blackstar1416 requested something inspired from Robin Year One and since I own the comic, I had a fun time pulling quotes for this fic and getting some inspiration

these two are so Never Love an Anchor by The Crane Wives

Things were tense in Wayne Manor since the Two-Face incident and the subsequent firing of Robin. A fragile balance had been shifted when Bruce pulled rank to fire his protege even if it was for the betterment of his health and the position was reinstated later when he realized there was no stopping his ward. The relationship that they had carefully built was all too close to tumbling down around them and neither of them knew how to move on from it. To make matters worse, neither of them was going to make the first steps to talk about it.

To Dick, Robin had always been his own creation, something that was entirely his own and shared with Batman in the same way Batman was shared with the Justice League. He worked with Batman but Batman didn't own the title and it didn't belong to him either. He couldn't snatch it away or give it to someone else if he disagreed with something Dick did because it wasn't his to take and gift. That was what Dick signed up for when he used the name his parents called him and used their iconic colours for his suit. The persona was supposed to be his own like how Batman was Bruce's. It was supposed to be a tribute to the people he lost so that when he saved people, their memory could be honoured. He thought that was what he was supposed to expect but Bruce had proved that if it came down to it, he would step in and cut the ties on Dick's behalf no matter what. It was an overstep that reminded him that he wasn't the equal he thought he was. He wasn't the vigilante Bruce made him believe he was.

From Dick's perspective, he assumed that he was fired for making a mistake that got him out of commission and killed a man. Bruce yelling at him when he was bandaged up and stuck in bed had confirmed as much since he'd never seen the man so angry. How Bruce had refused to look at him even when he begged and his tirade only being stopped by Alfred. He showed Bruce up in front of a villain, an important villain no less. This villain had a personal history with Bruce so of course he'd be extra pissed that his protege indulged in a stupid game and lost. 

Getting his title back wasn't because he did a good job showing he could be independent and make up for the hurt he caused but rather a begrudging one because he wouldn't stop. A rare second chance he wouldn't receive again so he had to be perfect now. No matter what. He had to listen, he had to be there and he had to be the perfect soldier. Soldiers get hurt and keep going for the sake of their mission so that's what he did.

Bruce, on the other hand, fired Dick because he was going to get himself killed. He knew that there were good intentions and perhaps some panic at the thought of losing him involved in Dick's decision. He could understand that he didn't take the best precautions when he fired the kid. If he could do it again, he would've waited until his ward was healed fully and talked about it more rather than losing his temper with a bedridden boy. It just hurt to see Dick in pain yet refuse to believe that perhaps he wasn't ready to be a vigilante, talking about his recovery being only a few weeks. 

Bruce remembered how he'd felt in the waiting room, wondering if his ward would even survive his first steps in the hospital's ER let alone everything that came after. He couldn't help but relate it to when he lost his parents. He felt just as helpless even at twenty-seven. That fear had fueled him not to wait, that fear had egged on his temper and caused him to pick the worst moment to tell Dick about his decision. 

He knew he was awful for avoiding Dick after firing him. It was mutual in a way where they'd both silently agreed to never cross paths but he should've been the bigger person. He should've been there for the appointments rather than sending Alfred and making Dick go in alone. He'd overhear things, Dick perking up slightly when retelling what Leslie had said to the family butler, but he didn't make an effort he knew he should. Not even when he saw Dick work so hard to get back to full strength.

When he realized that Dick wouldn't stop and would only go behind his back to be a vigilante under a mentor without his best interest at heart, Bruce accepted that there was just no stopping him. Bruce had thought that when he first started too but it became all the more real when Dick ran away to find someone who would indulge him. He was determined to fix things in the world by being Robin and the whole reason Bruce stepped in was because he had to make sure Dick didn't get either himself or someone else killed. Yet Dick wouldn't stop and Bruce took him back, hoping perhaps naively that things would go back to normal. It didn't.

