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Going to sleep at a reasonable time wasn’t a notion that Bruce took part in all too often. The personas he built and lived by, both thrived at night – whether that be punching the living daylights out of the criminals that infested the city or flirting his way through high society, a different model on his arm each time.
The White Knight of his people and the armour clad bat of Gotham.
Crawling into bed at five in the morning had become the norm, a sleepless night not so much a rarity as it was a few years ago. But after a few close calls, yes, even he had realised that running on the bare minimum was ultimately an inefficient use of his efforts. The missteps and miscalculations weren't beneficial to anyone, and rather just put himself and others in harm's way.
To compensate for his lack of sleep without it affecting his nightlife, Bruce allowed himself a few extra hours of sleep during the weekends, a chance to lounge in between his silk sheets and goose feather pillows. All the stress and aches that remained a constant would slowly seep out of his body, allowing him the chance to let his mind float to happier, softer times.
It was Bruce’s “ Me Time.”
However, today was neither Saturday nor Sunday. It was just a plain old Thursday, one which required an early morning start. A full day awaited him, with meetings back to back – his schedule was filled to the brim. Even the weather had taken the side of all things evil, rain battering against the floor length patio doors that outlooked the garden. A damp and dismal day.
How wonderful.
Trying his best to keep himself somewhat alert to his surroundings, Bruce listened to the sound of the rain as well as the hustle and bustle that carried through from the kitchen where Alfred was currently situated.
He would not doze off at the table as he did last week.
“Master Bruce, I would highly suggest opening your eyes. It must be awfully difficult to read the newspaper with them closed.”
“Hnn.” All but a grunt escaped his lips – he could feel the satisfaction in Alfred’s tone, all too familiar with the one he heard often during his teenage years. The sudden nostalgia nearly forced him back into his dream-like state, until he heard a small giggle. A subtle noise that continued to fill the once endless void that had taken claim over Bruce’s heart and mind many years ago.
A hint of a smile graced his stoic features as he looked over today’s Gotham Gazette to see his four year child trying, but ultimately failing to to suppress his laughter. Dick’s childish glee apparent on his chubby rosy cheeks.
“B! The newspaper is upside down!”
“Huh?”
Folding the newspaper closed, Bruce only then realised that the print had been upside down this entire time. A pink tinge dusted the high points of his cheeks, as he directed a sheepish wink at his son.
“Didn’t you know that I can read upside down?”
“Uh-huh.” Dick joyfully played along, beaming at Bruce and showcasing his one missing tooth before taking a long sip from his Superman themed sippy cup, eyeing Bruce from under his dark long lashes.
Before Bruce could say anything else, he was interrupted by the decadent, caramelised smell of freshly roasted coffee, as a generously sized mug was placed before him by Alfred.
“Please do not goad the child so early in the morning. He’s been here since six-thirty trying to finish off his breakfast. A whole hour before you.” Alfred sent Dick a reprimanding look and received a pout and large puppy dog eyes in reply. However, the ex-special operations executive did not even falter.
How he managed to take no notice of such a powerful look, Bruce had no idea.
It was a power only Alfred possessed.
Only a soft huff was heard as Dick went back to glaring at his porridge, pushing and swirling it around the bowl.
“Come on chum, eat up and then we can get dressed.” Ruffling the boy's hair, “I’ll even let you pick my tie.”
The proposition seemed to have lifted up Dick’s spirits as he eagerly agreed and hurriedly started to scoff down his breakfast. Bruce winced at the sight, and hoped that the child would not choke.
Taking a sip of his coffee, Bruce tried to relax. He was aware that he had put himself in a tight position by allowing Dick to choose his tie for the day- knowing full well that his son would be picking a tie with obnoxious patterns and colours. But he knew it was worth it. It was better to have a happy Dick rather than a sullen and irritable Dick, especially so early in the morning.
If he had to go to work wearing the brightly themed monkey tie- then he would.
It was a small sacrifice that he was willing to make.
