Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Was he still wearing traffic light colors? No. Was Bruce going senile as he got older? Yes, and he was gathering evidence of it every day.

Dick wondered once again why they were having so many issues between them as he swung to the next rooftop, landing almost gracefully amongst the leftover rain on the asphalt. Stumbling on his feet was embarrassing nonetheless and he grumbled to himself as he kicked a pebble across the roof, watching as it hit an old AC unit with a hollow clang. Honestly, he came to Gotham to help Bruce out of the goodness of his heart while Tim is out of town and how does the man respond? By treating him like he's still a little Robin meant to dutifully take orders without question!

“Fucking old man, treating me like I'm a kid,” Dick muttered under his breath, not caring who heard him nearby, he was alone on the roof anyway.

“This ‘fucking old man’ can still hear you,” Batman’s deadpan voice came over the line. Dick froze on the spot, shoulders tightening as he heard the quiet undertones of anger. Oops, comms were still on and open to the shared channel… “Either mute your comms or keep those thoughts to yourself, Nightwing.”

Dick pondered for a minute, putting his hand on his chin like he was really thinking on the idea before he responded. “Nope, I'll pass,” he told Batman cheekily, smirking to himself. He was an adult now. While Bruce may have taken him in and taught him all he knew at Dick's lowest point, it doesn't mean the man gets to treat him like a child anytime he comes by home Gotham.

He was his own grown man. Nightwing had his own city to protect now–he was even a well-established member of the hero community in his own right! He didn’t need some emo flying furry telling him what to do anymore. Covering his eyes from the light drizzle that had picked up again, he observed the area below him, staying alert for any sort of disturbance that may pop up and ignoring Bruce’s displeased grunts. It wouldn’t be good if Dick were to miss a crime after their little “spat” earlier, as Aflred would call it. A screaming match was a more accurate description if you asked anyone else, and he was not willing to let it open him up to more criticism from the “World’s Greatest Detective” later on when they were back in the Cave.

Stiffly, the black and blue clad vigilante stalked to the edge of the darkened rooftop, trying his best to not clench his fists like some angsty teenager. What was he even hoping to gain, coming back here? The man stood, pondering as he gazed down at the busy streets of his childhood home. A pat on the head, like the good little dog he was acting like? Bruce calls, so he comes running? Dick scoffed at himself, turning his head sharply. He aimed his grapple, firing it at the corner of a nearby building. With the grace born from years of practice, Nightwing danced between towering structures as he continued his Batman-approved patrol route.

“Nightwing, behave yourself over comms or you will go back to the Cave for the night.” Dick grit his teeth, jaw clenched tight as Bruce tried to basically ground him. He shook his head, preparing to land on the next rooftop, but stopping just shy to grab onto a gargoyle sitting on the edge of a lower office building. Leaning against the cold surface, Dick felt the sharp points of the creature’s horns digging into his back help to ground him in the moment. 

“Batman, you do not have a say over my actions or whether I am benched anymore,” Dick told him, evenly spacing out his breaths as he tried to keep the rage at bay. He felt like there was a ball of heat in his chest he was desperately trying to cool as he methodically rubbed his gloved fingers over the stone ridges of the statue's ugly face. 

“Nightwing–” Bruce started to grunt, so Dick turned off his comms as a response and took in a deep breath of the familiar, smoggy Gotham air. This city may not have been where he was born, and he may not live here anymore, but the man found peace flying through her night sky. This would always be his home. As ugly and villain-infested as it may be… This shithole was his shithole.

Ever since Jason passed, Dick knew things needed to change so he could preserve this feeling and keep this dysfunctional family intact. Tim helped a lot in the beginning, when Dick was too bitter to do more than practically tell a thirteen-year-old to handle a drunkard on his own. But, he's trying to make up for it now by helping on patrol and making them all participate in family dinners twice a month. It wasn't much, and he could admit it wasn't really working since he'd noticed Tim wearing sound proof headphones more often than not when Dick and Bruce were together. It broke his heart that another little brother of his felt like he needed to prepare himself for an inevitable screaming match from his family members. 

Dick was trying, he really was. But Bruce just made everything so hard . 

He was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of multiple trash cans falling over each other nearby. His face twisted in confusion, eyebrows scrunching together as his head whipped around to find the source of the noise. Body becoming a tightly coiled spring of focused intent, he silently crept closer to where he heard the cacophony. The noise became apparent in the way of a metal lid rolling out of the alley below and into the street like a quarter, spinning and spinning for a moment before falling flat. Dick cautiously peered over the edge of the roof, eyebrow raised at what he could imagine he'd find. A goon passed out drunk? A working girl kicking the nuts of a deadbeat harassing her? An internet famous Gotham-patented radioactive raccoon?

What he certainly did not expect was an unruly mop of black hair peeking out above the trash cans, only visible against the dark of night in contrast to the silver metal they clung to with tiny baby hands. He watched in disbelief as this child (so tiny and cute, he had to admit) stumbled to their feet, swaying as little as they reached for the contents of the trash. Dick felt sick just looking at the spill, but he felt worse knowing the child was doing this out of desperation. Tapping on his lenses, they zoomed in on the kid and he saw how small they were and how scrawny they looked. Alfred would faint at the sight of how skinny this child was and Dick would be right there with the old butler.

Making a quick decision, Dick hastily hopped onto a pipe that clung to the building he stood on and quietly slid down it like a fireman's pole. He didn't want to scare the small child who, at closer inspection now that he was on the ground, looked similarly disgusted at their options before them. The kid was still swaying, the movement picking up in speed before they plopped onto the asphalt, groaning. 

Dick rushed forward, panicking, but his sudden burst of speed startled the child. The tiny twig of a human scrambled back, a weakened wheeze of panic bursting from their lungs as they held out a small hand to ward off the vigilante.

“Hey, hey now,” Dick soothed as he crouched down to make himself seem smaller. “It’s okay, you’re okay…I’m not gonna hurt you.” The practiced “soothe the victim” voice was easy to fall into as domino-covered eyes worryingly took in the shaking child. He wanted to reassure this kid as much as possible, but he knew that he couldn't promise them anything. Making a promise to a child was important, he learned young that if you couldn't keep that promise the child would see it as a loss of trust.

“S-stay back!” The kid’s squeaky voice tugged at Dick’s heartstrings with how much terror it held. “Yo-you can’t t-take me!”

Dick slowly lowered himself to fully sit down on the filthy, trash-covered alley. He grimaced at the smell (was that sludge on his glove?) and he crossed his legs, letting his arms hang disarmingly on his knees. Keeping his body language loose and unassuming, Dick smiled goofily at the other. “My name’s Nightwing, I’m one of the heroes here in Gotham tonight. You’re safe now, no one’s going to take you while I'm here.”

Icy blue eyes peered out from behind a dirt-stained hand, reminding Dick of a different time, a different alley-found kid who was taken too soon. By Batman's stinky cowl would he let another one be lost to the horrors of this city as well. When the kid spoke, their voice was full of doubt. “How can I trust you? For all I know you could be some weirdo looking to kidnap me!”

A surprised laugh burst from Dick before he could contain himself, causing the filthy child to flinch away with a startled squeak. He sobered up quickly at that reaction however, leaning away from the kid to give the illusion Dick was no longer directly in their space, but still close enough to keep an eye on them. He's met children like this before, wary of adults or the world around them in general, only relying on themselves at an age where they can't do enough to keep their heads above water. Blinking rapidly at the thought to hold back his tears, Dick remembered when Jason first came to the manor. Even as distant as he was with his brother at the time, he saw how the pre-teen acted out of self preservation even months into Alfred's mother-henning.

This kid had the same fear written in the lines on his young face, as well as the same steel of determination in his eyes. Dick respected it, but he still was worried about this child who looked like they hadn't eaten a proper meal or slept in a bed in months. 

“I might be a weirdo to some people for sure,” Dick agreed casually. The kid blinked in surprise and he grinned a little in triumph, quickly smothering it with a serious expression. Exaggerating his actions, Dick twisted his head this way and that around the alley as though checking for anyone listening in, before he leaned a little bit forward with his hand blocking his mouth. The child shuffled forward a few inches, alternating between staring him down and checking the alley themselves with wide eyes. Dick resisted the urge to laugh again, focusing on trying to ease the kid into believing that he was safe.

“Between you and me? My friends think I'm a super big weirdo for putting peach jam in my pb & j's,” he told the kid, nodding his head sagely. All he got was a deadpan look in response, all of the sudden interest he got was lost from the kid before him.

“So you're not just a weirdo, but also super lame with no taste buds?” 

Wow, okay, so Dick was a little offended… or maybe he was impressed? The kid gave him a look that was reminiscent of Alfred or Jason when he tried to argue he could help in the kitchen. The “are you seriously this stupid to defend yourself like that” look. 

Yeah, maybe a little more offended than anything. Didn't mean the kid wasn't cute while doing it. 

Quick thinking made Dick grab at his uniform with striped fingers, gripping the fabric around his heart. “Ouch!” He wailed dramatically, flopping his legs forward as he used his toned core muscles to lean backwards, careful to not let more of the filthy alley touch him. “Ah! Truly a strong opponent, I cannot win!”

Quiet giggles echoed around the alley, causing Dick to grin in triumph. He titled his head to the side a bit to better see the small child. Their face was scrunched up in mirth, both hands covering their mouth in an attempt to better muffle the joyful sounds trying to escape. Encouraged by this, Dick resolved to continue to give the best performance of his life.

