we belong together

You shouldn’t have read it. You should have listened to all the advice and kept off the internet. But you just had to be curious.

You scroll past several comments about the oddity of your relationship with Dick. And to the commenters credit it was strange. You and Dick had met shortly after his stint with Bludhaven PD while you were performing as Nightwing at a kids’ birthday party. Not a crowning moment but money repaired all lost dignity, plus Dick was a good bonus too.

 You wipe your sweaty hands as you scroll past a particularly offensive cluster of commenters.

@inthatmode Can’t believe he settled for a homewrecker.

         @talkaboutbruno We all know she’s after his money.

        @losemeloveme Hopefully she can buy a new face!

        @carsongroove She’s going to need more than that to be worthwhile

        @majestymajor I think people like her should di–

You slam your phone onto the couch. The words swirl around your head making you dizzy. Your body slinks off of the couch. You lay face down on the floor trying to reorient yourself. Then the front door clicks.

Dick doesn’t even stumble as he sees your body, stiff and straight, laying in the middle of the living room. Instead, he shrugs off his jacket, kicks off his shoes and ambles over to you. He lets out a huff as he lowers himself beside you (years of death-defying stunts will do that to you).  Then lays down at your side.

“Hey.”

“Hi” Your voice, muffled by the floorboard, causes Dick to chuckle.

“You gonna come up for air?”

“Why’d you settle for me?” You turn your face enough to look at him. He cocks his head to the said and you swear you see puppy ears flop on his head.

“You read those articles, didn’t you?”

“They’re everywhere and — “You murmur.

“They’re wrong.”

“But –” “Babe.” “Dick. Just answer. Did you settle for me?”

“No.”

“Okay. Well, did you break up with Barbara because of me.”

“Me and Babs broke up because we didn’t want the same things. You know this.”

“I know but… it’s weird right. You break up and then we get together. And maybe I overstepped while you guys were together. Or sent you a signal. And oh my god, I never wanted to be a homewrecker”

“First off, I am not something that can be stolen. Secondly, stop letting the comments get into your head. Need I remind you we waited months before even having our first date which Babs set up. Just stop caring about what those people think. They’re miserable.”

“You don’t know what it’s like.” You plop your head back down. Your forehead stinging from the force. You probably look idiotic. A laugh bubbles up inside of you. But this wasn’t funny. You are public enemy one in both Gotham and Bludhaven. You don’t even think Joker got this much hate, and that clown kills people. The laugh finally breaks through. Your body shakes are your snicker turns into a full cackle. At some point you rolled over onto your back, tears pricking your eyes. And you just let them fall. You were more hated than a murderous clown. A. Murderous. Clown.

“Being ultra visible is hard.” Dick rubs the back of his neck.

Your laughter finally calms down and all you left with are tears streaked cheeks. “That’s not the problem.” You rasp “At least it’s not the whole problem. Being attached to you is like flagging down a homing missile. Everything I do is calculated, written about, debated over. I can’t even do the things I used to love like mindlessly scrolling on the internet because I might bump into a comment or accidentally like something that suggests I hate Barbara. And somehow, it’s all my fault. What about you? Why is none of it ever directed at you.”

“It’s not fair.” Dick agrees as he sits up, his face neutral. Your thankful that Dick didn’t take that offensively. You could have worded it differently, but you wanted to come from an honest place. Dick was a celebrity; unwarranted comments were bound to come. But the vitriol people were spitting your way felt disproportionate. You’re sure if they could find you, they’d come and brand you or maybe burn you at the steak.

“It’s not. Right now, you’re Fiyero, Barbara’s Glinda, and I’m the wicked witch.” You gesture wildly with your hands. Which Dick captures in his own.

“You re-watched Wicked?” He strokes your hands, two small circles before doing a figure eight and repeating.

“I was bored”

“Well then you must know that Fiyero is really in love with Elphaba.”

“But the public wants her dead.” You shake off Dick's hands and show him the threats you had gotten in the comments on the post.

“I’ll protect you”

“You won’t always be there, Dickie. And what about my family? They’re getting my hate run-off. You won’t be able to save them if something happened”

Dick felt heat prick his skin. It was true. Though he’ll never admit it out loud. He couldn’t keep you tucked into his back pocket. And that made him feel worthless. What was all his training for if it couldn’t keep the people, he loved safe. His gaze drifts somewhere beyond you.

“Dickie…” Now it’s your turn to stroke his hand

“Sorry, this is about you.”

“It’s technically about us both.”  Your voice comes out hoarse. “Maybe we were in over our heads.”

“You … regret this?”

“I…we should’ve taken more time to think.” You’d rather swan dive into a pool of sharks with meat wrapped around you than see the look in Dick eyes. Perhaps not everything should come from an honest place.

