De-aged autistic Bruce fic
Dick sat by the fireplace, staring into the fire.
"Dad? Can I have a lollypop?" Dick had asked and Bruce chuckled, looking down at him as he checked his bag. There were only two left.
"Blueberry or watermelon son?" He asked and Dick's eyes lit up.
"Watermelon! Unless, you want it?" He asked and Bruce shook his head, handing him the watermelon one.
"No. Blueberry is my favourite." He said and Dick beamed up at him as he took the watermelon one.
It became their tradition. Everytime they were on patrol Bruce would get the blue one and Dick would get the watermelon one. Dick didn't like blueberry, just didn't care for it much. Oh Bruce.
He smiled sadly to himself as he blew on the mug of hot chocolate Alfred had made for him earlier.
Speaking of which, the man in question came in with his own mug of chocolate. Alfred sat in the chair next to him and Dick looked over at him. Alfred had always been pretty affectionate with him. He remembered pats on the head and extra cookie privileges. Maybe it was because his father had been there encouraging it. He didn’t know. Why were grandparents different with their grandkids?
It hadn't seemed weird when he was younger. Alfred and Bruce were friends, just like Dick and Bruce were. He hadn't realised that was new. And that it was the extent of their relationship. Just old friends.
“Hmm?” Alfred hummed, darning a sock in his armchair.
Dick hesitated for a moment and looked ahead.
“When I had Damian, for that year, I thought about getting him tested for autism.”
“Hmm yes. I remember that. But I assured you all of those behaviours were clearly just inherited from his father. Nothing to worry about.”
“Yes. Traits inherited from a man who couldn't stand tags in his clothes, lurks in the shadows, hates lights. Can't communicate to save his life." He said and Alfred faltered in his perfect stitching. He slowly put the sock down and frowned.
“… do you think, Master Bruce is-“
“I think I’m bringing Damian in for an assessment. And you’re due a difficult conversation with Dad.” He joked and Alfred still looked troubled.
Dick stood up and hesitated by the chair.
“It’s not… bad or anything. It’s just good to know that’s all.” He said and Alfred shook his head.
“I didn’t notice. If I had noticed earlier maybe.” Maybe Master Bruce wouldn’t have had such a hard time, he thought.
Dick put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently giving him a small smile before walking away.
He had one neurodivergent Wayne to worry about. For the first time in a long time he let Alfred worry about Bruce. He hoped he would do enough. Because frankly... he hadn't before.
“Damian! Get in the car kiddo we’re going for an autism assessment.”
“You did not inform me of this plan in advance Grayson.”
“Ah I’m sorry. You had plans?”
“It’s the principle isn’t it?”
“I will see you when you reschedule in a fortnight. Perhaps you can get a full psychological write up as well.”
“Whatever is wrong with you seems medically undiscovered and I would like to be present when medical history is made,” He said and Dick barked out a laugh.
“Though I suspect it’s just trauma with people pleasing, codependency and a subsequent saviour complex.”
“Whatever it is that gives you so much energy is of interest to me however.”
“…I was raised in a circus.”
“Ah. That would do it.” Damian looked at him for a second more before nodding and walking away leaving Dick a little dumbfounded and hurt but not unsurprised. That’s just it was.
Damian passed Jason on the way out and grabbed his arm.
“Todd I’m an afraid I might have broken Grayson with an honest account of his psychological profile.”
“Why would you do that to someone Damian. Someone in this family-“
“Fair. However I need you to suggest a round of playing video games and snacks to restore him while he processes the information.”
“I will leave you to someone more qualified.” He promised as he continued down the hallway Jason looking amused after him.
“Little terror,” he said shaking his head and going to find Dick.
In a way it was kind of comforting to know. Dick always had to be the emotional translator for Bruce, the one pointing out when he’d hurt someone’s feelings and smoothing things over. He felt like he had to carry him sometimes in conversations. It was difficult. Having to be the mediator in the family. It wasn’t a job that he’d ever asked for.
But he hadn’t known. He thought back to Bruce adopting him and looked at it through everything he knew now. An awkward, traumatised man with communication issues trying to take care of a traumatised child. Sixteen years after he himself had become an orphan. Jeez. It was a wonder they weren’t more messed up. They were really only okay because they cared enough to find a way. Bruce had smothered him sometimes but.
