Just fluffy batdad being a good batdad. Slight Birdflash, I guess, but it's really just a one-off comment. Enjoy.

disclaimer: I own nothingnothingnothing aight

[walls =)] Hey dude I've got your back okay?

[walls =)] I love you no matter what and I'd bet good money that Bruce does too

[walls =)] Just say it like you did with me

[walls =)] You'll feel better after

[You] Thanks Wally

Dick squeezed his eyes shut and tucked his phone back into his pocket, letting himself worry and cower for another thirty seconds before straightening his posture and working to slow his heart rate.

He knocked on the door.

"You don't need to knock," came Bruce's playfully exasperated response. Dick smiled to himself; Bruce was in a good mood.

"It's the gold door handle. Feels wrong to just open it." Also, he was fighting off shivers of anxiety and the idea of barging in anywhere was too much at the moment.

Bruce hummed in amusement as Dick hesitantly stepped forward and clutched the back of the chair across from the desk. He would have preferred the armchair in the corner of the study where he used to curl up and nap or read while Bruce worked on the weekends, but the ornate seat was in a better position for talking.

"What's up, kiddo?" His guardian didn't look up from his laptop.

"I wanted to...uh...talk to you about something." Dick groaned inwardly at how afraid he sounded. Get it together, Grayson, you fight lunatics as a hobby. This is nothing. Nothing at all. The worst that could happen is...is you get alienated and deserted and left alone.

Okay, okay, that line of thought isn't helping.

No doubt hearing the shake in his voice, Bruce looked up, frowning. "What is it?" At the sight of Dick's obvious fear, he slowly closed his laptop and leaned forward. "Something wrong?"

"No, no. Nothing. It's just, uh..." He bit his lip. "Is this a bad time?"

"Dick, sit down," Bruce said. "And no, it's not."

With no escape now, Dick released his death grip on the chair's back and sat down gingerly, folding his hands on his lap.

"Okay. So, uh..." Dammit. He was already freezing up. Bruce blinked at him, pretending like he wasn't trying to figure him out even though Dick knew he was. "...Sorry."

"Talk to me," Bruce said, sounding gentler than his usual rumble. It reminded Dick of the voice he used to coax him out of nightmares, like maybe the scenario whirling in his head was just a nightmare Bruce could wake him from. He almost felt better.

"Right. Okay. I...uh. Well. Do you remember a few months ago you...we had that talk about...relationships? And stuff?"

"If by 'talk', you mean I talked and you whined at me, and if by 'stuff' you mean sex, then yes. I remember we talked." Bruce's lip quirked up.

"Yeah. And you told me to...talk to you about that type of thing. Y'know. Like, open communication. Because...because you're my da- my guardian and I should be open with you," Dick said, looking anywhere except at Bruce.

"I did say that." The older man nodded. "Did you want to tell me something?"

"I like boys," he finally spat out, face going red and eyes going hot faster than he could breathe. "A-and girls too, I think, I'm reallynotsurebut I like boys andpleasedon'tbedisappointed n-not that Ithoughtyouwouldbe b-b-but pleasejustbeokaywithitidontwannabealone-"

"Dick!"

At the sound of his name, Dick's frantic rambling dissolved into quiet sobs despite his failing attempts to choke them back. Half of the emotional wave drowning him was relief over the fact that it was done and he never had to say those words again ever, as far as he was concerned. The other half was fear, because he was stupid and didn't watch Bruce's expression while he was talking and now all he knew was that he had shouted at him. An audible cry of pain escaped him as he registered the forcefulness behind Bruce's voice. He was disgusted, he had to be, and now he was going to up and leave Dick all alone (againagain) and fuck, he wasn't sure he could survive that.

"Dick, it's okay. It's okay. I promise. It's okay. Don't cry. Please. It's okay."

Oh.

It was okay.

Oh god, it was okay. It was okay and he said it four times so it couldn't have been a mistake...

Dick only cried harder at each repetition, now feeling his body tremble in residual nerves.

"Dicky-bird, c'mon, look at me. You're not breathing. Look at me." Dick snapped his face up from his hands when he heard a stern tone, approaching but not quite reaching Batman's growl. Bruce looked worried. "Deep breaths, chum. There's nothing to hyperventilate over."

"I'm s-s-sorry," he managed, gasping more than he would've liked. "I just didn't- kn-know..."

"Okay. Calm down. Shh-h-h."

A minute or two later, the pressure in his chest finally subsided enough for him to take full breaths and think clearly. Bruce wasn't mad. Or disappointed. Or disgusted. Nothing else mattered, not even the months of pent-up anxiety now spilling out of his eyes.

"Dick?" Dick swiped his cheeks and finally made eye contact with Bruce, whose face fell. "Shit, chum, don't tell me you thought I'd be upset. I don't make you feel like I wouldn't...accept you, do I?"

"No!" He clutched at his sides, hoping to still his body before he grew sore from shaking. "I just...I-I've seen too many movies," he tried to laugh it off. "And I was...it was stupid, okay? I had this- this stupid idea th-that you weren't gonna w-want me anymore-" And he was sobbing again. So much for laughing it off.

"Dick...baby, c'mere." One of Bruce's less common pet names slipped out, which also happened to be Dick's favorite. He wouldn't ever say it, but hearing the loving tone 'baby' always came with sort of felt like food after starving for a week. Like a little slice of the warmth that was constant at the circus.