“I will simply never recover,” Dick moaned, making his body twitch dramatically. “This is how I die…the great Nightwing, struck down in a battle of wits by a toddler!” He gasped, reaching one hand up to the sky as he gave his big finale. “I can…see the light! It’s calling me…must…go…” He murmured quietly before giving a final spasm with an extremely convincing “blegh”, letting his arm drop to his chest and sticking his tongue out of his mouth.

As the giggles continued, they got closer. Peaking an eye open just a bit, Dick could see the kid toddling closer to the felled hero. “You’re silly,” they said, poking at Dick’s cheek hesitantly. “That’s not what death looks like.”

Dick could feel his heart shatter. This kid, no more than, what? Maybe four or five years old? This poor, tiny child was trying to correct Dick on what dying looked like . It made Bludhaven’s protector want to just scoop them up and wrap them up in a giant, fluffy blanket and protect them from the world.

“It’s a good thing I’m not actually dead then, huh?” Dick said with a grin, trying so hard to not let what he was feeling filter through. Bright smile for the tiny concerning child, bright smile.

The child cocked their head to the side like a curious puppy. “Well, duh,” the little thing scoffed, relaxing a bit at the horizontal hero. “I'd know it if you were actually dead.”

*****************

He really needed to get some meat on this kid’s bones, like immediately. Dick felt like he was carrying a small bag of potatoes while he grappled through the streets of downtown Gotham towards Wayne Enterprises to meet B for their patrol check in. Maybe if he showed the kid to Alfred, he could just keep him safe at the manor and he wouldn't worry about the tiny thing in his arms being so tiny anymore.

“Where are we going?” A squeaky voice shouted in his left ear. Was there a ringing bell nearby? 

Dick smirked, glancing quickly at the child before shooting his gun at the side of Wayne Enterprises, clicking the side button and rocketing them up the side of the skyscraper. He heard a soft gasp over the rush of wind before his world was filled with small, uncontrollable giggles and Dick tightened his hold.

“We gotta meet up with someone, little one!” He cheerfully shouted back as the duo landed at the top of the tower. With his feet squarely against solid concrete, Dick set the child down to face away from the large drop off the side of the building. He was worried the kid would either get scared, or want to try jumping off and he wasn't sure which was worse right now. A quick glance around told Dick that Bruce was still doing his own patrol. “Just stay away from the edge, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the little sass monster said as they shakily walked towards the center of the helipad. “I’m not dumb.”

“Uh huh,” Dick sassed back as he hovered over the kid. “You wanna tell me your name yet?”

Cold eyes narrowed as the child looked up at Dick. “No, you’re still a weirdo.”

Yikes , Dick thought. Whoever this kid's parents were deserved an award for raising such a menace to society. “Okay, okay,” he said airly. “I’ll figure it out one day, just you watch.”

“Oh, so now you’re a stalker, too?” The kid said as they flopped onto the concrete flooring. “Maybe I should’ve run away. Stranger danger and all that nonsense.” They flapped an itty-bitty hand dismissively.

“I thought we established that I wasn’t a stranger already?” Dick wasn’t pouting. He was an adult, and adults don’t pout at children winning in a battle of sass.

“No, we just established that you don’t know what it looks like when people die. Do you even pay attention to anything?”

Dick rolled his eyes, sauntering over to nudge his foot against the kid's thigh. “I paid enough attention to notice that you're good at avoiding questions. Why is that?”

“Nunya,” they told him. Dick felt the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. No, he would not act like Bruce.

“Nope, I'm not playing that one,” Dick told the kid, who pouted that they couldn't finish the joke. “Come on, I can't keep calling you ‘kid’ or ‘that tiny child lighter than a grape’ now can I?”

They squinted at Dick, crossing their arms awkwardly since they seemed to refuse moving from their starfish position on the ground. “Rude. You talk to every kid you meet like that?”

Dick smirked, “Just the ones who think they’re tall enough to talk back? Where do you reach on me again?” Dick mimed checking the kid's height against himself and stopped with it below his knees. Was it petty to make fun of the small child’s height? Yes, but he didn’t care. “Oh right, sorry but you're not tall enough to verbally attack this adult.”

“Whatever,” they muttered, turning away from Dick. But he noticed the kid kept him within their peripheral vision, just enough of an angle to pretend they couldn't see Dick even if his every movement was being tracked by blue eyes. It was just like how Jason acted, back when he was first introduced to life in the manor. Luckily, that meant that Dick had more than enough experience with snotty scared children to make sure this one kept feeling safe around him.

“So,” Dick said after a few moments of silence. “Like I said earlier, we’re gonna be meeting up with someone. But what I didn't mention was that it's Batman.”

“What kind of name is that?” The kid said, their spunk seemingly reviving itself in the few minutes where they didn’t speak. “Who wakes up one morning and decides to name their kid things like Nightwing and Batman?”

Dick spluttered. “It’s a superhero name, kid. It’s meant to not be normal.”

“You should’ve been named Jeff. Now Jeff is a good name.”

Dick paused, scrunched his nose a little in confusion before responding. “So, do you want me to call you Jeff since you like it so much?”

The kid scoffed, not fully paying attention and obviously still insulting him mentally. “Pffsh, no, call me Danny because my name isn't Jeff, stupid.”

Dick smiled like the cat who ate the canary. “Well, well, Danny is such a nice name,” he told Danny. Dick was enjoying the expression on his face when he realized that he messed up, the horror seeping into his features and a devastated tilt to his lips as he turned to Dick. “Thank you for telling me, now is Danny short for anything?”

Danny pouted and it was so cute Dick wanted to coo and squish his little cheeks. “No, just Danny, you weirdo.”

“No last name?” Dick prodded, poking at Danny’s thigh.

“You’re subtle.”

“And you’re going to answer!” Dick cheerfully said, walking around to stand at the front of the black-haired boy.

“You can’t make me do anything,” Danny glared up at Dick, arms still crossed. “You’re not my dad.”

Dick wasn't sure why that comment stung unlike the others, but he moved past it. He scoffed obnoxiously and mimicked Danny's pose, jutting his hip out in a move of pure sass. “Well I may not be but–”

“Nightwing.”

Dick froze with whatever bullshit he'd pull out of his ass dying on his lips. He saw Danny raise a questioning eyebrow at the scene, clearly interested in the drama, but Dick didn't focus on it. Instead, like always, he responded to Batman's voice. It didn't matter he wasn't Robin anymore and someone else held the title, it didn't matter he was all grown up and had his own name now. When Batman called, a Robin always whistled back, standing at attention like the “good little soldiers” they were. 

Sighing, he turned around and put his hands behind his back, feet spread apart as he nodded at Batman. Because this wasn't his father figure, the man who raised him despite the emotional intelligence of an ant. This was Batman, who didn't take disappointment or inadequacy from his sidekicks. No matter what happens, we'll always be little soldiers reporting for duty, won't we?

“Batman, no unusual activity for the night. There were the two robberies I reported on patrol, as well as stopping a street girl from being taken into an alley and shot. Oracle has the recordings from my suit already uploaded for review.” Simple, to the point, just the way Bruce liked it. All done.

“Hrn.” 

What? What did he forget?

“Hey! Why do you go around with your underwear outside your pants like that?” Danny interrupted.

Oh…right, he forgot about Danny for a minute there.

The silence across the rooftop was louder than any words shouted into the night sky could be. Dick tensed as he shifted, covering more of Danny from Batman's view as he watched the man's cowl wrinkle up. Internally he winced, wishing he had honestly thought this out better but at the time, he had only been focused on gaining Danny's trust. Once he had it, something in him wouldn't let the kid go and, frankly, he didn't want to. But in hindsight, this was definitely not one of his best ideas. He snorted lightly, thinking Jason would have made fun of him for being an idiot right now–like the time he tried to catch a runaway ice cream cart and slipped into a pile of cold sugar that spilled on the ground instead.

“Why do you have a civilian child here, Nightwing?” Batman practically growled, causing Dick to frown and tense his shoulders in a defensive response. He knew the man had been having problems since Jason's death. Tim had been trying his best to help Bruce out of a dark place, but sometimes he seemed to fall back into those old, angrier patterns on them. It was not appreciated, but he knew it took time to work through grief. It was small mercies the man wasn't sending people to the hospital or himself into an early grave on the daily anymore.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, during my patrol I noticed a disturbance in an alley and–”

“He met me! So, why are you looking at Nightwing like he's a bad guy, Batman? Aren't you two friends?” Danny popped up at his side all of a sudden. Dick startled, quickly shooting a glance at where the boy had been five feet away and he wondered at how he didn't hear so much as a squeak until Danny spoke. “You shouldn't be mean to your friends,” he nodded sagely at his own words and Dick held in a snort of amusement. “That's what she always used to tell me.”

Dick paused. Danny hadn't mentioned anyone he knew before now. Ignoring Batman's glowering, he tilted his head down to catch Danny's eyes. But the kid was gazing past them both, the bright blue dulling in the throes of some kind of possible memory. Telegraphing his movements slowly, Dick lightly touched the tips of his fingers to Danny's shoulder and whispered his name. “Danny? You okay in there, bud?”

It took a moment for the kid to shake his head like an old, wet dog, blinking slowly and gazing back at Dick. He nodded, glancing down at his tiny hands as though they held all of the answers to the universe’ most difficult questions. “Yeah, I’m good. Why?”

