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Bruce drags a hand down his face as he stares at the screen of his computer. It was late. 3:23 in the morning, to be exact. So maybe it was technically early. Either way, he still hadn’t had any progress with his current case. This new villain was calling themselves the Riddler. A bit on the nose, in Bruce’s opinion. Then again, he went around calling himself Batman.
When Alfred comes in carrying a breakfast tray, Bruce is engrossed in his work. His eyes are a bit red from the strain of keeping himself awake for two nights straight. Riddler was hard to follow, because the only time he’s leaving a trail behind seems to be when he wants to be. It’s even harder to try and figure out just what it is that he wants. When the butler clears his throat, it startles Bruce so bad he nearly falls out of his chair.
“Alfred?” Bruce blinks a couple of times, frowning over at the clock on the edge of his screen. It wasn’t seven already , was it? But no. Those blaring white letters definitely read 7:02. Bruce stares for a second in a sort of trance before he finally looks back at Alfred, and then at the silver tray in his hands. It had two slices of buttered toast, a cup of coffee, and a small assortment of sliced fruit.
Bruce tries to get away with only accepting the coffee. Alfred gives him a look , though, so he resigns himself to taking a slice of toast as well.
“Any progress, sir?” Alfred asks as he gets out his duster.
“No,” Bruce shakes his head with a heavy sigh. “Well. I had an idea, for a minute, and then it took a curveball. But I’ll get there.”
Alfred nods, and then he swipes the top of Bruce’s head with the duster. He hums, inspecting the duster with a squint. “Master Bruce, you might be surprised by this, but I believe you have been sitting at that computer so long you have acquired dust mites .”
Bruce pauses and blinks up at him. “Huh?”
Alfred sets the rest of the tray down in front of him. “It is Friday morning, Master Bruce, and you have been here since Wednesday afternoon. I think it high time you take a break.”
“No.”
“Finish your breakfast and then hop in the shower. I have a surprise for you this evening, and I think it only fair you at least get a bit of sleep beforehand,” Alfred continues, ignoring the spluttering protests from Bruce as he walks back up the stairs towards the house.
Bruce, for his part, sighs in defeat and heads into the shower.
Later that evening, after an admittedly much needed nap, Bruce finds himself in the back of a black limo. He’s not quite sure where Alfred is taking him, and it’s slowly killing him from the inside. He doesn’t like surprises very much at all.
Watching out the window isn’t too much help either. At first he thinks maybe Alfred was just having him go to some new restaurant, but he takes a turn in the opposite direction of the city that ruins that idea.
Then he sees it.
The biggest thing to catch his eye is the giant red and white tent slowly increasing in size as they get closer. And then the large rows of booths set up outside, along with a few overpriced rides to top it all off. Bruce tilts his head. “The circus?”
“You were personally invited,” Alfred hums from the driver’s seat up front. “And I took the liberty of purchasing a ticket for you.”
“Right…” Bruce sighs as he gets out of the car. Alfred hands the ticket to him.
“I will be back at 9:30 for you. Do enjoy the show, Master Bruce.”
“I’ll try,” Bruce promises, and Alfred gives him a sharp nod before he drives away, leaving Bruce alone in the crowd. He looks around for a moment before he starts walking towards some booths, deciding to look around until the show begins.
Bruce ends up buying quite a few little trinkets, a funnel cake that tastes like it’s made of pure sugar, and then an extra large lemonade to wash it down with.
Bruce is so caught up in wandering, he almost misses the speaker’s announcement that the main show would be starting in the next fifteen minutes. He heads to the front with a bag stuffed with various items and shows the ticketmaster his ticket before entering the ginormous tent. There’s a reserved seat with his name on it, and he plops into it with a bag of popcorn and his lemonade.
The lights dim not too long after, and all of the chatter in the tent quickly dies down, replaced by anticipation so thick Bruce could practically smell it. He adjusts his position, leaning a bit more forward in the seat as he watches.
An enormous elephant is the first thing to step out from behind the big red curtain concealing the backstage. It blows, making the distinct sound that only an elephant can make, which aptly cues the music to begin.
Bruce can’t say he’s terribly fond of clowns, but he can say he much prefers the nonviolent ones that the circus produces. They climb out of a tiny car one by one, quickly getting the crowd pumped up.
The rest of the show seems to go by in a blur. Bruce might have fallen asleep for part of it, but he was going to keep that a secret from Alfred forever. The booming voice of the announcer wakes him up though.
