Archive of Our Own

Jason had stayed the night at Dick's place a handful of times, but only ever twice at Dick's actual apartment. The rest of the times it was safehouses scattered across Blüdhaven and Gotham. The first time Jason had stayed at Dick's for the night he had been bleeding out and hardly in a state of awareness beyond the lingering pain at the edge of his vision. But he had heard it mentioned in passing by all the Bats, even Cass. Fight with B, huh? Dick's place is good if you need it.

Dick's apartment was universally acknowledged as a Safe Zone, where anyone that was unlucky enough to consider themselves part of Bruce's little brood of chicklets could land and find some peace. You didn't bring the fight with you past the door, you played nice in the sandbox with anyone else who was there, and you got some fucking peace. Dick always had fresh sheets in the spare bedroom, a new toothbrush in the hall closet and a change of clothes to your preferred size and style – it wasn't until Dick mentioned that Tim hated sweatpants with elastic cuffs that Jason realized how well and truly fucked that man was.

This was the first time that Jason had taken advantage of the safety in Dick's apartment just for the hell of it, though he'd been given a standing offer for it ages ago. If you'd told the Jason of three years ago that he would be here, he would have laughed until his throat bled and then shot you. But as Channing Tatum said, shit happens (do not fucking tell Tim that Jason liked that movie, the kid would be insufferable until the end of time). Fights with Bruce never make anyone feel good, and Jason was still figuring out how to balance the relief of his almost-not-quite-maybe-sort-of-Dad being alive with the anger that still lived like the essence of his soul.

All this to say, Jason was snooping. It was a time honored tradition with the Bats, putting their noses where they didn't belong and pretending they didn't know how basic privacy worked. Rite of fucking passage anyway, getting your younger brother to poke around in your business. The safe combination was the date of Robin's first patrol, oh so many years ago. Jason must have been touched in the head for remembering that, except Dick had sounded so soft when he said he could still recall the exact date he felt the magic.

It was mostly the standard stuff: vital documents, aliases and backup aliases, a couple sketches by the demon brat. Jason was ready to call it a bust when he found a manila folder at the bottom, too thin to be anything boring and too thick to be nothing. Even more alarming was the familiar scrawl of Dick's handwriting in Sharpie overtop the folder.

Unsent Letters

DO NOT READ

DO NOT TOUCH

And. Well. Come on. Like Jason wasn't going to read that.

He made himself comfy on Dick's bed, because he hadn't died and come back to life not to be a nuisance. The first thing he saw when he opened the folder was an orange sticky note atop half a dozen fuller sheets of paper, each crammed with Dick's writing in blue pen.

To my family, for all that they've done for me. To all the people that make me a big brother. I'm so lucky to be yours.

Jason flicked through the letters, reading through the names at the top. Alfred, Duke, Cass, Steph, Damian, Tim, Bruce and-

Jason.

Jason was a detective, the same way everyone in the stupid family was trained to notice every little thing and see what wasn't written. He noticed the way the last half of the pages were blotted with circular stains, ink bleeding just slightly, carefully untouched to prevent too much smearing. He saw the way the last letter was easily the most wordy, words cramped small and tight, lines bobbing unevenly and jammed off to the side where Dick couldn't spare the room. He saw struck out lines, heavily blotted to the point where it would have been pointless to try and read them. Jason saw raw emotion, a heart taken out and set still bleeding onto these letters.

Jason swallowed, chest thumping hard. He sighed and dropped the letters onto his lap. He felt at once like he shouldn't read this, like it was too far to know. Jason stared back down at the sheets of paper, noticing the way Alfred's letter was so much neater and broadly spaced, a little smiley face set into the corner of the letter.

Maybe Jason was a terrible person, maybe he was going to hell. But he already knew that.

Alfred,

I have no idea where to start with this. When your therapist tells you to write letters you'll never send to your family, what do you even say? I have so many members of my family that it feels like emptying a swimming pool with a tablespoon to try and say everything I want to say to them? I mean, I did say that. She laughed, but said it'd be good for me. I have so many things I wish I could tell them Alf, and I don't know if I'll ever be brave enough to say it. Some of the stuff I think I missed my chance to say. Just bring up bad memories and then we'd all be feeling like shit and for what, so I could feel better about myself? Nah.

