Dick Grayson one shots

Echos of screams P2

It's been soooooo long everyone, but here she is... I'm pretty sure someone requested this, but I'm too tired to look at who so I can tag them :)

Whumptober day 31: asking for help

Dick rubbed at his neck, hating the way his scar felt under his fingertips. He was starting to make a habit out of the action, something Bruce would strongly disapprove of. He only ever seemed to see things like that as a potential linkage between civilian and hero identity if the action started to bleed over.

As if the scar stretching across the skin of his neck wasn't enough to clue people in as to who he was.

The story they'd given the police was planned and thought out by Bruce, the man even going as far as to fabricate fake hospital records in Switzerland. After waiting a week or so they'd sent a story to the news about a skiing accident, claiming someone had strung up some clear thread across the path he'd been skiing.

He didn't really care what people thought had happened at this point.

To make his life even more of a joke he was the only one in the family who knew even a little sign language. The others always just relied on him if they ever encountered someone deaf or mute. They never had been much for communicating.

Dick let out an almost imperceptible sigh. He tapped his fingers on his notepad as he waited in the small room where the community sign language classes were offered. He kept his head bowed as people filed in.

He told himself to be glad nobody was trying to talk to him, but that didn't help assuage the feelings of loneliness that pulsed deep within his chest. He felt alone... so utterly alone.

There was a huff as someone sat down next to him. Their arm inadvertently brushed against his and he snatched his arm away, fidgeting with his notepad instead of looking at whoever had taken the seat next to him.

Someone flickered the lights and Dick looked up, his hands stilling as a smiling lady began the class, writing words on a portable whiteboard and showing everyone the signs.

She went through the list twice before instructing them to turn to the person next to them and practice the signs a few more times.

Dick reluctantly turned to the person next to him, freezing when he saw it was Bruce.

Bruce clumsily went through a few of the new signs, seemingly oblivious to the tears welling up in Dick's eyes.

He dutifully worked through the list, his gaze trained on his hands as if that alone could make them do what he wanted them to.

Dick's lip trembled, Bruce was here.

Bruce finally looked up, his face softening when he saw the tears in his son's eyes. "What's wrong?" He asked softly.

Dick wrapped his father figure in a tight hug, burying his face in the soft fabric of Bruce's pressed shirt. His shoulders shook with his silent sobs, the loneliness and pain he'd been bottling up only moments before escaping through his hot tears.

Bruce was taken aback for a moment, but soon returned his son's embrace, rubbing his back and mumbling soothing words to him.

When Dick finally pulled out of Bruce's arms his eyes were red and puffy. 'You're here,' he signed, wiping tears from his cheeks.

Bruce nodded, glad he understood. "We're in this together," he replied gently, squeezing one of Dick's hands.

Dick leaned on Bruce's shoulder, hoping his mentor knew how grateful he was to have him there.

—

It had been nearly a month since Dick was allowed to patrol and he wanted his coping mechanism back.