“And now for tonight’s finale!” A stout man with graying hair takes the center of the ring, holding a microphone.”Citizens of Gotham, it has been a real pleasure coming to this fine city tonight! You’re an incredible crowd, truly. Much better than those clowns in Metropolis-” Which earns a chuckle from the audience. One of the clowns in the background scrunches his sleeves up, seemingly about to attack the announcer, but he’s held back by a number of other clowns. Clearly, it’s staged, but Bruce can’t help but laugh with the rest of the crowd.
“Without further ado, I now present: The Flying Graysons!!” The announcer’s booming voice echoes across the tent, and the spotlights lead up to the top of the tent to where a trapeze is set up. The acrobats wave down at the crowd. “As always, doing their awe-inspiring performance without the safety of a net!”
That seems to be the cue for the first two acrobats to leap onto the bar from opposite ends. Bruce watches, occasionally throwing a bit of popcorn into his mouth. There were four more acrobats that joined in, two of them looking smaller than the rest of them. The show goes on for a good fifteen minutes before the littlest of them is dropped off, standing to the sidelines as they begin to do some of the harder stunts.
There’s a sudden, sharp snap . Bruce stares in horror, standing up and knocking popcorn to the ground in some sort of desperate attempt to try and do something. But it’s too late.
The audience is in shocked silence for a good ten seconds before someone breaks it with a sharp scream. Many more join in, terrified. But only one of them sticks out to Bruce. The littlest acrobat, still fifty feet up in the air.
Most of the tent is emptied within a couple of minutes. Most people had rushed to get out of the tent the second their brains had caught up with what exactly had just happened. Bruce, however, stays put. He’d missed his window of opportunity to sneak out with the crowd, and now the security had arrived, which meant Batman wouldn’t be of much use at the moment anyways. He’d have to come back later.
Bruce isn’t entirely positive as to why he’d stayed. He’s pretty sure that, despite being Batman, his first response is to freeze rather than fight or flight when he’s surprised, which might have had something to do with it. But then, there was also the fact that that boy up there was still there and all alone, and Bruce’s heart aches at the thought. Was nobody going to go and help him? Security had pointed a few times, but they didn’t seem to be making any efforts as of yet.
Bruce stands up as calmly as he can. He doesn’t look at the bodies on the ground. Focus. He needs to focus right now. He gets to the pole that leads up to where the boy is, and he starts to climb. He goes unnoticed for the first few bits, but then one of the security guards spots him.
“Whoa, whoa, hey! What are you doing?!” The man shouts after him.
“I’m going up,” Bruce replies curtly, ignoring him in favor of continuing his climb.
The boy on the platform is staring down at the ground below them. Tears stream down his face, but Bruce doubts he is actually aware of them.
Bruce doesn’t say anything as he climbs up, sitting down next to the boy and pulling off his suit jacket to drape over his shoulders. He’s not sure what to say. Nothing he did say was going to help anything. So, he just sits and does his best not to stare down at the sheets that have been draped over the still forms of the boy’s family.
After a few minutes of awkward silence, Bruce clears his throat. “Do you want to get down?”
The boy finally looks up at him. His eyes were red and puffy, drained of the horror-filled tears that had been falling. His brow pinches as he looks at Bruce, and he gives him a tiny, hesitant nod. Bruce gives him a tight smile full of false confidence as he shifts. “Do you think you can do it on your own, or would you like some help?”
“I can get down…” He says so quietly that Bruce barely hears it. He nods, stepping out of the way as the boy climbs down the ladder.
Once on the ground, people are quick to come over to him. It irks Bruce just a little bit that no one else had bothered to climb up to get him but that they were so concerned now , but he supposes that it’s better late than never.
Bruce is already out of the tent before he realizes that he’d left his suit coat with him, but he decides it’s not worth going back for. Besides, now that all of the strong spotlights were off and it was so late, the tent was starting to get cooler. The boy could probably use something to keep warm.
He’d be alright. They would find someone to take care of him. A freak accident like that would be tough, but Bruce figures that there really isn’t much he can do other than hope that the little acrobat boy would be safe.
It's been a whole three weeks since the incident at the circus. Bruce had read about it in the paper two mornings later. The last surviving acrobat, eight-year-old Richard Grayson, was going to be living in Gotham rather than moving on with the circus. It’s probably a wise idea, at least for now, to give him a break and a chance to recover.
