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"Mr. Wayne, your ten o'clock is here."
Bruce stared at the intercom, perplexed. He could have sworn his meetings were done for the day. It was Saturday and he had plans to go home and spent time with his children. And why on earth did Lydia sound so amused?
His office door slid open and his second son strode in, manila folder in hand, wearing one of his best suits and the complementary red tie. His face was set, lips pursed and a wrinkle between his eyes. Bruce took a moment to wonder if he should laugh or cry at the theatrics and then decided that either reaction would be hypocritical and Alfred would punish him for it.
"Mr. Todd," He cleared his throat and gestured to the "ergonomic" chairs set in front of his desk. "Please have a seat."
Jason gave him his trademark "just how stupid do you think I am?" look and dragged one of the more comfortable chairs from the side of the room. His feet didn't quite touch the ground as he leaned forward and dropped the folder onto Bruce's desk, shaking the potted fern that Timmy had named Gilderoy. "I have a proposal," he announced. "And I believe it is in your best interests to consider it. The first page contains relevant points and the others are evidence to back them up."
Bruce steeled himself to turn down yet another request for a second dog and opened the folder. A page of bullet points in Jason's precise handwriting stared up at him.
Well, it's not about a dog.
"Jason," he sighed. "We've talked about this. Just because Dick is always moving does not mean he has ADD."
"ADHD." Jason corrected. "And you have to at least read it. It's in the company standards and commitments. 'That all proposals will be given a fair and balanced opportunity and judgement.'" His eyes dared Bruce to disagree.
Most of the time, parenting four intelligent, precocious children was a wonderful experience. Other times Bruce felt like they had actually taken over running his life and only allowed him to stay in it because they were humoring him.
He sighed and reluctantly scanned the paper.
Then he went back and reread it, actually paying attention. He flipped behind it to the multitude of articles that Jason had printed out. He finally came to a stop, his hand resting over the phrase "Alternating between distractibility and obsession." and returned his attention to Jason. "I will admit. You seem to have a point. But what exactly do you hope will come of this?"
Jason huffed and rolled his eyes. "Get him diagnosed! Maybe he needs medication, maybe he doesn't, but at the very least having an official diagnosis will help in school. And maybe he can get help with the sensory stuff too."
"The what?" Bruce said dumbly.
Jason really was far too accustomed to looking at people as if they were stupid. "The sensory issues. Don't tell me you haven't noticed how he gets all pinched and tense after awhile at those parties, Mr. Detective."
Bruce had, in fact, noticed that although Dick's smiles never wavered, they always became more fake and more uncomfortable as the event of the evening progressed and that despite his lack of serious complaints, Dick probably hated any kind of WE gathering more than even Cassandra, who had been known to climb onto the rooftop in an effort to avoid attending.
Jason kept talking. "Just because you think that ADHD is something made up in an attempt to explain hyperactive children doesn't mean it actually is. And it's so much more than just attention. It's as much about sensory processing as anything else. Why do you think Dick gets stressed so easily!"
"Jason," Bruce moved around the desk and put a hand on his shoulder. "I believe you. I'll make an appointment for him and we'll see what happens."
His son looked at him, eyes narrowed. "You're taking this way too calmly."
"Dinah may have expressed some concerns." Bruce admitted ruefully. "And read me the riot act when I gave my opinion."
Jason laughed.
"Now," Bruce straightened and attempted to look stern. "How exactly did you get here?"
"Alfred brought me when he came into town to go grocery shopping." Jason said cheerfully, hopping out of his chair and grabbing onto Bruce's hand as they made their way out of the office. "He helped me decide what to wear too. Bye Lydia! Thanks!" He waved at the secretary as they passed. "Alfred said you can take me home." He glanced up at Bruce through his lashes, a mischievous smile on his face. "Can we stop for chili dogs?"