Dick squeezes your hand afraid you’ll vanish in that moment. “What can I do?”

“Let’s just leave it be for today, Dick” You shake lose his hands. You wanted to offer him more comfort. Tell him it would be alright but would it. Every second that passed the comments got louder and louder. Would they ever stop? What if someone takes it on themselves to “fix” your wrongs? Unlike Dick, you were still a regular citizen. You have a 9-5. You take transit. You go to community events. Dick could hide away from the public hate, turn off his screen and pretend they don’t exist that they don’t matter. But you didn’t have the luxury.

“Please.”

“Let’s just get some sleep.”  You kiss his cheek. And walk to your bedroom.

Dick side of the bed was cold. Of course it was. Last night’s conversation didn’t really give let’s work this out energy. You cringe. You had the right to be angry. But it wasn’t Dick’s fault that people were hostile. It’s not like he wrote the article. But as much as your heart panged at the thought of a crest-fallen Dick laying out on the couch. You couldn’t shake the truth. You and Dick were fundamentally different. You should have rejected him, saved everyone trouble. But you never knew when to leave things alone.

The bed creaks as you shift to sit up. The sun was filtering through the curtains showing early morning dance of the dust that you should most definitely clean up. But at least it was pretty.

A loud ping startles you. You reach for your phone number and see 10 text notifications from your friend. You freak. Someone died. Of course, this would happen, what does the universe have against you. You fumble with your phone and unlock it.

You click your tongue as you switch from messages to Instagram and go straight to Dick’s page. You sit up straighter as you see his newest post.

An ache forms in your cheeks and that’s when you realize how large you were smiling. Damn cute boyfriend. Cute missing boyfriend. You need to go find him. You fling your legs off the bed and head towards the living room. Sure enough, there he was stretched out in all his glory on the coach. You shuffle over to him. Throw yourself on to him and squeeze him tight. His usual scent embraces you back before Dick does.

“Thank you” You whisper.

“No need. I don’t even think I made things better.” He whispers back.

“Maybe not. But I’m glad you showed up and stood up.” You rest your chin on his chest. “And just so you know. I don’t regret this. I’m scared of it, but I’ll never regret it. Ever. And I really hate that I even alluded to it.”

“Yeah, that sucked. But I also get it. I guess I kind of forgot what dating in the spotlight can feel like.”

“And I perhaps overestimated my confidence. It’ll be more work, but I want to keep trying if you do”

He smiles. “Of course.”

The last of his words ushers in a silence that nestles over the two of you. And that silence stays there along with all your fears. Your desires. Your dreams. Every part of your two existences cohabitates that space so well that nothing feels overpowering. And the first time since last night you can relax.

Having a child, regardless of gender, is terrifying in and of itself. 

Here is this little person, completely reliant on you, not just for food and shelter, but for love and education. To learn what it is to be human. (Jason’s not even sure he’s able to answer that question since he’s essentially a walking corpse, but I digress.)

When you decided to have children, and the baby was a girl. Jason was the most attentive, sweet father. 

You never had to fight him to be an active parent (in fact, you’d probably have to fight to get time with your sweet baby girl).

As she grows, you and Jason work hard to instill in her the confidence that she is enough. To speak up for herself and her needs. To explore, to be free, to be loved.  

The whole adventure was heartening. Jason knew that you both were instilling a sense of wholeness in your daughter that would hopefully act as a shield as she grew.

Now, when you become pregnant again with a boy, Jason panics. That type where his soul disconnects from his body, and he’s watching everything unfold from the clouds. 

There were moments when he sat next to you, watching your daughter on the playground, thinking about the chaos this “boy” would bring to your world. This dread that he will be a terror, inflicting pain on people who look like you or his daughter. Honestly, he wished the baby had never come.

But all of his loathing was just a cover-up for the truth. He was never taught how to love men, let alone boys. 

Jason is proudly anti-patriarchal (We all nod in agreement). But so much of it stemmed from the stories he saw and heard from women or fem-presenting people. 

He understood how the system allotted him “power” and status. And did what he could to right those injustices. He never wanted to be the reason that women couldn’t flourish. 

But he did so little, actually, to unpack the pain the system had caused him.

See, the patriarchy is a system that truly benefits no one. It’s a political system built on endless acquisition. For the machine to run, it needs pawns. Those who will do its bidding, without much thought. It needs soldiers.

The patriarchy told Jason, like all other little boys, to fear every aspect of himself. That having been born with a penis, he was a vile creature. Not soft, not whole, not deserving of love, he was wrong. And the only way to fix that wrongness was to embrace it, to devour the life out of everything, and to keep his emotions out of the equation. To conquer.