Bruce knows that losing one’s parents is hard enough. He can’t even imagine what it must be like for Richard, to lose not just them, but the rest of the Flying Graysons as well.
Unfortunately though, Bruce has a case he needs to be working on. He still hasn’t gotten the chance to have a one-on-one encounter with the Riddler, even though the man has been out and about for weeks now. Bruce had tried to intercept his plans many times, but the Riddler had already fled the scene before the Batman could arrive. It was frustrating.
Bruce decides that this time, he won’t just be waiting to hear about a Riddler incident before trying to catch him. This time, he hopes to be able to already be there by the time that the Riddler arrives to wreak havoc again.
Bruce’s hopes were in vain.
Turns out that the Riddler had finally decided that it was time to make Batman’s acquaintance. And apparently he wanted to make an impression. It was pretty hard to miss the flashing light-show on the far side of the city that made it obvious that someone wanted his attention.
Bruce silently dropped to the ground in the most shadow-covered spot in the vicinity, but even then, with all of the lights, it did little to hide his presence.
“Ah, Batman. So we finally meet face-to-face.” The Riddler giggled in a way that reminded Bruce of a small school-girl.
Bruce’s eye twitched in annoyance, but he said nothing. Taking a look at his surroundings, he spotted a cage with several civilians inside.
“I bet you’re wondering why I have brought you here, Batman. Well, you see, as of late, I’ve come to the decision that civilian life is so boring . All of the action that ever happens is whenever you happen to be involved. And so, I have decided to join the party!” He made his little school-girl laugh again. Somehow, the Riddler made the sound more annoying than anything. It reminds him of the hyenas from Lion King. Bruce internally smirks at the thought. But he stops himself from thinking about it too much more. He needs to focus. There were hostages involved.
“What do you want, Riddler? Or should I say Edward Nygma,” Bruce frowns. That was one thing he’d managed to figure out about the man in the last few weeks, at least.
“Oh no , you know my name!” Riddler rolls his eyes. He taps the cage with the end of his cane. “I have a little game set up for you, Batman. You see, if you manage to solve my riddles, then I’ll simply let these nice people here go on with their boring little lives. But if you fail... Well, let’s just say it won’t be pretty for anyone involved.”
Bruce sighs. This was going to take a while.
The Riddler had wasted nearly two hours of Bruce’s time with his little hostage stunt. After all of the civilians were out of the cage and far enough away to not be caught in the crossfire, the fight with Nygma went much faster. For how much that guy seemed to care about performances, he sort of lacked in the physical combat department.
Bruce is heading back to the Batcave after dropping the Riddler off at Arkham when he barely catches the flit of movement out of the corner of his eye, and he spins around quickly. His little fight with Riddler had been exhausting. Except, now that he’s up on the rooftop, he can see a tiny tip of a toe sticking out from behind a crate, and he squints, walking over with a small frown. He puts his hands on his hips as he looks down at the small figure.
Bruce is used to people cowering in fear, and while it’s not a reaction he loves receiving from young children, it’s something he’s used to. This one, however, gives him a sheepish grin.
It takes him all of twelve seconds to realize he recognizes him.
“Richard.”
“Whoa… You know my name.”
Bruce grunts. “It was in the newspaper,” Which isn’t a lie. “Where are your shoes?”
“My shoes?” The boy, Richard, blinks up at him before he looks down at his feet. “Oh. My shoes. We’re not supposed to have them in bed, and I didn’t want to risk going to grab them. So I just… Went without.”
Bruce raises an eyebrow at him. “Right. Well. You shouldn’t be out on rooftops at night. It’s dangerous.”
“You’re out here,” Richard points out.
“I’m an adult,” Bruce excuses with a heavy sigh. Richard doesn’t seem to see how that makes any difference, as his expression doesn’t change whatsoever. “I’m doing my job. You should go back.”
“I don’t wanna go back. And who says I don’t have a job of my own that I’m working on?” Richard raises a stubborn eyebrow at him.
“You’re eight , for starters,” Bruce hums flatly. “Now go back.”
“It wasn’t an accident,” Richard blurts out. “The police ruled it an accident, but it wasn’t. I saw who did it.”
Bruce knows what the kid is talking about. He’d gone back and checked out the scene of the crime himself, and there were definitely traces of acid on the split ends of the rope, he’d tested it. But if the kid saw who did it…
“Fine. Tell me who you think it was and I’ll look into it.”
