I want to read this so badly I’m begging someone to write some variation of it pls
The one where Dick isn’t the step-dad, he’s the dad that stepped up
Im fiddling around w the ages because it’s more fun that way. Also it’s in the yj cartoon universe but the timeline will be wonky bc I didnt care for seasons 3&4. So anyway let’s make it post season 2, Dick is 16ish, and like so many of my other yj fic ideas, he’s currently heavily disliked by most JL and yj team members bc of the whole deep cover thing. Also Artemis never went back to be Kaldur’s backup, she refused, so Dick did double time as both Nightwing and Renegade, Deathstroke’s apprentice. He and Bruce had a falling out bc Bruce didn’t like how he didn’t do everything perfectly while Bruce was gone.
So anyway Dick is living in Blüdhaven, his exhausted, he’s not taking very good care of himself, he’s running himself ragged as both Nightwing and also at his day job at a seedy dive bar.
And one night he comes home, ready to face plant on his dusty couch, only to be greeted by his arch nemesis: Talia al Ghul.
He can’t fuckin stand her. The feeling is very mutual.
Talia was very close with Bruce when Dick was younger. Dick was definitely not super jealous at the time. Also definitely didn’t let her words about him not being his real son get under his skin. That never happened.
And now she’s sitting in his couch, looking around and judging his non-existent decor. With a tiny kid next to her.
The tiny kid looks equally disgusted with the apartment. And way too much like Bruce for Dick’s comfort.
“Is this a hallucination or is there actually a succubus sitting in my living room,” Dick manages to say in a bored voice.
“Charming as always, Richard,” Talia says back at him. Before he can reply, she continues with, “I’m here on important business, so please for once drop the attitude with me.”
“And what’s so important you’ve dragged a toddler into my humble abode?”
“Tone,” she snaps at him, and he snorts at her. She’s not his mother, she doesn’t get to lecture him on his snotty attitude with her.
“Look, if you’re looking for Bruce, you’re way off target. We haven’t spoken in months. You’d think you and your little spies would know that.”
“Of course I know that,” she huffs at him. “That’s exactly why I’m here with you. I need you to do something very important for me.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that? Drop dead for ya so your little Bruce clone over there gets all my inheritance? I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear he’s cut me off entirely, so no need to worry.” He sways a bit as he turns around, and he only limps a little bit as he heads to his fridge. Not that there’s anything in there, but maybe if he rummages around and stares at it long enough, food will appear. He doesn’t pull his head out of the fridge before saying in a mocking tone, “You can leave now.”
“I need you to raise Damian.”
Dick stares at the flickering lightbulb in his fridge, the hum of it buzzing between his ears.
“I must finally be completely nuts,” he says, straightening up, hand still on the fridge door, “because I could’a swore I heard you just say you want me raising the love child you must’ve had with the man who kicked me to the curb six months ago.”
“Richard, will you take this seriously please?”
The way her voice sounds almost desperate is what gets Dick to finally turn around.
“Are you serious?” he asks. “You’re being forreal right now?”
“I’m being completely serious,” she tells him. “I don’t want my son anywhere near my father. I want him raised by a good man.”
“So take him to Bruce! What do you need me for?”
“Did you not just admit that Bruce kicked you out?” She said slowly to him. “You, his sixteen year old son-“
“-who he once used to tell me was the light of his life? He turned on you, just like that. The boy he’d raised for eight years. Richard, you are still a minor-“
“Then why are you asking me to raise your baby?” Dick screeches.
“Oh my God, it talks!”
“Richard!” Talia is pinching the bridge of her nose. She looks like she’s regretting the decision to come here. Good.
“Richard,” she says again, softer. “Please. You are a better man than Bruce Wayne. You know that.”
“Do I?” he laughs, feeling so out of his league right now. He has no idea what’s happening.
“You’re a smart boy, Richard, I know you’ll figure this out.”
“You’re really leaving your kid with a kid?”
“You’ve graduated high school, haven’t you?” she says, as if that means anything. “Quite the achievement for one your age, considering all your extra curricular activities. Not to mention saving the world from an alien invasion.”
Dick’s face darkens at the mention of it, and for some reason, he doesn’t immediately want to shrug off the hand Talia lays on his shoulder.
“You’re a good man,” she says gently. “You’re bright. You’re resourceful. You will be good for him. Better than anyone else he might be able to go to.”
