Bruce’s fingers squeezed just below his ribs.
“B!” He practically screamed.
“Oho, did I find a tickle spot?”
“You jerk!”
Bruce grinned and dug in, targeting that one spot over and over. Dick laughed himself into silence, throwing himself around the bed like a fish flopping around on a deck. Bruce tickled there for a few more moments before one of Dick’s little hands began slapping onto the mattress with purpose, like how Bruce taught him to tap out for a spar.
Bruce pulled back, running a hand through Dick’s hair as he melted into a boneless puddle of pre-teen, giggling breathlessly. With his free hand, Bruce set out to straightening the sheets and blankets and fetching Zitka from where she somehow got tossed on the other side of Bruce. With his precious elephant tucked into his arms, Dick rolled onto his side with his back to Bruce and buried the remainder of his giggles into her fluff.
“Alright, chum?”
Dick rolled over to his other side so he could plaster himself against Bruce. “The Tickle Monster’s evil .”
Bruce chuckled under his breath. “Is he, now? I suppose that means you ought to get to bed on time, doesn’t it?”
Dick groaned. “I guess so.” He was quiet for a moment, shuffling his feet under the sheets. “Can I stay here tonight? Just in case the bad dreams come back?”
Bruce felt something in his chest melt. “Of course, chum. You’re always welcome here.”
Dick was asleep before Bruce even turned out the lights, clearly tuckered out from all the activity.
* * *
There was a soft blue glow coming from the entryway to the family den.
Normally this wouldn’t be odd – Dick had always been a bit of a night owl, and their nightlife had never helped with that matter. It wasn’t uncommon for Dick to sprawl across the sofas in the den, TV playing at a low volume, until he felt as though he could sleep. Sometimes, Bruce came downstairs the next morning to Dick passed out on the couch, TV still playing in the background.
But last Bruce had checked, Dick had been at Titan’s Tower. He would know. He’d checked Dick’s tracker obsessively before, during, and after his own patrol until Alfred practically forced him into the locker room to shower. As far as Bruce knew, Dick had been intending to stay the night. He’d been doing that a lot lately – even on school nights, despite Bruce’s rules. Even if they hadn’t actively been fighting beforehand, Dick seemed to be looking for any excuse possible to be out of the Manor and away from Bruce.
So to enter the den and see Dick laying stiffly across one of the couches, a surly expression chiseled into his face, was rather surprising.
“Dick? Are you alright?”
One of Dick’s eyebrows twitched. “Fine.”
“Why don’t you head up to bed soon? You’ll hurt your back sleeping on the couch.”
Dick shot him a glare. “I’m fine .”
He very clearly wasn’t fine. The bags under his eyes were deep and dark, reminiscent of the greasepaint Bruce used to wear under the cowl before he switched the eyeholes out for pure white lenses. Dick’s hair, which he normally took so much pride in, was greasy and unbrushed, sticking every which way like he’d been running his hands through it for hours. And he was far too pale, almost as pale as Bruce. Dick clearly wasn’t well.
“Chum–”
“I said I’m fine , Bruce! God!” Dick snapped, then promptly seemed to realize he was proving the exact opposite of his words and focused back on the TV.
Bruce wavered in the doorway for a moment. They’d both been hotheaded recently, Dick chafing under Bruce’s rules and guidance as he grew. It seemed like no matter what Bruce did, it blew up in both of their faces. If Dick was insisting he was alright, maybe it would be better to leave it be – to give Dick his space, to head up to bed and sleep for the board meeting Lucius would no doubt be dragging him to tomorrow.
But then he caught another glimpse of Dick’s face, looking so distinctly unwell, and Bruce knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep himself without a little pushing.
Bruce entered the den, ignoring the wordless growl Dick let out as he approached. He pressed the back of his hand against Dick’s forehead, unrelenting even as Dick tried to push his arm away.
“I’m not sick !”
Bruce hummed, allowing Dick to push him away after several seconds. “You feel a bit warm.”
“I’m not . I’m a perfectly normal temperature.”
