I saw you were taking asks for fic Recs and I was hoping you might have some for dick grayson?? Please! Also thanks!!
And were back!!! I'm finally motivated enough to do this so lets kick it off with the goodest boy dick grayson
Cingulomania (Sometimes, Dad Needs a Hug) - I will never ever ever shut up about this fic and yall can't stop me
And the Scene Slips Away (To the Evenness I Fake) - This family really need to sit down and talk about stuff
Manor-Dad lets me drive the Batmobile - Dick reaches a obvious conclusision about his adoptive dad
four brothers, one crush, and absolutely zero brain cells to be found - Honestly the title says it all
deer is a dish best served with a side of tears - dick is a dick to his dad
Watch This - IT'S A BABY
Older Siblings: A Plague on Our Society - Give the man his bike back
collective Judgments - Punch racist
Safe And Sound - The kids call bruce dad
Kidding Around With the Bats - Dick find a bunch of babies, he then finds out they are his dad and siblings
Make an Ass of U and Me - Clark thinks the handsome young man following bruce around is his boyfriend, its not
Breakfast in America - #LetDickGraysonWearABikini2022
Minimum Height Requirement - *edna mode voice* NO CAPES (at least not until youre 18)
When it Rains - People question why it took bruce so long to adopt dick
The Jingle Jangle Morning - dick has a sleepover, it doesnt go well
Catch and Release - KILL BATMAN (with love)
in the dark of the night - Dick and bruce have a complicated relatioship
Ranking Robins - Dick's childhood was more complicated than most people think
Emergency Contacts - Bruce is injured, his kids worry
You Won't Wake Up Alone - Dick wants his dad
I Measure Every Grief I Meet - Someone died in ethiopia, it wasn't jason
what a privilege to love you (to teach you all that i know) - It's beautiful, I've looked at it for five hours
Perils of a Job - Dick calls bruce, Dick gets hurt, Bruce panics
A Touch of Concern - Bruce's kids have all died at least once, he gets to be overprotective, as a treat
The Waynes, Damsels in Distress - The Waynes are bitches and I love them so much
and it comes back around - dick finds out there are more ways to beat bad guys
And this is it, I could probably do more, dick is my second most read character in ao3, you'll never guess who is number one, but I don't want to make a super gigantic post so if you guys would like a part 2 hit me up
Fanfic recs masterpost
Do You Feel the Way My Past Aches? - fic
Characters: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne
Summary: Bruce finds a wayward Damian asleep on his couch. Dick then find them both. An unexpected conversation ensues.
A/N: Inspired by/Title from ‘My Little Love’ by Adele. I ran out of steam at the end, sorry it sucks.
This was not how he expected his evening to turn out.
Not that he was complaining – the opposite, actually. Complete opposite. He couldn’t be more thrilled at the turn of events. Well, maybe a little more thrilled. He’d be happier if Damian was conscious.
He’d come home from Wayne Enterprises expecting an empty house. Tim was away on some mission, and Alfred was...Alfred was still gone. He had a few hours to himself.
So he couldn’t help but freeze in his tracks as he passed the parlor, and found a body sprawled across the couch. And not just any body – it was Damian.
Damian, who hadn’t been home in so long. Damian, who had been broken and lost and angry the last time Bruce had seen him. Screaming and crying and running, vowing to never return.
But…return he did, apparently.
He wasn’t in any uniform, just some sweats and a sweatshirt, fast asleep on his back. As Bruce silently put his briefcase down, slipped his shoes off, he wondered how long Damian had been back in town. How long he’d been in the house. Lord knew that Bruce practically lived in the cave these days, rarely coming up to the manor himself. Damian could have been here a week and Bruce wouldn’t have known.
It was already getting dark outside, and the fatherly instinct in him stepped forward with the intention to take the boy to bed. He needed a proper place to sleep. He needed his rest.
But as soon as he had his arms under Damian’s neck and knees, he hesitated. Because Damian didn’t wake up. And for a second, the worst thoughts went through his mind. Maybe he wasn’t sleeping. Maybe he was dead. Maybe someone killed him and redressed the body and dropped him off here.
But then Damian’s chest rose as he inhaled, and those dark thoughts disappeared. Instantly, they were replaced with logic. Damian became a deeper sleeper the safer he felt. He knew that.
And even with all the turmoil, Damian still felt safe here.
Without thinking too much about it, Bruce decided to be selfish. Instead of taking the boy up to bed, he turned and sat on the couch himself, keeping Damian cuddled to his chest. Damian still didn’t wake, but seemed to relax further into the embrace.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, his (newest) wayward child asleep in his arms as the room he didn’t turn lights on in grew darker and darker.