And here you are again, listening to me rant. This is supposed to be about you. It is about you. You were almost as much a father to me as Bruce was. You weren't very good with the emotions thing (LOL, as if that's saying anything with this family), but you tried for me. I think maybe I wish you'd said it enough, or you'd been able to commit to being my dad like Bruce eventually was. But I like who you are to me, and I'm happy. You're the rock of the house, and we all know it. The glue, even more than everyone else says I am. You keep us sane, and you still have a swear jar which is so funny that I bring it up whenever I see any of the Titans. Hey, you know Alfred still has that swear jar? Funny how things never change, how you never stop trying about some things. One time Tim vandalized it and I don't know if I've ever seen you so expressively angry.

Thanks for trying to teach the street ruffians and orphans manners. Thanks for making sure we looked presentable at the galas. Thanks for all the post-patrol snacks. Thanks for all the family brunches, even though most of them end with someone yelling. I think you and me are the only people who appreciate the fact that more of them lately end with someone laughing. Thanks for trying to cook, I'm sorry I was so bad at it. Thanks for trying to learn how to make Romani food, I'm sorry I couldn't remember what my mom's chao tasted like.

Never forget we all love you, Alfie. even if we're all too much of assholes to say it often enough.

Love,

Master Dick

Duke,

You're so much braver than you could ever know. So much brighter and smarter and better than you give yourself credit. I wish I could take you by the hand and show you just how amazing you really are. I wish I could show you all the ways that you make this family better. I think sometimes you're still waiting for it to end, for your parents to come home. It breaks my heart, I just want to take you in my arms and never let you go. I want you to feel safe here. Sorry about all the yelling, I've been trying to get everyone to keep it downstairs because I know it upsets you a little bit. I know as well as everyone else in this family that nothing quite replaces your parents, but I think I get it in a way that maybe the others don't. It's hard to want this new family and this new love when you remember so clearly how your old family loved you. You never stop noticing how it's different, and it never stops hurting that you won't get things the same as before.

For whatever it's worth Duke, you're a part of this family. You're so loved here. I joke about you lighting up the room every time you walk in, but I hope you know it's not really a joke. You really do light up the room. I've seen you drag people out of their bad mood like even I was never able to do. The loudest I ever heard Jason laugh in the manor was when you accused him of being racist because he stole the last of Alfred's beignets. Nobody else in this family fills up the space you do, and you're so special to us. You have a place here, and your room is always going to be yours. Don't try so hard to be worthy of taking up space, just take it and fuck everyone else. My love for you is not temporary, you can abuse it.

I know you think it's cringe that I have your poetry pinned to my fridge, but I frankly don't give a fuck. I love your poetry. I love your art. Please tell me if you submit anything for a competition like you told me you were thinking of a couple weeks ago. Please tell me if you want to go to a poetry night, I'd love to go with you. I've been trying to get through that poetry anthology I bought for you but it's just not the same as yours. Your art is beautiful, same as that tender heart of yours.

I love you so much. You're my baby brother.

Love,

Dick

Steph,

You always said that being a sister-in-law was a mindset, that you were too stubborn to not come to family brunch. But you never needed to be an in-law to me to be my sister, to be part of this family. Bruce loves you too much to not call you his baby, even though he would never say so. You make us better, you're good to us.

Thank you for being Tim's best friend. It makes me feel better, knowing that after our arguments he has somewhere to go and rant about me. Thanks for the threats, for making me do better and be better for him. You're right, he deserves more. You're such a good friend, I love your loyalty and your stubbornness. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend, and we're lucky to have you as a family member. I hope you know you don't have to qualify it. You don't have to say it's honorary, or you're the in-law, or whatever else you say to pretend you're not a little bit of a softie. You're one of us. If nothing else, you'll have to kill Tim and Cass and I to get you out of the house. I'm sorry that we ever made you feel like you don't belong here, but I won't just be better for Tim, I'll be better for you.

Thank you for loving Cass, for being the first one to throw a punch when someone gets impatient with her or says that she's scary. I admire your loyalty a lot, it inspires me to never back down.

Have I ever told you that you have my favorite laugh? I'm sure I must have at some point. I'll say it again anyway. You have my favorite laugh ever. The way you throw your head back and it comes out all at once like you're surprised by it. The way you snort if something really catches you off guard by how funny you think it is. I love the way you lean into whoever's next to you when you laugh, like you're so happy you can't stand it. If Steph is laughing then at least there's one thing good left in the world. You remain one of the only people who don't react like I shot their dog when I make a pun, so thanks for humoring me. I can always count on one ally in my punniness.

Thank you so much for being Robin. I think maybe everyone forgets it a little bit, that we had so much else going on and it was short enough that it was kind of a blip in everyone's mind. I never forgot though. You were an amazing Robin. I still think about the way your curls caught the moonlight when you and Cass were working with me in Blüd. You were Robin when no one else could have been Robin, and you were a Robin that no one else will ever even come close to being. I know you love Spoiler, and I know Damian would throw an absolute hissy fit, but if you ever wanted to go out as Robin again just for one night, I'd do it in a heartbeat. Just so I could hear Robin laugh like that again.

