Dick Grayson One-Shots { requests open }

gotta love that ✨anxiety✨

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𝗦𝗵𝗶𝗽 (𝗶𝗳 𝗮𝗻𝘆): n/a

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 935

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: Bruce has to force Dick to decompress when stress gets too much for him to handle. (i feel like the more depressed i get, the worse my writing gets lmao. it never used to be like this so i dunno what's happening XD. my writing used to get better when i got depressed but whateverrrr *sigh*)

𝗧𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: anxiety, panic attacks

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Richard Grayson was young— fourteen, in fact. Which is much too young to be so stressed out that you can't even sleep.

Night after night, Dick would find things to preoccupy his mind so he wouldn't have to think about things he didn't want to think about. 1 AM, 2 AM, 3 AM... they came and went. He'd stay up nearly the whole night because he knew if he tried to close his eyes and sleep, thoughts would overtake him. His heart would speed up, his body temperature would rise, and panic would set in. He would do anything to avoid that feeling...

Which is precisely the reason he was doing "critical" recon in the Bat-Cave at 4 AM on a school night again. It kept his mind off of the stressful things floating around up there. But, it also kept his grades from their normal peak height and his relationships from their typical energetic state.
And those things had not gone unnoticed by those closest to the little bird...

"Dick?" Bruce's soft voice echoed through the eerily quiet Bat-Cave as he laid eyes on his ward hunched over the computer. "What're you doing down here? I thought you went to bed hours ago."

Dick didn't even spare his father-figure a single glance. He just kept his gaze fixed on the screen in front of him.
"Couldn't sleep."

Bruce cautiously approached the teenager, furrowing his brow in concern. "Dick... is everything okay?"

Dick finally met the older man's gaze, "Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Because..." Bruce cocked an eyebrow worriedly, "it's four in the morning and you're doing research on The Joker— who's securely locked up in prison right now. What's going on, Dickie...?"

Dick just shook his head, rubbing his eyes and looking as if the world weighed down on his shoulders. "Nothing, Bruce. I'm fine."

"No," Bruce turned off the computer, forcing his son to turn and meet his gaze, "you're not. I'm the greatest fucking detective on Earth. You think I can't notice when something's wrong with my own kid?"

Dick scoffed and gave a slight shake of his head, "Leave me alone, Bruce."

Bruce chuckled softly, giving the teenager an apologetic smile before doing the very last thing said teen expected. He lifted his abnormally small son, threw him over his shoulder, and started back up to the Manor, ignoring Dick's screams of protest the entire way.

Ignoring an odd look from severely disgruntled butler, Bruce trudged up the stairs and didn't stop until he reached his son's room, where he threw said son down in the bed.

"Now, talk," Bruce commanded, taking a seat at Dick's desk.

"What... the hell... was that?" Dick exclaimed, eyes wide.

Bruce pursed his lips before stating in an emotionally void voice, "That's what happens when you don't listen to me."

Dick narrowed his eyes at his father, "I'm fourteen, Bruce. You can't just tell me what to do and expect I'll do it."

Bruce gave a low laugh. "Dickie, you aren't even old enough to drive. Of course you have to do what I tell you to. I'm your guardian and you will do what I say."

Dick practically growled, "Oh, sure. When I'm Robin, I'm old enough to take down even the baddest of criminals, but as Dick I can't even decide when to go to bed?"

Bruce sighed, giving his ward a concerned look. "Sure you can— when you're responsible about it. It's four in the morning, kid, and you have school tomorrow. We both know your grades have been slipping and this is why. Now tell me what's going on so I can help you."

Dick's rough exterior faltered, his eyes fluttering to his hands. "It's stupid..."

Bruce's eyes softened, rising from his seat at the desk and moving closer to his son. He sat down on the edge of the bed and got as close to Dick as he could without spooking him. "If it's affecting you, it isn't stupid."

Dick exhaled softly and met his mentor's gaze, the dark circles under his eyes seemingly more dramatic than they were just moments before. "I get... I get really anxious when I try to sleep. My- my mind— it just... it won't shut off. It makes me think about things I don't want to think about to the point of getting panic attacks. It's just... it's easier to distract my mind all night than to go through that..."

Bruce sighed quietly, immediately pulling his son into a tight embrace, "Oh, Dickie... Why didn't you say anything? I could've helped you..."

Dick shook his head, "I didn't want to bother you. You've got enough to worry about besides my stupid ass anxiety."

Bruce just tightened his hold on the young boy, "If it's affecting you this bad, păsărică, then it's important to me. I don't care what it is, you can always talk to me— no matter what."

A tear slipped down the young sidekick's face, his voice cracking as he uttered a soft, "Mulțumesc, Tati."

Bruce just held his son in his arms, not letting go until the sun began to rise over the horizon.