Chapter Text
Damian hadn’t caused a commotion, but then again, he wouldn’t have. Not unless he wanted to.
He probably had made a fuss at whatever floor Jason had sent him to, full of attitude and certainties, but after being proved wrong and being slightly embarrassed by the mistake, Damian would have retreated and reevaluated.
And gotten more determined.
Despite all the glass and all the agents, Dick would be surprised if anyone had spotted Damian before he’d spoken at Peter’s door.
Diana and Jones both took steps to the side as if they figured that someone would run forward, which wasn’t exactly a poor thought considering how the last two reunions had gone. Neither Damian or Dick moved, however, too caught staring at each other (studying, checking, evaluating that the other was safe and healthy and alright).
This was Dick’s baby. Not quite a baby, anymore, not quite a teenager, but still a kid. Still confident and sure and strong, despite a certain strain to the eyes and almost-hunch to his posture that Dick could read as nerves and joy and too many late nights.
“I’m not angry,” Damian said, the first to break the silence.
“You literally trashed the penthouse!” Jason interjected with a waved hand before he was shushed and dragged back to the couch by a surprisingly emphatic Tim.
“Tt. My previous emotional state is irrelevant. I am not angry currently.”
Dick was just proud Damian was acknowledging he had a previous emotional state. The ‘mental and emotional health are real and valid’ conversation had been interesting to say the least.
“You can be.” Dick’s voice was whisper quiet. Silent footsteps sneaking up on a Bat quiet. “You have every right.”
Dick kept his hands clenched and tucked a this side, knuckles white with the force of holding himself back from running right over to Damian and never letting him go (Dick didn’t deserve that, not anymore).
“But I forgive you.”
A rattling breath shook through Dick’s lungs. He wrapped his arms around his own ribcage, a motion his Robin surely recognized, if the way Damian tracked the movement said anything.
Damian continued, each word precise and deliberate and sharp. “You taught me to apologize. You taught me that family forgives each other. You taught me that reasons are important. You taught me that listening is important.”
He cocked his head to the side and Dick found himself under the complete and utter focus Damian only exhibited when he was committing every aspect of situation to memory (often so he could ask questions about it later, when they were safe and alone).
“You, Richard, taught me I was allowed to ask for things. That it was okay to want things for myself, even if I perceived the asking to be an inconvenience. Or weakness. Is that still the case?”
“Of course, baby.” The words poured out of Dick, tumbling past the horrible knotting thing in his throat. But he would never, not ever, let Damian think he couldn’t be a person. Not after the fucking months and tears and screams it had taken to get past Talia’s machinations and the League’s conditioning.
Damian nodded, as if this had been the answer he was expecting, and Dick was so proud of all his brothers and the support they had clearly shown each other while he was gone.
Then Damian tugged his sleeve back into place in an offhand and entirely unnecessary gesture that Dick had straightening his spine because this was important (he knew it was important, this whole interaction was so so important, but that was a tell his Baby Bird barely ever used and Dick would not fuck this up, not again).
“Then I want to stay with you.”
Dick heard the soft swear that had to be Jason and the soft intake of breath that was Peter, but Superman himself could have walked through the door and Dick would have been equally unable to tear his attention from Damian.
“I have given it due consideration,” Damian continued. “I have spent more time with Father than I did with you, which has given me ample opportunity. While I respect Father, and his work accomplishments, his performance as a- as my father have been less than satisfactory. I also find it difficult to reconcile Father’s actions towards you with the morals he espouses and the values you have taught me. His actions to several others, as well.”
His eyes flicked to Tim and Jason, and he shifted his feet slightly into a ready stance that Dick knew meant nerves.
“Drake and Todd have been surprisingly adequate in their attention and occasionally useful in their capacity as brothers, and Pennyworth has, of course, been completely competent in my physical care, but, I find myself frequently alone. Which is not a problem. Alone is my preference.”
“But alone isn’t the same as lonely,” Dick said softly. Wondering how often Damian was alone in that empty manor. How often a harsh word from Bruce sent him retreating to the comfort of his animals or how often Bruce grounded him from Robin and took his compass and purpose away.
