Dick Grayson Trash

Drag Epilogue

-requested by @DCr3ativ3Abomination -

Dick wasn't talking to Bruce, and his foster father could not figure out why! He'd ungrounded the boy, what was the issue. If anything, Bruce should be giving Dick the silent treatment, he's the one who totally embarrassed his father in front of most of Gotham's 1%.

The boy didn't speak, he moved in sunken, defeated way, and Bruce hadn't head Alfred scold him for climbing on things even once. If Bruce hadn't been thinking about him so much, the kid would've completely blended into the background.

The thing was, Dick was usually really bad at giving the silent treatment. Usually, Bruce would leave him alone for about an hour, and then approach him with some trivial question. Eleven out of ten times, Dick forget he was mad would answer instinctively.

Bruce had suspicion as to why his foster son was acting like this, but it was pretty vague. His idea was that Dick was angry that Bruce scolded him in front of his friends, and now he was trying to punish his father by not talking. If that was his intention, it was immature, and ineffective, Bruce wouldn't give in to that.

Two hours later, Bruce was knocking at Dick's bedroom door. "Dickie? Can I come in?" He let himself in when there was no answer. 

Dick was lying on his made bed, staring at the ceiling. His room looked... empty. Clean, but devoid of colour and personality. Bruce's heart dropped a few feet as he noticed the blank spot on the wall across from Dick's bed. It been covered for so long that the rectangle of paint was far lighter that the wall around it.

"You took down your Flying Graysons poster." He exclaimed, sitting on the foot of Dick's bed. The boy nodded a little. "Why would you do that?"

"Too bright." He shrugged, speaking for the first time in two days.

"Two bright? It's been on your wall for five years! It looks perfectly normal!"

Dick shook his head. "Too colourful. It's distracting."

"Okay..." Bruce felt worry shoot through him. Dick would never move his poster, once when he was younger, Alfred tried to move it, and Dick cried for two hours. The father looked around and noticed many other objects had been removed, a photo of the duo eating ice cream had been taken from the nightstand, and all Dick's clothes had been neatly packed away in the closet. To Bruce's horror, Dick had even taken his favorite elephant from the headboard. "Where's Peanut?"

"Under the bed, I think." Dick said flatly. Now Bruce was getting really worried. He patted Dick's shoulder, and quickly left.

He headed to the watchtower to work, he just needed to get out. He felt a wave of relief to see Dianah had also chosen to work there. She was trying to figure out how she was going to manage the team over the next month, what attention each member needed, who needed special training, etc. 

"Batman." She acknowledged, seeing him arrive.

"Black Canary." He replied. "We need to talk about Robin."

Her face lit up a little. "Oh, yes! I read Clark's article." 

"I know. Listen, Richard has been acting off lately. I was hoping that since you are the team's psychiatrist, you might have some insight."

She shook her head. "Patient confidentiality. Even if I knew something that pertained to the matter, I wouldn't tell you unless I had Dick's permission, or it was life-threatening."

Bruce sighed, he should just bug the room. "Can you at least give me your opinion on what's been happening? He's been acting off since Friday night."

"You mean when he dressed in drag?"

"Yes, but mainly afterwards." Bruce stated. "He hasn't been talking."

The woman thought for a second. "Did Dick get in trouble? For what he did, I mean, did you scold him?" Once Bruce confirmed, she saw the issue. "He got in trouble for expressing himself. Sure, it  was more extreme than usual, but being told that being loud and expressive was bad, is leading him to being a lot more shy."

"Talking about Dickie?" Barry asked, slumping against the walls next to them. "I know it's not my place-"

"It's really not."

"Not at all."

"Right, right, but I heard what happened, and you need to let Dick off the hook. Negative feed back messes with him. Especially when it comes from you, he looks up to you so much.

"I hesitate to admit it, but Barry's right." Dianah admitted. "He might stop doing what he normally enjoys, or he might even try to hide parts of his life that he thinks are too showoff-ish."

Bruce nodded as solemnly as possible, internally cursing himself out. "Thank you four your input."

"My pleasure."

"Not you, Black Canary."

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"I thought you'd be busy tonight." A voice purred next to Roy's ear.

He jerked around at lightning speeds, drawing his bow. "Cheshire!"

"You know, that was a nice jumpsuit, But didn't the velvet get awfully hot?" Jade was undoubtedly smirking under her mask, poised at the edge of the roof.

Roy flushed a little. "Did you come here just to mock me?" He growled.

"Mmmpretty much." She answered, like she had to think about it. "Where's little arrow?"

"Right here." Artemis hissed, landing between her sister and sort-of brother.

"You've gotten taller." Jade said, patronizingly. "I must say, I adored that little outfit you wore at the party on Friday. I never imagined you doing drag... does mom know? dad?"

"You tell them, you're dead, Bitch!" Artemis through herself at her sister furiously.

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"Hey. Dickie?" Bruce opened the door. Even after four hours, Dick was still lying on his bed. "I have something for you."

"What?" He said in the same, tired, pathetic voice as earlier.

"Oh, just these." Bruce held out the sparkly silver high heels he had confiscated two nights ago.

Dick's face lit up. He fell off his bed with excitement and took the heels from his foster father. "You're... letting me have them?"

"Yep, I think you deserve them."

"Really?" 

"Really."

A smile tugged at the corners of Dick's mouth. He scurried to the bed and sat down to affix his shoes. He stood up, proud, and now a couple inches taller. suddenly his expression deteriorated again, and he sat down to remove the shoes. "I can't. They're too flashy."

"I don't think so. I think they suit you." Bruce encouraged. Dick looked up shyly, questioning him. "They fit your style well."

"Thanks." Dick muttered. "I chose them myself. Five dollars."

"An absolute steal." His father agreed.

"Thanks for giving them back." Dick murmured, standing up again. 

"Sure thing, but..."

"What?" Dick asked, voice filling with worry.

"Be careful not to scuff the floor with those heels. Alfred will have your head."

Dick watched his father leave again, a smile playing across his face again.