When he heard the front door open some time later, he automatically assumed Alfred, returning from the store, but was reminded of the somber reality in almost the same second. The grief vanished quickly, though, as he was surprised for a second time that night to see Dick wandering in.
Dick almost mimicked his own movements, coming to an abrupt halt in the parlor’s doorway as he looked in.
Bruce gave him a small smile and whispered, “Did you know he was here?”
Dick blinked and returned his own sheepish grin as he held up his cell phone, a text conversation lighting up the screen. “Uh…kind of? Not like, one-hundred-percent sure, but…I was hoping.”
Bruce grunted, looking down at Damian. “I’d offer you dinner but I haven’t…”
Dick waved him off. “No biggie. You’re clearly busy anyway.” He laughed. “I’ll order us a pizza or two?”
“If you want.”
“Well, I do.” Dick chuckled, pulling out his phone. “Want something to drink? Coffee? Hot cocoa?”
“Whatever you’re making yourself is fine.” Bruce hummed. “I’ll, uh…be here. If you need help.”
“Yeah sure.” Dick rolled his eyes. “Be back in a few.”
Bruce listened as Dick clanged around the kitchen, silently hoping it didn’t wake Damian. He didn’t know what the boy would do then, and the terror of Damian jumping up and running away from him again was creeping up his spine.
But then Damian let out a sleepy sigh, and all but nuzzled into Bruce’s chest. Bruce held his own breath, ignoring the lump growing in his throat.
I miss you.
He wouldn’t let himself say it, wouldn’t let himself even think the phrase. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve the emotion. He didn’t deserve this boy. He didn’t deserve any of them, really, but this boy in particular.
Moving slowly, he carefully shifted from his sitting position to be more lying down, his back pressed against the arm of the sofa as he lifted his legs onto the cushions. He was still being selfish, he couldn’t help it, but Damian needed a proper place to sleep. Stretched out, not scrunched into a ball.
Damian let out another sleep sound, and Bruce wondered how often he did that, how long, if he did that as a baby. If this would have been how he held him had he known, had Talia told him. If Damian had been allowed to grow up with his whole family, not raised in secret.
What would it have changed? Would he and Tim get along? Would Tim have even been in the picture? Or Cassandra or Stephanie or any of them? Would he still be Batman? Would Dick and Jason have stayed with a new baby? Would Jason have died?
But no what-if would change reality, and really, he didn’t want it to. Damian was perfect the way he was, and Bruce regretted never telling him so.
“All the things I never told you.” He whispered, running his hand carefully over Damian’s head. Suddenly, another loud thump of a cabinet door from the kitchen, and Bruce instinctively held Damian a little tighter. The noise was followed by light, off-key singing, and it had Bruce sagging back against the cushions with his own relieved, wistful sigh. “…But he did, didn’t he, son?”
Because if there was any good that came from Damian’s miserable life, it was that the tragedies and hardships led him to be in the care of Dick Grayson. The first who believed in him. The first to trust him. The first to, not that it was easy to admit, love him unconditionally.
And oh, how the boy flourished. How they both did.
Bruce thought back to watching them work, Dick the master of the spotlight and Damian his perfect shadow. The hard-earned protectiveness they had over each other. The silent language. The comradery. The shared smiles. Knowing each other like the back of their hands.
Dick’s crippling grief when Damian died. The tears. The withdrawals. Damian’s loneliness when he returned and was led to believe Dick was dead himself. The isolation. The nightmares. The darkness.
And now, again. Dick’s amnesia – Damian’s suffocating anger, drowning in his own grief, the misplaced guilt. Dick returning to them all only to find Damian gone. His disappointment, confusion. Utter, helpless heartbreak.
All in the last three and a half years.
All after Bruce split them up.
He didn’t…no one said no. No one put up a fight. If they had, if anyone had wanted to question his decision, he’d have gladly listened. He’d have listened to what they said, what they wanted.
Would he have been jealous? …Maybe. Maybe he already was. Maybe that’s why he did it. Under the guise of fatherly love, under the ruse of a belief that Dick wanted to go back on his own, that it was time for Damian to be with him, to get the reward he’d been fighting for for so long.
Maybe because he already saw that relationship being more than just brothers. Maybe because, after all the work he did to come back through the time stream, it felt like neither his eldest nor youngest even needed him anymore. Maybe no one needed him anymore.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
There was another clink of glass, and Bruce glanced up as Dick returned to the room, a tray of mugs in hand. He watched as Dick set the tray on the coffee table, still humming whatever song he’d been singing in the kitchen as he placed a mug close to Bruce, and another one next to it for Damian.