Nearing the end of his mug of ambrosia, Alfred came back once again with both Bruce’s breakfast as well as the un-open mail, categorised from most to least important. Skimming through, Bruce's eyes landed on the formal brown envelope, addressed to both Dick and himself. Recognising and realising the contents of the letter, Bruce didn’t waste a second before opening it up.
‘Module Handbook: A comprehensive guide on the curriculum set for the early bird admission into the Gotham Academy’s advanced learners class’
Taking a quick flip through the handbook, Bruce saw that all of the classes had been broken down into specific sections, each including an extensive overview of all possible topics that may appear in the entrance exam.
The enrolment into such a prestigious and fought after class would ‘set up a child for life’ – a quote on quote post by one of the Gotham parental blog posts that Bruce followed online. Bruce did indeed follow multiple ‘Mommy and Daddy’ blogs, all which included parents, both new and experienced, giving advice as well as their tips and tricks when it came to raising children.
Bruce had been reluctant at first, but had joined under a pseudonym after being encouraged by Leo’s mother – the child whom Dick had taken a liking to whilst playing around in the park.
One of the main topics of conversation was GA’s Advanced Learners Class in which children who were deemed smart or bright enough at a young age, could start school earlier than their peers. If the child could pass the enrollment exam, then they were automatically given a seat in the class.
And Bruce was sure that Dick would pass with flying colours.
“This is great. It came earlier than expected! Dick are you ready to start preparing for the Gotham Academy entrance exam?” Bruce tried his best to hype up the idea on the basis that a child's mood and outlook reflected that of their parents.
But rather a look of confusion appeared in Dick’s face as he momentarily took a break from eating.
“We spoke about it a few weeks ago, before I tucked you into bed.”
There appeared to be no lightbulb moment.
“That's the reason why we went to the bookstore to buy all those books.”
Still nothing.
“It’s why we bought the new Paw Patrol backpack.”
With that, the realisation dawned upon Dick, “Oh the bag! I remember now. The one with Chase. To go to the same school like you when you were little.”
Dick had been captivated by one of the photos that was hung up in the main living room – a picture of a young Bruce on his first day of school. Dick had gone on and on about how he wanted to wear the same uniform as Bruce and to go to school like him. Just like a ‘big boy.’
“Yes, that’s the one. We’ve got a lot of hard work ahead of us. So we need to study hard.”
“Ok-ka”
Pleased with the enthusiastic reply, Bruce flicked Dick’s nose, smiling as the boys scrunched up his little button nose.
“B!”
Later that night, the duo were snuggled up in bed, Dick having made his way into Bruce’s room after a nightmare. Just as Bruce was about to drift off once again after reassuring Dick that he was safe and sound,
“Can we buy the matching water bottle too?” Dick’s voice was faint, barely awake himself, and his eyes were bloodshot – a result of the tears not so long ago.
“Water bottle?”
“To match my new backpack.”
“Oh okay, sure.”
“And the lunch box?”
“I don’t see why not.”
Silence overtook the bedroom as Dick shuffled around in bed, clinging onto Bruce like a koala. Carding his fingers through Dick’s dark locks, Bruce was again mere seconds away from falling into a deep sleep, the ache in his bones finally coming to rest.
“And and the pencil case too?”
Seriously, what did this child have against sleep!?
“Yes Dick. We will buy that whole set. Now please, it’s time for bed. Close your eyes.”
Dick quickly shut his eyes, and Bruce pulled him in even closer. The small boy acting as a mini personal heater for Bruce – for the kid ran warm, and he appreciated the close proximity at night. He was a cuddle bug for sure.
However, sleep wasn’t a priority for Dick as Bruce once again heard a slightly muffled whisper, “and the crayons?”
“Dick.”
Finally picking up the reprimanding tone, Dick quickly snuggled into Bruce’s chest. Closing his own eyes, Bruce was lulled to sleep by the sound of Dick’s heart beat.
