Work Header

You learn to breathe

Chapter Text

Bruce hadn’t been expecting a punch in the face to be the first thing he received upon exiting the Batmobile, but he’d gotten one all the same.

Instantly he growled, whipping around to face whoever’d hit him only to be met with the sight of a very ticked off Nightwing, chest heaving and eyes aflame in anger.

He relaxed, muscles loosening, and Bruce realized that was the wrong thing to do when Dick flung himself at Bruce, body language screaming the violent intent as he started yelling. “What the fuck was that?!” his eldest screeched.

“What was what?” Bruce gritted back, ducking and dodging the relentless and powerful attacks.

Dick laughed mirthlessly. “Oh, so you’re gonna play dumb?” A solid kick caught Bruce’s jaw and he stumbled back, already a tad worn out from his brief spat with Jason. 

He’s getting aggravated now. “Play dumb about what Dick?”

His eldest froze and stared at him, expression blank.

“You really don’t know.”

Bruce scowled. “I don’t have time for this.” Jason was still missing, and Roy Harper was to thank for that. Damn Arrows.

He started to move around Dick, only for Dick’s hand to shoot out and grab his shoulder with vice-like grip.

When he spoke again, Dick’s voice was venomous and dark. “You don’t find anything wrong with what you just did, do you?”

Bruce grunted, not going to dignify that with an answer.

Dick gritted his teeth and next thing Bruce knew he was staggering back from a powerful punch to the jaw.

He touched the tender spot, turning to glare daggers at his son who glared right back with extreme intensity in his royal blue eyes.

Dick bared his teeth a little as he spoke, back straightening and muscles tensed. “You didn’t have the right. Jason is my brother and your son. You don’t get to kick him out of the family because your girlfriend left you on the altar! You don’t get to beat him to a bloody pulp and drag him like you’re taking out the trash! You don’t have the right to speak for us.

Bruce growled, straightening. Dick didn’t understand; this wasn’t about Selina. It wasn’t. “He broke our deal.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck, Bruce!” Dick shouted back, radiating fury as he marched right up to his father and glared up at him. “Jason is your son! Your son who died then came back to life and had to claw his way out of his grave! And you just treated him like he was the dirt beneath your feet,” he seethed.

Dick let his head hang, breaking eye contact as he took deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself.

After a minute he spoke again.

“You don’t get to touch them ever again.”

Bruce stared at Dick with shock, now, as he continued to speak.

“You don’t get to raise your voice at them. You don’t get to scold them.”

He lifted his head to glare into the lenses of Bruce’s cowl. “You’ve lost the right.”

Then Dick turned, slapping his domino on his face, and headed for his motorcycle. Over his shoulder he finished with, “And if you even try to look for Jason, I’ll make sure you don’t find any of us, Bruce. Count on it.”