Chapter Text
Dick tried not to speed towards the Manor. It wasn’t a true emergency, after all. That, and being pulled over by an asshole GCPD traffic cop (and the traffic cops were often the worst assholes) would make it take even longer to get there.
Thankfully, he was able to call into the bakery to have his order ready. No strawberries. And - and Danny and Jazz hadn’t had allergies. If that had changed he could ask. A variety pack should be fine, right? Bruce would have said if they needed Gluten Free or something wouldn't he? Maybe he should just -
I'm spiraling, he recognized. Deep breaths. We’re all fine. Alfie, at least, isn’t going to let anyone go hungry in his house. And if we need to special order a treat we can take care of it when we get there. The thought is what matters.
The thought matters, he reminded himself. And getting there, and hugging his siblings - all of his siblings - for the first time. Ever. He’s looking forward to it.
Dick breathes through the drive, though picking up the bakery items - a variety of donuts, a bunch of baklava, a treat well within Alfred’s capabilities but finicky enough that the man saves such for special occasions but was Jason's favorite. Oh, and those mini chocolate silk pies look good too - No. He’s trying too hard.
Dick smiles through the brief conversation with Sarah at the counter - Yes, he’s celebrating some good news, nothing too special, but he’s happy about it - and gets back to the car.
Carefully not speeding. Well. Not speeding enough to get him noticed. 12 miles over is nothing special, in Gotham.
It's too long and too soon before he’s pressing his car’s security button for the gate, Ace wiggling a bit in the back in anticipation of Home. Ace. “Hey Siri, send a text to Bruce,” and as much as the thing can be a security issue, it’s fine on his Civilian phone, especially with Oracle’s beefing of his devices. “Did you warn the kids about the dog?” He said after the beep. “Also I got pastries,” he adds. Text sent, he’ll just have to hope. Not that it’s likely that B won’t check his phone but anyway.
He’s parking, right next to Jason’s bike - and that’s still new, again. Still rare. No sign of trouble though. Good.
He lets Ace out and sends him to take a leak while he wrangles the pastries. He’s running around a bit in the invisible fence, good. He probably caught onto Dick’s excitement - but the dog can stay outside while he confirms the kids will be okay with him. So a little energy bleed is fine.
Deep breath, and Dick opens the kitchen door. Time to hug his siblings. All three brothers and his sister, who never, ever once left his heart.
Jason is sitting at the counter and Dick can’t help the smile softening over his face, to see his brother here - alive alive alive! - and, oh, oh, oh.
That’s Jazz. That’s his little Jazzy. That’s his sister, alive and grown and bending down with a wet napkin, just like he remembered her fussing as she cleans a grown and healthy looking Danny.
Tim clatters some dishes down and Bruce is walking into the room and Alfred is inhaling to start some kind of scold and - and -
Dick can’t help it. He sobs.
“Oh my god. It’s really you. It’s really the two of you. My siblings are home. My siblings are all home.”
***
Danny didn’t know what he’d expected, to be honest. To be believed, maybe. To find some help. Some better safety than Jack and Maddie would offer them, had offered them. It was a risk. It was all a risk.
If he hadn’t trusted Jazz so much, to be honest, he wouldn’t have agreed to this at all. No other adult had helped them, not really. Just… looked at them as the Fenton Kids, and that was that. Occasionally looked uncomfortable. The closest he got to… to love-with-support was Tucker’s Mom, sometimes, but she was busy working a lot and, well. Obviously he wasn’t her kid. And he shouldn’t have been!
So. Uh. He didn’t expect anything out of the Waynes, not really. Maybe some advice, some other step on the journey to get away - stay away - from their parents. But not… not this. Not the old butler - grandfather? - in Alfred, offering bandages and gentle words and gentle hands, turning to hide his face when tears entered the corners of his eyes. Not the brother in Tim, with immediate acceptance and support of strangers - strangers he’d clearly heard about, heard stories of. Not of Jason, who was blunt and honest but also welcomed them into a place he claimed as a Haunt! And also had heard about them, and looked at them with support - and with terrible sympathy.
Not Bruce, who was. Well, it was pretty clear the man was putting off emotional reactions until he’d figured out things. At least to a ghost’s senses. But… it was like figuring out that there were deep currents in the water, and strong ones. Danny had had a little practice with that, with Clockwork. There was a terrible joy, a terrible relief. And a terrible, deep sadness, when he’d been listening to Jazz. It’s part of what gave Danny the courage to say as much as he did to Mister Alfred. But there was… it was like the man was bedrock. A solid foundation. Something…
… Something Danny, and Jazz, could rely on.