“That’s the thing. I don’t know, exactly , what his name was,” Richard suddenly seems to have a burst of hope and confidence. “But! I did see his face! I think I can find him. No, wait, I know I can find him.”
Bruce just knows he’s going to regret this. However, he also knows that if the kid saw the face of the man who did it, then it would all go so much faster. “I’ll bring you a bunch of pictures and you can tell me which ones look the most familiar.”
Richard squints at him, the excitement fading from his face. “No.”
“No?” Bruce pauses. That seems like the easiest solution to him .
“I want to help,” Richard puffs out his chest. “If we find this guy, I wanna make sure he gets put behind bars. And I wanna be the one to put him there.”
Bruce resists the urge to run his hand down his face. Great. Except, he understands the feeling. He knows what it’s like to want to get justice for the ones you love, especially at that young and naive age of not realizing how dangerous it would be to do such an action.
He especially knows that there would be no way he could stop Richard.
Sure, Bruce could send him back now, but Richard has already snuck out once. It’d be stupid to think that he wouldn’t sneak out a second time, and Bruce couldn’t afford the time to keep an eye on him every moment of the night just to make sure he stays in bed.
Unless… Unless…
“Where did you get sent to?” Bruce asks. Richard blinks at him in surprise.
“Um. Well, Gotham City Orphanage,” Richard answers, giving Bruce a suspicious frown. “Why?”
“I have a… friend,” Bruce kneels down so he can be more eye level with Richard. “If you’d like to, I could make a few calls and you could stay with him until all of this blows over.”
Bruce rationalizes all of this in his head. He couldn’t, in good conscience, send the kid back knowing he was a key witness and that someone unpleasant might come looking for him. Besides, he has the room and the money to take care of him well enough, at least long enough to catch the killer. It has nothing to do with the fact that he sees himself in him. Nothing at all.
Richard stares up at him. “Like… to live with them?”
Bruce nods. “Until we’ve caught the man who did it. If it slips that you saw his face, I’d worry that he might come after you. And this friend would be able to keep you safe.”
“...Is your friend Superman?” Richard widens his eyes. Bruce rolls his eyes as he shakes his head.
“Better.”
Three days and a whole lot of paperwork later, Bruce is heading back to the orphanage to pick Richard up. He’d, admittedly a bit later than he should have, told Alfred to expect company for the next little while.
Bruce does not know what he’d been thinking. It’s been a whole week. Having Richard, or Dick, as he prefers to be called… Dick is wonderful , he really is. The issue is that Bruce has no idea what to do with him. The kid has so much energy, and Bruce isn’t sure how to keep up with it all.
The biggest issue was that, before his parents died, Dick was used to spending tons of time with his parents at the circus, so trying to keep the kid unaware of his identity as Batman was proving to be more of a challenge than Bruce was initially expecting.
“What is it now, Dick?” Bruce turned around in his swivel chair to face the young boy who was trying to enter his office as quietly as possible.
Dick freezes, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. “Nothing!” Dick says quickly, to which Bruce raises an eyebrow. Dick shifts on his feet, “I was just wondering if you uhh… wanted… to do something fun with me?”
Bruce glances back at his computer. He really needs to finish making this powerpoint presentation for Wane Enterprises, but every other time Bruce has tried to tell Dick no, the eight-year-old’s kicked puppy look was enough to break his heart.
Bruce sighs and purses his lips. "How about…" Bruce pauses to think for a moment. Was letting Dick help him with his PowerPoint presentation a bad idea? It really does need to be done, and Bruce really can't say no to those puppy dog eyes.
“Do you want to help me with what I’m doing?” Bruce asks Dick. The boy blinks before he walks over, absentmindedly climbing into Bruce’s lap. Bruce pauses in surprise, his brain flatlining for a second. He’d never had someone be so comfortable around him, and Dick's constant need to be picked up is still strange to him. A good strange though, he thinks.
Dick looks at the beginnings of Bruce's presentation with a scrutinizing gaze before he comes to a decision. "It looks boring."
Bruce simply grunts, getting back to work with his mini supervisor giving him sharp directions on what to add. He draws the line with Dick's idea to add Barry B. Benson to the corner of every slide, but Dick still nods in approval at the end of it. "It's perfect , Bruce."