Physical contact sated his cravings for affection even better, and it took all of his self-restraint not to throw himself into Bruce's arms and cry like he was eight years old again. Instead, he carefully walked around the desk and let his guardian take his hands, embarrassed at how hard they were shaking.

"First of all, that's not how this works, kiddo. You're not something I can get sick of and throw away and please, don't talk about yourself like you are."

"Okay," he breathed.

Bruce wrapped him in an embrace, giving an "Oof" as he pulled him onto his lap. "You're getting too big for this." Dick found it in him to smile a bit. "Second, listen to me."

Bruce lightly massaged the back of Dick's neck, soothing the knots in his muscles and emotions. His eyes were warm, and his fingers were gentle, and when Dick closed his eyes he could smell a familiar mix of fancy cologne and the leathery scent of Batman's armor. "Who you're attracted to or date doesn't matter to me, okay? You...you're my son, Dick. I just care that whoever you're with treats you well and makes you happy."

How the hell did he have more tears to cry?

"Thanks, dad," Dick whispered. Bruce squeezed him at the label, then held him far enough to look at his face and affectionately pushed his hair back.

"I..."

As he tended to, the boy waited a few seconds, biting his lip and wondering if maybe today would be the day. But Bruce tensed and gave a quiet sigh.

"I know," he said, letting his forehead drop against Bruce's shoulder again. "I love you too."

Silence settled over them, Dick still calming his breaths and Bruce rubbing his back in slow circles, the occasional hiccup bringing Dick a little closer to not crying.

"Hey."

Dick looked up. "Yeah?"

"Teenage boys are terrible. All of them. Not you. All the others, though. Don't you dare let them pressure you into anything you're not ready for." He paused for a moment, then added, "And if anyone does, or they hurt you, regardless of gender, I will know. And they'll wish I didn't."

"Bruce!" Dick tried his best to glare, but a small grin still flashed over his face first. That was Batman's way of saying he loved him.

Bruce let him off his lap and stood up, keeping a hand on his shoulder. "Wally's not an exception to that, either."

Now a real flush came over his cheeks and deepened in color as he sputtered. "Wally's not- what- no- I don't- we're friends! He's straight!"

Bruce cracked a smirk. "You think he's attractive, though."

"N- I...I mean...he's hot, okay? That's- anyone could see that. Doesn't mean I like him."

"Okay," he conceded. "Let's go see if we can't discuss your preference for redheads over ice cream after dinner."

"I don't-"

"If you'd rather, we can discuss the importance of using protection even if you're not the one wearing it and even if no one can get pregnant."

"Ngh!"

Bruce laughed at his boy, now running down the lavish hallway and slipping with his socked feet. Then he gave chase, already formulating a proper excuse to Alfred for play-fighting in the grand entryway.

x

Later, excuses given and ice cream served, Alfred sat in an armchair, watching Dick's eyelids droop and his body slump towards Bruce on the couch they were sharing. He smiled as the boy fought against his natural needs for rest and parental warmth, knowing he'd soon give into the sleepy cuddling he still hadn't quite outgrown at thirteen years old. Bruce knew it too, and eventually dropped his arm from the back of the sofa to wrap it around Dick's shoulders and pull him against his side.

"That's it," he murmured, combing through his ward's - what a silly word - hair as he finally laid his head against Bruce's chest and drifted off. "Little birds need their rest."

"He has had a trying day, hm?" Alfred remarked once he was sure Dick was asleep.

"Yeah, I think he was...a little stressed." Bruce kept a tight lip, but Alfred could see him trying to work out if he wasn't the first that Dick told.

"You've done exactly what he needs you to do, my boy," he said gently.

"You listened."

"Apparently, I didn't need to."

Bruce sighed and moved his hand to Dick's arm, rubbing up and down the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "He...didn't think I'd be okay with it." The normally hard voice was quiet and scared. "He was afraid."

"I believe many adolescents are nervous to discuss sexuality with their families."

"He was afraid I wouldn't want him anymore," Bruce clarified, and Alfred saw the hints of desperation in his face. "Somehow I give him the impression I'd just take him back like a rental car. I wish...I wish I could be better or...maybe if I could tell him..." He didn't have to finish.

"Master Wayne." Alfred changed his mind after saying the name, and although it made the professional in him cringe a bit, addressed his charge differently. "Bruce. As much as we both know he wishes to hear you say it out loud, your son knows that you love him."

Bruce opened his mouth, probably to argue that Dick deserved more than implications, but Alfred cut him off. "And he loves you very, very much. As you are. You cannot blame his fear of abandonment on yourself, you can only reassure him it is unfounded."

As if on cue, Dick gave a quiet sigh in his sleep, fingers twisting into Bruce's shirt and daring him to leave. His previously frustrated expression melted to adoration as he whispered his thanks to Alfred, or Dick, or perhaps both.

"You're quite welcome. Now, is Batman going out tonight?" Alfred stood up, already moving to get him a blanket from the back of the chair.

"Alfred, if he fell asleep like this every night, I don't think Batman would ever go out again."

They both smiled, Bruce at Dick and Alfred at the two of them. "These moments become more precious as they grow up, hm?"

"Too fast," Bruce mumbled, accepting the blanket and wrapping it around them before kissing Dick's temple. "Too damn fast."