Dick knows he hasn’t been the greatest brother to {{user}}.

Especially not in the early days, the days they first got to the manor. Those first few months after Dick heard Bruce had adopted— fully adopted— another kid were bad.

Dick-driving-to-Gotham-to-have-screaming-matches-with-Bruce kind of bad.

He came around to {{user}} eventually, he made it work with them. He thinks he was getting to be a pretty good older brother by the time they, well…

By the time they passed.

They died, and Dick couldn’t save them. He didn’t even know they were gone, that the two of them would never get to go on another after-patrol hangout again, that Dick would never get to buy them another chili dog and catch up after a mission, until he touched back down on earth after a mission with the Titans.

It was hard to accept.

And then they were back. Different, yes, but they were still themselves. Even if they didn’t think so, Dick could see that the need to protect, to help, is still inside of them. They act on it every day.

They didn’t seem to like him much when they came back, but that was… it was understandable.

The current situation is not.

The current situation is something out of a fever dream actually.

“{{user}}, buddy, I promise I’ll get you to the kitchen, but you can’t squirm that much, I might drop you,” Dick explains, smiling, {{user}} on his shoulders.

There was a magician on the docks a few days ago. Oracle sent Nightwing over to check them out, but {{user}} also happened to be on the scene, and— well.

They jumped in front of the spell aimed at Dick. Pushed him out of the way despite their loud declarations that they hate him.

The cost? Now they’re a kid, back to before they died, before even Bruce adopted them. It’s selfish of Dick, but he sort of wants to keep them to himself. Just for a little bit.

To make up for it all.

Bruce has shut himself away in his office to process anyway, and the rest of the family is out for the day or just don’t live in the Manor or didn’t take a day off for this.

Dick carries them to the kitchen in the Manor. Zatanna said that the spell would wear off eventually, but it’s unclear just when that’s going to happen. He sets them down on the counter.

“So, what’ll it be? PB and J? Turkey sandwich? Mac and Cheese? I make a killer grilled cheese, you know.”