Bruce looks at the colorful presentation and nods. He'd probably have to make some minor changes later, but he wasn't going to tell Dick that. The kid just looks so proud.
It's at that exact moment that Bruce's phone buzzes. He pauses to check it with a slight frown. Commissioner Gordon's new signal had been lit up, which means there was a problem that needed Batman's attention. He glances down at Dick and bites his lip. "Dick, how about you go and find Alfred?"
"What? No. I want to stay with you," Dick pouts up at him. Bruce swallows. It was surprisingly hard to say no to those wide blue eyes.
"I have something I have to do," Bruce shakes his head. "How about you tell Alfred all about the powerpoint? I'm sure he'd love to hear your thoughts on it."
Dick sighs heavily, his shoulders slumping as he walks out of the room. It hurts Bruce's fragile little heart to watch.
Unfortunately, he has some important things to attend to at the moment. Bruce spins around and quickly heads into the cave. He gets changed, slipping the gloves on last before leaping into his car.
Gordon is pacing the top of the police station when Bruce arrives. He startles when he turns around and Bruce is suddenly just there . Bruce really should stop with that, he was going to give the man a heart attack one of these days. Ah, who was he kidding? He was never gonna stop.
“What’s the problem?” Bruce demands sharply in that gravelly voice of his. He doesn’t have time for this. He has a case to work on and coffee to drink. Of course, he knows it's not Gordon's fault when something like this happens.
He just hopes it's not an Arkham breakout.
Gordon clears his throat and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "It's the Riddler. We're not sure how he got out of Arkham, or when , for that matter, but… We're looking into it. He left this at Gotham University."
Bruce frowns when Gordon mentions the Riddler. He had just dropped him off at Arkham, how had he already managed to get out? He frowns even deeper as Gordon hands him a letter. It definitely has Riddler's flair, and he reads cautiously.
What starts with a P and ends with an E, and has thousands of letters?
Bruce stares at it for a long moment. It looks like he’d just gotten the riddle off of some cheesy website. Not unlike the last encounter... The answer was obviously the post office, couldn’t the police have figured it out simply by looking the answer up? Honestly, the fact that no one at the GCPD could decipher it was somewhat concerning. Nevertheless, Bruce makes his getaway while Gordon’s back is turned and leaves the man in a state of confusion as he makes his way toward the post office.
Now, all Bruce has to do is take care of the Riddler at the post office and hand him over to the police. He could do that. Piece of cake, right?
Handling the Riddler situation was not as much of a piece of cake as Bruce hoped. Turns out, the Ridder wasn’t even at the post office– instead Bruce was left with yet another letter. This one had been hanged from the ceiling and was surrounded with booby traps.
Bruce evaded them with ease. He was suspicious of the lack of difficulty that the Riddler’s challenges had given him thus far. He opened the envelope.
Without fingers, I point, without arms, I strike, without feet, I run. What am I?
Bruce pauses for a moment, thinking. A snake, maybe? No, snakes didn’t run, they slithered. The only part that really made sense for a snake was that they definitely could strike. He moves on from that idea.
The constant ticking and tocking from the clock on the wall was starting to become aggravating. It was the only sound in the room, and-
Oh.
Duh.
It really was just looking Bruce in the face, wasn’t it? Bruce walks over the wall and pulls the clock off, checking behind it. No luck there…
This could take ages . Which clock was it supposed to be?
Bruce searched every room in the darned post office for clocks that may have the next clue, but to no avail. He was just about to give up and think of some other way to find the Riddler, but then he hears the distant ringing of the clock tower, a small ways away from the post office. He has no need to count the strikes to know that it was already midnight. After all, he had just seen the face of every single clock in the building, including the one that was still in his hands.
Bruce groans in frustration as he runs a hand down his face. Where could it possibly be?
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Bruce frowns three hours later. He was fully clad in the Batman suit, standing over a young boy. A young boy who Bruce happens to know. A young boy who should have been in bed back at Wayne Manor.
Dick glares right up at him. Bruce has to admit, it sort of looks cute on the small little face, even though he knows it’s supposed to be intimidating. “None of your business.”
“Does Mr. Wayne know you’re out here?” Bruce grunts in response. He already knows the answer, but he wants to hear what it is that Dick’s going to come up with here.
The boy doesn’t say anything for a moment. He gains a thoughtful look. “You’re the one who told Bruce about me, right? That night on the roof, I mean. The night before Bruce came and got me.”
