Bat!mom x Dick Grayson; a little Bruce x reader
Summary: reader meets baby nightwing for the first time and comforts him whenever he needs it
All pictures are from pinterest!
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You had only been with Bruce for a little under a year now, but he felt that you should finally meet Dick, his adopted son. You were excited, to say the least. It had been a year of half-finished dinners, canceled plans, and quiet explanations that Dick needed him. You never resented it. If anything, it made you admire him more. So being here now, being included in something as simple as this, felt like a turning point. Like you weren’t just fitting into Bruce’s life anymore, you were stepping into it.
The zoo had been Dick’s idea.
You saw it immediately in the way he walked just ahead of you both, practically vibrating with excitement as he tugged Bruce toward the first exhibit. “C’mon, c’mon, they’re feeding the lions right now,” he insisted, even though there was no sign that was true. His hand slipped easily into Bruce’s, but every few steps he’d glance back at you, like he was making sure you were still there. Still keeping up.
“I’m coming,” you laughed, picking up your pace a little. “You’re a very convincing tour guide, you know that?”
“I am,” Dick said proudly, already nodding. “I know, like, everything about animals.”
Bruce huffed quietly beside you. “That’s a bold claim.”
Dick tilted his head back, undeterred. “I do. Ask me something.”
You played along immediately. “Okay, expert, what’s your favorite animal?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Tigers.”
“They’re fast. And strong. And they can sneak up on things,” he said, lowering his voice dramatically on the last part. “You don’t even hear them coming.”
Bruce glanced down at him, something soft tugging at his expression. “Sounds like someone you admire.”
At the big cat enclosure, Dick pressed both hands against the glass, eyes wide as one of the tigers paced lazily along the edge. “See? Look at it. It’s huge.”
“It is,” you agreed, stepping up beside him. “I think it likes you.”
Dick beamed at that, like you had just confirmed something very important. “Yeah,” he said, nodding seriously. “I think so too.”
From there, he led you everywhere, he monkeys (“They steal stuff, but it’s funny”), the elephants (“They remember everything, like, forever”), the penguins (“They waddle but they’re actually super fast in the water”). Each stop came with a running commentary, some of it accurate, most of it enthusiastic.
At one point, when you paused to read one of the information plaques, you felt a small tug at your hand. You looked down to see Dick’s fingers curling around yours, casual and unthinking, like it had always been that way.
Your heart softened instantly.
“You’re gonna miss the giraffes,” he said, already trying to pull you along.
“I wouldn’t dare,” you replied, letting him guide you.
Bruce walked just behind the two of you for a moment, quieter now. When you glanced back at him, you caught the way he was looking at you, not guarded, not distant, but searching in a way that felt unfamiliar. Careful. You gave him a small, reassuring smile. His shoulders eased, just slightly.
By the time you reached the giraffes, Dick had slowed down a little, the initial rush of excitement settling into something calmer. He leaned lightly against your side as he watched them, tilting his head. “Do you think their necks ever get tired?” he asked.
“Probably,” you said thoughtfully. “I know mine would.”
“They do,” Bruce agreed quietly. “But they’re built for it.”
Dick nodded like that made perfect sense. After a while, Bruce checked the time, then looked down at Dick. “You hungry?”
Dick considered it very seriously. “…Yeah.”
Bruce’s gaze flicked to you. “There’s a stand up ahead. Popsicles.”
Dick perked up instantly. “Can we go?”
You laughed. “Lead the way, expert.” So he did, this time walking between you and Bruce, grabbing your hand again without hesitation and Bruce’s with the other, swinging your arms slightly as he walked.
By the time you reached the stand, the three of you fell into an easy rhythm, standing side by side in line as the late afternoon sun warmed your skin. It felt… simple. Comfortable. Like something you hadn’t realized you’d been waiting for.
You glanced down at him, smiling. “What popsicle do you want, Dick?”
He lit up immediately, but then hesitated just a little, turning his head toward Bruce. “Can I get a red one?”
Bruce looked down at him, then at you, something soft settling in his expression again. “Red’s a good choice,” he said.
Dick grinned, decision made.
Bruce nodded. “You can get a red one.”
“Okay,” Dick said, more confident now, turning back to you. “A red one.”
