I was supposed to be taking a break until the new year and shit but I have ideas that I really want you guys to see. Plus I'm bored

Edited 07/02/2024: format changes and I changed the amount he's asking for/added some extra reasons why they came to that conclusion

"I gave you $150 last week, you can't have spent it all," Bruce argued. These last couple of months, Dick had been asking for money. It was the same amount every time and he'd always ask on every Wednesday before being busy for some reason or another the day after. His brothers were getting suspicious whilst Bruce was just sick of handing over the money with seemingly improvised excuses. If he needed a consistent stream of money then surely he should just set up a monthly transfer to his account. It would be much easier.

"I know you did but there was something wrong with my plumbing and I had to use most of it then I'm on monthly pay so I won't get the money to cover the rest of the month till the 26th. Please, I promise I'll stop asking after this. Things are just hard lately with budget cuts and trust me if I thought this was gonna be a permanent gig, I'd ask for my trust fund but it's just spotting me for one thing," Dick reasoned. Jason, Tim, and Damian exchanged looks of scepticism between themselves. 

With a sigh, Bruce handed over the money. After all, he was a billionaire. $150 was chump change. He'd spent more on breakfast. Hell, he'd probably spent more on a bottle of champagne he never intended to drink. Plus, this was Dick. His first son didn't like to ask for money so if he was asking for it, he really needed it. Dick grinned at him and hugged him tightly. 

"Thank you so much, I'll pay you back I swear!" he said, leaving for his apartment soon after.

After watching the event unfold in front of him, Jason decided to voice their concerns. 

"Don't you find it odd that Dick's blowing through money like I do bullets?" he asked. Bruce raised an eyebrow at him questioningly. 

"$150 isn't that much," he answered. The deadpan looks he received suggested otherwise. He'd grown up rich and he often forgot that most of his kids didn't. Those who did still understood what was too much for a normal person. "Okay, maybe it is."

"Isn't it a little suspicious that this is the first time he's ever asked for money? Let alone persuade you to give it to him? Hell, he's got a full-time job when your trust fund for him is sitting right there untouched. Don't you find that weird?" Tim added. He didn't like to think that Dick was doing something unsavoury with this money but he couldn't deny what was clear. This whole situation felt off and they weren't getting the full story. 

"What are you suggesting he's doing with this money then?"

"Drugs," Damian put simply.

"Or something else illegal," Tim added. 

They couldn't go around accusing Bruce's first protege of doing drugs without anything other than circumstantial evidence. After all, assuming makes an ass out of you and I. It was just weird that he was for some reason blowing through the monthly income that he had been able to live on easily, being unavailable the day after with no explanation and they had to admit his behaviour had changed a little. It wasn't significant but it was noticeable. He was more queasy at meals, often avoiding eating everything on his plate and profusely apologising after since he hated to waste food. He seemed agitated more often although he hadn't blown up at anyone. He shook and fidgeted on occasion with seemingly no explanation. Their mentor let the information sink in and then spoke up again. 

"Do you have evidence of illegal activity?" he asked. They collectively shook their heads. There was nothing solid and none of them saw anything that could make them 100% sure. "Then it looks like we'll have to an investigation."

"You just want to prove us wrong don't you-"

"Yes, I do."

The next day, they parked down on the side road next to Dick's apartment. Damian got out of the car and climbed up the fire escape as quietly as possible so he didn't draw attention to himself. He had a short window of time to get into Dick's apartment and set up a wire somewhere in the room since the older would be finishing up his shift at the station. He opened the window and crept inside with the device in hand. 

After a quick glance around the room, he settled on hiding the device under the table. He then got out as fast as he could, retreating back to the car. 

"The wire's in place. We should be able to hear everything that goes on in Grayson's apartment," he announced. Tim nodded and pulled out his computer, connecting it to the wire in the apartment. 

"Get ready, he's just entered the building," Jason announced from the front seat. Tim slipped on his headphones whilst Bruce got ready to write down anything the younger repeated.

Ten minutes passed before he heard the apartment door open. He gave his family the thumbs up to show Dick had entered. He heard his footsteps for a while as Dick walked around his apartment, probably getting changed out of his work gear into civvies. Then he heard buzzing which he attributed to a cell phone. It stopped. 

"Dick speaking," Dick answered, cheery as always. "Oh, you're changing where you're selling? Where to?" There was a pause. "12 Oak Street?"

"12 Oak Street," Tim repeated.

"Are you still open for business? It's just because I was planning on getting some today. You are? Great! I'll swing by at 12:30. Yes 12:30 daytime, you'd be surprised how busy I am at midnight."

"12:30 pm," Tim called out.

"Okay, I'll see you soon. No, thank you. Bye." The phone hung up and the door to the apartment opened then closed. Tim pulled off his headphones. 