Bruce pauses. That hadn’t exactly been what he’d been expecting to hear from him. It wasn’t even an excuse of some sort. “I- Er- I- …” He stutters for a moment, at a loss, before he finally gives out a confused, “...Yes?”
“Do you know him personably?” Dick asks, tilting his head to the side.
“Personably?” Bruce blinks. “Do you mean… Personally?”
“Yeah. That. Do you?”
Bruce presses his lips into a thin line, not entirely sure how Bruce busting Dick being out at two o’ clock in the morning had led to him being asked this , but, well…
“Yes. I do,” Bruce gives him a sharp nod. “But that isn’t the point. What are you doing out here?”
Dick sighs and looks away. “...I’m looking for Tony Zucco. That’s his name. I figured it out.”
Bruce frowns, about to say something, but Dick beats him to it. “I saw him. Okay? I saw.”
The kid doesn’t have to tell Bruce what it is that he saw Zucco doing. He already knows. Bruce frowns for a long moment, staring off at the buildings. “...You want to find him then?”
Dick pauses, but he gives him a slow nod, shifting from foot to foot.
“Then we’ll find him together. But you have to stay close to me at all times,” Bruce looks over at him again. “And wear a mask. You don’t want people being able to find you back at Wayne Manor.”
“I, uh. I don’t have a mask, Batman... Sir,” Dick bites his lip.
Bruce hesitates for a long moment. “Let’s go home and get you one then.”
What was he thinking? What was he thinking? He couldn’t bring an eight year old to look for a dangerous criminal. That was insane. It was absurd. Except…
Bruce looks at Dick, and he can just see so much of himself. He knows he won’t be able to just tell the kid to sit still and wait for someone else to find Zucco. The best he can do is keep an eye on him, and do his best to lead him in the right direction. At least that way, if he gets into any trouble, Bruce would be able to get him out of it.
Dick stares at Bruce for a long moment. “Your home or my home?”
“Both. I’ll… Show you in the car,” Bruce hums. “Is it alright if I pick you up?”
“I guess so.”
Bruce nods, scooping Dick up and holding him tight against his chest as he fires off a grapple. Dick’s breath hitches the first time, his grip becoming even tighter as they glide over the rooftops. The second time, he seems more prepared, and he even lets out a slight chuckle as they zip past the buildings.
Bruce expertly drops down next to his car, setting Dick down.
“This is yours? ” Dick breathes out, walking up to it. “What’s it named?”
Bruce blinks a couple of times. “It doesn’t have a name.”
“Isn’t that a thing people do? Name their cars?”
“I… Suppose. But that’s just… The car,” Bruce frowns slightly. Dick squints over at Bruce, then back at the car again.
“Hm… If you’re Bat man , then I guess the car should be called the Bat car , right? Wait, no, that sounds weird… Bat… Automobile? No, no, that’s worse… Wait. Auto… Mobile. Bat… Mobile. Batmobile. ”
“It’s just a car, Dick.”
“No, no. It’s the Batmobile,” Dick insists as Bruce slips into the driver’s seat. Dick looks at him expectantly after he flips into the car.
“What is it?” Bruce frowns.
“You said you were going to show me something in the car,” Dick hums. “So. What were you going to show me?”
Bruce pauses for a moment. Oh. Right. He looks at Dick for a long moment. “If I show you, I need you to promise you aren’t going to tell anyone else. Got it?”
“Got it!” Dick nods sharply.
Bruce sucks in a breath. Was he really about to let a literal child in on his secret here? If someone else found out that Dick knew, there could be all sorts of issues. He trusts Dick, of course he does, but he’s still eight.
But he deserved to know. It was only fair, considering he’d been staying with Bruce for almost a month with no explanation for why he vanished at around 8:00 pm every night. So, Bruce slowly and carefully pulls off the cowl.
Dick stares at him, looking like his brain had just absolutely flatlined. “Bruce?!?!”
Bruce nods. “I’m Batman.”
“...I didn’t know you were cool, Bruce,” Dick breathes out as he shakes his head.
Bruce rolls his eyes, but doesn’t respond to that. “Let’s get you home.”
“You’re really going to let me help you catch Zucco?”
“...Could I stop you from going after Zucco if I tried?”
“Nope!”
“Well then, I guess I’m going to help you catch Zucco.”