“Perhaps,” Damian allowed. “Yes.” His small fist clenched so hard it shook and he took a deep breath of the kind he never needed to before facing a villain or jumping off a roof. “We were the best.”
“We were,” Dick answered as he always did and always believed.
Damian looked up from the ground at Dick’s answer, stare holding the kind of fear that seeped slowly into bones and sinew. “Please, Baba, let me come home.”
Dick dropped to his knees so hard they cracked against the floor, but that didn’t matter because Damian had called him dad and was finally flinging himself into Dick’s open arms.
Strong hands locked around his neck and precious weight settled against Dick’s chest. “That night on the roof, when you told me you weren’t ready to be a father,” Damian spoke into Dick’s ear in a way that he was sure echoed around the entire room. “You lied.”
Dick screwed his eyes so tight he almost saw colours. “Through my teeth. All you ever wanted was to earn B’s love and attention. I couldn’t, I would never have taken that away from you.”
Damian dug his chin into Dick’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t have to earn your father’s love.”
Eyes suddenly wide open, Dick stared at an equally wide-eyed Tim and Jason, pressed against each other on Peter’s couch.
“No, Baby Bird, you shouldn’t,” Dick managed.
“You love me,” Damian stated, quietly, into Dick’s shoulder blade.
“So so much.”
“That’s why you left. That’s why you listened to father when he ordered, when he drove you away. So that I couldn’t ask to go with you without giving Father a chance.”
Dick snorted through his tears, and leaned back to brush dark hair away from Damian’s face. “You two have very similar personalities.” At Damian’s scowl, Dick placed his fingers against the skin under Damian’s eyes. “In some ways, not so much in others. But no, baby. I would have given almost everything to be a safe place for you. To be somewhere you could have gone when you and your father clashed.”
Leaning forward, Dick rested his forehead against Damian’s. “It was sending you back, that was the problem, Little D. I couldn’t keep letting you go. I’m not- I’m not that good. I would have asked you to stay, eventually. Sooner than later, to be honest.”
Dick felt eyelashes against his cheek. “I would have said yes.”
“I know. Or at least, I was pretty sure.”
Damian clung harder for a long moment, before leaning back ever slow slightly to study the planes od Dick’s face and trace tears with a small thumb. Damian always could read Dick just as well as Dick could read him, even if the kid didn’t always know the emotion or understand the reasoning.
“There was something else. Something else that Father said or did that sent you running, something that wasn’t in the video or the letters.”
“I stopped writing the letters when B came back. Tim told me you found them.”
“Tt. It was hardly difficult.” That was a lie, Dick knew, because he’d hidden them so deep they’d fallen out of thought entirely. He was also suddenly, viscerally sure from the faintest blush on Damian’s cheeks, that the boy had at least one of the letters addressed to him tucked somewhere on his person. In his boot with one of his spare knives, perhaps.
Dick wouldn’t ask, not now, but he did run his hand through Damians curls a few more times.
Damian was also right, naturally. There was one more confrontation with Bruce, or rather, with Batman, that head sent the dominos falling all the way to a bus ride out of Gotham.
Batman was a brilliant, possessive man. He knew Damian would go with Dick, if Dick asked, and he knew Dick wanted to ask. He also knew how to tear people apart and exactly what words to say that would land just like blows.
Dick hadn’t retreated from that confrontation to the small, empty apartment he’d gotten after Spyral with glass shards in his back or a bruise that flicked against his jaw in the mirror long after the injury had healed. But the words were worse.
The words wrapped about his head and crept into his heart and when the morning had hit, Dick had been gone. Well Dick had been gone after waking to the worst hangover he’d had in years (nonconsensual drugs and fear gas notwithstanding), a twenty page plan on how to topple Bruce and the Batman from their pedestals, a phone message from Jason telling Dick to stay out of his fucking territory, and radio silence from Tim, Babs, and several others despite Dick having called. Repeatedly.