I love you, the funniest little sibling I've ever had.

Love,

Dick

Cass,

My first sister. I love you so much. You're so amazing, I don't think I could ever really tell you just how amazing you are. You inspire me, make me feel like it's easier to get out of bed because of you. If you can do it, if you can find that sweet smile of yours and find a way to keep living and keep loving the way you do, then so can I.

Thank you for always being able to read me, for seeing under my performance and really getting it. Also fuck you for that. Maybe I want to fool everyone, maybe I don't want to talk about it, maybe I would rather peel my own skin off with a toothpick than tell anyone what's bothering me. But I know you get that too, so you don't mention it unless it's really bad. Of course, that's when I don't want to tell anyone the most. I guess that's what therapy is for, learning how to lean on your siblings as much as they lean on you. You make it a little easier, because I know you see it but I can also trust you to leave it alone until you can corner me somewhere in the manor or on patrol. I know you see me and you don't judge me. I trust you a lot. Thanks for not breaking it.

I'm sorry you felt like you needed to disappear when Bruce died. I know it hit you really hard, and I should have been there. I never wanted you to feel like you should have been anywhere else. I should have tried harder to find you, I should have looked for you more. No excuses. I was shitty, and I'm so sorry. I'm so glad you're home now, I hope you never leave again. I can't thank you enough for letting me try to make it up to you.

I'm sensing a bit of a pattern in these letters, but I want to tell you too so I will because it's my own emotional processing and I can do whatever I want so. There. Hah. Anyway. You're loved. You belong here, Cass. I know sometimes you get sad because people still jump half a foot in the air when you sneak up on them and sometimes they cuss you out and I see the way you get upset when they call you the scary one. I know you don't want to be scary like that, not with us. I'm going to talk to all of them, tell them to knock it off. Jason and Tim mean well, they just don't know how to not be assholes sometimes. But it's not funny, not if it makes you feel like you're not one of us. You are. You are, Cass. I love you so much. Also, since I'm not going to tell you this anyway and no one has to know I said it, you're Bruce's favorite. I think maybe it's a tie between you and Jason, but you just barely win. He loves you so much. He told me one time that he's always wanted a daughter. You mean the world to him and to me and to this whole crazy family.

I love the way you dance, I love that you taught yourself like that. I'm the one who's been slipping you the audition forms for that intensive in the Gotham Ballet Theatre. I know you know that, but I didn't want to push. You deserve to make the choice for yourself. I think you'd be amazing at it, and I'd love to see you onstage. I'd love to perform with you, silly as it is. Us performing artists gotta stick together, huh? Maybe we could come up with a routine or something. We wouldn't have to show anyone, we could just do it in your studio or on the set in the cave. I just want to spend time with you, and I think I'm still figuring out the best way to do that. You're my sister, you're one of my favorite people ever. I want to make you happy, I want to spend time with you.

I love that you feel safe enough to like soft things around us. I like your plushie collection, I have all their names written down so I don't forget. I like that you wrap yourself in an obscene number of blankets when we watch a movie together, I think you look adorable. I love that the manor is slowly becoming a place for you to be soft. Please come visit, we love having you. I love having you.

I love you, my first sister always.

Love,

Dick

Damian,

Baby bat. My boy, my babiest brother, my love. I love you more than life itself. I love you so much it hurts me, that I sit alone some nights and I cry about how much I love you.

I've never told a single person this, I've never even told my therapist. I feel guilty even writing it out now, but therapy is therapy and maybe I just need to say it so that it's not just haunting my head all the time.

You'll always be a son to me. You'll always be my first kid, whether I have any of my own or not. You're my Robin. My tikno. My sweet, darling son that I love in a way I don't know if I'll love like anyone else in the world. God, and I feel like a piece of shit for even thinking about it, but I miss you sometimes. I miss those days, awful as they were with how much I missed Bruce and Tim and Jason and Cass and it was just the three of us alone in that huge house but I got to see the way your walls slowly dropped around me. And I saw you and I was lucky enough to see that hard shell of yours peel back to reveal the sweet, soft, compassionate boy that feels like mine. You're so good, you have so much light and love to give and I never want to give up on that. No matter what anyone says, I'll always try. You deserve to have someone whose love never gives up, who never turns their back on you. I swear to you that I will always be that for you. You're my Robin.

