What about a fic where Dick has been given the okay by Bruce to reveal his identity to the yj team in season 1, but he decides to have fun with it. He just starts dropping little hints that should have them all connecting the dots, and he enjoys watching them try to piece all the clues together.
“I won’t be available for training on Tuesdays and Thursdays the next few months,” he says one afternoon.
“Why not?” one of his teammates asks.
“That’s when I have baseball games after school. Tuesdays are away games, so I don’t get home until late. Also I have practice Monday, Wednesday, and some Fridays, so I’ll probably be late those days if B lets me come here afterwards.”
“Yeah, I even made Varsity!”
That was hint number one. He thought it was fairly easy to figure out who he was after that; he’s the only freshman on the Gotham Academy Varsity Baseball team. Artemis never puts two and two together.
Hint number two he thought was a lot more obvious, but no one took the bait. He also thought it was pretty generous, seeing as it became two hints for the price of one.
“I have to leave by 5:30 tonight. Agent A is starting to get annoyed when I’m late for dinner.”
“The butler, if you want to be technical about it,” he says with a shrug.
“Technically, B has a butler. I don’t employ him. Because I’m 13.”
“…Right. And you live with Batman?”
“What about your parents?”
“They died when I was little.” If he says it nonchalantly enough, he can pretend it doesn’t still hurt to say. He also steadfastly ignores Conner’s muttered Is he not still little? How tall is he? “I’ve lived with B ever since.”
“No!” Dick huffs. “He adopted me! Jeez!”
Now he’s annoyed, and he decides to go home early. They still don’t figure it out, and that annoys him even more.
The third hint may as well be his secret identity handed to them on a silver platter.
“I can’t come to the movie marathon on Saturday,” he grumbles, dragging his feet. “B is making me go to some stupid gala thing.”
“Like for rich people?” Someone else scoffs.
“Yeah, it’s some charity thing,” he mumbles. He doesn’t want to go. Vicki Vale has been extra annoying lately, and he doesn’t want to have to avoid her questions all night. He doesn’t know who Bruce’s latest paramour is, and he certainly wouldn’t be blabbing about it to her gossip rag tabloids in the first place. “I think it’s gonna be on TV or something.”
They don’t watch the broadcast. Which is a shame, because they may have figured it out if they’d seen the interview of Bruce and Dick together.
The next one he does just to screw with them.
“Can you believe B is making me take tennis lessons?” he scoffs, stomping into the room. “It’s gonna be so lame!”
“Where are you taking tennis lesson in Gotham?” Artemis snorts.
“The Bristol Country Club,” he tells her, falling back into a chair and putting his feet on the coffee table.
Artemis’ eyes nearly bug out of her head.
“Do you have to pay extra to get tennis lessons at a country club?” M’gann asks.
“I think it’s included in the membership or something, I dunno,” he says, waving a hand.
“Batman goes to a country club?”
“Yeah, we go for dinner there like once a week. The steak is pretty good.”
“You and Batman get dinner at a country club? Weekly?”
“If we can, yeah,” he says, waving a hand. “B likes the golf course there.”
When they still don’t figure it out even after Dick Grayson posts on social media about going to the Bristol Country Club to play golf with Bruce Wayne the very next day, he finally gives up on them.
“You guys are so thick,” he says, sounding so offended as he stands in front of them with his arms crossed and a frown on his face. “I gave you so many hints! So many!”
They all can’t stop staring at him. Mostly because he’s not wearing his mask. Or his sunglasses.
Dick Grayson is standing before the team, supremely disappointed in them.
“B finally gives me the go ahead to tell you my secret ID, and then he makes a bet with me about how long it would take you guys to find out for yourselves! And I believed in you! And now I have to do the dishes and take out the trash and clean up after Ace without complaining about any of it for a month!”
“Don’t you have a butler to do all that?”
“He’s not a servant,” he says, now even more offended. “I still have chores. I’m not a total spoiled brat, jeez. But I usually at least get to bitch about it! And now I can’t for a whole month, you guys suck!”
“…do you not have a dishwasher in your giant mansion?”
“It’s a manor,” he corrects. And then his voice gets a little shrieky as he whines, “And it still sucks having to load and unload the dishwasher! Do you know how nitpicky they BOTH are about how dishes have to go in a dishwasher? It’s like the world’s worst game of Tetris! Shit!”
“And you don’t get to whine about it at all for the next month,” Bruce teases him, poking his head around the corner. “Pleasure doing business, chum.”
Dick snaps his head towards him, only to turn back and glare at his friends.
“I could have gotten out of tennis lessons instead, you absolutely shitheads. Ugh!” Then he stomps off.
After he’s left, Conner turns to the others and says, “I thought he was fucking with us about the tennis lessons.”
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