It was a little scary. He was trying not to think about it.
And it’d been a great evening, all things considered! They’d gotten cleaned up and Bruce and Alfred and Tim had been incredibly reassuring somehow and Jason had given them permission to be here, in this place he’d claimed unknowingly, and Tim had gently bullied Jason to playing video games with them, and then Bruce had woken them up from the couch to warn them that Dick would be home soon, and Jazz had said “Really?” in a little, broken voice that Danny didn’t think he’d ever heard from her before.
It - it wasn’t a bad voice, like she was scared, either. It was… Something else.
So they were in the kitchen again and Tim was getting down plates and Jazz had found a smudge on Danny’s face and was cleaning it off and it was so embarrassing, and of course that was when Dick came in the door! Dick Grayson! Who Paulina, Star, and Valerie all had had locker posters of in Middle School! The man had dated models for goodness sake!
And Dick Grayson came through the doorway with a grin, which softened when he caught Jason sitting there, and then spotted Danny and Jazz and fell apart into tears of joy.
Because. That was apparently a thing that Danny and Jazz could inspire in these people.
Tim managed to pull the overflowing boxes - were those really all pastries? - out of Dick’s hands just in time for Dick to shed his light coat and rush over to them with all the grace of a trained gymnast. Or a predator. And it was a testament to how safe Danny felt that he only shied a little behind Jazz, rather than going out in defense.
“Oh my god it’s really you two. It’s really my sister and brother. It’s really you! Let me look at you, can I look at you?”
Like. Like aunts on television cooing over a beloved child. Like someone finding a long lost loved one. A loved one. To be cherished.
Danny didn’t know what to do with that, and sat down, hard on the floor.
And suddenly from this angle, haloed in the kitchen light overhead, he remembered a face. A boy. A flip.
“Oh. You. You got me my toy. My astronaut monkey. I loved that.”
Mom had thrown it away - “It’s too dirty, honey! We’ll get you a new one!” - when he was ten.“I loved it so much.”
“If you loved it even a little, even a hundredth as much as I love you, as I’ve missed you, Danny, you and Jazz, then it was worth ten thousand times what we paid for it, kiddo,” Dick swore like an oath.
Like someone Danny could trust. Like a big brother.
Like a protector.
Oh. This could be a home.
***
“Give the kid some space, Dickface, he barely remembers you.” Jason knew his voice was a bit coarse, but he ignored that.
After all, he remembered that expression on Dick's face. It'd been directed at him alone, not too long ago.
“I'm okay! Honest!” Danny protested quickly. “It's fine!”
Jazz snorted, and Jason made a note to keep an eye on Danny. Kid might not know it's safe to have his own limits, all thing considered.
“Thank you for the pastries, Mr. Grayson,” she said politely as Dick's attention landed on her, and oh, this was more than worth being at the Manor to see Dick's face at that one.
“Jazzy, never call me that again, little sister,” and Dickface made the distance in two smooth steps to wrap her in a hug too. “I missed you. I worried about you both so much.”
Jason politely ignored the stifled feminine sob that followed. Oh no, sobs. Ew, Dickhead, get a grip.
Exploring the pastries was the better part of valor, and he was unsurprised to find Tim already raiding the boxes for a bear claw, the brat.
Ooo, a jelly filled. Jason didn't doubt it was raspberry and snagged it.
“Any thoughts on what to grab the kids?” he murmured.
Tim sideeyed him. “Jazz is older than me,” he pointed out calmly. “Just about, oh yeah, your age.”
Jason rolled with it. “And how long do you think it'll take everyone else to register that they're not babies anymore?”
“Longer than it should,” Tim admitted, “So don't make it worse.”
“It's okay. Jazz deserves some babying,” Danny said, coming out of nowhere. Jason was grateful that Bat Training kept him from jumping out of his skin
“Well, maybe you do too, squirt,” he replied, handing Danny a donut. The kid squinted at it warily before biting in. Jason traded glances with Tim and felt a modicum more despair.
“Pick out one for your sister and we'll rescue her from Dick.”
“I don’t think she needs that,” Danny grinned at Jason. “But thanks.”
Jason found himself smiling back. “Anytime, kid.”