Chapter Text
Dick had only known Bruce’s secret for a few months, and had only been training with him a few weeks. Forms, it was only forms, Bruce told him. Dick picked them up fast. He was only 9 but he’d been training to be a professional athlete his whole life already. These were just new moves.
He asked for a new form every day, or for him to practice on something that wasn’t a boxing dummy. Despite Dick’s natural skill, Bruce was hesitant to teach him quickly. Dick, still too nervous to out ask him to help him track down Tony Zucco, went at Bruce’s pace.
Something had set him off in school today. Some bully had said some stupid homophobic slur to another kid when they were all talking about their hobbies and this kid had said he did dance lessons. Dick told him to cut it out, to which the reply was “Why, you his boyfriend?” The smug look on the bully’s face was quickly wiped off by Dick’s 9 year old fist knocking him right in the teeth.
The fight was quickly broken up by the teacher, and it was a swift trip to the principal’s office and a ride in the back of Aston Martin with only Alfred’s silence for company. Dick felt somewhat guilty he had started a blatant fight in school, and definitely felt bad he had been caught. But he didn’t feel sorry he’d punched that kid for being a jerk.
He was granted a short respite in his room to process the events of the day, but it was quickly over with a summons from “Master Bruce” to meet him in the gym with his training gear on.
Perplexed, he put on his training gear but was down there a few minutes later. His chin dropped to his chest, automatically ashamed when Bruce just stared him down from the middle of the mats as he entered.
“Do you know why you can’t start fights with kids in school?”
Dick, still staring at the mat, shook his head.
“They’re not trained to take a hit. They’re just kids. They’re going to say stupid stuff. It’s admirable you came to that boy’s defense, but next time you need to use your brain.”
Dick quivered with frustration. “How am I supposed to do that? All you teach me is forms. I punch a boxing dummy all day. I’m not gonna…leap over the guy and do a flip or something, that’s stupid.”
Bruce just stood silently, regarding his young ward for a moment. “You want combat training.” It wasn’t a question.
Dick just shrugged, still staring at the floor.
“Alright.”
Dick looked up, surprised. Bruce had dropped into a combat ready stance. “Come at me.”
Dick, still too shocked to form a coherent reply, hesitated.
Bruce took advantage of it, and flew at the boy.
Dick tumbled to the side, reacting instinctively. He jabbed out, the same punch he’d thrown at the other 9 year-old-earlier that day. Bruce sidestepped easily. He threw a slow punch at Dick, who did a backflip to avoid it. Dick inwardly took a moment to revel in his ability to avoid a hit from Batman, before a large hand his filled his vision and his face lit up in pain as an open-handed blow was delivered. Dick crumpled to the floor.
He blinked rapidly to clear the tears of pain from his eyes, and saw the hand was now being offered forth to help him up. He took it.
“We’ll practice more. I can see you’ve been itching to learn.” There was the smallest of smiles. “Are you hurt?”
Dick shook his head, just rubbing at his cheek silently. The pain was already starting to wear off.
“I will teach you more than just to hit people. I’ll teach you how to use their strength against them. How to diffuse situations with just your words. You’re very talented Dick, and I don’t want you to use your strength to hurt people. Is it a deal?”
Dick nodded slowly, and stuck out his hand. Bruce took it gently but firmly, giving it a shake.
“Deal.”