When it was your turn, you repeated his order, along with yours and Bruce’s. The exchange was quick, bright wrappers, cold treats pressed into your hands, a thank you before stepping away from the stand.
Dick stared at his popsicle for a second. Then his face fell.
It happened fast, too fast. His grip tightened, his shoulders hunched, and before either of you could ask what was wrong, his breathing hitched. A small sound slipped out of him, then another, and suddenly—
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you said immediately, crouching down in front of him. “Dick, sweetheart, let’s breathe together, okay? Can we try to take a big breath in?”
His small chest stuttered as he tried, hiccuping, struggling. His face was red, his free hand dragging across his nose as he clutched the popsicle in the other.
“That’s it,” you murmured gently, placing your hands on his shoulders. “Big breath in…”
He inhaled through his mouth, shaky but trying.
“Good. Now let’s let it out. Nice and slow. Let’s do one more, okay?”
He followed you again, a little steadier this time. Behind you, Bruce stood frozen, his fist clenched at his side. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He just watched, guilt written plainly across his face.
“Good,” you said softly. “You’re doing so good. Can you tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart?”
Your hands moved up and down his arms in a slow, soothing motion. “I-I…” Dick hiccuped. “I didn’t want… this one…”
You softened even more. “Why not?”
“I… I wanted… the red one.”
You glanced at the popsicle in his hand. “Sweetheart, this one is red.”
His face crumpled again, tears threatening to spill over. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you added quickly. “Can you help me understand? I don’t want you to be sad, sweetheart. Tell me what you meant.”
“I… wanted…” he struggled, sniffing hard. “The red one with the… the white and blue too…”
And just like that, you understood. “Oh,” you said gently, nodding. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I didn’t understand you at first, but thank you for helping me understand.”
His crying had already started to ease, your calm grounding him. “How about this,” you continued softly, brushing your thumbs over his arms. “Since we already have this one, let’s try to eat as much as we can, okay? And tomorrow, I’ll come pick you up, and we can go to the park… and after, we’ll get the popsicle you wanted. The red, white, and blue one.”
Dick blinked at you, processing. “…You promise?” he asked, holding out his pinky.
Your heart melted. “Of course I promise, sweetheart,” you said, hooking your pinky with his.
He nodded, once, then again, more firmly this time, before taking a small bite of his popsicle. You gently wiped the last of his tears away. Behind you, Bruce finally exhaled.
The rest of the day softened after that.
Dick stayed close to your side, quieter now but still reaching for your hand every so often, like he needed the reassurance. He finished most of his popsicle, proud of himself when he did, and you made sure to tell him so. The three of you wandered a little longer, stopping at a few last exhibits, but the rush from earlier had faded into something gentler. By the time you left, Dick was leaning into Bruce’s side, tired but content, his earlier tears already forgotten in the way only kids could manage.
That night, as Bruce walked you to your door, he hesitated. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said quietly. “Earlier. Or… the promise.”
You leaned against the doorframe, shaking your head. “I wanted to.” Bruce studied you for a moment, something unreadable flickering across his face, before he gave a small nod. “He liked you.”
You smiled softly. “I like him too.”
The next afternoon, you pulled up right on time.
Bruce was already outside with Dick, one hand resting lightly on his shoulder as he spoke to him. When he saw you step out of the car, his gaze shifted, something like surprise, like he hadn’t quite expected you to follow through.
“You really didn’t have to come all the way out here,” he said as you approached.
You shrugged lightly, smiling. “I promised.”
Dick turned at that, eyes lighting up the second he saw you. “You came!” he shouted, already pulling away from Bruce.
Before you could even respond, he was running toward you, small arms wrapping tightly around your waist with enough force to nearly knock you back a step. “I said I would,” you laughed, steadying yourself as you hugged him back.
Bruce watched the two of you, something quieter, deeper settling into his expression this time. Dick pulled back just enough to look up at you, practically bouncing. “Are we still going to the park? And then the popsicle?”
“Of course we are,” you said. “Red, white, and blue this time.”
He grinned, grabbing your hand without hesitation. And just like that, you were part of it.
A couple months passed before you realized how easily you had slipped into Bruce’s life. It wasn’t just dinners anymore, or planned outings like the zoo. It was quieter things, being in the same space without needing to fill it, late evenings spent talking about nothing and everything, Dick running to you without hesitation when you walked through the door. Somewhere along the way, Wayne Manor had stopped feeling intimidating and started feeling… familiar.
