Chapter Text
The building was one of the highest Dick had ever climbed. He just wished he could enjoy the view.
Nighttime Gotham City was one of Dick’s favorite sights. Lights from cars, buildings, and neon signs lit up the sky, painting the outline of dark buildings with all colors of the rainbow. At least if you could see it through the usual downpour. Sometimes, it felt like all the tears ever spilled were collected in the clouds above Gotham, then poured onto the city below. When it wasn’t raining, most of the stars were clouded by light pollution. If you wanted to see them, then you’d have to climb up on a tall apartment building, and even then, you were lucky to find one dim speck. One constant was the wind. It ripped across the land from the bay. It would bite you through clothing and leave you shivering unless you had properly prepared with layers upon layers.
On this particular night, it was raining. Not the downpour that Dick generally tried to avoid, but a light mist that thoroughly soaked through his blue hoodie. The wind swirled around him, chilling his bones. It grabbed his hood and yanked it off, letting his hair whip wildly at its sudden freedom. Most nights he would replace it atop his head.
Not tonight.
He looked down at the air between him and the ground. It looked a long way down. The kind of drop that sent even his acrobatic heart into a panic. He could feel his pulse pounding in his throat. Wayne Tower was one thousand feet tall, according to Tim-
Dick closed his eyes and bit down on his bottom lip. On most nights, he would swallow the sorrow. Swallow the tears. After all, most nights he had three brothers who needed someone to be strong for them.
But not tonight.
His face was stained from the tears that had already fallen and despite his best efforts, they started up again. The salt mixed with the rain, leaving a sour taste in his mouth as Dick let out another sob.
Something hard pressed against his head. Something small and round. Something cold as Gotham’s winds.
Dick took a deep breath and looked down, his heart still racing. Thoughts slowed to a jog, then stopped. He was out of time.
His arms lifted up, with a mind of their own, spreading out into imaginary wings. Heart pounding in his chest, he swallowed the fear down.
One last flight.
He looked up at the sky. A break in the clouds revealed the full moon for a brief second, shining down onto his face before it disappeared forever.
Then he jumped.
Twelve-year-old Dick Grayson pulled his thin blue hood up around his head as he ducked out onto the streets. Although it was late June, every one of his brothers wore a thin jacket with a hood at all times. Sometimes they got strange looks, but Jason had insisted on it as a safety precaution. Dick hadn’t understood it at the time. At least, he hadn't until they had a run-in with the cops a month later. It hadn't been in the plan to participate in activities that could get him arrested.
Then again, his life had spiraled out of any “plan” a long time ago.
He should have a happy family, swinging from the trapeze like a Flying Grayson. He should be traveling the world, making memories, and living a good life. But in all reality, life never turns out the way you expect it to.
For example, Dick had been planning to spend the day collecting tin cans and plastic water bottles to sell. Tim’s birthday was coming up in a few weeks (July 16th) and Dick wanted to give the kid something special- it was his first birthday in the system; the first without his father.
Then Damian had woken up before the sun and had run off- again. The entire morning consisted of Jason and Dick searching the city for their youngest “sibling", with Tim remaining at the house in the unlikely event that Damian returned of his own free will.
After three hours, Dick finally found the kid in an alley almost halfway across town, surrounded by his “adopted" army of pets. Most of them were alley cats (ten to be exact, each with their own name), but two stray dogs (Musky and Spot) were also present.
Damian was sitting on a crate, two cats asleep on his lap. The others were purring at his feet, fighting for attention. He hadn’t noticed Dick yet as he spoke aloud, “-then Nightwing flew down from the light pole--perhaps he did not fly down, but he might as well have--doing a somersault in the air before landing on his feet, without a bit of a stumble. JayBird complained that he was a show-off like he does every time Wing does a trick and Crow started pestering him with questions about the circus- again. And I-”
“-wanted me to teach you, baby bird.” Dick teased with a smile.
All the animals bolted much to Damian’s displeasure. “You interrupted me! And do not call me a baby bird.”
“Aw, but you are the baby bird,” Dick grinned and tried to hug Damian, to which Damian ducked out of reach.
Dick sighed, “All playfulness aside, you ran off again.” He plopped down next to Damian and tried to, again, sling his arm around him. The boy wiggled away.
“This is Gotham City . Anything could happen to you. Anything. You could be abducted by aliens and no one would be the wiser.” Dick sighed, “I’m not asking for your exact coordinates. Just tell me when and the area-”
“Then you follow me. Or Drake. And on the rare occasion, Todd.” Damian folded his arms, clearly annoyed. “I have survived on my own before. I do not need you to babysit me!”
Dick pinched his nose and sighed. “Once, there was a man-”
“ Oh my gosh , are we really doing this?”
“-who lived in the forest with his family.”
“We are doing this.” Damian pulled his knees into his chest and groaned.
Dick ignored him. “It was a quarrelsome family and after having tried in vain to teach them through words, the man thought it better to learn through an example. So, he called his sons and told them to lay a bundle of sticks at his feet. Then he tied them into a bundle. He told the boys, one after the other, to pick up the bundle and break it. The sons all tried but in vain. Then untying the sticks, the man gave them to break one by one. They did this with the greatest ease. Then said the Father-”
“-As long as you remain united like these sticks then you are no match for all your enemies, but differ and separate, and you are undone.” Damian finished with a sigh. “I know, I know. You have told me that story over a hundred times.”