He’s overwhelmed. He’s still in his Nightwing costume. He’s covered in dried blood and mud. He’s tired.
But now Talia is leaving, and there’s a two year old mini-Bruce sitting on his couch staring into his soul.
“Okay,” Dick breathes. “It’s okay. We’re okay. Uh-“
Dick doesn’t know what to do. Damian is still staring at him. Dick’s not sure he’s even blinking.
“Do you like Frosted Flakes?”
Damian’s never had Frosted Flakes. Dick remedies that immediately. Damian’s smile after his first bite is enough to ease the tightness in Dick’s chest just a little bit. He ends up getting Damian safely tucked into bed, leaving the door to his room ajar so he can go have a breakdown in the living room so he doesn’t disturb him.
Of course Dick will raise Damian. He doesn’t really have any other choice, does he? Plus, he’s somehow already managing to worm his way into Dick’s heart. God, is this what Bruce felt like when Dick first came to live with him-
He stops that thought immediately. He’s nothing like Bruce. He’ll never be anything like Bruce. Because now that Damian is his, he won’t ever let him go, he won’t ever make Damian leave just because he might do something Dick doesn’t like. Damian is his now, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure Damian always knows that.
Except Dick is broke, and there’s hardly anything edible in this apartment, and his job doesn’t pay well enough to support himself and a toddler.
And Dick doesn’t have that many options on who to call for help.
So after a week of juggling his job and his new kid and a bunch of different possible outcomes, he makes a decision.
And the next night, he shows up on doorstep with Damian asleep in his arms and an overstuffed bag strapped to his back.
Slade only raises an eyebrow.
“What’s with the kid?”
“He’s mine,” Dick chokes out. “Don’t question it. Please.”
Slade just sighs, then steps aside to let Dick in the door. The house is familiar, Dick spent a lot of time here during his stint as Renegade. It used to feel so suffocating, being in Deathstroke’s home. Now it feels like a relief.
“What are you doing here, kid? Not that I’m not happy to see you,” Slade asks, sitting in a chair and swirling a half-empty glass of whiskey. He motions for Dick to sit on the couch across from him, and he does after a moment of shimmying the bag off his back without jostling Damian too much.
He sits there for a moment, Damian on his lap with his face tucked against his chest. He has one hand twirling Damian’s hair between his fingers, and he doesn’t look up when he speaks.
“You said I could come back anytime,” Dick says. “No questions asked.”
“I think you and I both know that didn’t apply to a situation like this.”
“Please,” Dick pleads. “I need the work. So I can take care of him.”
Slade’s face changes, but he doesn’t say anything. They’re both quiet for a long time, Dick trying to focus on the soft breaths from Damian as he sleeps. Eventually, Slade stops swirling the glass so he can bring it up to his mouth to empty the rest of it.
“You can stay in your old room for now,” Slade says, getting up. “But we’ll be relocating by the end of the week.”
Dick doesn’t know what to say, just stays rooted to the couch, hugging Damian a little tighter. Slade sees it and lets out a huff of a laugh.
“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’ll pick somewhere with good schools for the kid.”
Dick’s mind is moving like molasses as Slade walks behind the couch, grips his shoulder, and leans close enough to whisper in Dick’s ear, “Welcome back, Renegade.”
Dick waits until he hears Slade move into the kitchen to bring Damian and their stuff up to his old room. It still looks the same, not that it had many personal touches to begin with. A couple trinkets. Some souvenirs from jobs. A picture he and Slade had taken together, posing as tourists while they scoped out a target. If you squint, they almost look like a family.
Dick tucks Damian into bed, making sure he has the stuffed elephant he insisted he needed so he and Dick could match. It had been $30 - completely outrageous for a stuffed doll, in Dick’s humble opinion - but the way Damian’s face looked so excited at the prospect of having a similar kind of toy to the one he knew Dick had made him instantly cave. Dick had to beg off the cooks at the bar for a few free to-go boxes for a few days afterwards, but it had been worth it.
Dick shuts off the light, leaving the curtains drawn enough for the light from the moon to shine in just in case Damian woke up before morning, then collapsed into the bed next to him. He wrapped his arm around Damian, wanting to keep him safe, to let him know Dick was right there if he needed anything.
And Dick went to sleep trying not to feel like he just sold his soul. It will be worth it. It has to be worth it.
