Chapter Text
Dick laid on the much-too-large bed in the much-too-large house in his a little-too-large clothes. He rolled over, trying to find a more comfortable position. He hissed as he rolled to his back for a split second, feeling the healing welts on his back ache in pain.
Well, looked like those would be staying around a bit longer. Dick sighed and stood up, not quite sure what to do with himself.
What did one even do after a billionaire they attempted to pick-pocket had decided to foster them?
Dick honestly wasn’t even sure what to do.
The family seemed okay, but he couldn’t hope for the family to be much different than anyone else who had fostered him in the past. He’d stay with them for a few weeks, they’d either turn out to be decent people or absolutely horrid, and then they’d throw him back into the cell in Juvie he seemed to spend his time in.
He hadn’t had the best life, if he was being honest. His parents had died when he was nine, and he’d been thrown into foster care for the last 6 years.
He’d been tossed between homes and Juvie, never really sure which one he liked better, except in very distinct cases. He could still remember the way his hands fel-
Okay, he needed to stop going down that path. His brand new, very rich, and probably very mentally stable family didn’t need him having a mental breakdown his first week with them.
Dick walked over to the door to the bedroom that was supposed to be his and hesitantly reached towards the door handle. He twisted the brass knob down and pushed the door out towards the hallway.
He could either walk down towards the kitchen or maybe watch some TV. There definitely had to be a lot of TV’s in the house, so he figured he had a lesser chance of running into one of Bruce Wayne’s many children if tried to find a TV. Ok, TV it was.
He debated turning left or right. He strained his ears and heard a bit of noise coming from the right. That meant children were that way. He never had good luck with other children, much less when they were in the same house as his foster parents. He turned left and went on a search for some television, hoping it wasn’t against any rules that could get him punished.
—————————-
It wasn’t to say that Jason didn’t like his younger siblings, it’s just that, ya know, they were kind of annoying. So when Bruce had called Alfred to let him know that he had met a young boy who desperately needed their help and would fit very well into the family, Jason wasn’t super excited. He didn’t really need another whiny, snot-nosed brat running around the manor.
But what Bruce had neglected to let Alfred or Jason know, was that this brat wasn’t really a brat.
Jason was pretty damn surprised when the kid that walked through the door to the garage was some teenager, older than him!
The boy had dark black hair, thick, full and messy, that was a little longer than most boys wore it. His hair seemed to shine almost blue in the light of the chandelier. His skin was a deeper and darker color than anyone Jason currently lived with, and he seemed to be a hell of a lot worse for wear than any of them, too.
Jason could see a bruise attempting to heal where his long sleeve shirt cut off, but the ugly green and purple stood out against his skin, and Jason couldn’t tell if the boy was pulling his shirt down to cover the bruise or because he was nervous.
A finger on the boy’s right arm was twisted all weird, obvious that the boy had at one time, broken it, and not been able to let it heal properly, or really, at all. The boy was skinny in a way that screamed malnourishment and his mannerisms made it obvious that the boy was shy and nervous.
But what most stood out to Jason was his eyes, a brilliant blue that seemed to shine brighter than the sea.
But it wasn’t quite the color that captured Jason’s attention.
Rather, it was more the depth and defeat in them that Jason really noticed. Jason had seen that look before. Before that dude across the hallway of his old apartment had banged his fists against the corridor in anger. Right before the gas station owner had begun to cry after someone had whispered something in his ear and Jason had been ushered out of the store. Right before his mom had OD’d one cold night when he was eight.
Jason wasn’t sure if he trusted this kid.
The kid started to inch back towards the garage, obviously a little unsure of what to do. Bruce placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and he subtlety flinched. Not the best sign in Jason’s mind.
The hard look in Bruce’s eyes made it evident he had noticed. Bruce began to talk anyways.
“Jason, Tim. This is Richard. He’ll be staying with us for a little while.”
The boy, Richard, made a hesitant nod and bit his lip. This kid seriously had some self-esteem issues.
“I trust you will make him feel comfortable here,” Bruce continued. “Richard, in the kitchen to the left is the butler of the house, Alfred. He has some things to discuss with you. If you could go over there, he would really appreciate it.”
Richard nodded and walked towards the kitchen, careful to keep his eyes on Jason and Tim. Jason had no clue what Bruce was thinking, bringing a kid like this home. He seemed to really need some help, and Jason sure as hell wasn’t going to be able to give it to him.
He looked up as Bruce walked over. “What the hell, Bruce? You just call and tell us you’re bringing a kid over and then bring over some dude older than me? A heads up would be nice, old man,” Jason said, anger clearly showing.