It was out of his mouth before he could think.
“Did you hate me?”
Dick glanced up in confusion as he picked up his own cup and moved quietly to the nearby loveseat. “Uh…what?”
“Did you hate me? Back then?” Bruce asked again, looking down at Damian. There was a scar along his jaw line, and Bruce gently brushed his knuckle along it. “When I…”
He didn’t finish the thought. He didn’t have to, he could tell by Dick’s instantly annoyed sigh.
“Bruce.” He groaned. “We’ve talked about this.”
“No, I’ve talked about it.” Bruce countered. “And then you’ve changed the subject.”
“Because there’s nothing to say.” Dick pushed.
“There’s everything to say.” Bruce huffed. “Please, Dick. Humor me. Just this once.”
Dick didn’t say anything. Just sipped at his drink. But Bruce saw his shoulders drop, watched as he leaned his head back against his chair in defeat.
“Did you hate me when I took him away from you?”
Dick stared at the ceiling for a moment, breathing slowly. Then he raised his head, staring at Bruce with his sharp blue eyes.
“Yes.” He said plainly. “I did.”
Bruce just watched him.
“Maybe not like…the day of. I think I was pretty okay with it that day.” Dick began to explain. “But…after. When I got lonely. When I would hear that you two had another screaming match. When I’d get beat up in the field and know it wouldn’t have happened if I had a partner. When I heard about what went down with Morgan Ducard.” He stared down into his drink. “I found myself really…bitter. Resentful.”
Bruce nodded slowly. “…And when he died?”
“I wished it was you.” Dick answered instantly. Guiltily. “I wished more than anything that it was you.” He swallowed. “Because I’d lost you before. I’d learned how to deal with that. I could deal with that. I could do that again if I had to. I know one day I will. But…him.”
Even in the darkness, Bruce could see tears welling up in his eyes at the memory.
“It’s not like I thought I could protect him better or anything. I wasn’t Batman, even when I pretended to be.” Dick continued. His gaze dropped to the sleeping boy. “But that maybe…if we’d stayed together I could have convinced him to stay hidden. Taken him away. He trusted me, more than he trusted anyone. I wasn’t too dumb to see that. I should have done more to use that to protect him.”
Bruce let him trail off, let him stare blankly at Damian. Glanced between them himself, at Dick’s aged, tired face and Damian’s peaceful, calm features.
“…When did you hate me the most?” Bruce murmured. “When he died?”
Dick exhaled in annoyance and looked away. “Bruce-”
“Or is it right now?” Bruce pushed.
“Bruce!” Dick snapped, eyes darting back in a glare.
“Humor me.” Bruce repeated. “Just this once. I’ll never bring it up again.”
Dick pushed his tongue against his cheek in annoyance.
“…When you wouldn’t let me see him after you brought him back from Apokolips.” Dick murmured wearily. “When you made me keep pretending to be dead and stay with Spyral when all I wanted was to come home and hold him.”
Bruce thought about that for a moment. Focused on the hand he had pressed to Damian’s chest, the feeling of his heart pounding against his fingertips.
“I broke a door.” Dick lamented quietly. “I was so mad at you I punched a bunch of holes in the wall. Thought about burning all the evidence I’d gathered for you. Thought about coming back anyway and fist-fighting you again for him. I was just…I was so upset. Felt so defeated.” He lifted his cup to his lips and took a long sip. “And then half of me thought it was all fake. That Damian was still dead and you were just half-assing a way to protect me or something. And that state of what-if, of…of limbo was just. It was unbearable, Bruce.” A second. “Was he alive and you were barring me from seeing him? Or was he still dead and this moment of hope was for nothing?”
Dick stopped then. Didn’t say anything else. Took a few more sips of his drink.
“…I’m sorry.” Bruce said finally. “I’m so sorry to you both.”
Dick shrugged. “It’s in the past.” He tilted his head. “Besides, the universe has since reminded me time and again that I don’t deserve him anyway. I mean, from the deal with Hurt and Shawn a few years ago to the amnesia to the trauma and grief, it’s…” Bruce watched his eyes fall again to Damian. “We just seem to keep…missing each other.”
“…We can fix that.” Bruce offered softly. “We can…today, we can start today. As soon as he wakes up. We can-”
“Maybe.” Dick hummed sadly. “Maybe not.” A moment. “I don’t blame him for not wanting to be here, family or not.”