Dick hadn’t realised that he was raised by a kid who grew up in that empty house on his own. He had tried to be everything to Dick because Alfred had just been a butler to him.
He’d sensed the grief radiating off of him, in those years. Dick had been afraid, that that is what happened when you lost your parents at eight. He was scared that this is how he would end up too. That it was inevitable. Bruce had hugged him like a drowning man, trying to tread water himself. Pushing him towards a lifeline the moment he got a breath of air. Pushing him away. You shouldn't get too close to a drowning person. They'll pull you down with them. He didn't know it could go the other way.
Somewhere along the line Dick had felt like no matter where he jumped Bruce would be there to catch him. And he always did. Even… then. When they had lost Jason and Bruce had put his walls up, abandoned him in his emotions. (He preferred to think of it as abandonment. He needed to.) Bruce had funded titans towers. He’d always responded to requests for assistance or training.
So yeah. Dick felt like he had something solid to jump off from. But he still felt sometimes, like he had to look back. Like he’d see Bruce go under if he went too far away. (Did I almost lose you, too?)
A part of him still held onto Bruce like he had in that circus tent, terrified of what he’d become if he was alone. Sometimes the safest place in the world still felt like being under a cape, or under a coat. Maybe that was okay.
It didn’t undo the damage that Damian had pointed out. They probably were codependent honestly. Part of him was always going to be scared to let Bruce go, worried for him and feeling like he was leaving a piece of himself behind in Gotham every time. That he was going to disappear the minute Dick looked away. But. It wasn’t on purpose. It's just how it was.
When Bruce found out he would clumsily try to fix it, because that’s what he did. Everything he could. He would throw everything from the kitchen to a batarang at your problems trying to make them go away. And in the frenzy it’d be a little chaotic but. It was better then, nothing. That’s why they were as okay as they were, despite everything. Raising him was probably the most superhuman thing Batman had ever pulled off. He looked down at his drink and smiled sadly to himself.
Because... he could have grown up in that old house all alone too. With no one paying attention to him, caring him. Yeah Bruce was there a little too much, winning awards for helicopter parent of the year, but he was there. He loved him.
Sometimes he wondered what was heavier. The weight of devotion, or isolation. He think he had an answer now.
Bruce walked in and Dick looked over at him. Bruce frowned and glanced around the cave.
"Are you okay?" He asked and Dick smiled at him and shook his head.
"What's wrong?" He asked and Dick sighed and put down his cup.
"You didn't do everything right." He said and Bruce lowered his head slightly.
"But you tried." Dick said and Bruce looked back at him again.
"Of course. You're my son." He said and Dick stood up and walked over to hug him.
"I'll always try to be there for you. To do better for you." He promised and Dick hugged him tighter, eyes welling up.
"You don't have to thank me. It's owed. You're my son." He said, almost sounding confused at the notion and. Dick fully cried into his shoulder. Bruce hummed, upset and ruffled his hair.
"I um.... I'm sorry you had to deal with younger me. That wasn't your responsibility, Alfred should have kept him away. It was uh, undue emotional labour." He said and Dick stepped away wiping his eyes and shaking his head.
"Actually it was great. It, helped. I understand you better now." He said and Bruce looked at him warily.
“Hmm, maybe. But I could have told you all of that. I’m worried that… now you won’t want to lean on me. As your parent.” He said and Dick smiled softly.
I know you didn’t want me to see you like that, but I already had. You never stopped being haunted, you just grew around it. And I'm haunted too.
"I thought before that when you didn't understand me, that's just how you were. Like you didn't want to change. But it was weird because I could tell that you did want to? I didn't get it.
But you’ve got autism Bruce, you'd struggle to communicate with anyone. It’s not your fault. And I can understand you now." He said and Bruce frowned thinking it over.
".... do not make me fight you on this one."
"No, I think I'd know. I’m a detective." He said still frowning and Dick sighed and pulled up a diagnostic test on his phone.
"Talk to me in thirty minutes." He said, pushing the phone into his chest and walking out of the room.
"Oh and Dad?" He said looking back at him as Bruce met his eye.
Dick smiled at the doorway and shrugged.
Bruce hummed at him in confusion and he laughed and left.
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