I don't want to take you from Bruce, never that. I don't want to ignore what your connection with him means to you. I don't want you to feel like you have to choose between Batman and your brother and your dad. I know that you still have a thing about blood connection, and I know what it means to you that you have something special with Dad. It's okay that you like that, even if you shouldn't rub it in to everyone's face. You're allowed to want something, you're allowed to be a kid. I want you to be a kid. I want you to feel safe and protected and happy. I love that little smile of yours, I love the way you edge closer to me when you want a hug but you're too embarrassed to say anything about it. I love the way you treat animals, the way you can't really hide your kindness when it comes to them.

If I can say one thing. Never forget your language. Practice it, speak in it as much as you like in the manor. Don't ever lose those words. It breaks my heart that I can't even fill a notebook in the words my parents and I spoke in. I went too long, I was too afraid of speaking it and I was too afraid of getting it wrong and now it's lost and I don't know if I'll ever get it back. I've picked up books and I've looked through databases but it's not the same and I'll never be fluent in it again. Sometimes I hear a word and it sounds just close enough to remind me and then I'll write it down because I never want to forget it again. I don't want you to go through that. I've picked up some books, been doing Duolingo for you. I want to be able to speak with you like no one else can.

I'm rambling and this is me being so horribly selfish but I want you to be mine. You aren't mine, and I don't know what Bruce would do if he knew I felt like this but I'm scared of it because I don't want to not be his son and I also don't want to not be your brother but I also don't want to not be your baba so I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do and I'm trying to be okay with it. You deserve the world, my baby. I want to give that to you, I want to take you under my cape like when I was Batman and I could protect you from the rain. I miss the days when you would fall asleep on me and I wouldn't move for hours because I just wanted you to get your rest and I wanted to be safe for you. I remember the one time that you had a nightmare and you trusted me enough to come in my room, just a week before Bruce came back and everything was different again.

It was an honor to be your Batman for a time, and whatever else the rest of our siblings are, you'll always be my Robin.

Love,

Dat

Tim,

My favorite little stalker. My resident IT expert, the man I can go to if I need to hide a body. I'd sit through a thousand seasons of Grey's Anatomy with you even though you know I hate it because it stresses me out that people are dying while they're making out in the supply closet. I love watching trash TV with you, I have a list in my phone of all the shitty shows we should watch. I wanted to watch Glee with you, before all that shit went down. I booby trapped my apartment recently, just in case you came by.

God, even in my own letters to myself I'm stalling. What a piece of shit, huh? There's just so many things I need to say, so many places to start. I could never apologize enough to you. You hate it when I apologize to you too much, you're just like Jason.

Thank you for letting me worry about you and be a mother hen, especially in the beginning. I know it annoyed you, it's always annoyed you when people try to take care of you. We don't do it because we think you're stupid or incapable, we do it because we love you so so so much. I know how it feels to run yourself ragged for the people you love, for a cause. I know how it feels to want to help so badly you forget how to do anything else. I never tried to bully you into sleeping because I didn't think you were capable of doing a good job, I just wanted you to rest. I wanted to snuggle you and cuddle up to you and take care of you. I wanted to be a big brother, the way I wasn't to Jason. You taught me how to be a big brother, and I like to think I taught you how to be a little brother. It's why I always laugh the hardest when you're a little shit to Bruce or Jason or Cass, because I was the one who taught you how to do that. Thanks for letting me bond with you, even though it was awkward as hell and I was still having nightmares five times a night thinking about Jason. You never made me feel bad for it, which was more than I deserved. I hope one day I can mother hen you again without making you feel overwhelmed.

Thank you for saving Bruce, the first time and then again. I'm so sorry you had to do that. It could only have ever been you, as horrible as it is. Bruce and I were too far up our own asses to do it, and you've always been so ruthlessly caring. I love your brain, I love how scary you are when you put your mind to something. You were an amazing Robin. I'm so sorry that I took that from you. I'm even sorrier that I don't regret it. I had a whole plan, a whole thing I wanted to do for you. I even made a fucking powerpoint. It was called Dick Grayson's 14 Step Plan to Kick Ass, Take Names and Save Gotham. I thought you'd laugh when you saw it. We'd laugh and we'd raid Alfred's pantry and watch shitty TV like old times and I'd help you draw up a new suit, come up with name ideas. But I didn't do it right, I did it wrong and it hurt you and I of all people should have known how it felt like getting a part of your soul ripped from you to not call Robin your own anymore. I'm sorry. And now you have a restaurant chain for a name, LOL.

If I'm being honest, it does bother me a little bit that you think your resentment about Robin is unique to you. Because it was taken from me first, and it was taken from Jason second, and you third. I know that kind of pain. I would never have done it to you on purpose. I thought you trusted me enough to understand that. But I get it, like I said. I could never be angry at you.