“Jason, I’ve been prepping this for a few days. Richard needs help, and he wasn’t getting it. I’m only trying to help him,” Bruce said with a small frown.
“Yeah, but, seriously? I mean, I’m probably like the last person to talk about this, but did you really need another kid? Was three really not enough?”
Bruce looked down on Jason with a small glare, a bit of disappointment in his eyes.
Finally, Tim spoke up. “Jason, he seems nice enough? I mean, we should give him a try. If he’s really mean then Bruce did say he was just staying around for a little while.”
Jason looked down at his little brother, who was definitely too smart for his own good. Jason sighed. “Fine. I’ll try to help this kid Robert or whatever have a good time and all that shi- stuff.” Jason gave out an awkward laugh. “I meant stuff, I swear.”
Bruce patted Jason’s shoulder and gave a small smile once again. “Thank you,” he said.
Jason just smiled. He seemed to be in for a bumpy ride.
—————————-
Dick found a room with a TV after taking a couple more left turns. The TV was, simply put, huge. Dick didn’t think he’d ever seen a TV that big. How did someone possibly get that much money to get a TV like that?
It had taken him months to save up enough money to get a sweatshirt he had wanted, and he’d gotten it just before that family had sent him back to Juvie for being ‘a danger to the other children in the household’ because yeah, he had punched the kid after the dude been pushing him around for a couple of months.
Dick struggled to figure out which remote to use, and eventually just walked over to the television and pressed buttons until the television turned on, careful to make sure that no one was around to see him messing something.
After a couple of minutes of fiddling around, Dick finally found a soap opera that seemed interesting enough.
Dick walked over to the couch, careful not to ruin the couch or the perfectly laid out pillows. He pulled his knees to his chest and focused on the television, watching two women sob over their love lifes.
Right now, Dick really wished those were the kind of problems he was having.
He was so focused on the soap opera that he didn’t even notice that Jason had walked into the room until he had tapped on his shoulder from behind the couch. Dick jumped up on instinct and almost rolled off the couch, his heart racing.
“Dude, calm down. It’s just me,” Jason said with an awkward laugh.
On the other hand, Dick was not as calm. Couldn’t people just, not touch him announced? He’d been through too much crap in his life to not let a stray hand scare him. “Um, yeah, uh sorry about that. I, uh, I-I didn’t mean to uh, you know, uh,” Dick muttered with a confused look on his face.
“It’s cool. Bruce wanted me to bond with you or some shit like that, so here I am. I get what you’re going through, dude.”
Dick really wanted to laugh at that. Who actually understood what he had been through? But his heart was racing and his head was pounding and he didn’t know what to do his hands were so sweaty and his eyes felt heavy and warm and he couldn’t feel his legs and he was kind of dizzy was it hot in here and-
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He’s 10. He’s been in this home for 2 weeks. The woman is mean. Dick knows he’s smart, not in that book smart way, not anymore, but in that street smart way that gets you through life. He’s smart enough to know that the only reason the woman took him in was to get money from the government. She hasn’t fed him today, and he’s hungry. He tries to fall asleep on the couch in the living room of her tiny apartment, his stomach growling.
He can’t do it.
He quietly walks to the kitchen. Through a window, he can tell it must be almost midnight. He thinks Ms. Porte is asleep, so he might be able to grab some of the grapes he knows are in a drawer in the fridge. He opens the fridge, wincing at the groan the dilapted, old fridge makes. He grabs the grapes and quickly shuts the fridge. He hears the slam the fridge makes and closes his eyes. He doesn’t hear anything. Did she not wake up? Thank goodness!
Dick takes his prized grapes back to the living room and onto the couch. He carefully places one in his mouth. They’re delicious . He continues to sit and eat, a little fear stuck in the back of his mind. Eventually, he falls asleep, grapes on his lap.
Eventually, he realizes he’s made a mistake.
Dick wakes to a hand on his shoulder, wrenching him off the couch. He’s not awake enough to process the shrieking her shrill voice makes. He is awake enough to notice her drag him through her bedroom, into the closet.
He’s scared.
He’s crying.
He doesn’t know what’s going on.
He wants his parents. His cold, cold, cold, dead parents.
The woman fumbles around, a tight grip on his arm he knows is going to leave crescent marks and finger-shaped bruises. Finally, she reaches what she must have been looking for, and Dick only cries harder.
The metal of the belt is hard to see in the dim light, and it only means that it’ll be harder to see when it’s coming.
