Chapter Text
Dick was exhausted. Really, really exhausted. He’d been on the highest alert the last few weeks, jumping cities. He hadn’t gotten good sleep in way too long and honestly he was afraid of Bruce and Tim for functioning like that. His levels of stress were way higher than normal. He wasn’t stressing only about Blüdhaven but also Gotham.
Bruce was stuck in bed, obviously not by choice. After he came back from patrol with three broken ribs and a broken leg Alfred made it very clear he was not to leave his bed until healed. It took them surprisingly little convincing to make him listen to them. Of course, the strangely obedient Batman quickly turned out to be a distraction and one of those days Jason dragged their father back by the collar, in full Batsuit, at five in the morning. Somehow Bruce managed to avoid too much physical damage, aside from flu, which put him on even more bed rest.
Anyway! Back to stressing. Since the Bat was out of commission, Damian was not being let out on patrol alone under any circumstances. While most of the family was still actively patrolling, Jason was deep undercover in a gang he suspected was trafficking children so a chunk of Gotham was unpatrolled. Usually Bruce kept an eye on it but since he was unavailable... Dick felt the need to step in. He was distracted throughout patrol, which thank God Bruce didn’t know, because that was his number one no no rule. Right along with no killing. And no dying. And- a lot others. There were too many to keep count.
Why was he distracted, one may ask? Well, it was because while he dealt with Gotham he left his beloved city in the hands of his very responsible, very caring husband. Except he didn’t care for the city. So Dick had very much reason to think by the time he got back he wouldn’t have anywhere to get back to. Lovely, isn’t it. As great of a husband as Slade might’ve been, he didn’t exactly try to hide what he thought of trying to save an already fallen city.
That’s exactly why when Dick stumbled back into the Batcave he was tired, in pain, dreaming of a warm bed and oh, did he mention tired? Excuse him for missing a very obviously Bat-shaped person sitting in front of the Batcomputer. He practically jumped out of his skin when said shape spoke up.
“Dick.”
“Jesu- Dad!” He screeched, jumping away with wide eyes. He composed himself and frowned. “Yo- you’re supposed to be in bed! What are you doing up? Does Alfred know you’re here? In the dark, cold cave, while having a fever?”
Bruce at least looked a bit guilty.
“Sorry, I know, chum.” He muttered and rubbed a hand down his face while not taking his eyes off the monitor. “League business.”
“Can’t Clark deal with League business?” He asked sceptically and when he didn’t hear an answer he gritted his teeth. Silence meant Clark could definitely deal with League business. “Dad.”
“I know, I know. Don’t gotta tell me.” Bruce sighed heavily and slightly pushed away from the computer.
Up until this point he was too focused on the screen to look at his eldest but once he did, his breathing caught in his throat. He slowly, still having a not fully healed knee, got to his feet and placed a hand on Dick’s shoulder. His hair was a mess, he could see the paleness of his skin even under the mask and he was sure that if he pulled the domino down he would see bags that could conquer Tim’s. His panic rose when he saw the red on his costume. He started patting and prodding, checking twice over every possible place of injury.
“I’m fine.” Dick said, a little amused. He didn’t protest about being checked over though, he knew how badly Bruce stressed over them.
Honestly, he had no idea how people could take Batman as this cold, emotionless creature of the night. Bruce was the most caring, fratting, helicopter parent on earth. Yeah, sometimes he had shit ways of showing that and yeah, sometimes he did have the emotional intelligence of a really rough rock but he cared nonetheless. He sighed happily when familiar arms enveloped him and pressed him into the broad chest. He also didn’t object to his mask being taken off. He was really tired. And when he was tired he never rejected a good cuddle, especially from his dad.
“I’m sorry I dragged you to Gotham.” Came a choked whisper.
Dick froze. No matter how much his father loved him, he never showed emotions this openly. He was starting to get worried. He glanced up uncertainly and pulled away to be at arm's length. He sighed unhappily. His blue eyes scanned over the glassy, unfocused look on Bruce’s face and the slight flush of his cheeks. He placed the back of his hand on his forehead just to make sure. Just as he suspected, he was riding a high fever. He needed to ask Alfred if Bruce was taking his meds.
“Okay, B. It’s okay. Why don’t we get you back upstairs where it’s nice and warm, hm?”
“No, I still nee-”
“Don’t care, B. Or I’ll call Alfred down here.” He thought for a moment and then smiled darkly. “Or better. I’ll call papa and tell him you haven’t been resting.”
The threat of giving him up to Clark very quickly got Bruce to shut up and oblige. Would Dick actually snitch on his dad? Oh yes, he absolutely would. He helped the older man stand up and steadied him on his shoulder. Bruce wanted to protest but Dick didn’t let him and just started walking. He always loved how his dad got less emotionally constipated when sick.
The walk to the master bedroom didn’t take too long. The real challenge was actually getting a half asleep bruce into bed without a fight. By now all of the Batkids learned the best way to do that. Throw him into the bed and leave as quickly as possible. Before he got the chance to react back, was the ideal option. Dick was about to do just that when suddenly Bruce’s head lolled against his shoulder and he hummed.
“Don’t go.”
Dick’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest.
“Don’t go. I’m sorry, Dick. I never wanted this. For any of you. I just wanted to keep you all safe.”
“I know, dad.” He managed to say through his suddenly dry throat. “I know. We all know.”
The idea of running away was suddenly very far away. He helped Bruce under the covers and tucked him in. He rounded the room, closing the curtains. Then he slipped into the bed next to Bruce, laying on the blankets beside him. He might love his dad very much and be a clingy asshole but he didn’t want to get sick too. That’d be a shame. He remembered when he was just a small boy, right after the tragic death of his parents. He would often get woken up by the images of his parents slowly falling to their doom, hear their screams and see the horrified audience. The only place he could seek refuge in was Bruce’s bedroom. He remembered the first night he crawled into his bed and nuzzled into his side, sobbing. Bruce hugged him and shushed him until he fell into the most peaceful sleep he had since the accident. After that Bruce’s bed became the only place where nightmares couldn’t reach him. Then he grew up and they grew distant. Even when he was furious at Bruce all he wanted to do was to curl up under his cape and relish in the darkness and peace it brought.
“Dad?”
“Mh..?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, chum.”