You were right about Bruce. I've said it once, I'll say it a thousand times. I know you said that's not really what you were mad about, but I'm still sorry. I should have believed you. I don't know if I can really explain myself in a way that won't just piss you off. But I couldn't get my hopes up. It hurt too much. You were never a second priority to Damian, I never cared about you or trusted you any less. I just didn't know what the fuck I was doing.

This isn't supposed to be a self flagellation session. Jason always gives me shit for doing that, and I'm supposed to be practicing self compassion as an act of radical care or whatever. So I'll be done now. But you should know that I'm sorry, and I'll never stop trying to fix things between us. It's been getting better lately. You asked me for my opinion on a case and I almost cried I was so relieved I was worth that to you again.

You were the first one in our family to struggle with belonging the way that some of the others do. Maybe that's why you and Steph got along so well, because she has that whole thing about not being part of the "real" family and you have that thing about how you forced yourself in. I love that you forced yourself in. I hope you never stop forcing yourself in. You're too amazing and too good to not take up space in a room. We all love you. And don't listen to Jason when he says Steph is his favorite, we all know it's you. I'm glad you let him take you out for chili dogs, it makes me happy.

We've got a date set up next week, so long as you don't have any major cases and I don't do anything to piss you off. You agreed to come over and catch up on the newer seasons of Grey's Anatomy. I bought that caramel kettle corn you like and made sure my guest room is made up, just in case. I really really hope I don't fuck it up. I miss you man. I miss you so much.

I love you, babybird. I love you so much. Take care of yourself, please. My little shithead of a brother.

Love,

Dick

Bruce,

So many things to say to you. This is going to be even worse than Tim's, I can already tell. Save the best for last, am I right? I say that like I'm not procrastinating on Jason's letter like it's my day job.

First things first. I am NOT sorry for holding you accountable. You need someone to call you on your shit and everyone does it but I think I do it the most accurately. If I do say so myself. You're a nightmare of a person sometimes, even though I know you mean well and you love us all more than you know how to say. But I am sorry for how it went down, especially during those rocky days. I know now that you just wanted me to be safe, and you just wanted me to be your son. I know that now, and I forgive you for some of it. You were trying your best. I'm sorry for trying not to be your son, for wanting to step out of your shadow and forgetting that I didn't have to step out of your life. Thank you for wanting me back.

You are something else, man. You are the most pigheaded, stuck in your ways, stubborn, terrible with people, ridiculous man I've ever had the misfortune of calling my father. You drive me absolutely bonkers. I say this because if I let myself go too far down the angry rabbithole then I'm just going to rip this letter to shreds and I don't want that. I want this to be something I can look back on. So. Ridiculous man. I deserve a pay raise for being fluent in your weird little grunts and shoulder shrugs and then having to try and translate them for the family.

Thank you for everything when I was a kid. You saw that anger in me and you still managed to keep the joy alive and whatever else your flaws, you saved me. I don't know if I've ever really communicated to you just how much Robin saved me just as much as it saved you. I think you know. I think you get it, like how Batman saved you. It kills me just as much as I love it how much we're the same. I think maybe we were soulmates of some kind, bound to each other in a way. You saw me that day and you kept coming back for me, you kept waiting for me. I can never thank you enough for that, even if I'll still get in screaming matches with you and argue over your parenting of Damian and try and get you to lay off the kids. We both want what's best for all of them.

I'm sorry I didn't go with Tim to look for you. I was a coward, and I was weak. I guess if we're doing the soulmate thing, I felt like half of a person when you died. It felt like the grief was going to swallow me whole. You think you know what grief feels like and then it takes you by surprise because it looks just a little bit differently every time. I've grieved so many people for so long. The two of us don't know what we look like without grief. I couldn't have lived with it if I got my hopes up and you weren't there after all. It would have genuinely killed me. I almost died anyway. I had to stay to take care of Damian or I would have lost myself. He needed me.

Speaking of which, I'm sorry about that. You don't know, or at least I think or maybe I just hope you don't. Or maybe I hope you know and you've just never said anything in the Classic Bruce style. I'm sorry that I made him my son. I didn't mean to do it, I promise. I don't regret it. That's one hell of a kid you've got there. Crazy to think I was part of that, helping him be the boy he is now. Every day I hope you don't screw it up. I hope I don't screw it up. God and maybe it would just be easier if we could sit down and be honest with our feelings and I could say holy fuck I'm scared I'm doing this wrong and you can say oh God me too and if we're in this boat together we might as well know we're not alone. I love him, Bruce. Loving him showed me how you loved me, funny enough. Like I could look at this kid and I finally understood why you did everything you did. Even firing me from Robin, I get it a little bit now. Not that I don't think you should have done it just about any other way because holy Christ, Dad. What the fuck.