He’d frozen over a packed duffel long enough for a final moment doubt, but a message from Alfred, the most positive progress report he’d ever sent about Damian and B’s relationship, had been the last push out the door. Dick hadn’t been able to justify to himself the chance of screwing everything up even more. (He’d burned the twenty page plan detailing the destruction of the man who raised him, one sheet at a time, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t memorized it.)
Damian must have realized that Dick wasn’t going to respond. Maybe couldn’t respond, because he let go of Dick’s neck. He didn’t go far, simply stood and dragged Dick to the couch, where he shoved the older man into the newly vacated spot between Jason and Tim and proceeded to crawl into Dick’s lap.
Tim immediately returned his hand to Dick’s jacket while Jason threw an arm over their shoulders. Dick just lowered his head to rest in Damians hair and inhaled the steel and animal scent of his son.
“We’re going to need a plan.” That was Tim, ever the task master.
“We’re going to need Mozzie,” Dick replied while running his fingers through Damian’s hair and revelling in the feeling of the boy leaning into the touch.
His brothers, who’d never met Mozzie and hadn’t had time to do any proper surveillance on Dick’s life, were confused. Peter wasn’t.
“You already have a plan.” Peter smiled. The fun yet decidedly dangerous smile he usually gave right before the two of them unleashed terror on an upsetting mar- suspect.
“Of course I do.” Dick waved at Diana and Jones, trying to get them away from lurking awkwardly at the door. “Sit, or lean or whatever. You’re part of the plan.”
That was all the invitation Diana needed, hopping up on the edge of Peter’s desk. Jones hesitated longer.
“Are you sure?” Jones looked over Dick amidst his brothers with a conflicted but fond expression.
“Completely.” Dick’s arms tightened around Damain, which only caused the kid to burrow deeper. “I’m happy here, happier than I’ve been in a long while.” Tim’s hand spasmed in Dick’s coat, causing the fabric to tug roughly against Dick’s skin. Dick just shifted his weight slightly to tip more into Tim.
“As happy as I could have been without my family, with thinking I had burned the connections to my family rather handily.” Jason shifted his own weight and Dick absently wondered if they looked like a leaning pile of Robin. He shook his head. “This isn’t an exchange, it’s an addition. I’m going to keep it all, thanks very much.”
Because Dick was also a possessive man and his brothers had just given him permission. If they wanted him, they were never going to lose him (he was never going to let them go).
Peter leaned back in own chair. “What do we need?”
Dick wondered if he’d ever told the man how much he appreciated how often Peter used the word ‘we.’
“Mozzie, to get the adoption paperwork-“
“You’re not forging adoption paperwork.” Peter raised an eyebrow so Dick matched it.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve had the legal paperwork filled out for years. It was one of the only things I brought with me when I left and is currently stashed in a very secure safe house. We’re also going to need Aunt Diana and a copy of my amnesty order. I didn’t bring that, oddly enough. Is this a good time to mention that several of my crimes involved dangerous materials and were done on behalf of the Justice League?”
Dick couldn’t help the grin that grew on his lips. The entire room was staring at him, even Damian. Dick placed a kiss on Damian’s hair and grinned even more sharply when Diana was the one who broke the silence.
“Aunt Diana?”
“Oh, you’ll like her. The two of you can compare all the ways you’re both badass.”
Diana grinned, but Dick’s attention was directed downward when Damian pulled at his collar. “Prince is Father’s friend.”
“Yes,” Dick acknowledged, even as he felt Jason shift beside him, “but she’s never been blind to his faults. She’s also very protective of children and was involved in my original League paperwork.”
Dick then proceeded to wrinkled his nose in a way that he hoped conveyed ‘and she also has a lasso of truth.’ It apparently worked well enough, because Tim let out a soft sound of realization.
Peter compiled the sound a moment later, but for a different realization. “The Justice League. That actually makes a lot of sense.”
Diana and Jones looked at Peter as he nodded to himself. “Really?” Asked Jones.
“What? Some of his suspected targets just didn’t make sense considering their provenance or likely pay day.”
As the FBI agent’s considered Peter’s words, clearly trying to think back through Neal’s list of alleged crimes, Peter held up his phone. “Do we also need El?”
“Absolutely,” Dick agreed. As if they could function without El.