“You spaced out there a little bit,” Dick carefully told him. He watched Danny’s eyebrow’s furrow and mentally debated pushing. He was curious if the child would open up to him a little despite the hulking bat furry standing behind him like a living shadow. Cautiously, he held his hand a little more firmly on Danny’s shoulder and asked him what he was wondering. “Danny, who is this ‘she’ you mentioned?”

“Uhh…” Danny stalled, titling his head and giving an awkward smile that was barely more than a tick of the lips and didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t know?”

“Alright, kiddo.” Dick murmured, a bit disheartened hearing the response, but doing his best to not show it. He gave a sharp nod and turned his head to look at his mentor. “But, yeah, B he’s right. Shouldn’t you be nicer to me?”

“You’re endangering a child, Nightwing.” Batman growled, disapproval practically flowing off the man. It took years upon years for Dick to understand the different levels of Bruce’s inflections and what they meant, like learning a whole new language. But now? It was clear as day to him looking at the man. The big, bad bat was pissed and disappointed at his oldest protege’s actions. Dick tried to not let it hurt him (and show on his face) as much as it did.

But he also felt a flare of anger swell up in his chest. Indignant, Dick stepped forward, close enough to block Danny completely from Batman's sight and get in the Dark Knight’s face. “You want to talk about endangering children, B? You would know all about that, wouldn't you? Picking us up off the streets like party favors.” 

Dick shook his head, a scoff falling from his lips as his hands vibrated with the anger now burning his veins at the hypocrisy of the moment. A quick tug to his leg made him stumble though, and he almost fell when Danny barged past him. A cry on the tip of his tongue, Dick watched as the little tyke stomped over to Batman and crossed his tiny arms. 

“Hey! He may be a total weirdo, but Nightwing is really nice and he's been taking good care of me!” Danny pointed a finger at Batman and Dick realized with dawning horror and amusement that this child was lecturing B, for him . He felt his heart beat as tears pricked the corners of his eyes. “So you stop bullying him right now!”

“Kid,” B started gruffly, reaching a hand to grab him, probably. But Danny smacked his gloved hand away and took a shaky step back. He stumbled over his feet closer to where a stunned Dick stood, gaping at the scene before him. 

“NO! I DON'T WANT YOU TO TOUCH ME, I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU SAY! HE'S NOT NICE!” Danny shouted at the top of his lungs, shaking arms firmly clung to either side of him. His body faced Batman, but his head was turned to a spot just over the man's shoulder. The kid started swaying side to side again, and Dick knew that tears were welling in Danny’s eyes even if he couldn’t see the boy’s face.

Dick scrambled forward, recognizing the signs from earlier. The vigilante caught the child in his arms and pulled out his grapple gun. “We will discuss this more later, at the Cave. But right now Danny is upset, so I'm going to take him to Agent A. For the rest of the night, you're on your own.”

He whispered comforting nonsense to the shaking, brooding child in his arms as he walked away and didn't look back. Not even when Danny heavily propped his chin on Dick's shoulder to keep an eye on Batman as they left. “What was all that about Danny? Who were you yelling at?”

Dick was sure Danny wasn’t talking to Bruce at that time, his head had been tilted too far to the left and he spoke as though he were talking about Bruce to someone else. But no one had been there. It made him a little concerned he might have something in his system and resolved to have Alfred examine him after they got some real food into Danny. 

Danny cut him a quick glance out of the corner of his eye, not bothering to move his head’s position and smirked maliciously. If he didn't think everything about this kid was adorable, he'd probably be unnerved at the expression, paired with little baby fangs poking past his lips he hadn’t noticed earlier. Danny replied to him, but in a loud enough voice so that it would carry across the roof to where they left Bruce, no doubt standing guard as he watched them leave.

“I was talking to the ghosts that follow him, duh.”

Chapter Text

When Danny had first ventured into the darkened alleyways of this dirty city, he didn’t expect to run into some weirdo in a skin-tight black and blue suit. Fellow dumpster divers? Yeah, sure. He figured that fighting off a family of possums was normal when scrounging around for any scrap of something to fill his stomach.

He didn’t even know where he ended up honestly. Danny got a headache anytime he thought too hard about the details of where he was or how he got there or even who he was. He knew his name was Danny. He knew he was small (he had looked in a mirror, thank you, but it felt wrong somehow, like a funhouse mirror upside down) and he was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to be small. But thinking about stuff like that hurt a lot–kind of like a metal fist bashing into his skull.

Danny wasn’t really sure how he knows what that feels like, yet he was sure that was the best comparison.

What he certainly wasn’t expecting at tonight's garbage dump feast was being kidnapped by a vigilante. Was it really kidnapping though if he kind of went along willingly out of pure curiosity? 

Although, man, was he glad (not that he'd ever admit it out loud) that this random vigilante decided to kidnap him tonight. After Nightwing had bundled Danny up onto his motorcycle once their meet-up with Batman was done and peeled out of the inner city of Gotham, the bird-themed hero brought him to a hidden entrance in the hills that led to a literal cave. He had watched when they pulled up as a reinforced steel panel lifted into the rocks above their head, leaving a gaping maw that Nightwing just zoomed into. Lights activated with motion sensors as they sped into a huge room that was full to the brim with gadgets and computers that lit up at their arrival. Danny could only stare in awe of how awesome and improbable it all seemed.

Seriously, how crazy were these Fruit Loops?

The man had started explaining some boring stuff about the cave when they arrived, but the massive freaking T-rex had immediately caught Danny’s eye and he stopped paying attention to Nightwing. It was like a switch was flipped, his cautious suspicion he’d been holding onto was thrown out the window, and now all that he could think about was flying himself up to the giant dinosaur and touching it. Danny was sure if you looked at his face at that moment, there was no other thought behind his eyes beyond must touch right freaking now.

Nightwing must have sensed the gremlin energy pouring off of him because next thing Danny knew, the collar of his jacket was being grabbed before he could move from his spot at the entrance. He pouted up at the man, demanding with his eyes that Nightwing let go so he could play on the dinosaur like he was a kid. But wait, maybe he should say because he’s a kid? He is a kid right, being all small? But he still wasn’t sure if that was correct. He mentally shrugged and thought: Eh, who cares? All Danny could see was shiny scales glinting in the fluorescent lights lining the cave.

And Danny? Danny was but a simple man (boy…maybe a crow?). He sees a shiny thing and must have the shiny thing.

“Danny, don't even think about it,” Nightwing intoned. He gripped Danny's jacket a little tighter and pulled him closer to the man's side. He totally did not pout at being squished into the vigilante. One hundred percent, no siree. No pouting here.

“Think about what? What are you thinking that I'm thinking?” Danny shrugged, acting casual while his eyes flitted back and forth between the vigilante and dinosaur. “There's no thoughts going on up here, I can promise you that.” He knocked on the side of his head to prove his point, but Nightwing looked unimpressed.

“Master Nightwing, I presume you brought this child back to the cave for medical attention?” Danny's nose bunched in confusion as he heard another, older and British, voice enter the chat. He turned his head around, looking for the source and spotted an older guy in a butler outfit paired with a mask, much like Nightwing’s, appear around the corner.

“Agent A! Good timing!” Nightwing jovially responded, yanking Danny around like he weighed nothing (shut up, he was a BIG MAN!) and presented him like a scrungly, dumpster-infested gift to Agent A. Danny crossed his arms and attempted to sit criss-cross while hovering in the air in response. He hoped it showed both men how displeased he was being carried around like a kitten.

Agent A only raised a single eyebrow, humming as he set down the tray he had been holding on a nearby table. Danny felt a little awkward at the look, like the man was able to be disappointed in him for nearly trying to be a brat and was waiting for Danny himself to realize it. 

“Hmm, well Master Nightwing, would you be so kind as to introduce the young Mister to me?” Agent A's attention (thankfully) shifted to Nightwing and Danny huffed a near silent breath in relief. 

Danny shifted uneasily, eyeing the new person. “How do I know you’re not some sort of government spy trying to steal my spleen?”

Nightwing let out a tired sigh, patting Danny’s greasy hair with his free hand. “This is Danny, he’s in need of some medical attention like you said. Starting with an attitude adjustment, I think.”

The young boy spluttered, smacking away Nightwing’s gloved hands. His feet dropped to the ground as he glared up at the vigilante who had finally decided to let him go. “I am perfectly fine , thank you very much! You’re the one who kidnapped me, so what kind of attitude should I have in the first place?”

“You came with me willingly!” Nightwing cried out, throwing his arms over his head in exasperation.

“ You bribed me with sandwiches! I see no sandwiches here!” Danny rebutted, tilting his chin up and moving around like he was towering over Nightwing (he decided it was best to ignore his current height).

“Danny, you’ll get your sandwiches after Agent A and I check you over--”

“You’re a dirty liar and I hope you know that I will haunt you in your nightmares.” He squinted his eyes at Nightwing and Danny made a mental promise to himself to follow through with the threat…whether he knew how to do it or not. He would figure it out though if he didn't get the food he was supposed to be shoving in his mouth right about now.

Nightwing just sighed, bringing a hand up to rub the bridge of his nose. “Okay, kiddo. Whatever you say, I'm too tired to argue.” Danny pumped a little fist in the air at his win.

A small cough caught the quarreling black-haired duo’s attention. They both shifted their gazes back to where Agent A was watching them bicker. Danny resolutely ignored how they acted in sync and shifted a few inches away.