Bruce ran a hand through his hair, still wet since he hadn’t bothered to dry it after his shower. He crouched next to the sofa, ignoring the way his left knee cracked and popped. Vigilantism wasn’t exactly easy on the joints.
“Did something happen?”
Dick hesitated a moment too long, but his tone was cruel and snappish when he spoke. “No. I already told you, I’m fine.”
Bruce pursed his lips, temper flaring. “If you’re so fine, then you should have no issues heading up to bed for school tomorrow.”
Dick’s glare snapped back to his face. “Are you serious, right now?”
“Is there a reason I wouldn’t be?”
Dick turned away and wriggled into the cushions, as if digging himself deeper into them. He crossed his arms, steadfastly ignoring where Bruce was crouched next to him.
Bruce stood and took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. Dick never responded well to his frustration, and he didn’t have the energy to fight after such a long patrol. He doubted Dick did either, with what seemed to be the beginnings of a fever coursing through his body. What Dick needed most right now was rest, whether or not he wanted it.
But how could Bruce convince him? With Dick’s stubborn pride, there would be no convincing him with words. He didn’t exactly want to wake Alfred for the confrontation, either. If he manhandled Dick up the stairs, it could end poorly for both of them, not to mention how it would piss Dick off even worse.
But there was one thing Bruce remembered, something that always worked like a charm when Dick was younger. Something Bruce hadn’t tried in a very long time, now.
“Don’t you remember what happens to boys who don’t go to bed on time?” Bruce said, trying to force some playful cheer into his voice. It just came out awkward and strained.
Still, it got a reaction. Dick faced him again, eyes immediately shooting to his hands. “I’m not a little kid anymore, B.”
“Maybe not. But I heard the Tickle Monster’s hungry .” He was getting closer to the tone he was reaching for, but he wasn’t quite there yet. “It’s been so long since his last meal.”
Dick shifted on the couch, like he was debating making a break for it. “The Tickle Monster’s not real, B.”
“Isn’t he? I guess you’ll find out if you don’t get up to bed, won’t you?”
There, the ball was in Dick’s court. If he refused again, that was permission, right? It’s not like Dick didn’t have a laptop in his room, full of passwords for every streaming service known to man. He didn’t have to be in the den to stay up and watch TV – if Dick really wanted to be left alone, Bruce wasn’t sure why he chose a public room of the Manor.
Dick narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. “I’m not scared of the damn Tickle Monster , Bruce.”
Choice made. Bruce hummed. “Suit yourself.”
This time, he sat on the edge of the couch, right by Dick’s hip. Dick squawked at his proximity and shoved at his shoulder, though he wasn’t even using half his strength. Taking this as permission, Bruce clawed both of his hands into the center of Dick’s stomach. He squawked again, this time tipping over into giggles at the end of the sound.
“B, cut it out!”
A smile twitched at the edge of Bruce’s lips. “Sorry, B’s not here. Just the Tickle Monster.”
Dick tried to groan, but cut himself off with his own laughter as Bruce added a few squeezes to his hips. “You’re so lame!”
Bruce gasped. “ Lame ? Here I am, starving for laughter, and you call me lame ?”
“Because you are!” With Bruce’s body leaving him nowhere to squirm, Dick instead started turning like a rotisserie chicken.
Bruce tutted. “And here I was going easy on you. You really wanna do this?”
Dick flipped him off. Bruce gave into his smile, squeezing strategically at Dick’s hips, sides, and ribs until he got Dick to turn on his stomach. He pressed a hand on Dick’s back to keep him from turning anymore and promptly dug into the back of Dick’s thighs with his free hand.
Dick screeched, immediately burying his face into the throw pillow underneath him to muffle the sound. It was probably for the best – this sort of scene had drawn Alfred into the room with his shotgun more than once. Thankfully, even with the pillow, Bruce could still just barely make out his words.
“No, no, no !”
Of course, it wasn’t hard to make out the words when they were so simple.
“I think the Tickle Monster’s winning this time, chum.”