"He must be meeting someone at 12 Oak Street at 12:30 pm," Bruce announced. They frowned. Oak Street was well known for drug deals and many other illegal practices that they didn't dare mention in front of their father figure. Bruce couldn't believe that his ward was getting mixed up with businesses like this after seeing what happened to Roy and seeing first-hand what it could do. "We should get going now then so it doesn't look suspicious. Let's hope he's just working a case off the books."

They parked on the other side of the street to the address and stared at the side street, waiting to grab Dick before he spent another $150 on whatever he was getting. 

Bruce hoped it wasn't something with a long list of withdrawal problems but with a price like that, he wasn't optimistic. Minutes felt like hours as their eyes studied the faces that walked by. 

Jason couldn't believe that his suspicion was right. This was the golden boy of the family and yet he was doing this. He wondered what made him get to this point where he felt the need to blow through money to feed a habit. It had to be something bad.

Tim worried about Dick's safety. What if he'd gone out on a patrol higher than a kite? None of them would've been even slightly suspicious if he hadn't asked for money. Maybe that was his attempt to get help. Maybe he hoped at least one of them would notice and ask about it. Maybe he wanted them to find out about this.

Damian hated that he felt disappointed. He knew the acrobat lived a hard life and drugs were an escape many people fell into thinking it could fix them. He'd helped so many people with it, he'd heard why they began and he didn't pass judgement like he used to when he learned how many things beyond control could force someone to turn to drugs. Yet here he was feeling as though he'd been let down by a man he had the privilege of being mentored by.

Suddenly there was a knock on the window. Cautiously, Bruce rolled down the window to find a very disgruntled Dick glaring at him. 

"Care to tell me why you're following me and installed a wire in my apartment?" he asked angrily. He had his arms folded like a disappointed mum and waited for his answer. Bruce opened the door to let him inside, figuring the conversation was better had in the security of the car rather than on the street. "Of course, you're all in on it," Dick commented, finding his brothers in the backseat. 

"How did you know we were following you?" Tim asked. He was sure they'd been careful. 

"You parked on the side street where nobody parks in the car we use for undercover work, how would I not know? Damian left the window open half an inch and there was a lump underneath my table that you could clearly see from the door. Tip for next time, check all angles when you're attempting to wire a vigilante's apartment," he explained moodily. "So, care to tell me why you're following me?" he repeated. They fell into silence, silently arguing about who should tell him. 

Finally, Jason decided to explain. 

"We thought you might be doing some sort of drugs or you were doing something just as bad. We were gonna talk to you about it once we figured out if our suspicion was true." Dick let out a laugh as though this accusation had been pulled out of a hat. 

"What in the world made you think that?"

"The fact that you've been borrowing the same amount of money over and over without a good excuse," Damian answered. "And you never ask for money. You've also changed. Not eating, shaking, agitated. Key behaviours for addicts."

"I can assure you, I'm not doing anything illegal with the money you're giving me."

"Then what are you doing with the money I give you?"

It was his turn to fall silent. 

"Well, you see-" Quickly he tried to open the door to escape the awkward conversation ahead but Damian locked it before he could. 

"You're not getting out of this that easily," he said smugly. The roles were reversed and now they were interrogating him. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably and looked anywhere they weren't.

"Dick, what's going on?" Bruce pressed. He didn't like how he was acting. If he wasn't doing something illegal, then what was he hiding? What couldn't he talk about?

"Is someone blackmailing you?" Tim asked.

"What? No, it's nothing like that," Dick assured him. He took a deep breath and told the truth even though he didn't want to. It wasn't that he was ashamed, it was just that none of them did it. He couldn't be sure they understood and wouldn't have some sort of stigma around it. They were good people but that didn't mean they didn't have expectations of him that he could no longer live up to. "I've started going to therapy. My mental health wasn't as good as it used to be so I thought I should get help as Dick instead of Nightwing. Work is a PTSD machine but I've got personal stuff going on too." Their faces softened. Therapy. Thank God it was therapy. 

"What have they said?" Bruce asked, intrigued that after all these years his ward had finally tried to get help. 

"I'm on anti-depressants and a few things to help with the nightmares which they think might be more like night terrors. They said the anti-depressants can cause insomnia but insomnia might make the night terrors worse so I'm on a bunch of stuff. Hence why I'm acting different, there's a lot of side effects and we haven't figured out how to fix all of them." He still wasn't comfortable which was demonstrated through the constant fiddling he was doing with his hands. 

"You've been using the money to pay for therapy then?" He nodded.

"My rent takes up a lot of my income. When they started prescribing things, I didn't have enough money to get my medication and my job doesn't have the best insurance out there so I had to ask for money. My plan of just not eating as much really didn't vibe with the instructions the prescriptions had and I just felt worse," he explained. "And I meant what I said, I will pay you back somehow."

"Don't worry about it, we can get you some better insurance especially with you working so much. You're bound to need it. I'm just glad you're safe and getting help," Bruce replied with a relieved smile.

"I can't believe you thought I was doing drugs. If anyone was going to do drugs it's Jason."

"Who says I'm not?"

"Jason no."