“If it may please you, Mister Danny, while Nightwing gets you set up in the medical bay I can make you a few simple sandwiches.” The older man turned a pointed look towards the youngest present. “Are there any allergies or preferences that I should be aware of?” When Danny shook his head negatively, Agent A turned to leave for…wherever he had spawned from before.

“Thank you, A.” The vigilante called to his retreating back before starting to herd Danny over to a well-lit corner of the literal freaking cave with actual bats . He still couldn’t get over it.

Danny glared up at Nightwing, eyebrows scrunched in a face of pure childish pout. “I would like to state that I am doing this under heavy protest.”

“Duly noted.”

The medical bay was stocked full of random bits and bobs of probably important looking equipment. From IV lines to a full x-ray machine, Danny had to take a moment and question just how loaded these guys must be to have this stuff at the ready. None of this looked second-hand or even well-used to his untrained eyes, though he couldn't remember if he really had much of a reference for this stuff. As he was ushered onto a cot, Danny couldn’t help the shiver of fear involuntarily creeping up his spine as he sat down.

Watching Nightwing move around brought a thin feeling of panic racing through his veins. The sterile smell, brightly unadorned walls, and the constant hum of devices plugged into every outlet. There was a mayo cart near the end of the cot he sat on, not much on it but Danny couldn’t tear his eyes away from the larger-than-they-should be tweezers and the forceps peeking out from under the sheet covering it. 

“Alright, Danno, we’re just gonna check you over real quick,” Nightwing told him, bustling around the small space comfortably. Danny felt like he couldn't breathe at the nickname for some reason he couldn’t recall. But that wasn't right? Because he was pretty sure he didn't have to breathe, which is wrong because a human should be breathing, right? He raised a shaky hand to his chest and yep, it was definitely not moving. Danny had stopped breathing at some point without realizing and it wasn’t affecting him, which was weird . But he still hadn't stopped watching the gleaming silver taunting him as though the instruments would start moving on their own towards him. So, he couldn’t bring himself to care about his own unnaturalness. “Now, I'm not the one with a history of medical care and knowledge. I know more than most. but I’ve only got enough in this old noggin for some basic first aid. Agent A will be the one actually looking you over in a bit.”

Nightwing continued to chatter on, but Danny couldn't bring himself to focus on his words until the man stepped in front of the instruments, blocking them from Danny’s line of sight. He sucked in a sharp breath for the first time in minutes, but Nightwing didn’t act like he heard him as he reached over to remove Danny's jacket. 

“Now, real quick I'm just going to do a surface check,” Nightwing rubbed Danny’s hands between his own rapidly. “Jeez kid, you're like an ice cube! We'll get you some warm clothes after we make sure you don't have any injuries. I'm gonna look for any bruises or cuts or anything broken so I can bring it to A's attention. Okay?”

Danny didn't respond. His eyes had started scanning the room and landed on a tiny centrifuge on the counter a few feet away. It looked off, it wasn't spinning at least, but the sight of it caused questions to blur in his mind. Were they going to take his blood? Why would they do that? Lots of reasons he knew, but couldn't name a single one. Why couldn’t he think of them? Would anything happen if they did take his blood? Why was he worried? Was there something that Danny should know, should remember, that he just couldn't? It was important, it had to be important! They were important, they were terrifying, they were his everything, they were his end–!

He felt his mind screech to a sudden halt, narrowing in on the blinking red light of the power button. The centrifuge just taunted him innocently as his mind panicked. Danny felt his chest going up and down, but his lungs still felt empty while his heart beat so fast he could feel it in his throat. He could hear his own heart beating. 

What if he was some kind of monster behind his memories? What if Nightwing and Batman arrested him, handed him over to someone? No, no, no! He couldn't let them! He couldn't go back, not to that place or to them--they hurt him, there was no way he'd go back! Danny refused to be sent back to the—!

Suddenly his thoughts stopped. Danny felt light-headed, all of his questions still swimming in his mind, but not as loud. He felt…calmer, but not at the same time? Who was he thinking of? What was he about to remember?

“Danny? Danny, bud, you alright there? It's not normal for you to be so quiet.” A voice spoke next to him, low and anxious but Danny's mind didn't really register it was Nightwing. He just sat there, his limbs heavy and eyelids sinking in exhaustion. He's not sure why he's suddenly so tired, but he felt his mind drift to the thought of flying through the skies with a blue shape holding onto him tightly–laughter chasing them in the wind.

********************************

To say Dick was panicking would be an understatement…He was absolutely losing his shit. One minute, Danny was perfectly fine (if a little bit nervous) but the next he was dissociating and hyperventilating! But without the very important part where he breathes! His little chest was moving up and down rapidly, but there didn't seem to be any air coming in or out of the boy.

“Danny? Danny, bud, you alright there?” Dick smiled, hoping it was a bit comforting. “It's not like you to be so quiet.” He spoke in hushed tones, but hoped that his goading brought the boy back to his former spunk for even a moment and snap him out of his altered mental state. When he got no response out of it though, which worried Dick even more. 

When Danny’s eyes had rolled back into his head and he passed out, just as Dick was reaching out for him? He felt his heart stop. But when Dick barely managed to catch the small boy before he fell off the cot? That was the final straw. He quickly cradled Danny in his arms and faced the main portion of the cave.

“Agent A! I need your help, come quick!” 

A hurrying of footsteps alerted him to Alfred arriving, but after calling out for assistance, Dick's eyes never left Danny’s face. There was a clatter as Alfred hastily dropped the sandwich tray he had been carrying onto the counter, the older man stopping next to Dick with a distraught expression. “What has happened here?”

“I don’t know, one second he seemed fine and then he just stopped talking!” Dick reached a hand up to gently cradle Danny’s small face, turning his head up to look at his pseudo-grandfather. “I tried asking him a question and he just passed out all of a sudden.”

With a quick nod, Alfred took Danny from his arms and laid him down on his side. Dick couldn’t help but notice just how small the boy looked laying on the adult sized cot. His breathing was short and shallow–nothing like how it was supposed to be when someone was sleeping restfully.

“Get the oximeter set up on him, lad. We’ll need to take his temperature and get a baseline.” With a determined nod, the young man set off to do just that. As he clipped the small, child-sized plastic equipment Bruce kept in the med bay for whatever reason, Dick couldn’t help but run through what had happened prior to him absconding with Danny to the top of Wayne Tower. Did he notice anything wrong with the kid besides the obvious? Did Danny act like he was protecting a wound of any kind while they spoke? He had no idea, but he sure was some detective for not noticing. Dick scoffed at his own thoughts and rushed back to Alfred.

“Was there anything that might have happened to cause any kind of head injury to the young lad?” Alfred questioned as he slipped a thermometer under the unconscious boy’s tongue. He held it there, never looking away from his patient as he questioned Dick. “Any symptoms of a fever or cough that may indicate he is sick or suffering from an underlying issue?”

Dick shook his head, impatiently waiting for the oximeter to give him something . When it continued to show nothing, he felt his heart sink. “Not anything I was there for. The kid was dumpster diving when I found him…looking for food.” He closed his eyes, trying to recall what exactly had happened earlier that night. “He kept swaying around when I got close to him though, like he was exhausted or something but trying not to show it.”

Alfred hummed, pulling the thermometer from Danny’s mouth as it beeped a cheery tune. “His temperature is not where it should be, but not out of the question with the weather and how thinly he is dressed.” The butler gave a sharp nod, depositing the used thermometer off to the side and moving towards the blood draw station. “We’ll need to perform a blood panel on Mister Danny, it’s a very high possibility that his blood sugar is low, as well.”

Dick felt his shoulders deflate, glancing helplessly between the kid he knew he was getting attached way too fast to and his grandfather. “And what if his blood sugar isn't the problem we're having here? What if something else is going on?”

Alfred's eyes softened a little around the edges, his steps a little less hurried, though still confident nonetheless. “Then that is simply one diagnosis we will be able to remove from the realm of possibility. Now, please help me get Mister Danny cleaned up a bit. I daresay, we cannot have the child catching an infection from the street grime finding its way into an injection site.”

“Got it–okay.” Dick pushed his shaking hands to still as he hurried over to one of the cabinets alongside the walls. He opened the drawer housing the many rags they use in these types of situations, a box of alcohol wipes, and a small bucket he filled with water at the sink to take over to Danny’s bedside. Setting them all on the nearby mayo cart, he started gently scrubbing away the thick layer of filth coating the young boy’s arm until the skin turned near pink. Doing his best to not think about just what was happening, the vigilante cleaned up the young boy with Bat-trained efficiency.

“He’s ready,” Dick announced as he swiped an alcohol wipe repeatedly over the now-cleaned flesh. Alfred hummed as the older man wrapped a latex band around Danny’s upper arm, watching as the young boy’s veins slowly thickened with blood swelling. With a gentle precision, Alfred prodded around before reaching a hand out to press lightly above the tourniquet. Instinctively, Dick passed over a needle and syringe to him, keeping the empty tiger tubes in his palm until Alfred asked for them.

Just as the cool metal of the needle began to poke into Danny’s veins, the boy’s fist snapped out, almost knocking the empty tubes out of Dick’s hands. They were shocked enough by the response–both men startled more than they expected–that Dick found himself taking a half step back and Alfred was pulling the needle away from Danny's arm to ensure he didn't poke the boy in the wrong spot by accident. 