1.Art
Arts and crafts were an integral part of a child’s development and it was important to indulge the creative mind of a young child. To encourage a ‘more out of the box’ perspective and by doing so it would pique the interest of the child so they remained engaged through the day.
This was why art was one of the first subjects timetables for the morning at GA. Bruce could recount a blurred memory of messy mornings, coming home with paint all over his smart school boy shorts – the sound of his mother giving him an earful for his carelessness, yet gushing over the art he’d bring back home.
“Bruce, your shorts! There’s paint all over them. And your hair – is that glitter? My gosh, it’s going to take ages to wash all that out”
“Thomas! Look at this masterpiece. Our son is an artist in the making.”
It was only when he grew up, that he realised that his parents were filthy liars. All of his school projects had been stored in the attic, and each of his artists endeavours were surely not as great as his parents made them out to be. They were abysmal – a mess of colours, the remnants of a battlefield on paper.
But Bruce could understand. For he was a parent now too. Anything Dick did was remarkable in his eyes – it was a certain pride like no other, watching his son accomplish even the most miniscule of tasks.
To mimic this set up, Bruce thought it would be best to work on Dick’s artistic abilities. However, the only difficulty with this plan of action was the inherent lack of art supplies within the manor.
Dick wasn’t the most artistic child, his creative outlet much different. He had a couple of colouring books (hero themed) and some colouring pencils, but he didn’t have much else. Rather than scavenge the manor and the stores for art supplies, Bruce thought it would be best to just order some home.
A fun little father and son activity before he had to leave for his nightly Batman duties.
Picking up the feather light boy and placing him onto his lap, Bruce logged onto his computer. As he typed and clicked his way through, Dick manoeuvred around in his lap – turning round and around until he found a comfortable position for himself.
Tucked into Bruce’s side, “What are we doing?”
“We are going to be ordering art supplies.”
“Oh okay. Umm, but why do you need me?” There was no need for Bruce to look down at the boy, the delay in his voice was a clear sign of confusion.
“Well I was thinking we could practise our art together, and I thought that if you were here with me right now as I ordered the supplies, then you could choose what you wanted as well.”
“Our? Together!?”
The smile that came to light melted the cold chill that clung to Bruce’s every step. Bruce couldn’t even describe the joy that appeared on Dick’s face, the corner of his eyes scrunched, stars glistening in his midnight pupils.
“Yeah, we’re going to do it together.”
The little happy dance that erupted caused Bruce to chuckle. He often wondered where this child stored so much energy and euphoria. To be able to brighten any room he came into, to hold onto such genuine enthusiasm.
With the new found excitement, it didn’t take long for Dick to choose a variety of arts and crafts supplies that he wished to use. They bought an artist's dream, from paints to canvases, to glitter and clay. And all would be delivered directly to their front door.
The following weekend, Bruce and Dick set up shop in the middle of the living room, with the duo first laying down an art mat to avoid making a mess of the carpeted flooring (but mainly to avoid the wrath of Alfred).
They started off with a simple drawing of each other. Dick painted Bruce, and Bruce drew Dick. It was safe to say that Bruce’s artistic skill hadn’t improved much for the last time he attempted anything as such. Looking over at Dick, his tongue sticking out ever so slightly, the grip on his brush tight. He was deeply focused, concentrating on painting the hair on top of Bruce’s portrait.
Apparently Dick had a good grasp on the anatomy of the human face, the colour choice not so much. Bruce now had bright red flaming hair and his skin was a light green. The only part true to it was the colour of his eyes – a bright blue.
Surely Dick wasn’t colour blind? Bruce was sure nothing of a sort had been mentioned at Dick’s last eye appointment.
“Done. Look B!” Shoving the sheet of paper towards Bruce, Dick looked up at Bruce triumphantly.
“Oh! How lovely.”
“Thanks! I just need to show Alfred.” Dusting his shorts, ready to scurry off to the kitchen, Bruce grabbed onto the back of Dick’s shirt — halting him in the process.
“Ooff!”