Like somewhere you belonged.
That’s how you found yourself curled up with Bruce in one of the sitting rooms, the soft glow of lamplight warming the space as you sat sideways in his lap, a small jar of clay mask in your hand.
“You’re lucky I’m sharing this with you,” you teased, dipping your fingers into the cool mixture before bringing it up to his face.
Bruce didn’t move, his hands resting easily at your waist as he tilted his head just slightly to give you better access. His eyes were closed, expression relaxed in a way you didn’t see often.
You couldn’t help but giggle, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips before continuing to spread the mask across his skin. “You’re so handsome, Bruce.”
“Even with this mud on my face?” he asked, one eye cracking open just enough to look at you.
“Oh, especially with the mud on your face,” you said, smiling as you smoothed another layer along his cheek.
Bruce huffed a quiet laugh, his arms tightening around you as he pulled you closer, settling you more securely in his lap. “You are stunning, darling.”
There it was, that tone. Still steady, still assured, but softened just enough when it was directed at you that it made your chest warm every time. “So,” he added, glancing at the small jar in your hand, “how long do we leave this on?”
“Until it dries,” you replied, finishing the last bit along his jaw. “Which means you’re not allowed to move.”
“That sounds like a challenge.”
“It’s not,” you laughed. “You crack it, you ruin it.”
Bruce raised a brow. “I think I can manage sitting still.”
“You say that now,” you teased, settling more comfortably against him. “Give it five minutes.”
Five minutes turned into ten.
Your voice softened, your words slower, until eventually they faded altogether. The room fell quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the manor settling around you. At some point, Bruce shifted just enough to press a kiss into your hair.
“Come on,” he murmured quietly, voice low against your temple. “Before this dries too much.”
You hummed in response, barely awake as he gently helped you off his lap. The two of you moved through the routine easily, soft laughter as you caught sight of each other in the mirror, clay cracked slightly at the edges.
“You look terrifying,” you teased, reaching up to wipe a bit from his cheek.
Bruce smirked faintly. “And yet, you’re the one who did this.” Warm water, quiet movements, shared space at the sink. It felt… domestic in a way that made your chest tighten just a little.
By the time you finished, the tiredness had settled in fully. Bruce guided you down the hall without much thought, one hand resting lightly at your lower back. There was no hesitation anymore when you followed him into his room, no second-guessing as he pulled back the covers.
You slipped into bed beside him, the space already warm, already familiar. “Stay,” he murmured, more statement than question.
You smiled softly, shifting closer. “I was planning on it.”
Bruce’s arm wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest, his hand resting securely at your waist. Your head tucked beneath his chin, fitting there like it belonged. It didn’t take long. Sleep came easy, quiet, steady, wrapped in warmth and the slow rhythm of his breathing.
You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you felt it.
A small tug at your sleeve.
“…hey…” a quiet voice whispered.
You stirred, blinking slowly, still caught somewhere between asleep and awake. The room was dim, the soft glow of a hallway light spilling just enough into the space to outline a small figure at the edge of the bed.
He wasn’t looking at Bruce.
Your heart softened instantly. “Hey, sweetheart,” you murmured, voice still heavy with sleep as you pushed yourself up slightly on one elbow. “What’s wrong?”
His fingers tightened in your sleeve, like he needed to make sure you wouldn’t disappear. “I had a bad dream,” he whispered, voice small, wavering.
You didn’t hesitate. “Come here,” you said softly, pulling the blankets back slightly.
Dick climbed in quickly, curling into your side without a second thought, his small hands clutching the fabric of your shirt as he pressed close. “I’ve got you,” you whispered, one hand coming up to gently smooth his hair. “You’re okay.”
Behind you, Bruce stirred, awake now, but quiet.
And for once, he didn’t step in. Because Dick hadn’t come to him.
Dick curled tighter into you, his small fingers bunching the fabric of your shirt like he needed something solid to hold onto. You kept your hand in his hair, brushing through it slowly, rhythmically. “Do you want to tell me about it?” you asked softly.
For a moment, he didn’t answer.
You felt the way his breathing hitched again, uneven, like he was trying to keep it together. “I… I saw them,” he whispered finally.