Bruce knew something was wrong with his ward. He knew Dick well enough to know when he was doing something behind his back even if he didn't know exactly what it was. The boy could fool anyone else but not him since he'd been the one to teach those same sneaking tactics. He was twitchy one day and then completely out of it the next. He was always fidgeting like every piece of furniture was made of needles and spent nearly all the time he had at home in his room if he wasn't training.

Admittedly, he gave Dick the benefit of the doubt in the beginning given the circumstances. He thought Dick was just avoiding him at first as some prolonged silent treatment for taking away Robin but then there'd be moments where it was like nothing happened between them. When Dick would look at him with those big eyes begging for some validation or he would grin that infectious grin at the end of a hard night. There were times he took over paperwork so Bruce could work on Justice League plans and he'd accept extra tasks readily, sometimes asking for it, but he would always work with it upstairs.

It could've been something from school bothering his ward but there was nothing wrong with his grades, all Dick's absences could be accounted for and Alfred reported no sign of harassment when he picked up the boy from school so it couldn't be that. Usually, he'd get a few calls saying Dick was sleeping in classes so he should make sure he wasn't staying up all night but even those had been nipped in the bud. If school was the problem then it wasn't the obvious one.

Work had been strangely kind to them. They had a few issues with their regulars but nothing like the Two-Face incident. He knew that Robin was taking hits that he realistically shouldn't walk off so quickly but he guessed that could be attributed to a higher pain tolerance since the attack. Dick would always tell him when he hurt too much to do good work and he didn't notice any slip-ups that would contradict him.

Then he'd just so happened to look in Dick's medicine cabinet. He'd misplaced his own painkillers and, knowing they were highly addictive, doubted Leslie would give him a refill on the spot so he decided to check Dick's cabinet for anything he could take instead. He knew that there wouldn't be any recent prescriptions but there might be some leftovers from a broken arm or a sprained wrist that would be enough to hold him over until he found the other pills.

He slipped into Dick's room when his ward was training downstairs. He glanced around the room, surprised to find it so clean. Alfred no longer cleaned the room on a weekly basis and instead only once a month for a thorough clean. This new routine had been enforced by Dick which he assumed came from a place of wanting privacy but he honestly hadn't expected him to keep the place in order. He smiled to himself and headed to the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet and looking amongst the shelves.

He noted a few empty bottles that had been left, most from when Dick was recovering from his injuries. Leslie had told him to keep the bottles since she suspected he'd need a refill when they were out but he hadn't requested any. He frowned and took them out intending on throwing them away but behind one was a bottle that had no business being in Dick's cabinet. His own painkillers that had gone missing were hidden away behind rows of empty bottles. Bruce didn't want to believe it at first as he took the familiar orange container from the shelf. Maybe there'd been a mix up and Alfred's eyesight was finally failing him with old age so he mistook the name on the bottle. Yet Bruce knew that couldn't be the case. Deep down he knew that wasn't what happened. 

Carefully, he opened the cap and counted out the pills. There should be ten left yet even from a first glance he knew there wasn't ten left. Eight round pills sat in the palm of his hand. His painkillers hadn't been missing for long, only enough for him to notice he hadn't taken a dose of it so he could be at least glad he wasn't dealing with a potential overdose.

"Oh Dick, what did you get yourself into?" he muttered. How the fuck was he going to deal with this?

For a few days, Bruce didn't do anything but take the pills with him when he left. He needed time to think about his response. He knew being stern would do nothing, partially because of the fallout from taking away Robin and partially from seeing enough people on the streets who had been treated all too harshly in response to their addiction. In short, being overly harsh and not trying to get to the root of the issue would only result in ruling himself out as someone to go to when things went too far. He needed to have a real in-depth conversation about emotions and problems. Both of which Bruce was terrified of in regard to his ward.

