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Dick burrows deeper under the covers, pulling them tight over his head. It does almost nothing to block out the low, rumbling sounds of Bruce in the next room, but it’s warm and cozy and he can’t bring himself to move. Through the wall, Dick can hear Jason laughing at something, accompanied by Bruce’s own soft chuckles.
Tomorrow will be two months. Two months since Bruce came home with a new kid. Two months since Dick stopped being important and Bruce moved on to Jason.
And why shouldn’t he? That’s the worst part, Dick can’t even blame Bruce. It makes perfect sense.
Dick is like a puppy someone got for Christmas—he was new and cute and fun at first, but now he’s old news. Jason is younger and cuter, all dimples and missing baby teeth.
Plus, he’s from Gotham, just like Bruce. He even kind of looks like him, even if his hair is curlier and his eyes are a bit more green. If it wasn’t in all the tabloids, no one would even know that Jason isn’t his real kid biologically. In a few years people probably won’t even know the difference. Despite also having black hair and blue eyes, Dick just doesn’t look like them. He’s proud of it. He is. He’s got his mom’s coloring and he wouldn’t trade it for the world, but.
It’s just one more difference. One of many.
Jason doesn’t climb on everything, doesn’t accidentally break chandeliers and antique vases. Jason loves to read and is better at English than Dick is, despite being two years younger.
Jason doesn’t fidget constantly like Dick does, and he doesn’t require extensive and expensive gymnastics equipment to stay entertained; he’s perfectly happy to read in Bruce’s office, while Dick would have been going out of his mind with boredom. Dick knows that he’s annoying. He knows that sometimes Bruce is really tired after spending time with him. He can tell, even if Bruce never says it. Bruce and Jason spend practically every second together and he never seems to get tired. Alfred always tells Dick not to worry about it, Dick and Bruce just like having fun in different ways, but that just proves it.
Jason is pretty obviously everything Bruce wants in a son.
And yeah Bruce adopted both of them, but Dick has been here for four years. It took Jason less than two months. It took Bruce less than two months to know he wanted Jason forever. Did he just adopt Dick out of pity? To make him feel better? To not look bad in the papers for adopting one of the kids in his care but not the other?
He curls in tighter on himself, knees digging into his chest. It’s stuffy and too-warm under his blankets, and a little difficult to really breathe, but he doesn’t move, not even when he hears his door creak open, followed by Bruce’s heavy footsteps approaching the bed.
“Sweet dreams, chum,” he hears, and Bruce’s hand comes down to rest on his head. Dick holds himself carefully still, not even breathing.
And then Bruce leaves. And Dick knows it’s ridiculous—he didn’t want to talk to Bruce, that’s the whole reason why he hid in the first place—but every night Dick can hear Jason and Bruce, reading stories, joking and laughing until Jason finally falls asleep. And it hurts. He doesn’t even know why. It’s not like Bruce wouldn’t read to him too if he just asked.
But it just makes him feel like a burden.
He hates it. He hates this. He just feels uncomfortable and sad like all the time. Mad, too, sometimes. At Bruce and at Jason, even though he knows deep down that that’s not fair to them. He just can’t help it.
Bruce used to tell him all the time that anger usually meant something else deep inside of you. It meant you were upset or hurt or uncomfortable, and he thinks that’s probably definitely true because when the anger fades all he feels is sad. Sad and lonely.
Not for the first time, he falls asleep with his hands clenched tightly into fists and tears on his pillowcase.
Bruce takes Jason and Dick to the library. It’s Jason’s request, one he made while beaming up at Bruce with a smile brighter than the sun. Bruce had been helpless to say no to that, so Dick had swallowed back his suggestion of the park and trailed behind them to the car.
Jason gets a huge stack of books. Dick gets a graphic novel and a headache. He’s smart. He is. It’s just… books don’t really hold his attention long enough. He tends to get antsy and restless—it’s part of the reason his teachers have had to have so many conversations with Bruce about how to handle him.
Jason scampers off the moment they return home. Dick imagines that they won’t see him emerge from his room for some time, but Bruce watches him go with a fond smile. Dick’s stomach twists.
“Here, chum,” Bruce says, leading Dick to the kitchen by a firm hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get you some Tylenol for your headache.”
Dick just nods, letting himself be guided away. His head pounds against his skull right between his eyes, synching up with his steps. He stands awkwardly in the middle of the room while Bruce roots through one of the drawers for the bottle of pills.
“You could have told me your head was hurting,” Bruce chides gently. “We would have left earlier if I’d known.”
“Jason was still looking,” Dick answers dully. He didn’t want to interrupt.
Bruce just hums, handing Dick the pill and a glass of water. He swallows them down dutifully and means to turn and leave, to retreat into his own room and hide back under his covers until Alfred calls him for dinner. But… His head hurts and he’s so tired and… and… he just feels so wrong that he just might explode.
“Why’d you even bother adopting me?” The bitter words are tumbling out before he even realizes he’s opened his mouth. Well, too late to go back now.
Bruce recoils like he’s been burned, pulling his hand away from where it had been resting gently against Dick’s shoulder.