Tim tugged on Dick’s sleeve slowly and really, his brothers were so cute. Probably a bit traumatized, but also really cute. “I didn’t think you were coming back on your own. Why have a ready plan?”
“Just because I don’t expect something to happen doesn’t mean I don’t have plans for it. I have plans for a lot of things. I’m a paranoid insomniac working a day job which leaves way too much time at night.” What without the constant vigilantism despite having the training and the leadership abilities and the constant damn worry.
“I have plans to rob every museum in New York,” Dick continued. “I have plans for alien invasions of twelve different known species and four general. I have three different zombie apocalypse plans, depending on initiation of technology, magic, or biohazard. I have a fourteen step plan to steal every donut in the city.”
Peter sighed but didn’t sound very surprised. “This throws your friendship with Mozzie into new light.”
“Yeah,” Dick admitted, “we may have bonded a bit over a conspiracy theory or two.”
“Shit.” All eyes turned to Jason. “I just realized that we’ve been focusing on the wrong thing. I mean, yeah, you ran away, but that left you alone. You’ve never been good at alone.”
Tim and Damian shared a look as Dick just shrugged. “Remember that when you meet Mozzie. He’s a lot. But he’s been there for me.”
Peter interrupted, reading off his phone. “El says you’re all invited to dinner. She also wonders if this means that she and Mozzie can start guessing which hero you used to be.”
Everyone stared again, even as Peter and Neal shared a very familiar look.
“I love your wife,” Dick said. Because of course El had put together Justice League connections with the bits and pieces Dick had revealed over the years and come up with hero.
Mozzie had probably barely helped. It went against his and Dick’s unspoken acknowledgement that yes Dick had been involved in vigilantism, yes Mozzie knew because Dick was a basket case of trauma response and hyper-vigilance and had also maybe knocked out a couple of thugs once or twice, and no they were not going to discuss it.
“She’s the best,” Peter agreed with a smile definitely on the sappier side of things.
“She is. And sure, why not?” Dick tilted his head as he spoke and felt his heart melt when Damian mirrored the motion, keeping an eye on the agents.
“Wait, really?” Asked Jones.
“I mean, yeah. I’m sure that my heroic past will come out with the whole League thing at some point, at least with you guys. Hopefully no one else. Maybe Hughes. Maybe. But I’ve already said I’m keeping you and I think the League was also looking for more trustworthy liaisons at agency level. They’re not going to find better than you.”
Dick turned to Tim for confirmation and the kid scowled. “I’m not exactly as involved as I used to be.” Dick continued to stare, because that didn’t mean that the bugs in the League computers weren’t operational. “Fine. Yes, they’re still looking for liaisons.”
“Wait, all of you?” Jones sounded incredulous.
Tim hesitated, but Jason scoffed. “Fuck no. I’m an anti-hero.”
Diana leaned forward, clearly studying Dick and adjusting her mental files on him. She then smiled, full of teeth. “Oh, I want in on this guessing game.”
“Tt.” Damian glared at her from Dick’s lap. Dick was very glad Damian didn’t seem to want to leave, because he had literal years of cuddles to catch up on. “It’s not that hard to guess. There are even multiple opportunities to be correct.”
Jason leaned in and started exchanging insults with Damain under an amused Diana’s eye, while Jones began peppering and equally amused Tim with guesses and Peter ignored them all to call his wife and talk dietary restrictions.
Dick buried his face in Damian’s hair again and breathed deep.
Maybe, maybe this time he’d get team and family both. Oh, he was sure that Tim would hack and track every electronic within a twenty foot radius of Dick, that Jason would punch him when Dick least expected it, and that Damian would cling and bristle and hover. There would need to be many conversations, and not just with Wonder Woman, the Justice League, and the court system.
Dick needed to talk to his brothers, privately, one on one, and figure out how to rebuild the relationships that had been damaged on both sides. He would need to have another amnesty night with Peter. He would need to call Alfred.
But they came for him. His brothers came and his team stayed. Surely he was allowed to be a bit possessive, now, to fight for them and with them. He knew how to fight. He was good at fighting.
This time, he would protect his home.