Thank you for trying to be better for the kids. I see you trying. I see you giving them hugs and shoulder pats more often. I see you telling them good job. I see you trying to communicate your expectations, even if it's so fucking awkward that it makes your kids laugh. I see it, and I'm so fucking grateful. They should never have had to wonder like I did. Sometimes it kills me a little bit that I wasn't worth trying like that for. For as much as you loved me, I wasn't worth changing like that for. I know that's not true, I know that you were trying so hard but you were young too and you didn't know what the hell you were doing and you were just as broken as I am now. Most of the time I feel grateful more than I feel angry.

You told me not long after you got back that you were proud of me. I remember exactly what you said. "I'm proud of you, Dick. There hasn't been a day since I've known you that I wasn't proud of you. You were a better Batman than I can ever be. Thank you."

I went home and I cried and screamed and laughed until I didn't know what to feel. But I think about it a lot. The day I finally stopped being your ward and started being your son was one of the best days in my life. For all your ridiculous faults and your stubbornness and for how much I can't fucking stand you sometimes, I love you so much. Without you I would never have been a big brother.

Thank you for calling me yours. I'm sorry it took us so long to get there. For as long as you'll have me, I'm your son. I want to be closer with you. I want to be open. Maybe it's fucking stupid to want to hug my dad so bad when I'm closer to 30 than I like to think about. But we missed a lot, in those years between Robin and now. I lost time with you that I'll never get back and it kills me.

I love you Dad. Please don't leave me. Not before I can be your baby again.

Your son,

Dick

Jason

Riddle me this, little wing. Why is it harder to write a letter for you than for Bruce? How does that math add up? Shouldn't the daddy issues trump everything else? Come on dude. Work with me a little bit. I think I've cried so much writing these stupid letters that I'm going to have a headache for the next three business days. I want to do this one right, maybe more than any of the others. Even if you're not going to see this, I always want to do right by you.

It may surprise you to know that you are more predictable than anyone else in this entire family. Granted, a lot of that is because your first instinct when confronted with literally anything happening is to get angry. But your patterns are the same. You go to the same rooftop on Clarence Blvd when you have a tiff with Batman, you've had the same chili dog order since you were thirteen years old, you get red in your ears whenever anyone is nice to you for too long. I also know that every time I've dragged myself through your window you cuss me out until you're blue in the face and then you stitch me up with the straightest, most evenly spaced stitches of anyone else. Then you pretend you have to look really hard for clothes in your dresser that fit me, even though I know you keep them in a specific spot. You shove me towards the couch and you tell me that you hope my back is fucked in the morning and we pretend that you didn't buy a brand new couch after the first time I stayed the night and you noticed my neck was a little stiff. You make breakfast to feed the five thousand, and you tell me that you're a growing boy but you divide the food in half anyway.

Is it weird to say that you're kind of my rock? I feel like I can depend on you for a lot of things that I can't depend on with any of the kids. It's hard for me to rely on any of you guys, but it's the least hard for you. Which feels weird. Like, maybe I should be a little bit more gentle with you, try and be more of a mentor in the way that I try for the others. But I know you would absolutely fucking hate that, and I missed my chance on that one.

You hate when any of us bring up your life before you died. I get it, I really do. I don't want you to think I'm ignoring that. But sometimes I still dream about you when you were just a boy and you said Robin was magic. I wake up crying and I smile and laugh and cry some more. God, you were just a kid. I won't say sorry, because I think somehow you would know and you'd come hunt me down and kill me. But it trips me out sometimes still, that you're taller and bigger than me.

I will say sorry for one thing, though. Because I might as well be selfish. I'm sorry I wasn't a good brother to you before. I was trying to figure it out and I was so fucking mad at Bruce all the time and I didn't know who you were and it was just a lot. I regret it, I wish I could somehow fix it. I should have been there for you. Maybe things would have been different. That's all I'll say, I already feel like you're going to crash through my window and throw me around a little bit.

I do think sometimes, you get so hung up on the idea of being Bruce's greatest failure that you forget you haven't entirely changed. You aren't a whole new person. Like I said, you still get the same chili dog order. You still care about kids and you still hate rapists and predators and people who hurt children more than anything else in this world. You still have a plant by the window facing the sun, and you still buy meat to feed the stray dogs around the Alley. You're still a sweetheart, even if you hide it under all that anger. I've seen how you love. It is different, but it's also the same. And I don't think that's too different from how I was. I'm different than I was when I was fifteen, but I'm also the same. That's not wishful thinking on my part to say that you're still my brother after everything.