By doing this, he’d achieve great status in the system (Though that is a reality for only a few, I’m looking at you, Bruce.) Oh, and can’t forget that the system also guarantees that the valiant soldier, Soul Conqueror, will have his pick of women who are willing to serve. (*Eye roll* This is one of the main reasons men see women and women’s liberation as enemies. There is no "benefit" for their trauma.)

The patriarchy had birthed him to die, emotionally and physically, so that he could be used for its gain.

And when he did actually die, he was presented with the highest honor the patriarchy could offer: the status of good soldier.

And Jason doesn’t beat this when he’s resurrected. He embodies the lesson of death as a retribution to those who “deserve it.” 

No matter my personal opinion on that, it's hard not to see how Jason does and doesn’t dispel the system that he despises. Patriarchy needs death, and Jason is more than happy to provide.

He doesn’t come back to educate men on alternative ways of conduct to prevent crime before it happens. He doesn’t preach about love.  

He’s much more interested in punishment, in pain, all under the thin veil of justice. (By no means does this mean that Jason is evil or “bad”. Just showing how a system that needs hate and contempt, rather than love and forgiveness, to function forms our views on justice.)

When Jason got into a committed relationship with you, he learned the work that it took to be loving. To love was to express care, affection, responsibility, respect, commitment, and trust. Without the presence of one, love could not be obtained. And it took a lot of work, but you both got there. 

And he was able to extend that love to his daughter and to the women(fem-presenting individuals) in his life. 

But he just couldn’t seem to extend this same love to men. Sure, he cares for and even shows affection for some, like his brothers and Bruce. But could he respect them, commit to them? Could he trust them?

No. How could he? Jason didn’t truly trust himself. He felt like, at any moment, he could switch and disappoint you. He didn’t want to, but wasn’t it his nature? That’s the man the system had made him to be, right?

When his son is born, it’s all the more difficult. All that parenting information he used with his daughter was harder with his son. 

He had to be far more aware of himself than he had been before. He had to remind himself to remain gentle with his son. To believe in the softness of man. 

When his son was around 2 and was squabbling with his sister over a new toy, he hit her. Jason had to take the toy and take a moment for himself. He had been so angry, heat engulfing his skin. He had wanted to yell, to scare his son into never doing it again. Because if he didn't stop his son now, he'd only get worse. But what goal would that actually accomplish?

His scaring his son would only prove to the little boy that there is something in him that is meant to be scared of. To identify that emotions are bad. It would show his daughter that men can use their anger to silence. To avoid making men angry. 

Is that really what he wanted?

He took a few more moments for himself before pulling the two children aside. 

He felt their unease; he knew they noticed his sour mood. What was he supposed to do, push aside his feelings, pretend all was okay? Not say anything? 

He knelt on the ground, bringing himself to eye level with both children. And spoke honestly, peeling away the anger to get to the core of why he felt and acted the way he did.

He told his children about the disappointment he felt when he saw the two fight over the new toy. He expressed how scared it made him that his son hit his sister. He expressed that he took a moment for himself, not because he didn’t want to be around his children, but because he needed a moment to think about his feelings. And assured them that his feelings didn’t stop him from loving them.

Of course, most of what he said flew over their heads. But it wasn’t about understanding everything he said; it was about the fact that he took the time to explain and share his emotions. 

That his kids saw dad get angry, take a moment for himself, and talk. It provided them with a model of conduct. 

Jason then engaged in dialogue with his kids. Asking them why fighting over a toy might not be the best option. 

Then they discussed what they could do instead of fighting, such as taking turns or playing with another toy. And Jason made sure that they both knew that violence wasn’t an acceptable response to anger. 

That if they were ever angry, which they were allowed to be, they could take a moment for themselves. That they could speak out about what’s making them unhappy.

And that if someone loved them that their anger should never make them violent to them. They spent about 10 minutes roleplaying how to resolve disagreements before the kids went on to play on their own. 

This type of parenting was exhausting. Because for the first time in a while, Jason had to be vulnerable. To own every part of the decisions that he made and their effects on those around him.

It was all for the better though.

His kids were happy children who got into a lot of disagreements, but were able to solve them with their words. They were whole because they never had to hide the parts of themselves that Jason had to. 

Little by little, Jason began to believe in the growth not only of his son but also of other men. He knew that change was possible. 

Because of his kids, Jason began to adopt a heavy commitment to the no-kill rule. How could he instill in them the faith that growth and change are possible while stopping someone else's? No matter how awful.

Jason relationships with the men in his life became a lot more satisfying.