“Fuck you!” Dick turned his head just enough for his speech to become clearer, just long enough to say, “Get away from there!”
“Away from where? Away from here?”
Bruce spidered his fingers into the back of Dick’s knees, jumping between the two sporadically. Dick shrieked, panicked giggles lost into his pillow. He kicked his legs, but Bruce easily avoided them, shoving his calves back to the couch. He gave one a playful squeeze and Dick jumped, snorting into the cushion.
“Really, here too? Or maybe this was where you wanted me to get away from, hm?”
He occupied himself with squeezing at Dick’s calves for a few seconds, chuckling under his breath at the snorts he could just barely make out through Dick’s pillow.
“Why don’t we try this – I’ll just tickle all over, and you tell me when I get to where I should stay away from.”
“ B !”
Bruce ignored him, pinching up and down the backs of Dick’s thighs and knees. Dick shrieked and squeaked, cackled and giggled, and tried his damned hardest to squirm his way off the couch despite Bruce holding him in place. He always did seem to forget how weak and boneless he became when he laughed.
“Well?”
“Any of it!” Dick cried out. “All of it!”
Bruce laughed outright, pausing in his attack. “Is this you telling the Tickle Monster you’ll go to bed?”
He let Dick roll over this time, still giggling wildly. “Yes. Yes, I promise.”
“Anything you want to talk about before you head upstairs?”
Dick sighed, less melting into the couch cushions and more going boneless with exhaustion. “A mission with the Teen Titans didn’t go so well. That’s all.”
Bruce ran a hand through Dick’s hair. “One poorly handled mission doesn’t mean you’re a failure, for you as a leader or for the team as a whole. You take this and you learn your lesson, you make sure everyone does better next time – but beating yourself up over it is only going to be unproductive.”
Dick gave him a wry look. “Oh, yeah? Says you.”
Bruce returned it. “How do you think I know all this?”
Dick snorted, tilting his head back into Bruce’s hand. “Do as you say, not as you do, huh?”
“Something like that.”
Dick hummed. They sat there in companionable silence for a few minutes before Bruce sighed, peeling himself from his son’s side.
“Alright, let’s get you some medicine and up to bed.”
Dick frowned. “I told you – I’m not sick.”
Bruce stared him down. Though he’d gone red for a handful of minutes from all his laughter, Dick’s face had returned to that sickly pallor. The only flush that remained was high in his cheeks, splotchy and irregular.
“Tell me that again in the morning. Better yet – tell Alfred.”
Dick groaned, but allowed Bruce to pull him to his feet. He wavered slightly when Bruce released him to switch the TV off, so Bruce made sure to keep a grip on him as they maneuvered to the stairs. He would have to remember to call Dick out of school in the morning – and he might’ve just found the perfect excuse to skip out on that board meeting.
* * *
Bruce should not have been awake. With summer approaching and the sun rising earlier and earlier, dawn wasn’t far off, but Bruce still hadn’t slept a wink. There was no reason for it either – patrol had gone off without a hitch (and even ended earlier than usual, it had been a quiet night for once), no one was injured, and all his children currently in the city had decided to celebrate with a post-patrol movie night at the Manor. There were no especially concerning outstanding cases, and no recent Arkham breakouts (or any worries of one approaching).
The restless energy zinging beneath Bruce’s skin did not seem to care.
For now, he decided to give up, padding silently out of his bedroom. He glanced up and down the main hall of the family wing for a moment before deciding to start with the door closest to him, right across the hall.
Damian was tucked under the covers, his breathing slow and even. Titus, curled at the foot of the bed, raised his head as Bruce slinked into the room. He brushed a few strands of hair off Damian’s forehead, smiling a little as the boy sighed in his sleep, a nearly imperceptible furrow between his brows smoothing out at the touch. A quick tousle of Titus’s ears, and Bruce was on his way.