Dick chuckled, “Well, I’ll tell it a hundred more times until it finally gets into your head that we are in this together.” He stood up and held out a hand, “Speaking of which, we need to get back. I’m sure Tim is trying to jam the police scanners to keep them from finding you.”
Damian shook his head but allowed his eldest “brother” to help him up. “ Ttt . I’ve only been gone for a few hours.”
“That’s long enough. Come on, baby bird. ”
“I am not a baby!”
The apartment their foster parent owned was small. There was a small living area that consisted of a tiny kitchen and seating area, but the boys rarely saw it. Roman generally threw food into their room at meal times before retreating back to his television that was on twenty-four-seven. Dick couldn’t recall a time the muffled sounds of tv dramas and sport station talk fell silent. Roman slept on the couch. Correction: he lived on the couch, leaving only when he had to buy food. His job consisted of being a work-at-home salesman. His computer was on his lap from nine am to five pm, as he clicked and worked, half-watching, half-listening to game and reality tv shows.
Their ‘schooling’ was old textbooks Roman had bought off eBay (at one-point Roman had allowed them to attend the local public school, but after the first “parent-teacher” conferences, he pulled them out, claiming it was a waste of time and money).
Roman had one rule of the house: if no one was dying, then no bothering him. And honestly, none of the boys cared enough to break the rule. Damian had been with Roman the longest (since he was two- so about six years), with Jason the runner-up (four years, three months). Dick was right behind him (four years even) and Tim the newest addition to their little gang (just under a year).
The four shared a bedroom that had one window facing the alleyway. If Dick could count the number of times they climbed in and out of their little hideaway via the fire escape, then he would have been richer than Bruce Wayne.
The room itself had two bunk beds pushed against the walls on separate sides of the room, leaving the window clear of clutter which made easy access to the window. Dick and Tim shared the one to the right; Jason and Damian to the left. Dick and Jason had claimed the top bunks, although Damian still complained about it. A small collection of clothes was piled up in the tiny closet in the corner. Mostly jeans and plain t-shirts. Under Tim’s bunk was a loose floorboard where they kept an emergency store of cash- about one hundred dollars.
Dick had insisted that the money was to be used in medical emergencies only, but Jason consistently snatched small bills and came back with a blanket or more food. He made sure to replace the money (through means that Dick suspected were not always honest) and usually did so before Dick noticed (which made him very frustrated).
When Damian crawled through the window, Jason smacked him on the back of his head. Tim settled for a quick hug, which Damian escaped from as soon as possible. “Can you quit doing that? Please?”
Dick jumped down from the window sill, choosing to ignore the open laptop on Tim’s bunk that was clearly attached to the radio antenna.
Damian hopped up on his bunk and smirked, “You have your hobbies and I have mine.”
“Running away and talking to alley cats is not a hobby.” Jason retorted back.
Damian raised an eyebrow, “It is less destructive than yours Mr. “ Breaking and Entering ”.
Jason stiffened, taking a defensive position. “I do not- ” He cut himself off, taking a deep breath. “I like… testing locks. I don’t steal anything… usually.” He pointed at Tim, who was shutting his laptop quickly and quietly. “At least I don’t jam police scanners.”
Tim froze. “I- I- I- I don’t - I was hiding Damian! I have an excuse!”
“It’s still illegal.”
Tim shoved his computer under his pillow and the old antenna under his bed, clearly self-conscious.
Dick pinched his nose. Fate must have a strange sense of humor putting the four of them under the same roof. Then again, it's Gotham. The city isn't exactly known for its sense of humor.
(The Joker was not funny, no matter what he claimed.)
Damian had been enough excitement for Dick’s day so no way in Gotham was he putting up with a Tim and Jason argument. It was already two in the afternoon! Time to get on with the original plan: collecting plastic bottles and cans.
“I’m going out,” Dick informed everyone.
Damian immediately protested. “You can wander off by yourself, but I can't?”
Dick bit back a groan. His mind scrambled for a second before coming up with a solution. “You can come with me, Damian, if you’d like.” Dick could handle the kid (when he wasn’t running off) and Damian had always liked secrets. What better secret was there than a surprise birthday present?
“Where would we be going?”
“The park.” Plenty of cans in the trash that could be salvaged.
Damian rolled his eyes, “Come on, Wing. Why can't we go somewhere more exciting?”
Jason had to pipe up, “Kid's got a point. Maybe we could all go down to the wharf.”
Tim appeared interested in that, his posture perking up just a few inches.
Dick sighed in defeat. He would have to aim for another day. Again. At this rate, he’d need to talk to Jason, which was the last thing he wanted to do. Gotham only knew where that cash came from.
But hey, a family outing might be just what they all needed right now. His parents had always told Dick that family time was the best time. “Alright, the wharf it is. Everyone coming?”
No one answered verbally but scattered to grab their various bags and supplies.
“I'm gonna take that as a yes.” Dick grabbed his own bag and slung it over his shoulder, already packed with some snacks he had smuggled out of Roman’s cupboard and a full old water bottle he dug out of a dumpster and had cleaned up.
Definitely not how he planned his day to go- but at least Jason wasn’t breaking into someone’s car.
Again.