Bruce was willing to push it off even further but then he caught Dick slipping into his bedroom, likely going to retrieve his stolen pills. He sighed to himself and followed in after him only to find this problem was somehow bigger than taking strong painkillers. He'd held back going into the bathroom when Dick walked in and remained silent, watching him open the bathroom mirror to the pill cabinet behind it. Bruce didn't know if he was waiting because he was hoping for this to be a misunderstanding or to catch him in the act. When Dick found what he wanted, he leaned back and closed the mirror but in his hand wasn't an orange pill bottle but a bundle of bandages and alcohol wipes. 

"Are you hurt?" Bruce asked before he could think. Dick jumped and whipped his head to the doorway where he stood. There was a brief moment of hesitation before he shook his head.

"No."

"Then why do you want alcohol wipes and bandages?"

"I ran out of them in my room. You can spare a few."

"If you're not hurt then why did I find my pills in your room?" That's where he had the acrobat who licked his lips nervously and let his gaze wander to anywhere else other than Bruce. He closed up on himself and abandoned the supplies on the counter. He made an attempt to leave the room but Bruce blocked him. "I'm not mad about the pills. I'm worried. About you."

"You have a funny way of showing it," the younger muttered. "I don't know why the pills were in my room. Maybe Alfred thought they were mine or maybe I picked them up by mistake."

"We both know that's not true." Bruce put his hand on his shoulder, remembering all the times that had been their silent signal that they were in this together rather than at odds. They were partners, weren't they? "Tell me what's wrong." His hand was brushed away and Dick stared at him, suddenly looking far too old.

"What? So you can fire me again?" It almost sounded like a joke. It wasn't.

"I promise I won't."

"I don't trust you," Dick replied bluntly. "So move." 

"Not until you tell me what's wrong."

"Why should I?" the younger asked, exasperated. "Whose to say you won't question your judgement again? Wasn't I just a terrible error in judgement?"

It became apparent to Bruce that he hadn't seen his ward up close in a long time without his mask. His eyes were slightly sunken in from lack of sleep, looking like holes in the snow with how his once tan skin seemed to pale into something sickly. He never did seem to perk up after recovery but Bruce had thought it was from the lengthy bed rest.

He seemed to favour his right side which was definitely new because his balance had been perfect only a few nights before. Dick hadn't been eating well but he thought it was just because the last few meals weren't to his liking. Alfred had never been the best as making his fancy dishes fit for the richest of Gotham all that appealing to a circus kid who lived off microwave meals and the few fresh things his parents found at markets. His right hand twitched, almost going to press against somewhere but stopping quickly. 

"Will you let Alfred look at it?" Bruce asked in an almost desperate tone. It could be anything at this point. 

"I'm fine."

"You're not. Either you let me look or you let Alfred look. You have to pick."

"Is that an order?"

"It can be." Dick scowled at him and honestly, it made him uneasy. He immediately felt like he'd missed something and in turn, had misstepped and done the wrong thing.

"If I pick you, can we do it here?"

"As long as it's not serious." 

"Fine. You do it." 

With that, Dick hopped onto the bathroom counter and pulled off his shirt then rolled up his pant leg. He was sporting two injuries, one being a stab wound and the other looking like puncture marks from shrapnel. To Bruce's horror, he had no memory of Alfred treating either injury and he had no memory of where they could've come from. There was no time he'd seen an unusual patch of red on the Robin uniform or heard cries for help. 

"You treated these yourself?"

"I'm not there yet. I went to Leslie before meeting back up with you," he explained. "She's the only one that'll treat me and not say anything to you." Bruce hated the idea of him trudging into Leslie's office with these injuries, knowing he could get care and home but not wanting it. 

"What do you need?"

"They need to be swapped out for new bandages." Bruce nodded and went about preparing them having done the same motions on his own injuries countless times. He knew Leslie would do good work on his ward but that didn't make it any less concerning that she'd treated him without his knowledge. She could've told him or at least given him a heads-up but nothing. 