“Danny?” Dick called out, his surprise hurriedly making way for relief. “Oh my, Danny! You scared me–” Snarling greeted his approach and instantly stopped Dick in his tracks. His arms were held up in an aborted hug as he watched Danny inch upwards and lean forward so his weight was supported by his wrists. It couldn't have been comfortable, but Dick wasn't sure if Danny even realized as his eyes remained tightly shut–lines appearing around them that made him seem so much older than his young age was.

Danny’s noises intensified when Alfred began to move again, the needle still held tightly within his right hand. Although they didn't open during all of this, Danny's eyes were trained on the gleaming silver as though it personally offended him. Dick’s gaze flitted between the two others for a moment before he had an idea.

Lowering himself a little so he wasn't too tall in this moment, settling into a crouched position that put him eye level with Danny, Dick took a deep breath. “Alfie, I need you to take a step back for me.”

The old butler raised a brow and did not move, keeping his eyes on Danny with continuous aborted attempts to reach the child. “Master Dick, I do not know what you are planning–”

“Sorry Alf, I just need you to trust me,” he held a hand out, interrupting the butler and accepting his consequences for later. “I've got an idea, but I need you to step back a little first.”

Alfred tsked in disapproval, but did as Dick asked and the young man watched as a little bit of tension left Danny's face. “Okay okay, now I need you to slowly lower the hand that’s holding the needle.”

“Now, really Master Dick.” Alfred didn't complain, but he made his displeasure known. “This young man is now my patient, so I must treat him. Would you please allow me?”

Dick resisted the urge to sigh. He felt like right now was not the best time to be arguing, it could only lead to Danny running from them, from him . Dick didn't know how he knew that probability, but he felt it in his very bones. Every second they wasted, he knew that it would lead to Danny running as fast as his small legs would take him.

“Alfred, please, I'm asking you to trust me right now,” he begged. Waving a hand at Danny’s current state as though to prove his point. “There's something happening, and I think that we need to follow Danny's lead here. If I know grunts and growls from B, then this is an angry or scared one. We have to step back, ok?”

Alfred glanced away from Danny long enough to stare into Dick's eyes and sigh under his breath (Dick didn't actually hear the noise, but he knew it happened). But without argument, he moved his arm down slowly, never letting go of the needle–but rather just removing it from Danny's direct line of sight. The snarls didn't completely disappear, but they lowered enough in volume that he could almost say the kid sounded like an old fridge humming to life for the first time in years.

Turning to the (obviously freaked out) child in front of him, Dick put on his best showman's smile for him. “Danno, it's okay, no one will hurt you.” There was no response, not that Dick thought there would be. “No one will ever touch you again without your okay on it, is that alright?” 

A blank stare was the only reply Dick received, making his worry increase. He did his best to not show it, his smile steady and sure as he kept gently talking to the scared boy in front of him. “What’s got you all worked up? Must not like needles, huh, bud?” With the utmost caution, Dick slowly reached out a hand. When Danny’s snarling continued as before without raising in volume, the vigilante kept creeping closer and closer. “Needles are pretty scary. I used to hate getting shots, y’know? Batman would have to bribe me with ice cream to get me to do it.” Dick dropped his voice to a stage whisper as he gently touched Danny’s shaking arm. “He still has to bribe me, even if I’m not scared anymore. It gets me free ice cream, how could I say no to that?”

Alfred chuckled despite himself at Dick's words, no doubt remembering all the times he had to quell Dick's tantrums when he had to get all of his vaccinations after moving in. “It is true, Mister Danny. Master Nightwing was quite the rambunctious child and the main aggressor in Batman's multitude of gray hairs coming in early.”

Dick frowned at Alfred. He wasn't that bad growing up! But before he could protest his angelic childhood nature, he heard a quiet snort. Whipping his head back around from where he was about to defend himself to Alfred, Dick watched as the lines on Danny's face receded a bit and there was a tiny quirk to his lips.

Deciding sometimes it's better to join them than try and beat them, Dick moved forward. “Oh yeah, for sure, I was a total monster! There was this one time where Batman told me I couldn't go on patrol with him after I kept playing with Poison Ivy's plants,” Dick started in a hushed whisper, as though he were telling a secret. Danny leaned forward, his eyes still closed but not as tightly and he thought he could almost make out a sliver of color from them. “Well, I couldn't stand for that, of course! I was all of eight-years-old and totally knew better than Batman himself, so I went out anyway but in the opposite direction of his patrol. I figured if he didn't see me, he wouldn't know.” Dick shrugged casually, leaning back a bit with a faux-cocky smirk.

“How, pray tell, did that end up working out for you, Master Nightwing?” Alfred was smirking. That was never a good sign for any of them. 

Dick looked away from the old butler, keeping Danny in his peripheral as he muttered. “I slipped on some ice that Mr Freeze had left on the ground and slid into the middle of traffic. Batman got a call from Gordon about ‘ an extra traffic light the city didn't authorize’ and told him to come get me.” Dick pouted remembering how Bab's’ Dad kept chuckling at him the whole time Bruce gave him a silent lecture on the police station roof. “I was grounded from everything, not just patrol, for a month. A whole month!”

A small huff of laughter caught Dick’s attention, and he could see Danny’s shoulders lower from their tense position. Dick gave a quick glance over him, checking for anything wrong, and just seeing that the little boy was much more relaxed. Within seconds his little head was lolling around like it weighed more than he could handle. Dick jumped up and grabbed hold of Danny's shoulders before he could slump over and fall off the cot. With the same amount of caution one would use to approach a rabid dog, Dick slowly laid the once again unconscious child back down. He stayed still for a few tense moments, waiting for Danny to react negatively at the change in position. When there was no aggressive movement, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Turning his head to face Alfred, he spoke in a hushed tone. “Maybe we don’t draw the kid’s blood just yet.”

“Master Nightwing, we need to find out what’s wrong with the young lad.” The old butler set the needle down on a nearby table, locking covered eyes with Dick’s own. “It could be something that needs immediate treatment.”

“Is there any way we could get that information without drawing a panicked child’s blood? ” Dick hissed.

Eyes narrowing in displeasure, Alfred spoke with a sharp tone. “Master Nightwing, it would do you well to remember the manners Batman and I taught you.”

Dick sheepishly looked at the ground, mumbling out an apology. “But, A, c’mon. He clearly doesn’t like needles for some reason. Why don’t we just wake him up, or do some tests that don’t involve drawing his blood?”

Alfred twisted his lips in a way only the man himself could, eyes trained on Dick who was anxiously rubbing his hands together, waiting for an answer. When Bruce wasn't here, Alfred was in charge. (Aw, who was he kidding? Alfred was always in charge, but when Bruce isn't here the arguments are a lot easier). 

“As you wish, I will view Mister Danny's current status without the transfer of biological tissue of any kind,” Alfred agreed easily, moving past Dick to properly dispose of the needle he had opened. “But I tell you this now sir, if there is an underlying health issue then I won't be able to do anything if his condition worsens in this situation. So I suggest coming up with an idea for when the young sir awakens.”

Dick nodded while feeling like groaning in misery. He barely knew the kid–how was he supposed to act as a health surrogate for this tiny child right now? The vigilante put his hands on his hips as he watched Alfred work, removing Danny's dirty outer clothing. Alfred’s facade broke for a second as he made a face at the two filthy, thin jackets covering the boy’s still covered arm and the ripped flannel around his waist. The old butler methodically cleaned every part of Danny's arms and face that were covered in dirt, and Dick watched in awe as the most adorable freckles appeared on his round baby cheeks. He needed to squish them and coo at the little boy right that second , having to use every ounce of Bat-trained restraint to not coddle the tiny human.

“Nightwing,” Dick took in a sharp breath, instinctually standing up straight. He hadn’t been expecting Bruce to be back to the Cave so soon, normally the man would stay out as late as possible on patrol. “Report, now .” Bruce's voice garnered no argument, a tone demanding answers. Dick knew that he probably had some kind of traumatic response reasoning or whatever for needing to know literally everything for a sense of control. But Dick had a traumatic response to fight at every turn when being spoken down to.

“Not now B, if you can’t tell there’s something going right now we’re a bit busy with,” Dick grit his teeth as he responded, unable to tear his eyes away from the laceration on the back of Danny’s left arm that Alfred had just uncovered. What could have made that? A kitchen knife perhaps? Dick wanted to get a closer look, but he knew he’d just be in Alfred’s way right now. “So if you could kindly fuck off until later, that would be great.”

“Language, young sir,” Alfred admonished him absently. 

Dick felt his cheeks heat up, but didn’t move from his position in the doorway where he was watching everything that happened. He didn’t want Bruce coming close to Danny. “Sorry A, my bad.”

“Nightwing,” Bruce–no, Batman –intoned. Dick wanted to ignore the man. God, did he want to just flat out pretend he wasn’t there and focus on this tiny bundle of cuteness that filled him with a strong urge to protect said bundle from any and all harm. 

But Batman was someone that couldn’t be easily ignored.

“What part of ‘not now’ do you not understand?” The younger vigilante quipped, trying to play the part of happy-go-lucky-Dick-Grayson everyone always seemed to expect from him. It was exhausting most of the time these days, but somehow easier to just fall into his assigned role than live with the anger brewing in his chest bit by bit.