“Me neither.” Bruce chuckled lightly. “It’s not the same without Alfred.”
“…No. And it never will be.” Dick muttered. “Especially not for him.”
Bruce nodded, gently moving his hand to cup Damian’s head, and pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“…Can I ask you too?” Dick whispered. Bruce looked up in confusion.
“Never.” Bruce promised. “I’ve never hated you, Dick, and especially not for your relationship with Dami-”
Dick let out a loud laugh and shook his head, waving Bruce’s panic off. “No, no, no. Relax, old man.” He leaned forward, balanced his elbows on his knees, his cup in his hands between. “I mean…when did you first realize you loved him?”
Bruce blinked dumbly.
“And I mean, I know the answer is the second you met him. Of course you’ve loved him since the second you met him. You’ve loved all of us since the second you met us, we all know that.” Dick kept his smile. “When did you realize it?”
Bruce hummed a sigh, glancing upwards thoughtfully.
“When I got back from the time stream.” He decided. “And I found you two facing off against Hurt and the 99 Fiends.” He smoothed one of Damian’s curls down. “He was so small and just…so protective of you.” He smiled. “I didn’t know him well then. Barely at all. But to come back and see him as Robin, see him with you, and so fiercely protective of you, I…had hope for him. I was so proud of him for his choices.” Another kiss to his forehead. “And it might not be the best thing to admit, but it’s the truth. But I realized then that I loved him…well, because he loved you.”
Dick tilted his head curiously, that smile still plastered on his face.
“And I realized he loved you as much as I did.” Bruce continued. “Maybe, in that moment, even more than I did. Than I do.” He snorted a gentle laugh. “You saved me all those years ago, and now you had saved him too.”
Dick chuckled. “You’re starting to sound sleep-deprived, B.”
“Well, that was the nice time I realized I loved him. Or that he was amazing.” He frowned a little now. “The terrible time I realized I loved him was with Ducard.”
Dick let his own smile drop.
“When he took him away, tried to rot his mind.” A moment to swallow the lump in his throat. “When he physically tortured him and made me listen.”
Damian picked that moment to let out a little snort, and shift in Bruce’s arms, burrowing his cheek further into Bruce’s chest.
Dick let himself smile a little. “…He’s like a little cat.”
“Ah, yes. Standoffish, aloof, and secretly loves cuddling.” Bruce smirked. “Perfect match.”
“That’s why we love him.” Dick agreed. “That’s why we love you too, by the way. Don’t think he got any of those traits from Talia.”
Bruce hummed in acknowledgement. And he still didn’t deserve it, but he allowed it. Finally, he allowed himself the thought. Allowed himself the words. “…I miss him.”
“Me too.” Dick said.
“…What do we do?” Bruce breathed. “How do we…”
He didn’t know how to phrase it. How do we show him we love him? How do we keep him here? How do we explain that none of this is his fault? That we’re here to help him through his grief? How do we keep him safe? How, how, how?
“What do we do?” Dick repeated, leaning forward to put his cup on the table. “I think…we pick up our little cat and we take him to bed.”
Dick stood and moved to the side of the couch. He stared down at father and son for a moment, then let himself smile once more. Suddenly he reached out, ruffling Bruce’s hair.
“…I love you, old man.” He said simply. “Always and forever. Even when I hate you.”
“I love you too, Dick.” He let out a sigh. “I’m assuming you’ll want to take him to bed?”
“What? No. That’s your job. He was heavy at ten, I can’t imagine how heavy he is now.” Dick scoffed. “I was just coming to get your drinks.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Or are you saying you and I aren’t going to keep watch in his room and stay up talking until like three a.m. like we used to?”
Bruce grinned, shifting his hold on Damian. “You’ve grown into a good man, son.”
“Well, if I’ve learned anything, raising a little asshole kid tends to do that to you.” Dick laughed as Bruce slowly rose to his feet. “Sorry I sucked as a child, by the way.”
“We all did. You never asked Alfred about me when I was young?” Bruce joked as Dick picked up the two mugs on the table. “Running around dressed as a bat was probably my least radical idea I ever ran by him.”
“Oh, not adopting every child you see as a single father whose public persona is a partying playboy? Wow.” Dick deadpanned.
“Har, har.” Bruce rolled his eyes as he moved towards the stairs. “Don’t make me send you to your room, young man.”
“Sorry, got my attitude from my dad.” Dick winked, jumping forward. “And I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you, but me and Damian have the best one in the world.”
Dick danced away. Bruce laughed, glancing down at the sleeping boy in his arms as he followed after.