“Let’s wait till the paint dries first. We don’t want any drops to fall on the floor or carpet.”
“Alfred wouldn’t like that.”
“No he wouldn’t. Just lay the paper flat on the table and it shouldn’t take too long to dry.”
“Okay!”
Treating his art with a delicate hand, Dick placed his newest piece of artwork flat on the coffee table that had been pushed aside to the wall to open up more floor space.
Standing in front of the rest of the art supplies, both hands on his hips,
“What shall we do next?”
With Disney songs in the background, the father and son spent the next couple of hours making all sorts of arts and crafts. Dick was particularly proud of the yellow and black Batman sticker he had made as well as the joint effort of painting the the newest addition to the Wayne family kitchen — a sunflower themed tea cup, the initials A.P painted on the bottom.
By the end of the day, both of them were covered in paint and glitter — exhausted and bone tired. Bruce still had to head out at midnight, and just the thought left him weary.
“Thank you for playing with me”
Dick was laying with his head on Bruce’s lap as they lounged on the couch after having dinner. Dick could barely keep his eyes open; his eyelids fluttering shut every so often.
Rather than reply, Bruce scooped Dick up into his arms, placing a soft kiss to the temple before taking the barely conscious boy up to bed.
‘ I had fun too Sunshine.’
2. Reading
As fun as it was mixing paints and sticking things together, it was finally time to work on something more studious. Playing around with Dick had definitely lifted up his spirits, hyping him up to the prospect of attending Gotham Academy this fall.
Dick had been constantly chatting his ear off, telling Bruce about all the things he would do once he started school. He’d also spoken with Oliver’s kid, Roy, over the phone yesterday. With Roy being a couple of years older, he had told Dick about all the mischief and madness he and his other friends had gotten up to.
Dick was definitely more excited than he had been previously. Bruce just hoped this new found vigour would remain.
Ever since Dick had joined the family – upgrading the manor's occupants from two to three, Dick had continuously surprised both Bruce and Alfred. From the near professional acrobatic flips and twists, to the emotional capacity greater than the two grown men combined, as well as the exceptional intellect that was carried in that small brain of his.
The brilliance and intelligence that Dick seemed to possess, for such a young child – baffled Bruce.
Not wanting to waste these strengths and abilities, Bruce had done what he did best.
He investigated.
After conversing with Mr Haly, the circus ringmaster, Bruce had learned that those part of Haly’s circus during Dick’s childhood had always encouraged Dick and taught him whatever his young mind could take in and understand.
He had been immersed in a multitude of cultures and faith.
His mind was shaped by the hands of many.
A true child of the wind.
Dick was definitely an active learner. Understanding things better from his surroundings and experiences. He had a tendency to ask questions, the typical whys and how’s ? Each time, listening to whatever answers Alfred or Bruce gave him.
Knowing this, Bruce thought it would be best to start off with some more difficult words in order to determine what level Dick was currently at with his reading skills. Dick was a conversationalist – he knew how to carry a conversation, both with children his age as well as those much older. Dick would occasionally, just like any other child, have difficulty pronouncing much larger and more complex sounding words – but he knew when and where to use them in speech.
Maybe it was part of his boyish charm, but Dick certainly knew how to captivate his audience.
‘A smart, young lad ’ as Alfred would put it.
Holding the cards up one after the other, Dick sounded out each letter before reading out the full words. He sat with his legs in a basket, across from Bruce, with Zitka sitting beside him – an open book and an unsharpened pencil balanced on her trunk.
“T-O-M-A-T-O”
“And what does that read?”
“Tum-tah-to-ee”
“Honey no, it’s toMAHto”
“But that’s what I said – tumTAHtoee.” Faint lines of confusion appeared on Dick’s forehead, unsure as to where he had gone wrong.
Putting on a reassuring face, for himself or Dick – Bruce did not know.
“How about you say it after me, okay?” With a nod from Dick, Bruce pointed out each letter as he pronounced each one.