“I don't have time for your remarks, Nightwing,” Batman scolded. At this point in his life, Dick can tell Bruce's frowns apart as well as he could the grunts. This was an ‘you are lucky you're my kid, otherwise I'd sock you in the jaw’ kind of frown. He didn't earn those too often, surprisingly. “You let an underaged civilian into the Cave without consulting me first. Explain your actions, now .”

Dick’s lips curled, snarling at Batman. “What I did was bring a scared, hurt little boy to a place that I knew would give him half-decent medical attention. It’s better than dropping him off at, I don’t know, Ma Gunn’s?” With an ugly type of satisfaction, he watched as the blow hit its mark. He could read Batman’s body language well enough by now to see the half-hidden wince, the slightest uptick of his shoulders. Hopefully it was enough to make Batman be Bruce for half a minute so they could have an actual conversation, rather than a screaming match.

“You're out of line, Nightwing,” Batman frowned, the creases in his mask deepening as he stalked towards Dick. A dark feeling wormed its way through Dick's chest. It was an awful thing that made him feel like a shit son for being cruel to the man who raised him, but also felt glad he could inflict just a little suffering back at Bruce for his emotionally constipated actions over the years. Dick felt sick at the words that just came out of him. “I suggest you stop now, and let me move past you.”

Dick jutted out his chin, shifting on his feet to broaden his stance and better block off the entry to the medical bay. “Absolutely not.”

The two stared each other down for a moment. Dick didn't move from his post, crossing his arms defiantly as Bruce tried to stand up to his annoyingly taller height in an act of intimidation. Too bad for him, it stopped working after the last time he betrayed Dick's trust, right before he abandoned the mantle of Robin that he had built.

“Nightwing, that was not a request but an order. Move now.” Bruce made to shoulder his way around Dick, but the younger’s lithe form moved to block him.

“I don’t care. I’m not letting you take a kid–who just fainted– out of this cave! He needs medical attention and Alfred’s the best of the best.” Dick argued defiantly. Maybe a little childishly too, if he had to admit it. Dick knew that Danny would do well to be treated properly in a hospital, but after what he witnessed in that room with hardly the basics in medical care? He wasn't letting that kid anywhere near a hospital without his consent right now.

“Alfred, while skilled, is not comparable to a trained doctor who can treat this child and get them the help he needs.” Bruce put his hand on Dick's shoulder and he roughly shoved it off, feeling the skin burn despite layers of kevlar and spandex separating them. “You are acting irrationally right now–”

“I don’t care, Bruce!” Dick shouted, shaking with a barely-contained rage. He felt his chest burning with it, unable to hold the words in and since there were no younger siblings or small children around (and awake), so he didn't stop them. “I don’t care that Alfred’s not a trained doctor. I don’t care that you’re so against this! What I care about is the fact that this little kid trusted me enough to bring him here, to get him help, when he very clearly does not trust anybody!” Dick moved, getting up in Bruce’s face as he went on his tangent. He was so fired up, he couldn't even notice Bruce's dominos widening in shock. “ You should know better than anyone what it’s like to have a kid dropped right in front of you and know that you need to help! Hell, how many orphans have come through here, again?”

Dick huffed loudly, his breaths causing a slight mist in the damp cave as he watched Bruce process his words for a moment. The man barely moved the whole time Dick was ranting and he was honestly shocked he got out what he did without Bruce shutting him up. Or Alfred complaining about how they were disturbing his patient. 

“Exactly, Dick,” Bruce agreed. But his voice was low and dangerous, the tone he saved for when he was incredibly angry. Dick only ever heard it when the man was facing Joker or The Riddler after their antics affected large groups of people and led to deaths. “I have seen multiple orphans walk through this manor and through this cave. I have watched as you were consumed by rage and tried to avenge your family with your small hands, still growing as you filled these halls with so much sorrow it couldn't fit in a tiny body.” Bruce's fists clenched at his sides. “I watched as you followed in my footsteps, becoming Robin and channeling your anger before just leaving everything behind. I couldn't stop you.”

Bruce jutted his chin out, the vein in his neck popping as he remembered Dick's younger years. “I watched as…as Jason, so filled with hatred and rage entered the manor. He hid his food and tried to protect himself even when no one was coming after him, and then he took over Robin. He was the happiest I had seen him in those days,” Bruce's voice quieted some, but the steel in his tone grew sharper. “Then I watched as he died. He died because he was Robin, because I took him in.”

Bruce pointed at Dick suddenly, and the accusatory finger felt so strong he took a step back in surprise. “Tim was not one I expected, and I tried to push him away for his own good. He'd have been better off not being Robin for his own sake. Even a life lived like his could have become better than the one he has now, risking his life on the streets when he could be at home developing film or skateboarding with friends. A normal life, without the mission,” Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Dick, I know what it's like to see an orphan child and want to help them, of course I do. But sometimes, even with good intentions, there are people who want to help but in hindsight probably shouldn't. They could end up making the child's life even worse, completely without trying.”

The guilt that Dick had been feeling washed out in a seething tsunami of fury. All throughout Bruce’s speech, the acrobat felt regretful over what he said to Bruce. Maybe the man actually understood how fucked up his relationships with his kids were? He was mentally debating how to apologize to him for what was said and move forward, maybe turn this into an actual conversation for once. Yet, Bruce's words at the end gave him pause. He made some points Dick could find himself agreeing to in other circumstances, but to say that he shouldn’t be around Danny? Because he would make the kid’s life worse? That's just catastrophizing and projecting his own guilt onto Dick!

“I want you to think about how old you were when you took me in, Bruce.” Dick said, slowly and clearly as he stalked closer to his father-figure. “You were only twenty-two. Fresh out of traveling the world, leaving behind all your responsibilities to start out on your own quest to avenge your parents. To lead a one-man crusade against all the bad things this screwed up city has to offer.” The younger man glared up at Bruce, hoping that he was communicating just how royally pissed off he was. “I’m two years older than you were. I have a full-time job as well as having a normal life outside of the suit. I have decent relationships with my co-workers and I have not only successfully led teams, but I have been fighting towards The Mission for most of my life. I have friends inside and out of being a vigilante who would be more than happy to help me if I asked them to. And, unlike someone I know, I would actually ask.”

Dick shook his head bitterly. He felt the insane urge to laugh right now, but none of this was funny. He knew that.

“I know I can take Danny under my wing and raise him well. I have a great example of what not to do, after all. But, what happened to the one kid you ever bothered to actually adopt, Bruce? Where is he now? Would you say that being under your care made his life even worse?” They both knew he was talking about himself, but Dick wanted Bruce to say the words he was always afraid to admit out loud about their relationship.

Dick felt a sick sort of satisfaction still though at seeing Bruce's shoulders shake minutely. There was not a lot that could rattle the man, but bringing up the mistakes he made raising his kids would always do it--you just had to know what signs to look for. If Jason had been here for this, or even Tim, they probably would have tried to stop their fight before it got to this point. His brothers never enjoyed being around him and Bruce at times like these, but it still made him feel awful in a way to speak to Bruce like this. But he was so upset at the situation he couldn't bring himself to care.

He barely managed to dodge the swing Bruce tossed his way, ducking down to his haunches as the man pushed his weight forwards. Sliding around his legs, Dick hooked himself around Bruce's ankle to bring the bigger vigilante down, but Bruce only stumbled a bit. Dick tumbled a few feet away and popped back up, lowering himself into a half-crouched stance in case Bruce came towards him again. But he didn't, Bruce just stood in the entry of the doorway, huffing like an angry bull as he whipped his cowl off and turned burning blue eyes onto Dick.

He peeked around the man's wide shoulders at Alfred, who stood in the background like a sentinel over Danny's quiet form resting on the bed. Somehow the kid was still asleep through all of the noise. If he weren't facing Bruce, Dick would laugh at the sight of the kid’s slack jaw and an ever growing puddle of drool under his chin.

“You have no right to talk about situations you don't understand, Dick,” Bruce ground out, his voice gravelly with the emotions he never let out. “The choices I made were–”

“Really shitty?” Dick quipped as he rose from his crouch. “Because, yes. They were, I agree.”

“They were the best choices I could make at the time,” Bruce corrected, lines deepening on his face and aging the man even more. “I was young and I had a child dropped into my lap–”

“More like yoinked from the cops, but go on.” Dick shrugged at the man, body language loose but his nerves were shot now that he was further from Danny. “Keep digging that hole B, maybe soon it'll be big enough to fit you.”

“Nightwing, stop this now–” Bruce started to lecture. But the step backwards he made caused Dick to snap. He was too close to Danny and Dick was too far. He had to protect!

“No! This isn't Batman and Nightwing time B,” Dick began marching forward, fists trembling in front of him with each step. “This is Dick and Bruce, man and ward time. You and I are talking, it is not you giving me orders!”

Stopping in front of his father-figure, Dick looked him dead in the eyes. Blue met blue. Frown met frown. He stood up to Batman who was keeping him from the child his heart had already claimed.

“So how about we talk, old man?”

Chapter Text

Just as the words left Dick’s mouth, a familiar accented voice interrupted the quarreling duo and stopped them in their tracks.

“I believe that is quite enough.” Dick and Bruce simultaneously turned to look at the family butler, giving equally sheepish looks despite the adrenaline still running through them. “Both of you need to calm down, away from the young lad who is attempting to rest.” He raised a single brow, arms crossed and voice stern. “Or have you both forgotten about him in your haste?”