This doesn’t mean he stops being Red Hood, yet (actions have consequences). But this does start his journey into political involvement, involved with improving laws and sentencing and the system of incarceration. Working with Bruce to create programs to support survivors of domestic abuse. As well as programs that are committed to teaching men that they can be whole. That they don't have to embrace a system that wants them to die. That they could choose life. And programs that celebrate all growth. 

“You aren’t going to ask more questions?” Wiping your face. You had assumed your discussion would be more lively. You had prepared several statements for the volley, and now all had been stopped dead.

Bruce tilts his head, his eyebrows knit. “Why?”

You pause, placing the napkin in your lap. “Because I just asked you to pay for me to stay at home, and you said that.” Your gesture made Bruce chuckle.

“You asked me to pay for your labor. Alfred received payment for caring for me, as a child; why shouldn’t you?”

You looked akin to an animatronic, mouth opening and closing, eyes wide. “But, I’m their Mom.”

“Are you trying to talk me out of this?” Bruce leans forward with his elbows on his knees.

“No, no. I just don't understand why you aren’t outraged. Or encouraging me to continue working o-or something…”

“I could make a scene if you want, but what’s the use in that? You’ve done a fantastic job in your career, but you said you are displeased with it. And you want to move on.” You stare at Bruce, chest squeezing around your heart. This was the best possible outcome.

You should be celebrating, tossing your arms around your husband for being so open and supportive. But instead, you stay rooted in your seat. The fabric of the chair makes your skin crawl. You chide yourself, eyes closing shut, desperately keeping back tears.

Bruce observed you, your discomfort mirrored in his posture, as he sits up straight and rigid. It pained him to see you like this. Had he said something?

He waited, trying to find the words before forgoing perfection.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to brush you aside. I just don’t seem to be understanding the…nuances here. But I want to. Please talk to me.”

You chew the inside of your cheek, the tone in Bruce’s voice making it harder to conceal your tears.

“It’s just for so long I have been hearing about all the things I should and shouldn’t be.” Your eyes remain closed.

“I was raised to think only of marriage and then children, to set myself aside. To be provided for. I wasn’t taught to want different. And then I went to school and learned about a life beyond just those two things. That I could want and have a career. And I was ecstatic. I no longer needed a provider; I was independent. But the work was so soulless, and I kept doing it because I knew people were watching me, using me to measure the success of all those who looked like me. Like I had asked to be an icon, if I become a stay-at-home mom, those people will think to themselves that it is all their lives can amount to. But if I don’t, then I lie to them and say that this success is fulfilling.”

You open your eyes and fight the urge to close them again. Bruce looked like a child who was told magic wasn’t real. You thought about concealing your sentiments. Softening the edge, but who would that benefit? So you continue.

“In honesty, I wanted this big fight to satisfy this beastly desire in me. I thought if I could win and convince you this was right, that I’d convince myself. And when you just accepted it, a part of me,” You voice breaks. “A part of me felt like it was because you always knew I’d be here. Like all the other parts of my life were just a phase. And this is where I should be.”

Your tears fall freely now, rhymatically beating against your lap. Voices rise in your head, critics, attacking you from all sides. Your breath becomes shallow and rapid.

Bruce is by your side in an instant. He kneels before like he was prepared to pray at the altar that was you. Grabbing both of your hands, he held them close to his mouth, peppering them with ghostly kisses.

You stay like that for a few minutes until everything within you falls silent.

“I never assumed that this is the way it should be. Ever. We are partners, equals.” Bruce drops your hands and stands up. He gestures to your chair, and you muster enough energy to scoot over.

Your bodies practically become one. You scoot a little closer, so you fit comfortably on his lap.

“Honestly, I have also been evaluating how our marriage might have influenced you to choose this. I am not completely oblivious to the differences in our upbringing. I was worried you felt you had to do this. But know that I am beyond satisfied in this marriage. I don’t need you to banish the woman I love for conformity's sake.”His voice is barely above a whisper as he traces circles on your hip, and you sink further into him.

“If you wish to have another career, go for it. If you wish to stay here, then let me pay you. I want you to have agency even if the rest of the world makes it hard to do so.”

“This is something I really want to do.” You croak, voice tired.

“Then, okay. I will have our lawyers draft up a contract. Just for the formality of it all. And we will go from there.”

All falls silent again.

“I wish this felt good.” You rest your head on Bruce’s chest.

“Tough decisions rarely do.” You hum as your eyelid closes, the early panic now transformed into drowsiness, and you are in no position to fight.

“Thank you for listening.” You mumbled

“Thank you for talking to me.” Bruce kisses the top of your head. “I love you.”

You drift off to sleep, your brain still swirling. But, knowing that you'll never have to carry this feeling alone.

a/n: I have so much to say about this topic. None of which I can seem to put eloquently. Nonetheless, thank you so much for reading! (comments are always appreciated)