“What?” he whispers, staring with wide eyes. “Dick, where is this coming from? I asked if you wanted to be—”
“I know, B,” he snaps. “I was there. Did you think I would say no?”
Bruce shakes his head, still looking confused. “I didn’t know what you’d say. That’s why I asked. I wanted to make sure you didn’t feel like I was intruding or… or replacing your parents in some way. Dick, please. Talk to me. What is this all about, chum?”
“I just want to know why. You can tell me, B. I can take it.” He just wants Bruce to admit it. Then maybe he can finally hate him for real.
“I don’t understand… What are you asking?”
“Why did you even adopt me? You didn’t need to. You have Jason now.” Dick spits Jason’s name like a curse. He hates him. Hates the kid that stole his dad and his life.
Bruce’s looks surprised, startled. And then his face morphs into something so sad and crushed. Heartbroken.
“Oh, chum.” He drops to his knees in front of Dick, reaching up to cup his cheek. Dick squeezes his eyes shut to try and stop the tears, but he can’t bring himself to pull away. “It’s not like that. Please, believe me. I adopted you because I love you. Because you’re my son, and I wanted to make that official. I love Jason and I also love you. You’re both my sons. He is not some sort of replacement for you.”
“But why—” He chokes on a sob which prompts Bruce to pull him into a hug, scratching gently through the hair at the back of his head. “You adopted Jason so soon. It… It’s only been two months. You knew you wanted him immediately. ”
Bruce squeezes him tighter. “I wanted you too, chum. From the very start. I just… I didn’t want to overstep. I’m so sorry.”
“But you wanted to adopt me? You really did?”
“ Yes. Of course I did. I love you so much, chum. Dickie, I cannot even begin to imagine my life without you. I don’t want to. I love Jason. I love you both exactly the same, but you changed my life. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Of course I wanted to adopt you. Don’t ever doubt that. Please.”
“I’m sorry,” Dick whispers, suddenly embarrassed at how childish he’s been acting. It’s not fair to Bruce, who’s always been there for him. God, he was so ungrateful, so mean. He’d been mad at Bruce for no reason and—
“You don’t need to apologize, chum. You have nothing to apologize for. I should have been better about explaining myself to you. I’m sorry. You have been nothing but amazing. I have loved every moment of the past four years.”
“Even that time I accidentally scratched your fancy car trying to ride that unicycle?”
Bruce let out a short, soft chuckle. “Even then. You’re my son, and I love you more every day.”
“I love you too,” Dick sobs, squeezing his arms tighter around Bruce. It’s okay. It’s okay. Bruce loves him. Bruce wants him. He has a dad who wants him forever and ever.
“Bruce? Dick? What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
Dick doesn’t look up at the sound of Jason’s entrance, but Bruce does. He only lifts his head though, doesn’t let go of Dick, which Dick is incredibly thankful for.
“It’s okay, Jay,” Bruce says quietly. His hand rubs up and down Dick’s spine. “Dickie’s just having a bad day.”
“Oh.” He hears Jason step closer, footsteps softer and slower now. Dick burrows closer to Bruce’s chest, expecting Jason to leave. But instead he feels a little hand patting awkwardly at the top of his head. “Sorry you’re having a bad day, Dick.”
“Thanks, Jay,” Dick mumbles, sniffling as he pulls back to rub at his eyes with the back of his hand. Guilt makes his stomach twist as he watches the genuine concern on Jason’s face. “I don’t hate you,” he blurts out, unable to stop it.
Jason blinks and frowns. “I don’t hate you either,” he says slowly, confused. “We’re brothers, right?”
Brothers. Not… not prototype and replacement. Not rivals competing to be Bruce’s only son.
Dick is a big brother now. He used to really want a little sibling, back when he was in the circus. Now he has one, even if Jason isn’t what he imagined. He’d never imagined he’d be living in a big fancy mansion either, and he definitely never thought he’d have a second dad after his parents died.
“Yeah,” Dick says. “Sure. Brothers.”
Jason’s smile is hesitant, but bright all the same.
“Goodnight, chum,” Bruce says, voice so soft that Dick barely catches it. He hears the sound of Bruce closing the book, setting it back on Dick’s nightstand. Absently, Dick hopes that Bruce remembered to put in their bookmark this time.
“Night,” Dick mumbles back. His eyes won’t open, but that’s alright.
“Sweet dreams,” his dad says, and then Dick feels the press of a kiss against his forehead. Even on the edge of sleep, he can’t keep the smile from pulling at his lips. “Love you.”
“Love you back.”
“Come on, Jaylad,” he hears next, following by shifting weight on the mattress as Bruce reaches over Dick and lifts Jason into his arms.
Jason groans, clearly upset at Bruce disturbing his sleep.
“Yes, sorry kiddo,” Bruce says, laughter in his voice. “We gotta get you to your own bed, and let your brother get some rest.”
“Night, Jay,” Dick adds, hopefully sounding more coherent than he feels.
Jason just whines again, but Dick knows his little brother means to say goodnight back, even if his sleepiness messes up his words. It’s the thought that counts after all.
This time, when Bruce’s footsteps fade and the door softly creaks closed, Dick falls asleep smiling.