“Sorry, Alfred,” Dick mumbled as he shot Bruce a sneaky stink-eye. “How is he doing?”

Alfred sighed, turning his attention back to Danny who was now curled up on his side, seemingly more peacefully asleep than his fitful rest from before. “The lad seems to have no obvious broken limbs or anything more than a few scrapes and bruises. Much of what I expected if he'd been staying on the streets for a certain amount of time.”

Dick sighed in relief, knowing that Danny didn't have any serious injuries to take care of. “That's good, I'm glad that it's nothing extensive. I'll get him cleaned up right away so he feels even better!”

“Hmm, quite right Young Master Dick,” Alfred agreed easily. His lips pinched though, brows joining in worried thought. “Although, I am concerned about how small he is. Seems the young lad may be suffering from malnutrition, he is not the size or weight a child of his estimated age should be at.”

Dick nodded along eagerly, purposefully shoulder-checking Bruce for his own amusement as he hurried over to Danny’s bedside. “Is there a diet you think he needs to be on to gain weight back? It seemed like he hadn’t eaten in a while, so I thought I should have him on broth and crackers for a while to start…” Dick started mumbling to himself, trying to come up with a vague plan of what he needed to get at the store. He resolutely ignored Bruce’s attempts to join the conversation, acting like the man wasn’t even there.

“Quite right, best to ease his stomach into things right now. I suggest some bland soups and broths, nothing too flavorful or spice-addled as it could irritate his stomach and cause adverse effects.” Alfred moved to snatch a pad of paper off the counter. He began writing notes and Dick mentally groaned at the idea of reading the fancy British cursive. “I do suggest transitioning to solid foods after a week of him eating and keeping the food down consistently. Then you can start giving him fruits and vegetables high in carbohydrates while having him move around regularly.”

“Dick-” 

“Sounds good, Alfred!” Dick spoke in an overly-cheerful manner, still ignoring his father-figure. “Do you think I’m okay to take him back to my Gotham apartment?”

“It might be best until the boy wakes up, lest he be frightened at an unfamiliar space upon waking. Though I do think your apartment, as shabby as it may be Master Richard, would be far more suitable than lugging him all the way to Bludhaven in this state.” Alfred gave him a sharp nod and moved to start rummaging in a nearby cupboard for something. A moment later he pulled out a pair of soft looking sweats, a little big for Danny but better he supposed than anything in his own locker. “These are Master Tim's, while the young master might be small for his age still, I suggest rolling the waist a few times for Sir Danny so he has something clean to wear.”

Dick gave his pseudo-grandfather a grateful smile, feeling the tension slip out of him bit by bit as he talked to the old man about Danny's condition. Making a plan was grounding, it helped him focus on not paying any mind to the hulking furry at his back. “Thanks for your help Alfie, a lifesaver as always.”

“Hmm, quite so Master Dick,” Alfred shot a glance between him and presumably Bruce. “Now, I suggest the both of you take some time apart to breathe and get cleaned up. Master Bruce, please do take a shower--you smell like a greasy burger joint’s sticky condiment table.”

Dick held in a snort at the remark, noticing the distinct smell of relish nearby now that he wasn't in fight or flight mode. 

“...Condiment King showed up tonight after Nightwing's check in earlier.” Bruce responded defeatedly.

“Must- ard been a wonderful chance to ketchup with your good buddy, B.” Dick cheekily quipped at the sulking man, finally acknowledging Bruce just to torment him. His eyes narrowed at Bruce’s barely-concealed wince at the acrobat’s masterful puns. Was it mean to tease the man? Yes, yes it was and that's why he was not going to stop. “I know you relish your time with him.” Dick’s grin only grew wider at Bruce’s steadily slumping shoulders. “ May-o have a wonderful shower, Mr. Number Five Special.”

Dick snickered quietly to himself as Bruce hurried away to the Cave’s locker room and escaping any death-by-puns from Dick, instead turning his attention back to Danny and Alfred. “I’ve got it from here, Alfred. Thank you so much for your help again, really.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Master Dick. I’ll be back shortly with some refreshments.” With that, the older man patted Dick’s shoulder before starting towards the doorway.

“Sounds good, Alfie,” Dick murmured as the old butler left the room to do as he said. He couldn't stop watching Danny, though, moving closer now and settling into a chair near the exam bed. He took a deep breath, body unwinding a bit for the first time since the moment Bruce entered the cave for the night. 

Dick sat there for seconds or minutes, he wasn't sure, just watching as Danny breathed. His little chest pumping up and down slower than he thought was normal, but moving all the same as he slept. His cherub face slackened in sleep, little puffs of air escaping his mouth every other breath and inadvertently blowing the strands of his bangs up with a slight whoosh. It was adorable.

Thoughtlessly, Dick started running his hand gently through Danny’s tangled hair. His thoughts wandered away from him as he comforted the unconscious boy. He couldn’t have been older than six, so Dick would need to figure out some sort of pre-school situation for him. Or maybe daycare? Roy might know what to do, Lian’s almost three but surely he’s researched what type of care a child this age needs?

All else fails, he could probably contact Dr. Leslie about it and live with the lectures about proper child rearing he'd get. She probably has some sort of guide for people who happened to stumble upon random orphan children in alleyways, right? She has been taking care of Bruce practically his entire life after all…

His thoughts were cut off by a slight shuffling under his hand, snapping to attention as he watched tiny eyelids slowly flutter open. The small child let out a whine, pressing his head up into Dick’s hand as hazy eyes sleepily moved to settle on Dick himself. All at once, Danny stiffened like a board as he stared, wide-eyed and now fully conscious it seemed, at the vigilante sitting beside him.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dick murmured soothingly. He didn't remove his hand and Danny didn't protest it being where it was. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fine…” Danny muttered after a short pause. “Where are we, weirdo?”

Dick chuckled at the name calling, cautiously continuing to stroke Danny’s hair like one would pet a semi-feral raccoon. “We’re in the Batcave, specifically in the medical bay.” Tilting his head to the side, Dick questioned Danny. “Do you remember me bringing you here?”

The little boy barely nodded his head, like he was trying to not dislodge Dick’s gloved hand. “Yeah, you and Mr. Alfred were talkin’ about my health.”

“That’s right,” the vigilante agreed carefully. “You’re pretty malnourished, kid. When was the last time you ate a proper meal?”

“Dunno,” Danny said dismissively, giving the man a truly bombastic side-eye. “Why do you care?”

Dick hesitated for a split-second, worrying about approaching this the wrong way and sending Danny running to the hills. “Well,” he started cautiously, “I was wondering if you had anyone taking care of you. And, if you didn’t have someone, I was going to ask if you would be okay with me being your guardian.” At Danny’s panicked, wide-eyed look, Dick rushed to keep explaining before he bolted. “It doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to be, either. If you want me to bring you to a safe place I can do that. I can work with the police to find a safe home-”

He was cut off by a tiny hand harshly slapping against his mouth, as if to physically shut him up. Dick looked cross-eyed down at the pudgy face grumpily glaring up at the young man with ferocity misplaced on a little face. “You talk too much,” Danny grumbled. “You’re a weirdo, but you’re not a perv. That’s like, ten times better than anything else I’ve met out there.” Fierce blue eyes pinned Dick in place, determined to put him in a place of Danny's choosing supposedly. He sat up a little bit straighter under the scrutinizing gaze of the little boy before him. “Just know that if you try anything, I can and will steal your kidney. Probably the right one, your left seems to be struggling.”

“I–um, okay?” Dick squeaked out, a bit too unnerved by a munchkin that barely reached the height of his knees. “That’s…great to hear?”

“You're welcome,” Danny nodded, like he was doing Dick some big favor by telling him his kidney was failing. Where did that even come from?

Dick coughed awkwardly, shuffling in his chair but somehow keeping his hand tangled in Danny's snarled waves. “So, am I to take that as a yes that you'll let me look out for you?”

Danny pursed his lips, eyes scanning his surroundings a Dick waited patiently. He finally settled on looking just past Dick's shoulder at something. He glanced behind him, expecting Alfred for God forbid Bruce again, but there was no one. Yet, looking back at Danny, he seemed to be having a silent conversation before his blue orbs were piercing into Dick’s very soul with their intensity. 

“I'll trust you for now, but only because everyone says you're nice outside of your outbursts,” Danny shrugged. “But apparently those only happen around your Dad, so I think I'll be fine.”

Dick startled, but then remembered Danny's morbid words from earlier with Bruce on the roof. “Ah,” he nodded in vague understanding. “Your ghost friends are telling you stuff again?”

“I mean, I barely know them,” Danny gave him a flat, “are you stupid” expression. He wasn't even offended at this point. “But I'd think some kids saying you tried to save them from a fire a few years ago would know if you're okay or not.” He flashed a sharp grin… Were those fangs or just long incisors? Dick almost didn’t want to know and paled when Danny's words finally registered. “You know what they say, kids are the best judges of character after all!” Danny quipped with an all-too-cheery voice for the conversation topic.

“Ah, okay then,” Dick said hesitantly, unsure what the socially acceptable response for a child talking to ghosts is. “That’s…good to know?” He felt like he was asking a lot of questions and coming off as pretty stupid right now. Dick thought about it for half a second before mentally shrugging because he figured Danny didn’t have high standards for adults right now anyway.

“Mmhm, by the way? Can I have something to eat already?” Danny changed the subject so fast Dick had whiplash. He blinked at the kid, feeling off kilter while Danny just pouted as he impatiently waited for an answer.