"Why did you have my pills in your room though? If she treated you, surely she gave you something to take?"

"I refused them," Dick admitted although he sounded proud of that fact rather than shameful. The shame came to next. "It hurt a lot the other night and I didn't have my own stuff left over. I meant to put it back."

"You could've told me."

"You would've benched me. Maybe permanently. I don't know anymore." He fidgeted a little as Bruce got to work and kept his eyes focused on the marble counter underneath his hand. "I thought by now you would've said something but I guess you said your piece."

"I was waiting for you to bring it up," the older admitted. 

"That's not fair."

"I know but we're both here so we could talk about it now? Might help take your mind off of this part," he said, gesturing to the wounds. They weren't infected but they still weren't comfortable to have. 

"I guess," Dick muttered. "I just- Robin was my thing. You said it could be my thing and then you go and take it away. What annoys me is that you get to be hurt as badly as me and still get to keep your job. Your mission matters and mine is what? Just indulging some kid?"

"It was never that your mission was less worthy than mine."

"Is it because I killed that man?" 

Bruce froze and stared at his ward. Dick briefly wondered if he did something wrong but the look he was being given wasn't one you get when you mess up. It was soft in the eyes and paired with a deep frown. It was the sort of look you get when you talk about something tragic. He'd seen it enough in teachers who tried to get him to open up about his parents through projects like making family trees. 

He eventually recovered and got to work although he kept that look on his face.

"You didn't kill anyone. You made a mistake."

"That's not what you said when you fired me. You said that I didn't listen, that an innocent man was dead and I was nearly killed. You never said it wasn't my fault or I made a mistake. You said I didn't listen and an innocent man died." He hardened his gaze, hissing a little when Bruce disinfected his stab wound first. "You went on like nothing happened B. You weren't there for my appointments, you weren't there for my physio and you stayed in the cave until I got your attention again and you took me back. Probably only did that so you wouldn't get a bad name, right?"

"I didn't fire you because he died."

"Because I nearly died then. How is that any better?"

"I'm sorry if the thought of burying my child is one I couldn't live with."

"But you can live with it now? What did I do to make it okay? Or did you just think it didn't matter anymore?" Dick snarled. His fight left him as soon as it rose though and he just looked tired. Like he needed to sleep for a month. "You sure didn't give a shit about me when I was recovering."

"You avoided me too."

"You're the one who wanted me to let you die. You're the one who fired me when I was stuck in bed and wouldn't look at me. You're the one who took me back when I agreed to be your soldier and I guess that means I'm just that nowadays since you only talk to me when I'm Robin."

"That's not what I meant. I meant that I needed you to follow orders like a soldier but you'll always be my kid."

"No, I'm not. You find pills in my room that I shouldn't have and you just don't mention it? We've had two 6-hour stakeouts since then! I know you can see me fidget but you never ask why which you should've especially when you thought I was sneaking your pills."

"I didn't want to ruin it again," Bruce whispered. He moved to the leg wound perhaps because he didn't have to look at Dick's face whilst he spoke or see it in his peripheral vision. "I fired you because I was scared and when I get scared, I get angry. That's my issue and I took it out on you. Seeing you made me angry because I couldn't protect you that night and you were so broken in that hospital bed."

"So it's my fault then?" 

"No, it's not. It's mine. I should've been there for you," he stated.

"It still hurts sometimes. When it's cold," Dick said. "I know Leslie said I could take a refill but it just makes me feel like a failure. Like I'll never learn my lesson. Gave me nightmares too. Not that I never had any before but it was harder to wake up. Made me feel dirty." 

They remained in silence until Bruce was done wrapping his leg and when he did, he stood up and quickly brought Dick into a tight hug. The acrobat froze for a second before melting into it and letting himself cry. They weren't okay. Both doubted this would be some funny memory when they got older and they were sure this would affect how they saw each other for a long time but for now, in this small moment, they put it behind them for the sake of comfort.