In the next room over, Tim snored away quietly. Alfred had offered him a sleeping aid that night, as the bags beneath his eyes were becoming a concerningly dark color, and Tim had actually accepted. Clearly, it had worked. His half-open laptop sat precariously close to the edge of the bed, so Bruce snapped it closed and safely deposited it on Tim’s desk.
In Cass’s room, the lump under the blankets was suspiciously wide. It split into two lumps as Cass made an alarmed noise deep in her throat and sat up, staring at Bruce with wide eyes. She relaxed slightly at the sight of him. Steph did not move, an almost cartoonish snore leaving her lips.
“Everything okay?”
Bruce gave her a soft smile, stepping into the room fully to run a hand through her hair and make sure the blankets were pulled up sufficiently to the girls’ shoulders.
“Everything’s fine, sweetheart. Go back to sleep.”
Cass scrutinized him for a second before nodding, allowing him to fuss with the blankets a moment longer. He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze before pulling away, shutting the door quietly behind him.
At the end of the hall, Duke sprawled across his bedsheets, dead asleep. In a few short hours, he’d be waking up for the day, ready to take on his weekend patrol to keep Gotham safe. Bruce straightened out his blankets as well, before quietly taking the empty glass from Duke’s bedside table and filling it at the bathroom sink. He often slept with his mouth open, which left him with a horribly dry throat come morning.
Backtracking the way he came on the opposite side of the hall, Bruce skipped Jason’s door. As far as Bruce knew, Jason was enjoying his weekend off in Star City with Roy and the Queen’s. He’d already sent a photo of him and Lian in matching sunglasses, staring down the camera with serious looks. Roy had immediately sent Dick the bloopers, the two of them doubled over giggling and trying to steal the sunglasses off each other’s faces.
Bruce cracked the door right next to his own, peeking inside. He expected to see Dick sprawled across his bed, sleeping in the oddest pose his body could comfortably manage. Instead, he found mussed bedsheets and an empty bed. Bruce’s heart skipped a beat as he immediately pulled his phone out of his sweatpants to check Dick’s tracker. His heart settled marginally when he saw that Dick was still in the Manor, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to rest until he saw Dick himself.
As Bruce navigated down the stairs, he pulled up Jason’s tracker just to be sure. His tracker was right where it was supposed to be at the rental house in Star City, his vitals steady and healthy. It seemed as though he were getting a good night’s sleep. Another vice around his ribcage eased slightly, allowing him to breathe a bit easier.
Bruce trailed through the Manor halls, following after the first sound he picked up. He found Dick moving lazily through the kitchen, picking through Alfred’s tea selection as a kettle slowly came to a boil on the stovetop. Padding along in nothing but socks, Bruce couldn’t do much to make his steps heavier in a courteous warning of his presence. Still, as always, Dick just seemed to know , glancing up at Bruce in the doorway with a half-hearted smile.
“Alfred know you’re in here?” Bruce tried to tease, though his tone fell flat as he felt his nervous system readjusting to seeing Dick safe.
Dick played along anyway. “I won’t tell if you won’t – you’re banned, too.”
“Fair enough.”
They lapsed into silence. Bruce came up to lean against the island across from Dick, who wordlessly pulled another mug out of the cupboard. When the kettle had just barely started to whistle, Dick snatched it off the burner to quiet the noise. He poured them both a steaming mug and let them steep in silence, adding a swirl of honey to Bruce’s and a few teaspoons of sugar to his own. Together they shuffled to the den, dropping onto the couch next to each other.
“Can’t sleep?” Dick finally asked once they were settled.
Bruce gave him a dry smile. It was answer enough. “You?”
Dick’s shoulders shifted minutely under the hoodie he was wearing – oversized enough that it had to be either Jason’s or Bruce’s. “The usual – nightmares and restless nights.” He let out a humorless laugh. “And on such a good night too – it’s so stupid.”
Bruce sighed, setting his half empty mug on the coffee table in front of him. “I’m sorry, chum.”
Dick shrugged, taking another gulp of his own before setting it down as well. “It is what it is.” He pulled one leg up into his chest and hugged it as he tipped sideways, resting his head on Bruce’s shoulder. “Just too jittery to sleep now. Hoped the tea would help, but I don’t think it is.”