“Please, please, please don’t hit me,” he sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I-I won’t take food anymore I swear I’m so sorry please please I didn’t mean to I-”
Dick’s cut off with the feel of the woman shoving him over her knee, tearing down his shorts, and roughly adjusting him.
“Stupid little boy! I take you in, a stupid, spoiled gypsy, like you, and this is how you repay me!” Dick doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the sound of her shrill voice.
“I-I’m sorry! I-I-I’m so-sorry! I won’t- won’t do it again! I- I can’t, I can’t-”
His sobbing is so loud by now he can barely hear her response.
“Damn right you won’t,” she snickers. And now Dick only feels pain, racing through his veins, lighting up his back in a way few things do, making him twist and groan and cry all at once, as she lifts up his shirt with her cold, cold, cold, dead fingers and strikes him again, and again, and again, and doesn’t stop till Dick’s far into unconsciousness.
He’s back in juvie by the end of the week.
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Dick was leaning against the wall, Jason shaking him. “Richard! Richard, come on! Hey, snap out of it. Stop!” Dick couldn’t seem to focus on what Jason was saying. He was there again, in a house he tried to put out of his mind, and god he couldn’t go through this again.
Finally, Dick remembered where he was and what was going on. He struggled to stand, and heard Jason’s voice tell him to sit down and that he’ll go get Bruce. Dick can’t let that happen. Nothing bad had happened in this house yet, and he can’t get sent back to Juvie. He can’t do it.
Dick shakily stood on his wobbly and too cold legs and forced himself back to the room he was in earlier. This stupid, normal family is something he needs, and he can’t let his past or his damn panic attacks ruin that.
Dick flopped onto the bed, burying his head in a perfectly ironed pillow, with the constant feeling of tears threatening to flow behind his eyes.
He’s a little happier, at the end of the night, when Jason opens his door, walks into the room, and leans against his wall. He heard one of the other kids, Tim, run by, and stop outside the door earlier in the night, but that kid never came in.
At least, for right now, he isn’t completely alone.
—————————-
To put it lightly, Dick was nervous.
His first week in the family had been okay, after the initial panic attack. They ate breakfast every morning at exactly 7:30, dinner at exactly 6, and Bruce always asked Dick how his day went. He hadn’t left the house, but it was okay. Yes, he liked the house. No, he didn’t need any more blankets. Yes, he was enjoying his time.
He really didn’t need another dad. Yet, Dick was still nervous as to what the future held.
How long did this family plan to keep him around? Did he have to go to school? Where they going to take him out? He couldn’t help but wait for the other ball to drop, revealing a darker, deeper, and dirtier side to the Wayne family.
It was at a dinner that Bruce finally brought up one of Dick’s concerns.
“How was your day at school, Jason?”
“Pretty good actually, for once,” Jason said with a smile. “Ya know Ms. Rethmen, that lady with the weird hair? Yeah, apparently she’s got some sorta vendetta against those of us who like classic lit. Who the hell gave her that right?”
Jason paused before continuing. “You know Johnny just sat in the back the whole time, smiling that weird ass- I mean sort of- that’s definitely what I meant! But whatever nobody really likes him anyways-“
Dick honestly felt like he could sit and listen to Jason talk for forever. And apparently so could Tim. He looked across the table to see Tim hesitantly smile at him.
He smiled back. Tim blushed. The little nine year was, frankly, adorable.
“So Richard.”
That cut Dick out of his thoughts. He looked up at Bruce, his bangs blocking some of his vision. “How would you feel about starting at Gotham Prep on Monday? The district could easily send a man out here to determine what grade you would be in.”
Dick really didn’t know what to say. Did he say Gotham Prep? He’d heard stories about Gotham Prep.
No, not stories.
Legends.
Water fountains made of a beautiful marble that shined in the light, where the water didn’t taste like someone had just dumped a bunch of trash in it.
A gymnasium bigger than the one the Gotham Knights played in, easily fitting thousands of people. Teachers with actual degrees, that got students into Harvard before they had even taken the SATs.
He could go to a school like that? Dick knew the hidden meaning behind it, though. He was staying long enough to go to school?
“I mean, I guess I could? I- I’m not really sure,” he said, trying to fight the growing heat creeping up his neck. “I just, haven’t, uh, been to a school in a while so I’m not really sure.” Dick shrugged his shoulders and looked up.
Bruce nodded.
“I’ll request that someone be here tomorrow. Thank you, Richard.”
Dick only nodded, staring at his food.