Your hand stilled for just a second before you gently continued, your touch just as steady. “Your parents?”
He nodded against you, pressing his face closer into your side. “They were there… and I was there too. At the circus.” His voice wavered, the words coming out in pieces. “And they were smiling and everything was… normal and—and I thought it was real.”
Your chest tightened, but you kept your voice soft. “That sounds like a really hard dream, sweetheart.”
“I tried to go to them,” he continued, his grip tightening. “But I couldn’t get there. I couldn’t—” his breath caught, a quiet, broken sound slipping out, “—and then they fell again.”
His whole body tensed. You pulled him just a little closer. “Hey… hey, it’s okay. You’re here. You’re safe.”
“It felt real,” he said, voice cracking. “I thought maybe… maybe they weren’t gone and I just, forgot or something.” He shook his head quickly against you, like he was trying to push the thought away. “But they are. They’re really gone.”
“I know,” you whispered gently.
Dick’s next words came out rushed, tangled with tears. “I miss them. I miss them so much and it’s not fair.”
Your heart ached at the rawness in his voice, at how young he sounded in that moment. “No,” you said softly, pressing a kiss into his hair. “It’s not fair. Not even a little bit.”
He let out a shaky breath, like he hadn’t expected you to agree. “They should still be here,” he went on, the words spilling now. “Everyone else still has their parents and I don’t and I didn’t do anything wrong and I just—” his voice broke completely, “—I just want them back.”
You tightened your arms around him, holding him close as his small frame shook.
“I know, sweetheart,” you murmured, your hand moving up and down his back. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing. What happened to your parents wasn’t your fault.”
He clung to you harder at that, like he needed to hear it. “It’s okay to miss them,” you continued gently. “It’s okay to be mad about it too. Both of those things can be true at the same time.”
Dick sniffed, trying to steady himself. “I don’t wanna forget them.”
“You won’t,” you said softly. “You don’t forget people you love like that. They stay with you, in the things you remember, the stories you tell, the little habits you didn’t even realize you picked up from them.”
He was quiet for a moment, listening.
“You said they were smiling in your dream?” you asked.
“They were… watching me,” he said quietly. “Like when I used to practice. My mom was clapping and my dad was telling me I did it right.”
You smiled softly. “That sounds like them.”
Dick’s grip loosened just a little.
“They loved you a lot, didn’t they?”
“And that doesn’t go away,” you said. “Even if they’re not here the way we want them to be.”
He took a slow, shaky breath.
“Sometimes dreams like that happen because your brain is trying to hold onto them,” you added gently. “It remembers what it felt like to be with them, and it doesn’t want to let that go.”
Dick was quiet again, but this time it felt different, less frantic, more grounded. “…I liked when they were smiling,” he admitted softly.
“I’m glad you got to see that,” you said. “Even if it hurt after.”
He nodded against you. After a moment, his voice came out smaller, tired now. “Will you stay until I fall asleep?”
You smiled, brushing your fingers through his hair again. “Of course I will.”
He relaxed into you, little by little, his grip loosening as his breathing began to even out. Behind you, Bruce remained still. Silent.
But he hadn’t looked away, not once.
Years later, the manor was quieter in a different way. Not empty, never empty, but changed. The kind of quiet that came with growth, with people coming and going, with rooms that had been lived in and out of. You had learned its rhythms by now. The late nights. The early mornings. The soft creak of floors you could recognize without thinking.
And the sound of someone coming to your door in the middle of the night. “Hey… hey, wake up.”
A hand shook your shoulder, gentler than it used to be, but still familiar.
You stirred, brows pulling together slightly before your eyes blinked open. The room was dim, shadows stretching across the walls, but you didn’t need the light to know who it was. “…Dick?” your voice was thick with sleep.
“Yeah,” he said, quieter now. “Sorry. I—uh… can I—”
You were already lifting the blankets. “Get in here,” you mumbled, shifting over without hesitation.
Bruce stirred beside you, half-awake but not surprised, one eye barely opening before closing again as he adjusted to make room.
Dick huffed out a small, relieved breath before climbing into bed, a little less graceful than he probably intended for someone fully grown. He settled on your other side, instinctively close, like muscle memory had taken over. For a moment, none of you said anything. You turned slightly toward him, your hand already finding his arm. “What happened?”