“TO-MAH-TO, tomato”
“Um, tooMAHtoo?”
Unaware, Bruce gave a pained expression – a frown on his face, his eyes rolling back. It appeared as though they still had their work cut out for them.
Dick had just been able to pronounce and spell words like government and construction, so why was pronouncing such a simple word catching him out?
Caught up in his own thoughts, Bruce didn’t catch the boy repeating the word under his breath, trying his best to figure out what he was doing wrong.
Bruce had hoped that this would be one of the easier subjects for Dick. The enrollment exam was only two weeks away, but there was still so much content to cover.
It was stressful to think about – time was crunching, slowing down for no one. But rather than ponder on the thought any longer, Bruce started to devise new strategies that could help speed up their pace. Maybe he could take a couple of days off? Dedicating the whole day to studying and catching up on lost time.
Looking over at the large clock hung up above the fireplace, Bruce just realised how much time had passed. They had been working on the flash cards for three and a half hours now. No wonder! Dick was probably just tired.
It would be fine. A short break and then they could return to finish off the three other flash card sets.
In the midst of reassuring himself, Bruce had missed Dick’s smile turning into a frown, a saddened look taking over his baby blues at the prospect of not being able to get the word right.
“Let’s take a quick five minute break. Then we can get back to it. How does that sound?”
It would be beneficial for both of them. A few more hours, and with hope that all would go smoother , Bruce was sure that they’d finish up today. They could focus on another subject tomorrow.
Dick sighed, seemingly not as happy about the prospect as he was initially, “Okay”
3. French
Gotham Academy stressed upon the importance of learning a second language, especially at a young age. A bit contradictory to the vast ideals within the Gothamite Royalty — strides had been taken in the last few years, but anyone without the blood of Gotham running through their veins were still often looked down upon.
Bruce didn’t think French would be a problem, seeing as Dick was basically fluent, but the current worksheet in front of him made him doubt the fact.
Simple answers to simple questions.
Yet there were multiple mistakes. With how broad and random the responses seemed to be, it was as though Dick hadn’t even bothered to read the question.
It wasn’t just the lack of interest in studying that bothered Bruce — but there was also a shift in Dick’s attitude.
It was like the flip of a switch. A sudden change.
The happy-go-lucky child wasn’t as enthused as he normally was each time Bruce came home. Previously, the moment Bruce would step foot in the manor, the boy would be skidding across the halls, or zooming down the bannister to greet him — a hug, the largest a four year old child could manage. However, now Dick would only pop his head around the side passage (connecting the entrance and the main living room), a soft greeting passing his lips.
It was the subtle changes that caught Bruce out the most. The lack of chitter chatter at the dining table, the loss of tiny feet scampering around him, the absence of the little boy sneaking into his bed at night.
Bruce had even waited last night once returning for patrol. The heavy rain that struck Gotham, a weak attempt at cleansing the immorality of its people, thundered against the old style manor windows. It was loud and eerie, especially with the pitch black sky.
The thundering sound had an awful familiarity with that of snapping ropes.
Bruce was certain that Dick would show. Yet there was a lack of another body beside him when he woke up to the sun rising above.
4. Maths
The tension was rising, getting harder to contain. His left brow twitched — a sure sign of his lack of patience. He didn’t want to implode, though the fractures of his morale seemed to worsen.
He refused to be one of those parents who raised their voice unnecessarily, and god forbid if he ever raised his hand. Yet, at that current moment, Dick was making it awfully difficult to not lose control.
They had been in the study for some time now — four solid hours to be more accurate, focusing specifically on maths. Dick usually enjoyed the subject, finishing workbooks for *fun* whenever he was bored or watching information videos on YouTube.
‘‘But Maths is Maths. Mr Triangle on the iPad always says maths is the same for everyone. And and that there’s only one answer. Only one! B, How cool is dat!”
But as of right now, Dick had been lying flat on his stomach, head placed onto the palms of his hands as he just stared at the question paper laid out ahead.
