Work Text:
Six months ago, Bruce would have seen a drugstore robbery as atrociously boring, barely worthy of his time. A dud. Nowadays, however, Bruce would take on whatever dull chore he can find if it means he gets to see his Robin flipping about, utterly joyful as he delivers quips at a criminal’s expense.
“You know there’s a bank across the street, right?” Dick says, throwing a batarang at the floor in front of the final robber’s foot. He trips, falling headfirst into a stack of foot baths on clearance. “The only stuff you guys’ll get here is rash ointment and baby powder.”
Bruce zip-ties the man’s hands behind him and drops him with the others. The police have already been called, and the store was empty but for the young cashier cowering at the front counter and a few late-night stragglers who have long since fled the scene. Their work here is done.
Seemingly on command, Robin cartwheels back to Bruce with a grin. “How’d I do, boss?”
“You were a little slow on that roundhouse kick.”
“I was perfectly adequate and you know it.”
Bruce ruffles his hair, making Dick squawk and shove his hand away. “Need I remind you of who is the teacher here?”
Dick grumbles, fixing his hair. “Should be me. You could stand to learn how to have fun like a normal person.”
If there weren’t a civilian present, Bruce would chuckle. “Ready to head home, chum?”
Dick tilts his head, looks at Bruce until his eyes narrow under his mask. “You’re hurt.” he stands up on his tiptoes to point at a spot on Bruce’s chin. “Right there.”
Bruce reaches up and touches his chin, finds a small cut there. It stings now that he’s aware of it, but not overwhelmingly so. A stitch or two and he’ll be right as rain. That robber had one hell of a right hook, his ring slicing right through Bruce’s skin. “I’m fine. Agent A will fix me up when we get back to base.”
“But you told me that you should always be careful with open wounds in the field. You could get an infection.” Bruce knew that first-aid seminar he gave Dick last weekend was a mistake.
“Then what do you propose we do about this?”
Dick cranes his neck until he spots the aisle labeled “First-Aid” and heads over. Bruce shadows him as the kid peruses the aisle, gathering supplies and shoving them into Bruce’s arms. Peroxide, gauze pads, antiseptic cream, and plenty of other products which they will definitely not be needing, but Bruce doesn’t stop him.
Dick stops in front of the band-aids. He puts a finger to his chin as he scans the options. “They don’t have any Batman ones.”
“I’m sure the regular bandages will accomplish the same thing.”
“Nope, you need a cool one. You’re a superhero. You should have a superhero on your band-aid.” He’s quiet for a moment before he spots a box and seizes it with a grin. “Perfect.”
Bruce takes one look at the package. “No.”
“Come on, everyone loves Superman.”
“Pick something else.”
“Need I remind you of who is the doctor here?”
Bruce sighs and gives in. “Fine. Are you finished here?”
“Yep!” Dick leads the way back to the front, where the cashier stares at the tied-up robbers as if they are live explosives. Her fearful expression doesn’t change as the two vigilantes approach her counter. “I’d like to buy these, please,” Dick says politely.
The girl blinks. “Uh, sure. Do you have a rewards card?”
Dick looks at Bruce. “No,” Bruce says. He dumps their supplies on the counter to be scanned. Then he grabs a few bills from his utility belt, kept in there for emergencies like this one.
“Can I pay for it?” Dick asks. Bruce hands over the cash. Dick gives it to the girl, who finishes the transaction and bags their supplies. “Sorry about trashing your store,” Dick tells her. “The cops are coming soon, though, so they’ll take care of it.”
“Can we go now?” Bruce asks.
“But I have to bandage your wound! It would be irresponsible to leave it exposed to the elements.” Dick climbs up onto the counter so he’s at eye-level with Bruce. “Here, get closer.”
Bruce rolls his eyes but obeys. He waits patiently while Dick fiddles with the child lock on the peroxide bottle. He hands it silently to Bruce, who cracks it open and hands it back. Dick takes the utmost care as he cleans the tiny cut, patting it dry with a square of gauze. “You should do something about all this stubble.”
“Yeah? Why’s that?”
“It’s scratchy, like you’ve got sandpaper on your face. Catwoman’s going to get sick of all those prickly kisses.”
The cashier squeaks, smothering a laugh.
Dick smooths a bright blue Superman band-aid over the cut, as gently as if he were handling a fragile kitten. “There. All done.” He hops down from the counter. “You’re lucky I was here to help, or your whole face might have fallen off.”
Has Bruce mentioned that he would die for this kid? Because he really would. “Thank goodness I have you to protect me.”
“You’re darn right.” Then Dick spots the candy aisle behind Bruce and his eyes widen. He tugs on Bruce’s arm. “Hey, B, can I get some candy?”
“We have candy at home.”
“No, we have dinner mints and those gross old man hard candies. They don’t count.”
Bruce checks the clock on the far wall. They have a few minutes before the authorities arrive, and if Gordon asks why Batman and his partner hung around the scene for so long, he can say they were simply keeping an eye on the traumatized cashier. (Oh, who is he kidding? Jim is going to tease him anyway as soon as he gets a look at the Superman bandage.)
“Fine,” Bruce says, “you can get one thing. One.” He might as well have just promised the kid a million dollars with the enthusiasm bursting from every pore as Dick runs off to pick out his candy.
“I don’t know how you do it, Batman.” Bruce turns and finds the cashier leaning on the counter now, looking at him with no trace of the fear she wore before.
“Do what?”
“Take that kid out every night and let him fight criminals twice his size. I have a ten-year-old niece back home and just the thought of her getting hurt shakes me up. I’ll never understand how you can let such a sweet kid put himself in danger like that.”
Bruce can’t blame her for being concerned. Nearly every publication in Gotham has its own opinion on Batman and his young partner, speculating about what kind of a monster would endanger a child like that. Bruce tries not to let it get to him. After all, it’s not like Batman can give an exclusive interview and clear his good name. That’s not how this thing works.
“You aren’t the first person to say that to me, and I understand your concern. I do. You would have to be a psychopath to willingly put a child in harm’s way.” He looks back at Dick, who is trying to decide between a package of gummy bears and a chocolate bar, oblivious of their conversation. “Would you like to know a secret?”
The girl nods.
Bruce smiles. “I haven’t let anyone with a weapon more dangerous than a butter knife within ten feet of that kid since the day he started as Robin.”
Her eyebrows crease. “But tonight, when he took down that guy by himself—”
“That man had sensory exotropia in his right eye. I disarmed him and sent him Robin’s way because I knew that he wouldn’t be able to see Robin coming from his blind spot on that side. I would never put my partner in harm’s way like that. Not when he’s still so young.”
“So you’re lying to the kid?”
“Not lying. Robin wants to help me protect Gotham, and he does. What he doesn’t know about me taking extra measures to keep him safe won’t hurt him.”
“Why not just tell him he can’t be Robin in the first place?”
Bruce snorts. “Have you met that kid? I couldn’t stop him from becoming Robin if I tried. And trust me, I’ve tried.”
The cashier smiles knowingly, like she’s gotten a glimpse into his soul. “Who knew the Batman was such a softie on the inside?”
“Only for Robin, I assure you. But don’t tell anyone I said that. It’ll ruin my reputation.”