The warehouse is colder than it has any right to be on a late April night. Late as in late in the month, not just the fact that it’s nearing midnight. Bruce crouches on top of the roof. This particular warehouse was in Amusement Mile, because of course it was. An old firework storage shed. Nothing in Gotham was ever boring, that was for sure. Not even the crime.
Dick crawls over to him, peaking through the skylight. His face sours when he sees the man. “That’s him.”
Bruce grunts in acknowledgement. “Wait here.”
With that, Bruce slips into the warehouse. He pauses when he gets inside. There, on the far wall, was a giant green question mark on the door. That had to be a coincidence, right? Right?
Bruce shakes himself out of it. Of course it was a coincidence. Riddler wasn’t involved in the Grayson’s fall. He wouldn’t have been able to keep quiet about it. He just must have been in this warehouse recently, that’s all.
But of course, Bruce’s life can never be simple, because Riddler struts into the room.
“At night they fly, you’d better run. These winged creatures are not much fun,” Riddler hums, walking right up to Zucco. “I heard you were looking for a way to get rid of a certain bat.”
“That’s right,” Zucco nods quickly. He seems nervous. “He’s been on my trail recently. I don’t know how, but he’s been relentless.”
“Mhmm,” Riddler hums, leaning towards the gangster on his staff. “And you want little old me to, what, cause a distraction so you can skip town?”
“More or less. I’d be willing to pay you.”
“Well that was a given,” Riddler waves a hand. “We’ll work out a price later.”
Bruce frowns as he watches the exchange. That makes things more complicated than he’d originally thought. He should have known that Zucco would catch on that Batman was after him, and he should have guessed that he would have turned to the person who’s been causing Bruce a headache all month and been getting away with it. So far.
This, however, now that Bruce thought about it... This was perfect. As weird as the circumstances were, neither Zucco or Riddler would be expecting him to crash in. Riddler wouldn’t have a game all set up for him. There wouldn’t be any hostages that would be at risk.
Bruce drops down like a dramatic blob of vengeance, rising like a dark shadow. Both Riddler and Zucco turn around with a gasp.
“He followed you!” Riddler immediately accuses Zucco. Which, he was right. Bruce had followed him.
“Well don’t just stand there!” Zucco starts shooting at Bruce, who ducks behind a crate. He disarms Zucco with a bat-a-rang, then rushes at him.
He would have landed a solid kick to the gangster’s head if it weren’t for Riddler throwing his cane in the way, knocking Bruce off balance. He tumbles, but he manages to stick a landing. He looks up and gives Zucco a sharp glare.
The man grabs a baseball bat. A fancy, steal one. Bruce steps towards him, prepared for a fight. He steals a glance at Riddler, who leans over to pick up his cane.
And then, there’s a soft landing next to him. Bruce glances at Dick, who has a deep frown on his face. “I’ll take Zucco,” He whispers just loudly enough for Bruce to hear.
Bruce gives him a sharp nod. He’d taught Dick some of the basic moves, and with Dick’s natural acrobatic abilities, he should be able to at least distract Zucco long enough for Bruce to deal with Riddler. “Be careful,” He whispers back, and then rushes for Riddler.
“Who the hell are you supposed to be?” Bruce hears Zucco ask, but he ignores it. He tries to balance taking out Riddler and keeping an eye on Dick.
Bruce quickly finds that fighting the Riddler goes by much faster when the man doesn’t have the upper hand of planning time. Or hostages. His actual fighting skills are lacking, and Bruce has him down quickly.
Bruce turns around just in time to watch his little acrobat child leap down on Zucco from above, landing a solid kick to the man’s face and knocking him down to the ground. Bruce is quick to get him pinned, cuffing his wrists. Dick frowns and gives him an extra kick in the ribs, just for good measure.
“Let’s call Commissioner Gordon and get out of here,” Dick looks up at Bruce, who nods sharply in agreement.
They’d done it though. They’d caught Zucco. And Riddler, which Bruce was pretty sure was just pure luck. But… That also meant that this was all over. Bruce looks over at Dick. The deal had been that Bruce would watch Dick until they caught Zucco, and they did that…
A few days later, Bruce waits outside of the school. It was 2:43, and Dick should be getting out at 2:45, so he really only has a few more minutes to wait. He can’t keep a smile off his face. He has some very exciting news to tell him.