I have a list of every book you've ever mentioned to me that I can remember. Every year since you've been back I bought one and then got too chicken to give it to you. I donated them, don't worry. But it doesn't escape my notice that you have the same favorite Shakespeare play as when you were a kid. I keep an eye on the theatres in town, check on their programs to see if you're in anything. I wouldn't say anything. I'd go and I'd stand in the back the whole time and I'd sneak out before you saw me and I could pretend like I didn't get to see you do something you love again. I think you should do it though. We all need a creative outlet and we all have our shtick. You'd never hear the end of it from Tim if you went and did theater but I know you loved it when you were a kid.

You're an amazing brother, Jay. The fact that you're the best at pulling Tim out of his panic attacks means something. The way you know three different sign languages for Cass. How you look out for Damian when we forget that he was raised by the same people you were for a little bit. Thank you for sticking by Tim through everything. I like that you guys are shitheads to each other, that after everything you can still wrestle and play pranks. It gives me hope that maybe things with me and Tim aren't broken forever, you know? You're really good to us. God forbid we say the B word around you, but you make up for it.

You've heard the song and dance lots of times. Bruce loves you. Bruce grieved you. But I don't know if you ever knew how hard I screamed at him when I saw the memorial case. I told him you would hate the good soldier thing. Gold star to me for not gloating about it. He told me he didn't deserve to be your father, to call you his son. I called bullshit on that too. Bruce is a lot of things. But I hope if nothing else you know that you can literally get away with murder with that man. I know he's been trying, since he got back. He wants to be good. Near death experiences and life flashing before your eyes and et cetera et cetera you don't really give a shit but I hope that eventually things get okay with you guys. I'm glad you're coming back to the manor more often. I heard you guys had a civil conversation for longer than three minutes the other day so congrats, I'll make a cake.

Don't ever feel sorry for being angry. I don't know if that's something that you think about or that bothers you. I feel like it would bother me, but you never really had a problem taking up space with your emotions. I might as well say it anyway, I guess. Don't ever apologize for it. You deserve it. Your anger protects you. I'm glad you don't let people get away with hurting you. I wish I knew how to be angry like that, where it wasn't just me being hurtful and petty.

Please lean on me more. Please let me be your brother. Come take up space on my couch. I got Wonder Woman merch just so you could wear it. I downloaded a recipe for chilaquiles just in case you ever wanted to use my kitchen. I know I'll never be a mentor but maybe I can still be a big brother. I love you so much. The kid that made me a big brother, the man that brought so much into my life. Please come hang out with me after patrol, come rant to me when you and Bruce get into it, come read to me when I get migraines, come yell at me for having an empty fridge.

I love you, little wing. Maybe more than I'll ever say. You deserve the world, and there's not a single day in my life where I don't say a prayer to thank whatever's up there that I get to have you here on Earth again.

Love,

Dickhead

Tears were streaming down Jason's face and his sleeve was wet where he'd rubbed it against his face reading the last letter. With minutely shaking hands, he set the letter addressed to him back in the folder. God. What a mess they all were.

Because Dick had better – or perhaps worse – timing than anyone else on the planet, he chose that moment to jiggle his keys through the door and shoulder his way in. Every instinct in Jason's mind screamed at him to stash the letters and tuck them back in the safe under the bed. Pretend everything was normal. Instead he just sat there like an idiot and listened to Dick's inane babble as he audibly moved into the kitchen.

"I knew you'd wake up and bitch at me about how there's no produce in the fridge, so I went out and got some shit. It's not from fucking Whole Foods or wherever you like to shop, because I don't make crime lord money and I can't be picky like that. But I got eggs and bacon, figured you probably ate like Gaston in the mornings."

Jason couldn't move.

"Where you at? I see your door open and you left the blankets looking like a hurricane swept through my bed. Are you- oh."

Jason dimly looked up at Dick's figure stepping through the doorframe. He wore a simple hoodie and loose jeans, Converse that looked at least six years old. He looked at Jason's reddened mess of a face, then down at the letters in Jason's hand. His gaze hardened, mouth setting into a thin angry line.

"What the fuck, Jay. You're going through my things? How did you even-? What the fuck? I can't believe you-"

Jason didn't register the space between one moment and the next but all of a sudden he had stood and crossed the room and he'd pulled Dick into his arms. Jason wrapped Dick up the way he sometimes squeezed Tim until he went limp. He pressed his face into Dick's neck the way he remembered doing as a kid to Bruce, the way he still wished he could. He pulled Dick in close and held him the way he wanted to hold and be held by his brother when Jason woke up screaming and thrashing.

