Chapter Text
The first time that it happens, Dick is caught completely off guard.
“Hey chum, can you hold this for me?”
Dick blinks and looks up from the case file he’s examining. Bruce has been messing around with something under the batmobile’s hood, something Dick had only half paid attention to when he'd explained it. He doesn’t quite realize that Bruce is addressing him until he notices the man looking at him expectantly.
“Oh, uh, sure!” He quickly hops up from his seat and jogs over to Bruce, holding the socket wrench in place while Bruce adjusts something or other.
They continue to fiddle with the car, Bruce explaining what he’s doing as they go along. Tonight’s an off night, one of the rare few that they take, to allow for maintenance to be performed on their equipment and also futilely to get Dick in bed to get all the sleep a kid his age should get – not that Dick ever actually goes to sleep on time, he’s got too much energy for that and his sleep schedule been about as messed up as possible for his entire life thanks to his time at the circus.
They finish up and put the tools away, chatting a bit as they go. Dick’s honestly very proud of the chitchat – Bruce isn’t very talkative typically, so the fact that they can even carry on this conversation means that their relationship is loads better than it was when Dick was first taken in.
Dick playfully elbows him after making a pun, relishing in the lightness of their conversation, when it happens again.
Bruce, chuckling, reaches out and ruffles Dick’s hair. It’s not the first time that it’s happened, but it’s also not a frequent occurrence. What really makes it noteworthy is the accompanying, “Good work tonight, chum. You go and get some sleep now.”
Chum… Dick’s fairly certain that that’s a good thing, like a nickname. But he already has a nickname? Why would Bruce call him chum?
Dick decides, however, that he doesn’t mind. “You too, old man! You need sleep, too!”
Bruce’s chuckles follow him up the stairs, and Dick goes to bed smiling that night.
It becomes a thing, much to Dick’s slight confusion. Bruce Wayne, as a matter of fact, is not good at open displays of affection. Getting the man to talk about things that actually matter is like pulling teeth, and the first time that Dick ambushed him with a hug, he froze in place.
So the idea of the man giving him a sort of affectionate nickname seems a bit out of character.
Or maybe not, he thinks as he watches Bruce interact with Alfred at breakfast. The butler clicks his tongue and utters a disappointed “Master Wayne” when he notices the man gently massaging the rib cage that he had assured Alfred the night before was ‘perfectly fine.’
Alfred kind of raised Bruce, right? Honestly, Dick’s not sure of the specifics and they have a weird kind of relationship that mixes family with employer-and-employee, but maybe…
Chum is typically English, Dick remembers. He’d encountered enough Englishmen whenever the circus traveled Europe to know that much.
The pieces of the puzzle start to click in Dick’s mind, and he smiles a bit. Maybe the names are a family thing.
Once he’d come to that conclusion, anytime that Bruce called him chum, Dick felt like his heart glowed a bit.
That time that Bruce had picked him up from school: Hey chum, how was your day?
That one unseasonably hot Saturday: What do you say to some ice cream, chum?
When Dick, who was feeling bored, decided to scale up his guardian and perch on his shoulders: Dick, chum, what on earth are you doing?
Every single time, it makes Dick smile.
One night, about two years after Bruce took him in, Dick is lying in bed after a bit of a rough patrol. No major injuries, really. There was just a period of panic in which their comms had cut out and they’d lost visual of each other in the midst of a fight with a bunch of goons from the gang of the week. Dick hadn’t thought too much of it, honestly, but Bruce…
Bruce had been shaken enough to call patrol early that night. Dick’s not quite sure what caused it, but he suspects it might have been because there’d been more than a few guns pointing at Robin over the course of the night.
Dick’s on the border of dream land when his door creaks open. Blinking against the sleep in his eyes, he immediately recognizes the large figure in the doorway and smiles lopsidedly. “’ey, B.”
Taking that as an invitation, Bruce enters the room and sits on the edge of Dick’s bed. Dick closes his eyes, humming in contentment when the man brushes the bangs on his forehead. They stay that way for a while, Dick falling asleep while Bruce continues to run his hands through Dick’s hair.
Just as Dick is about out of it, Bruce sighs and stands up. Leaning over, he presses a firm, gentle kiss onto Dick’s forehead. “Sleep well, Dick.”
Dick doesn’t bother to open his eyes, but that doesn’t mean there’s not a smile on his face. “Night. Love you.”
He hears Bruce’s breath catch, and then, the almost inaudible whisper of, “Love you too, chum.”
The older Dick gets, the fewer and farther between the uses of chum. As his hero worship of the man who took him in fades, as he comes to understand life a bit more and interacts with other heroes, Dick comes to see just how flawed the man is.