“Give it some time,” Bruce said, lowering his voice into that soothing rumble that always made his Robins blink a little heavier.
He reached down to squeeze Dick’s knee, trying to offer some awkward amount of comfort. Though Dick’s lips stayed sealed shut, he made a yelp somewhere back in his throat. Dick’s leg kicked out from under Bruce’s hand, the leg he held to his chest jerking slightly as well.
Bruce immediately sat up straighter. “Injury?”
Dick waved him off, avoiding Bruce’s eyes to instead hide in Bruce’s shoulder. “No, no injury.” The tips of his ears were pink.
Ah. Bruce suppressed a smile. No matter how old Dick got, it seemed he would never outgrow his ticklishness. Not that he imagined Dick minded – he still remembered a giggling little boy, doing everything in his power to goad Bruce into playing Tickle Monster with him.
Actually, speaking of which…
“You know, I might have a friend who can help you out.”
Dick snorted, rubbing his forehead against Bruce’s soft t-shirt. “Gonna get me some sleep aids like Timmy? I think I’m good, Bruce.”
Bruce smirked. “Not quite.” He reached out and squeezed Dick’s knee again, more deliberately. This time, he didn’t let Dick shake him off. “You’re actually quite familiar with this friend.”
Dick made a few alarmed noises in his throat as he tried to extract his leg from Bruce’s ticklish grip. “Wait until everyone finds out that Batman is such a secret softie .”
Wordless permission granted, Bruce started putting together a plan of attack. He brought both his hands up to Dick’s stomach, clawing gently into the muscles. “You must be mistaken – there’s no Batman here. Only the Tickle Monster.”
Dick doubled over, giving into his giggles. “You’re so lame ! I thought the Tickle Monster only went for kids up past their bedtimes?”
Bruce hummed, adding a few playful squeezes to Dick’s ribs before jumping up to skitter around his neck. “You’re still my kid, aren’t you? Besides, you always had the best giggles for him.”
Like right now, Dick’s giggles being hilariously squeaky and high pitched as he toppled backwards against the arm of the couch to try and escape Bruce’s fingers, his legs tumbling into Bruce’s lap. His cheeks flushed a healthy pink, clearly embarrassed – whether by the Tickle Monster teasing itself or the sounds leaving his lips, Bruce couldn’t be sure.
“Bruce – shit! – that fucking– it– fuck! ”
“Sorry,” Bruce said, slipping under Dick’s arms the second he saw an opening. “Does that tickle?”
Dick tossed his head back, belly-laughter filling the room. “You ass !”
Bruce chuckled. “Maybe you ought to defend your tickle spots better. You know how determined the Tickle Monster gets.”
“I am 25 years old !”
“So?” Bruce scoffed, vibrating his fingers into the space between Dick’s underarms and ribs. “Last I checked, the Tickle Monster doesn’t discriminate. And you , young man, are certainly up past your bedtime.”
Dick arched his back with a snorting cackle. He tried to roll off the couch to escape, but Bruce caught him around the waist. He drew Dick into a mock hug, back to chest, and Dick was already shrieking before Bruce’s hands started up again. He knew what was coming.
“Wait, wait – Let’s talk about this!”
Bruce laughed, Dick’s head ducking out of the way when Bruce’s breath glanced off his ear in a way that was clearly too ticklish. There was no way he was stopping now, but he kept his hands still for a moment, letting Dick bargain.
“Bruce, come on, it’s childish!”
“No Bruce here – but Bruce did see you sneakily tickling Tim during the movie tonight. I think ‘childishness’ is a moot point.”
“I– I– We’ll wake up the others!”
“You know just as well as me how good the soundproofing is on those bedrooms, now.”
“Um– You– We–”
“Yes?”
“Bruce!” Dick’s tone turned whining.
Bruce chuckled. “Alright, alright.”