Trying to keep his voice cool and level, “Dick. What’s twelve plus twenty four?”
No answer. Instead Dick was busy drawing random shapes and patterns in the corners of his maths book, avoiding all eye contact.
“I’m not going to ask again.”
“I don’t k-know!”
“Yes, you do. This is an easy question and you know it.”
All but a huff escaped Dick’s lips as he started intensely at his hand.
Yet that was all that was needed to tip the scale.
Snatching the pen out of Dick’s hand, Bruce picked the boy up firmly from his armpits so that he was forced to sit up on his knees, rather than lying on the floor.
“You are not getting the pen back until you tell me what the answer is.” He was trying to be stern, but rather all that came out was burnt fire, his voice booming.
Dick face crumpled. There was no lead up to the bawl out, rather just the instant eruption of tears, the dam that was slowly building throughout the weeks finally set free.
“I don’t want to take the stupid test. You, you said it would be fun. You lied to me! I HATE YOU!”
Staggering as he got himself up, Dick ran out with tears streaming down his face. So fast, Bruce couldn’t even register the words thrown at him.
He sighed. It was getting harder and harder to get Dick to listen. Just the idea of having to study or work, visibly made him more emotional than usual - it was so unlike him. Yes, he was emotionally demonstrative, but more so on the positive side.
Bruce didn’t have to wait long before the guilt started to eat at him. He knew deep down that something was wrong, and inkling that it was something he did. He just didn’t know what. He was just doing what he thought right, just wanting the best for Dick.
But it seemed as though, somewhere down the line, he’d lost track of the path — his trajectory missing the intended target.
All he knew was that Dick, his precious precious child, now hated him.
It would be an understatement to say that Dick was upset with Bruce. Dick had been avoiding him completely, choosing to go to Alfred if he ever had a problem. Dick had even ostracised Bruce from story time at night!
He had been given the cold shoulder, and a part of Bruce felt as though he deserved it. He had been harsh, undoubtedly.
The days leading up to the exam had been tense, the countdown finally coming to an end.
It was a rare sunny day in Gotham, a gentle breeze carrying the pink petals as they danced in the air. Both Bruce and Alfred had been sitting in the car, waiting for Dick to come out the front entrance.
They had been sitting in silence, but that was until Alfred spoke up.
“What was it exactly that caused your heart to be set on Dick’s early enrolment into Gotham Academy?” He spoke with an incredulous tone, an undercurrent of judgement making its way through.
“Dick’s a smart kid, it was only reasonable to hone such skill. I don’t have the qualifications to do so, and this was the exact educational institution needed for Dick.” Bruce looked out his window, no longer truly sure of his own reasoning. “I just want him to thrive.”
“You are indeed correct when you say that Dick’s intellect is much more advanced than those his age. But do you openly believe that a four year old child would enjoy such a rigorous and academically driven environment.”
“I thought he would. Though not so much now.”
“He doesn’t seem to be himself as of recently.”
“You don’t have to sugar coat it Alfred. I know he hates me.”
“Yet you continue to pursue this notion. I do not wish to impose or come off as condemnatory, but I believe you should rethink your next steps. At least if you wish to improve the hitch in your relationship with Dick.”
“I just want to do what’s best for him
“And is this the best for him? Gotham Academy of all places? For I quite clearly remember a young boy who complained constantly about stuffy uniforms and strict teachers.”
Bruce grimaced. As of recently he’d become all too aware of his possible oversight.
“I- ”
Bruce stopped before he could even start as his eyes spotted Dick coming out of the front entrance, alongside the other children. With the sun shining, the light that illuminated revealed the dark, purple eye bags that had formed around Dick’s orbit, the loss of his naturally tanned skin becoming apparent.
He had lost a bit of weight, looking more fragile than ever. No longer was there a skip to his step.
Stepping out of the car, Bruce speed walked straight over to Dick and scooped him up in one motion. Initially tense, Dick’s body automatically relaxed once he lay his head on Bruce’s shoulder. It was in that moment that Bruce remembered how young Dick really was.