They butt heads more often than he’d like to admit, and sometimes Dick finds himself just itching to stab the man in the eyes with the ears on his own damn cowl. Maybe if the man was literally blind, he’d be able to see the things right in front of him.
“Stop babying me!” he yells one day in the batcave. Bruce had sent him home early after a minor mishap on a fire escape when Dick had done a flip for fun and landed a bit more messily than he would have liked. “I’ve been doing this for years, Bruce, I know what I’m doing!”
Bruce slams a hand on the desk of the batcomputer. “Damn it, Dick, I know that you’re capable, but you need to take this more seriously!”
They exchange verbal blows back and forth for what seems like ages, before eventually parting ways, both of them puffed up with their own version of righteous indignation.
Dick passes Bruce in the family hallway before going to bed that night. He’s fully prepared to just ignore the man, but in a rare show of emotion, Bruce catches his shoulder and stops him in his tracks. They stay there awkwardly for a second, Dick refusing to make eye contact, before Bruce squeezes his shoulder and says in a low voice, smaller than his usual, “Sleep well, chum.”
Dick swallows, still refusing to meet his gaze. “Yeah, whatever. Night, Bruce.”
Heading into his room, Dick hates how much that one nicknames soothes his anger.
The fights get worse.
And then even worse.
Dick’s heard that old marriage adage, never go to sleep angry. He’s never thought too much of it, but it’s hard not to now when that’s all that they can seem to do. They’re sure as hell not married (the thought makes Dick want to gag), but he thinks that maybe it’s applicable to any sort of family or friend relationship too.
They wake up, have silent breakfasts with Alfred giving both of them his patented look of disappointment, go their separate ways, meet up for patrol in silence, kick some bad guy butt with perhaps a bit more prejudice than necessary, have their regular shouting match in the cave, and then head off to bed fuming. It’s in no way healthy, and it’s starting to negatively impact not only their personal health and relationship but also their performance in the field.
And then in all comes to a head.
“If you can’t take this more seriously, Dick, then maybe you shouldn’t be Robin!”
Dick’s fiery anger turns ice cold. He feels his mouth twist into an ugly, unfamiliar sneer. “What did you just say?”
Bruce gets into his space and Dick sees red. “Maybe you shouldn’t be Robin anymore, if you can’t take this seriously enough to protect even your damn self!”
Dick clenches his fist. “You can’t do that, Bruce!”
Bruce doesn’t back down, and Dick refuses to as well. “I damn well can! I made you Robin, and I can take it away!”
Blood roars in Dick’s ears as he roughly shoves Bruce away. “You didn’t make Robin! I did – my mother did!”
Bruce doesn’t shove him back, instead daring to turn his back on Dick. Dick doesn’t think it’s intentional, but he can’t help the feelings of dismissal and condescension the action brings. “You’re becoming a liability, Dick! I can’t focus on the mission if I’m too worried about you not even protecting yourself!”
Dick goes still. “Right. The mission.”
Bruce turns back around. “That didn’t come out right-“
Dick knows his face is blank. Good. Let Bruce read from that what he will. “No, no. You said what you meant.”
“Dick-“
Dick turns his back now, relishing in the vindictiveness inherent in the motion. “Maybe I should just leave, then. Wouldn’t want to get in Batman’s way, after all.”
“Wait, Dick-“
“No, Bruce.” He half turns, glancing over his shoulder. “I’m done. I’m out of here.”
Still fully in uniform, Dick stomps up the stairs, ignoring Bruce’s calls behind him. He heads immediately to his room, shedding Robin’s outfit and pulling on a random set of clothes. Yanking a duffle bag out of his closet, he first shoves in his uniform before forcing most of his clothing into the bag. Tugging the zipper roughly as closed as it will go, he tosses the bag over his shoulder and leaves the room, not even bothering to look back.
At the base of the stairs, he finds Alfred.
They stare at each other for a moment. Reading the sorrow in Alfred’s eyes, Dick knows that Alfred knows.
“And where will I be able to reach you, sir?” Alfred quietly asks.
Alfred doesn’t pick sides, Dick knows. He tries to pretend that it doesn’t hurt when Alfred doesn’t ask him to stay.
“Titans Tower,” he grudgingly offers.
Alfred nods. “Very well, sir.”
Dick closes his eyes, inhales and exhales slowly, before stepping past the butler. He’s almost at the door, heading to his motorcycle, when Alfred calls out, “Master Dick?”
Dick reminds himself that Alfred has nothing to do with his issues with Bruce. “Yeah?” He only partially turns back.
“Do take care of yourself, sir. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.”
Dick swallows and hangs his head. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”
In not a single one of the many voicemails that Bruce leaves does he call Dick chum.