He let out a breath, dragging a hand over his face. “It was stupid.”
“It didn’t wake you up for no reason,” you said softly. “Try me.”
Dick hesitated. Then, quieter—“I had a nightmare.”
Your thumb brushed lightly over his arm, the same soothing motion you’d used years ago. “About what?”
He huffed out a short, almost embarrassed laugh. “I was proposing to Kori.”
You blinked, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Okay…”
“And she said no,” he finished, voice dropping.
The smile softened instantly. “Oh,” you murmured.
“Yeah,” he said, staring up at the ceiling. “Like, not just no. She looked at me like… like it was a mistake. Like I was a mistake.”
Your heart squeezed at that. “Hey,” you said gently, shifting a little closer. “That doesn’t sound like her.”
“I know,” he said quickly. “I know, it’s just—” he exhaled, frustrated with himself. “It felt real.”
You nodded slowly. “Those are the worst kinds.”
There was a small pause before he added, quieter this time, “I was actually… planning on asking her.”
You stilled for a second. “…You were?”
He gave a small nod. “Soon. I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”
Your expression softened immediately, something warm and emotional blooming in your chest. “Oh my, Dick…”
He glanced at you, a little wary. “Too soon?”
“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “No, not at all.” Your hand came up to cup his cheek for a brief second. “That’s… that’s huge.”
He let out a breath, tension easing just a little. “Then why does it feel like I’m about to ruin everything?”
“Because it matters,” you said simply. “The more something matters to you, the scarier it is to take that step.”
He was quiet, listening. “But Dick,” you continued softly, “Kori loves you. Anyone with eyes can see that. One bad dream doesn’t change that.”
He huffed faintly. “Yeah. I know.”
Your thumb brushed lightly along his arm again. “And even if you’re scared… that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it. It just means it’s important.”
He nodded slowly, more grounded now. For a moment, you just looked at him. Really looked at him. And suddenly, it hit you. The little boy from the zoo. The one who had cried over a popsicle. The one who had climbed into your bed after nightmares about his parents.
Or, not gone. Just… grown.
Your chest tightened, and before you could stop it, your eyes started to sting. “Oh no,” you whispered, laughing softly through it as you blinked quickly. “No, no, I’m not doing this right now—”
Dick frowned slightly. “What?”
“My little boy is all grown up,” you said, your voice wobbling just enough to betray you.
“Hey—” he let out a small, amused breath, rolling his eyes fondly. “I’m still me.”
“I know,” you sniffed, smiling as you reached over to ruffle his hair anyway. “I know, I just, this is a lot.”
Bruce shifted beside you, more awake now, one arm draping loosely across your waist as he looked at Dick, something quieter and more intentional in his expression. “You care about her,” Bruce said, voice low but certain.
Dick let out a small breath, glancing down. “Yeah.”
Bruce gave a slight nod. “Then you’re already doing better than you think.”
Dick huffed faintly, not fully convinced, but not dismissing it either. “Still feels like I could mess it up.”
“You could,” Bruce said plainly.
Dick blinked at that. Bruce’s tone softened just a fraction. “But that doesn’t mean you will.”
Dick exhaled slowly, tension easing just a little. You watched the exchange, something warm settling in your chest before that familiar ache crept back in again, the realization, the weight of it. Silence settled again, but this time it felt full. Warm. A little fragile.
You swallowed, trying to steady yourself, but the feeling didn’t quite go away. Instead, it grew. You looked at Dick again, then past him, like you could suddenly see the whole house at once, the rooms, the memories, the years stacked quietly into every corner. “…Are your siblings home?” you asked softly.
Dick blinked, caught a little off guard. “Uh… I think so? Most of them.”
Your gaze shifted, distant for just a second before focusing again. “Where’s Jason?”
Dick hesitated. “Out. Probably. You know how he is.”
You nodded slowly, like you already knew that. “Tell him to come home,” you said, voice quieter now, but firm in a different way. “Soon. Just… tell him to come home. And tomorrow let’s do something as a family.”
Dick studied you for a moment, something in your expression clicking into place for him. “…Okay,” he said gently.
You gave a small nod, your hand still resting against his arm, thumb brushing absently like it always had. Because no matter how much they grew,