He loosened his grip momentarily, acting like he was going to release Dick, until his shoulders dropped in clear disappointment. He tightened his grip again, one hand skittering up and down Dick’s ribs, the other squeezing at that sweet spot just below them on the other side. Dick burst into laughter, squirming and screeching in his arms.
“Did you really think I’d let you go that easily?”
“Bruce, no!”
“That’s right – no . You’re nowhere near tickled-out enough to sleep yet, after all.”
“Fuck you!”
Dick grabbed at the hand tickling just under his ribs with both of his own, trying to push it away despite being weakened by laughter. Still, Bruce let his arm go limp, allowing Dick’s meager strength to push it away from that hyper-ticklish little spot… only to slide down his ribs on the other side and latch onto the matching spot there. Dick screeched again, switching to try and push that hand away while Bruce’s newly free hand started skittering around his ribs. They repeated this a few times, Dick spluttering curses between his cackling and wheezing.
“You’re so mean !”
Bruce shrugged, giving Dick a brief reprieve by tickling lightly over his stomach. “Never said the Tickle Monster was nice .”
“I hate you.” The sentiment was clearly not serious, said lightly and interspersed with giggles. Still, Bruce thought it warranted some punishment.
Without warning, Bruce released Dick from the ticklish hug, his hands shooting down to squeeze at Dick’s thighs. Dick burst immediately into hysterics, not even being able to talk through his laughter. Bruce had to dodge flying knees and feet more than once just to save himself from a broken nose. He couldn’t help but laugh along with Dick, whatever heaviness he’d been carrying in his chest easing at the sight of his eldest’s dimples and wide, bright smile. But eventually, Dick started slapping his palm against the couch cushions, clearly tapping out, and Bruce had no choice but to slow his fingers.
Dick curled himself into a protective little ball, rubbing away at his ticklish spots as if to rid himself of the ghosts of Bruce’s fingers. Eventually, he peeked an eye open to peer up at Bruce. His blush, which had calmed down along with the force of his laughter, flushed a healthy pink across his cheeks and ears once more and he quickly shut his eyes again, turning his face away.
“Ugh, B, you’re such a sap .”
It was then that Bruce noticed the gentle, fond smile gracing his own face. He could practically feel the way that the harsh lines around his eyes and across his face had softened. He didn’t make this sort of expression often, but it always seemed to make his kids bashful when he did.
He supposed he understood. Whenever Alfred dropped all the propriety and looked at Bruce with proud eyes and a soft smile, Bruce couldn’t help but look away himself.
“Watch it,” Bruce said, following Dick’s lead in pulling their sarcastic walls back up instead of sitting in that uncomfortable vulnerability. “I can call the Tickle Monster back, there’s always time for round two.”
Dick laughed, this time without being forced, and then groaned and clutched at his stomach. “My abs hurt. You’re such a jerk.”
Bruce chuckled, brushing Dick’s mess of hair away from his forehead. “Do you think you could sleep now?”
Dick hummed, loosening a little from his protective ball. “I think I’m gonna sleep right here on the couch, right now.”
Bruce turned his hair pets into a playful ruffle, jostling Dick’s head enough to make him groan and glare up at Bruce.
“Neither of us will be sleeping on the couch. As comfortable as it is now, your back will thank me in the morning.”
Dick groaned again, but went along when Bruce hauled him to his feet. Tea forgotten and long cold on the coffee table, they left it to deal with tomorrow, leaning on each other as they made their way up the stairs. Dick made for his own room, but Bruce stopped him before he could completely detach, allowing a bit of that vulnerability to come back as he pressed a kiss to Dick’s messy hair.
“Sleep well, son.”
“Yeah,” Dick mumbled, ears going pink yet again. Maybe Bruce needed to try being more affectionate with his children. “You too, Dad.”
Dick slipped into his room before Bruce could react, leaving him blinking in the hallway with a dumbfounded expression. His face did that melting thing again, as did his chest, and Bruce quickly sequestered himself in his own room to fully build his own walls back up.
Still, maybe he should invite the kids to sleep over more often. It would probably do them all some good.