He spots Dick amidst the crowd of students fleeing from the clutches of elementary school. He seems lost for a second as he looks up and down the road, but then he spots the car and starts walking over, shifting his backpack as he does.
Dick pauses when he opens the back seat, blinking a couple times when he sees Bruce. “Wait, where’s Alfred?”
“He’s at home. I had a surprise for you and I didn’t want to wait for you to get home before I could tell you,” Bruce shrugs, turning and giving Dick a small smile. He grabs the paperwork sitting on the passenger seat and holds it out to him.
Dick takes it and wrinkles his nose. “That’s some surprise, Bruce.”
“It might help if you read it,” Bruce hums with an amused tone. Dick rolls his eyes and slowly gets to that.
The car is filled with silence and Bruce bites his lip in anticipation. Dick suddenly stops and looks slowly up at Bruce with wide eyes. “You’re… This says… You’re my legal guardian now? Like… Forever?”
Bruce nods, scratching the back of his head. “That is, if that’s what you want. I don’t know if-”
There’s not really a chance to finish that sentence as Dick suddenly lunges between the seats, capturing Bruce in a tight hug. “Bruce, you’re the best!”
Bruce hugs him back. It was official. Dick would be staying with him at Wayne Manor for good. They both stay there for a moment, processing and taking it all in. Bruce eventually ruffles Dick’s hair. “I was thinking that we should get some ice cream to celebrate. What do you think?”
“Bruce,” Dick pulls back, looking up at him seriously. “I will never say no to ice cream. Ever.”
With a small laugh, Bruce puts the car in drive and starts heading away from the school, Dick sitting back down in the back and clicking on his seatbelt. “...Does this mean I have to call you Dad now?”
Bruce coughs, unprepared for that as he stares at the road. “Well… You don’t have to. You can keep calling me Bruce if you want,” He takes a moment of quiet as he thinks on it. “But I’ll still consider you my son. If that’s alright with you.”
Dick blinks at him for a moment before he cracks a grin. “Does this mean I get to keep going with you as Robin?”
“Only as backup,” Bruce decides with a sigh. Dick’s grin seems to grow, and Bruce has a feeling he’s going to end up losing that particular battle eventually. He parks the car a block away from the place, and he gets out of the car and waits for Dick to catch up.
Dick’s tiny little hand clutches Bruce’s much larger one as they walk down the street. Bruce can’t help but smile at the kid. Not just the kid, anymore, but his son . That was incredibly surreal. He almost couldn’t believe he’d done that.
Bruce watches the stormy clouds overhead for a moment. There never was any good weather in Gotham, but it doesn’t really seem to matter to Dick, who leads the way with vigor.
The ice cream shop that Bruce points out to Dick is small, but it’s full of nostalgia. His parents had brought him here every once and a while when he was young, and now Bruce was going to be bringing his own son here. He can’t help but wonder if they would be proud of him, or what they would think of Dick. Would they like him? He can’t think of any reason they wouldn’t have, Dick was a pure ray of sunshine, but he can’t help but wonder.
However, he washes away those thoughts as he gets to the counter. He looks to Dick first. “What kind would you like?”
Dick is very thorough with looking through all of his options. Eventually, he looks up at the confectioner. “Mint chocolate chip, please.”
“Of course,” The ice cream man smiles.
Bruce gently nudges Dick. He blinks and looks up at him, and Bruce smiles and leans down. “That’s Alfred’s favorite too.”
Dick breaks out into a grin as he whispers back, “Alfred’s smart.”
Bruce gets chocolate for himself and takes Dick over to a booth to sit down. Normally, he would sit in solemn silence, but Dick really makes that impossible. He seems to have no ability to stay quiet. Bruce doesn’t mind, because all of his conversations with Dick are… Interesting , to say the least.
Dick twists back and forth on the seat as he licks his ice cream, telling Bruce all about what they’d learned about in class earlier today. Bruce listens intently, gaining a smile. A real, genuine smile.
“You know, Dick,” Bruce says after the eight-year-old is finished with his epic tale. “I’m really glad I found you.”
Dick blinks at him for a moment before he puffs out his chest. “I am pretty awesome, huh.”
“Oh, the absolute best,” Bruce nods seriously. They’re both finished with their ice cream, so Bruce rises and starts towards the door, Dick quickly following him.
They walk down the street again, and Bruce thinks. He watches Dick do a handstand and shakes his head in amusement, and Bruce knows. This was the best thing that had ever come from being Batman.