ginger300 suggested trans Dick so here it is

There was a secret that Dick was hiding. A secret he knew his parents would embrace but he wasn't so sure would be happily accepted in Gotham. Though his name wasn't Dick. Nor was it Richard. Not right now at least and he didn't go by he/him here. 

"Misstress Rachel, it's dinner time," Alfred called. Dick couldn't hear that name again. It burrowed under his skin like that one scarab in The Mummy. It wasn't his or at least he didn't want it anymore. It wasn't Alfred's fault the name made him want the floor to swallow him up but he couldn't take anymore. He was going to do it tonight and if he got kicked out so be it. He knew enough now to survive on his own and he'd figure something out. Sure he'd miss everything this new life had given him but whose to say this isn't just another bad event followed by something good?

"Coming!" He walked downstairs, joining Bruce at the table, and he set his eyes on the food in front of him. As lovely as it looked, he simply couldn't eat it. He was too nervous to swallow even a bite and his hands were shaking too much for him to grip the fork properly. He had to say something but this could end so badly. Maybe he should at least try to eat something in case this all went wrong and he was forced out with only the clothes on his back.

"Rachel? Something the matter?" Bruce asked, noticing that he hadn't started eating. Rookie error. He always ate as soon as his eyes locked in on food. Thank juvie for that one. Dick squeezed his eyes shut and prepared himself to spill the beans. He couldn't pretend anymore.

"Yea. I need to tell you something but you might be mad and I really don't want you to be mad at me."

"Did you break another chandelier?" the older asked, half joking half seriously.

"Not this time. It's uh, it's more personal."

"What is it?" He looked concerned which oddly brought Dick some comfort. Perhaps his care will outweigh his reservations and quell his potential temper.

"I'm not a girl. I'm a boy just in a girl's body," he said quickly and all within one breath before staring at his mentor intently.

Bruce stared at him for a moment, his eyes making the younger shrink under his gaze. He couldn't take the silence. He needed something, anything! Even if he was going to get yelled at he just wanted to have it and not wait. He was never the patient type and that was never more obvious now than now.

"Do you have a preferred name?" Bruce asked finally. His voice gave nothing away. It wasn't angry but it wasn't excited either. 

"Richard. Dick for short."

"Alfred, a moment," the billionaire called. Alfred walked in with a confused expression, having been too busy cleaning the mess from making dinner to listen to the conversation in the next room. "Misstress Rachel is now Master Richard although he will shorten it to Dick. He/him pronouns should be used when referring to him. I wish for you to insist on the change if anyone says differently." The butler nodded with a soft smile. 

"Of course sir." He turned to Dick, maintaining the same smile and put a hand on his shoulder. "We will have to get you fitted for a suit. You have a gala at the weekend. Unless you prefer your dress."

"I-I," he couldn't get his mouth to work let alone have his mind catch up with what happened. 

"I'll give you some time to decide. With a man like Bruce, the tailor is rather adept at making suits last minute." 

"I just- You're not mad? Neither of you are mad at me?" Dick asked. 

"No, why would we be?"

"Gotham isn't exactly cool with this stuff." 

"I fostered you with the intent of caring for you unconditionally. Whether you're gay, straight, transgender. As long as you are happy and try to be a good person, that's all I care about." The billionaire reached across the table and put a hand on his. "You're the one who has to deal with this massive change in a world that seems to resist such a thing and I can only hope that things will be different sooner rather than later. In the absence of that, I want to support you in any way I can and I certainly have the means and the time to do so. Now, eat your dinner then we can go to the Batcave and start on a vigilante-friendly binder." Dick got up and hugged the older tightly. 

"Thank you so much!"

"Never thank me for acceptance. It's the very least I can offer and it's something you should expect of me."

Years later

Damian was looking through some of Dick's old stuff to find some clothes for an undercover job when he noticed something buried in the bottom of the drawer. He raised an eyebrow at it and picked it up to inspect it further, unable to pin down what it was supposed to be. It was sorta stretchy although not overly so and looked like a fitted tank top but he'd never seen such a thing before made from this material. He wondered if it was some sort of medical thing to support your back or perhaps a relic of what was fashionable when the acrobat was his age judging by the size of it. 

"Have any luck?" Dick asked, checking on the younger. 

"What's this?" Damian asked, picking up the fabric to show him. The colour drained from his brother's face upon seeing it. A smile that was usually always resting on his features was replaced with a shocked, near horrified, expression as though he'd just walked in on a violent murder. "Grayson?" Dick walked over to him and sat down beside him. He rooted a little deeper into the drawer and picked out some pictures, passing them over to Damian without a word. They were pictures of a little girl dressed in an outfit that looked very familiar. Raven hair, tanned skin and blue eyes in a bright suit of red, green and yellow. Flying Grayson's that was it. That's where Damian had seen the outfit before. He glanced between the picture and the clothing he'd picked out, unsure of their connection. "You had a sister?"

"Not quite," he replied. There was some silence. "That was...that was me."

"But this is a girl," Damian pointed out. 

"He looked like a girl but he wasn't a girl." Dick picked up the fabric and rubbed his thumb over the worn seams. "This was my binder. It flattened my chest since I couldn't go on puberty blockers back then so I developed breasts like other teen girls. It's funny that I hated them so much when my chest is probably bigger than it was back then." It then occurred to Damian that Dick's chest had two scars that ran underneath them. He always thought it was from surgery or other but he never really thought further into it. If he had, he would've found himself stumped on what injury could've necessitated a surgery with those scars. "That was me before I transitioned."

"That would explain the comments I've been hearing at galas," the younger murmured. He always assumed that the mention of Dick being a girl or calling him she/her was to make fun of his masculinity or something. He always corrected them and then left for better company. Had he known, he might've done something different.

"Yeah, Gotham in general has progressed but galas aren't exactly full of the progressive youth. Half of them were alive when it was illegal to be gay let alone trans." He went quiet for a moment. "Are you...are you okay with this? With me being trans?"

The silence dragged on as Damian thought about what he was going to say. He could see Dick wincing in anticipation. He put the photos in a pile and patted them so it was neat. He put them back in the drawer carefully and took the binder in his hands. 

"Humanity is more than gender. I can't say I understand what it is like to be trapped in a body I don't believe to be mine but I will not invalidate your struggle with denying who you are and who you have always been to me," he explained. "You're my foster brother and shall remain to be a brother figure for me. I've always known you as you are now, this won't change anything apart from giving me some sort of new respect for you." He glanced once more at the photo. "I have questions and in time, I may ask them but you needn't ask me if I'm okay with who you are."

"Thanks, Dami," Dick replied. "I'd give you a hug but-" He was cut off by the younger quickly wrapping his arms around him. It wasn't a long hug but it was enough. 

"You should donate this. I'm sure someone out there would appreciate it as I assume some can't afford these types of things," Damian suggested. 

"I'm sure they would."