Yes , he was brighter than others, but he was still a child, four to be exact. One that possessed an intimate understanding of the environment around him. If he wanted his kid to thrive, he needed to do what was best for him . Not what was said to be best for him, both by others or anyone online.
He was ready to rectify his mistakes.
“Hey, Dickie, how about we go get some ice cream?.”
“Really?” there was a soft murmur laced with utter exhaustion and a hint of disbelief. As though a spear had gone through his heart, guilt imbedded itself once again within him.
Gosh . He had messed up big time.
Already walking back towards the car, “Yes. Alfred’s waiting for us in the car, we can all go together.”
He may have not raised Dick from birth, but he was still his son. And for the time that he had missed, and the time that he had lost – he didn’t want to lose any more.
“Okay.” Dick nodded a small half smile directed at Bruce, curling up further in the embrace.
The night after the exam, Bruce did not hesitate to call the admissions counsellor to inform her about the change in plan. Even after learning that Dick had one of the highest scores in his division, Bruce deferred his enrollment for another two years.
Bruce still had moments in which he felt incompetant as a parent, making many more mistakes than he’d like, but he knew for sure that he wanted Dick to thrive. And what was better than watching your child flourish in a healthy and suitable environment, learning as they grow, from mistakes to tumbles to friends and foes.
Dick would join school with his peers, and learn at a steady pace. There was no rush – and Bruce was just glad that he had realised that sooner rather than later.
“Bruce, let’s go!”
The now six year old boy, dressed prim and proper, had a strong grip of Bruce’s hand as he tugged him down the old wooden corridor. The place hadn’t changed much, the architecture preserved and much the same as it was in Bruce’s time.
“Let’s gooo.”
“Calm down Dickie, there’s no rush.”
Bruce was glad that he hadn’t forced Dick into attending GA, but rather allowed him to join clubs and activities that Dick was interested in himself. You need a spark to start a flame, and for Dick that had been gymnastics. Though it scared Bruce at times, it felt natural to see his bird fly. No matter how many times he had fallen, Dick got back up each time.
There was a large contrast, between now and then. Dick was ready, eager to finally start school. Dick had grown as a person, his personality blossoming more than ever. He had time to adjust and become accustomed to the idea of school, pumped and overjoyed at the prospect of making new friends. Many of his friends from his gymnastics class would also be attending GA, some older and some younger.
But Dick was ready this time, and so was Bruce.
Stopping outside the busy classroom, Bruce knelt down to be eye level with Dick.
“So, I guess this is it. You ready?”
“Yeah!”
“Alright, let's get you settled.”
After greeting Dick’s teacher and taking him around to his assigned seat, Bruce watched a Dick automatically immersed himself in his space – greeting the new kids, waving at those he knew. He was a natural, more so than Bruce could ever be, even at his current age.
“I’ll see you later. Have fun at school. I’ll be here to pick you up.”
“I will! Tell Jay and Alfie that I’ll miss them.” A cheeky little smile graced Dick’s features.
“I sure will.” Sending his own beaming smile, Bruce squeezed the boy’s shoulder, one last longing look before getting up to leave.
As much as he knew he’d miss Dick, he had another little munchkin at home now. One he had to pass over to Alfred earlier that morning with how adamant he had been to go to school just like his older brother Dick.
Just as he was about to exit the room, there was a sudden weight colliding with the back of his legs, scrawny arms coming round to hold onto them.
“I’ll miss you too.” It was a quiet declaration, but it spoke volumes. Turning back around, Bruce lifted the boy into a bear-like embrace.
It was a major step for the duo, and Bruce couldn’t even fathom how he’d thought he could have done this two years ago.
“I’ll miss you too kiddo.”
Placing him back down onto the floor, Bruce patted the boy and turned his back towards the direction of his desk. Giving him a soft push, Bruce encouraged the boy to sit back down seeing as the other kids had also returned to their seats.
“Off you go.”