"Jay-?" Dick asked, his voice strained.

"Shut up. Just let me hug you. Fucking octopus, cuddly little bitch."

Dick let out a startled laugh. His arms came up tentatively around Jason's shoulders. He was gentle for a couple seconds, like he was afraid Jason would turn into mist in front of him. Then Dick's grip tightened and he hugged hard and solid.

"Are you okay?" Dick asked.

Jason had to laugh, or else he'd start crying all over again. He could already feel tears at his eyes again. "You have fucking issues, Grayson. Do you ever not need to fix everything?"

Dick laughed, just as wet and hoarse as Jason. "Hazard of the job. I just want you all to feel safe and happy."

"God," Jason said roughly, pulling away enough to see him. Sure enough, there were tears at the corners of his eyes.

Jason realized at once that he had to say something. He couldn't not say something. He couldn't let this moment get swept under the rug of all their shared history. Jason couldn't allow himself to forget just how deeply Dick Grayson loved, and how good he was at it.

"Fuck," Jason sighed, throat sticking with the sinking knowledge that he was really going to say it, "Listen. I'm only going to say this once. You better fucking listen. Got it?"

Dick chuckled, but maybe he could already sense where this was going because he looked a little nervous. "Okay, little wing. I'm listening."

Jason dragged up every pathetic word he had, every ounce within himself that possessed the capacity for love. He summoned everything he had that wasn't rotten with anger and it felt too small. It had to be enough. He hoped to God it was enough.

"You are the singular best and most loving person in the entire world. You have this absolutely ridiculous ability to look at someone and see beyond all their flaws to whatever goodness is inside. I don't know how you do it. I don't know how you looked at me in those early days and still asked me to come home. I don't know how you got the demon brat to trust you and to love you. I don't know how you've done this vigilante shit for as long as you have and still come out of it believing that people are any kind of good. But it's...fuck, Dickie, it's amazing."

Dick laughed wetly, more of a sob than anything else. He squirmed, and Jason held fast to his shoulders. Dick brought his hands to close around Jason's wrists, grounding them both.

"You're the best of all of us, Dick. Your goodness and your kindness absolutely terrify me. You're an Olympic-level social butterfly, and it's baffling to me. You make everyone feel like they're your best friend, like you don't love anyone quite the way you love that particular person."

"It's because I don't," Dick replied, voice small and lips trembling.

"That's amazing. And...fuck, I wish I was good at this shit. Wish I wasn't fucked in the head so it was a little less exhausting for you to love me. But listen."

"I'm listening, Jay."

"You're my brother. I think we're well past the point where I can pretend like you're not. I don't wanna, anyway. You're my big brother and you somehow manage to make me feel safe. No one else does that for me. Not like you. I never want you to change, I never want you to feel like you're not enough. You do so much for us, for this stupid fucking family that I want to hate. You don't need to be anything else but yourself for us."

Dick's lips were thin, holding back even as tears streamed down his cheeks. He threw his arms around Jason's neck and leaned into him. For once, Jason was able to take some of Dick's weight. He steadied his brother, and they both cried.

"Sorry," Jason murmured into Dick's hair, "Wish I had the words to say all that a little better."

"What are you talking about, that was fucking beautiful. You asshole."

Jason laughed. Dick cried.

"I love you so much, little wing."

"Love you too, Dickhead."

"You guys mean so much to me. You especially."

Jason pressed a rough kiss to Dick's temple. He breathed in the floral scent of Dick's cowash. "We love you, big bird."

Then they were rocking slightly, back and forth while they steadied each other. And it wasn't for the first time, but Jason had never really felt it so fully. He was glad to be alive. He was so fucking grateful he got a second chance, so that he could be here to be Dick's brother and have this.

"God, I hate feelings," Jason said, entirely pretending like he didn't feel lighter and freer than he'd felt since he wore the goddamn pixie boots.

"Yeah, I bet. Lots of big feelings, huh?"

"Asshole," Jason said fondly.

Dick smiled. Jason felt it against his neck, along with the tears pooling there. "I'm still so mad at you for reading those. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"You're not the only one who gets annoyed by how similar you are to Bruce."

Dick huffed. "Don't think I won't tear you a new one once I'm done crying about how much I love you."

"Don't worry, I'm fully prepared. How do you like chilaquiles as an apology meal?"

Dick burst into tears again. Jason held him close. For a moment, everything was okay.