“Uh, yeah, Alfred is bringing those snacks he mentioned earlier I think? Or is there something else you'd like?”

Danny grinned, almost half feral as he cackled and asked, “Could I have some Fruit Loops?”

****************

“Soooo,” Danny drawled out from where he was lying upside-down on Dick’s couch. “Is your name really Dick?”

He watched boredly as the vigilante's head swiveled around, hard enough for part of his neck to snap with a large pop that sounded painful, to stare at Danny casually lounging like a too-pleased stray cat on the ratty couch. Seriously, he thought these guys were rich, so why was his couch scratchy enough Danny was worried there would be fleas on him later? 

“What?” Dick responded intelligently (read: sarcasm), his jaw trying to become one with the floor. He held in a snort–it would just make his head hurt at this angle.

Danny bore his eyes into the startled blues of the unmasked vigilante’s, trying to keep his expression a cool deadpan. “Your name, duh? Dick? By the way, who hated you enough to name you after a peni-”

“ Nope! ” The older man made an aborted motion towards Danny, starting to lung towards where he was sprawled on touch before tripping over his feet a bit. Danny would never admit he thought it was cool how Dick kept himself from falling on his face. “First off, don’t say that word. It's a naughty word, and we don't speak that language here.” Oh great, now he’s being lectured. “Second off, Dick is short for Richard. My parents didn’t really speak English that well, it was a second or third language, so they had no idea about the double meaning of the nickname.”

“Well, at least they didn’t hate you?” Danny half shrugged to keep himself from slipping off the couch, but also to show how little he really cared for the conversation topic. It didn't matter that he chose it in the first place.

“My parents loved me very much, thank you!” Dick now calmly walked closer to Danny, kneeling down next to the couch to be at eye level with him. “Did Alfred tell you my name before we left? I don’t think I ever actually introduced myself.”

“Uhhh…” Danny paused, thinking. “I don’t…know?” He spoke hesitantly, keeping an eye on the muscular man’s body language. He was crouched near Danny's head, but not too close to probably keep Danny from getting freaked out and his face held a concerned expression. But Danny saw something behind his eyes, not threatening but still calculating, like he was trying to figure out a puzzle he didn't have the rules to yet.

Danny figured he was the puzzle…he was hoping Dick would share the rules when he figured it out. For now, Danny was just going to live off of the luck of bullshit.

“Eh, you know what they say right?” Danny put a finger on his chin, tapping it lightly as he glanced away from Dick's probing gaze to check out the rug below his head. It was a nice rug, probably softer than the couch and yep. He was just gonna focus on that stupidly nice rug instead of the adult nearby.

“No, Danny, what do they say? I am so woefully behind on the youth's current jokes.” Dick dramatically flopped onto the side of the couch, still not touching Danny, but closer now that if he tried to run it would be useless.

“That the memory goes first in old age Dick, maybe you should look into that,” Danny shrugged again, feeling himself slip and he held a hand onto the rug for balance. He was right, that is soft! “I don't remember when it was, I definitely heard your name at some point--obviously. But I'm also a kid and I was half asleep most of the night. I think I have a pass right now, but you should really try to do better.”

He felt Dick’s hand slide around his ankle, keeping him on the couch with barely any effort on his part. Danny tilted his head up, chin squishing into his neck uncomfortably comfortable to see the quirk of the man's eyebrows. He eyed the hand keeping him somewhat upright nervously, but tried not to show it. Never let your enemy know your next move and all that stuff. Where did he hear that again?

“Oh? Are you calling me old again Danny?” Dick smiled benevolently, and Danny didn't trust it. “Well, I must be so old that not only my memory is going bad…” Dick’s words drifted right before Danny's world turned right side up again and he let out a whoosh of air as he tumbled gracelessly onto the super soft rug–mostly. His head landed with a little bounce on the hardwood. “My grip must be too! Oh gee, you alright down there, little whippersnapper?”

Danny could hear the smirk in Dick's voice. He just refused to acknowledge it. “Are you trying to give me a concussion? I feel like that’s child abuse.” With a great heave, Danny pushed himself to his feet to stand before Dick in all his three-foot-one glory.

Dick scoffed playfully, “You’re fine, I promise–your skull’s still all squishy.” He reached down and booped Danny’s nose. The younger of the duo slapped at Dick’s hand with a scowl, moving to climb back onto the couch.

“What’s that supposed to mean? You trying to turn my bones into soup or something?” Danny turned to where the dark-haired man sat with no small amount of suspicion. 

Dick simply smiled widely, eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned forward in a terrible impersonation of an old lady. He wiggled his fingers and whispered, “How did you know little one? Why, my bunica had the loveliest recipe for boiled children! The younger they are, the more tender the bones, which makes all the better stock for your meal!” Dick cackled menacingly in a fake way. Totally fake.

Danny inched away completely casually, he wasn't freaked out at all, nope. “Pft, yeah right, you're just messing with me, weirdo.”

“Are you sure about that Danny?” Dick was grinning, he could feel it but he didn't have to look. Danny was just going to focus on the rug again and not the slippered feet at the edge of it. “Did you know my family had a lot of superstitions, but a lot of the old stories were steeped in mystery. Were they true? Or were they just tall tales for old ladies to scare kids into peeling potatoes for dinner?”

Danny risked a glance upwards and squinted his eyes at the fraying fabric of the couch just behind Dick's ear. “...peeling the potatoes option?”

“Maybe,” Dick shrugged casually, tilting his head aside and whistling for a second before he lunged towards Danny. He tried to escape, heart pounding for a precious few seconds before he registered what was happening, uncontrollably he started giggling wildly as he was tickled. Danny wiggled as Dick's fingers attacked him from both sides and even under his armpits, the tickling unrelenting. “Or maybe I'll just have to steal your squishy little bones and we will have to see!”

Danny laughed, unable to stop the tears now running down his face. “No! My bones are normal, they aren't squishy enough for soup! Go boil your own Dick!”

“My bones aren’t nice and tender like yours are though!” Large hands grabbed under his armpits and Dick crowed as he stood up with Danny held securely in his grip. An evil grin overtook the vigilante’s face as he cackled menacingly once more, faking evilness tinting his voice as he playfully spoke. “Light, squishy, and perfect for some delicious soup!”

With a squeal of childish delight, Danny was launched into the air. He floated in the space by the ceiling for a split-second longer than normal before falling back into Dick’s waiting arms, hands outstretched for him. “No!” Danny tried to protest between his laughs. “Get your own bones, you Fruit Loop!”

“Nope,” Dick answered, his grin absolutely smug as he cuddled Danny close. “I want your bones and only yours will do!” And into the air Danny went again, laughter filling the apartment as the two continued to play. “Time to put tasty children into a pot! Hmm, I wonder what kind of veggies I’ll put in with you…how about some carrots?”

“Nooo!” Dany whined, pushing futilely at where he was cradled against Dick’s chest. “I’m not soup! You can’t soup me! This is illegal! And carrots are gross!”

With no small amount of balancing skill on Dick's part, Danny was carried into the apartment’s kitchen where he was plopped onto the counter like a bag of grapes. He side-eyed where Dick began rummaging around the cabinets. If that man dared to pull out a single vegetable in front of him, Danny was not afraid to bite.

“How do you like your waffles, kiddo?” Dick called out randomly after a minute of rummaging. He almost couldn't see the man from where the cupboards were seemingly trying to consume him.

“... Why?” Danny asked suspiciously as the last of his giggles finally faded. He half expected Dick to turn around and grab him again honestly, so he stayed a little tense. But hmm waffles sounded good .

Dick pulled his head out to give Danny a charming grin, eyes sparkling with playful mirth as he shook a box of pre-made waffle mix at the child. “To fatten you up, of course! I can’t eat skinny children, that’s just immoral!”

Danny scoffed, offended. “How is it immoral to just eat a skinny kid, and not I don't know, kids in general ??” 

Dick laughed with whole body, shoulders shaking and the sound coming straight from his belly. Shaking his head, he climbed out of the closet to Narnia's cousin and meandered over to the counter across from Danny. He discreetly crossed his arms, making sure to tuck them around his sides and squeeze them tight around his armpits. 

Dick's eyes crinkled when he noticed the action anyway, no matter how sneaky Danny was. He shook his head and hummed as he started snatching other ingredients from around the small kitchen. “Oh, no, small children are a staple in most countries! Haven't you ever heard of Hansel and Gretel?”

“You mean the fairy tale?” Danny asked with narrowed eyes. He shuffled around a bit, closer to the edge of the counter so he could idly swing his legs back and forth. If it gave him more time to make his escape? Well, that was just a pleasant coincidence.

Dick smirked, “Something I used to hear at your age a lot is that fairy tales are a lot like fables, there's always a hint of a truth or moral to them no matter how fantastic they seem.”

Danny gave a look that had Dick scoffing. “It's true! So I tell you, small children are a delicacy in some cultures, but anyone would consider giving an underfed ingredient to be rude. Wouldn't you think it would stink to have a skinny turkey at Thanksgiving?”

“No, if it were skinnier, then the turkey would be easier to fight off.” Danny didn't even hesitate before answering him. He wasn't quite sure why he felt like that was right, but the way his arms ached at the thought of turkey told him he probably didn't want to know.

He watched though as Dick froze, waffle mix splashing from the bowl onto his pajamas. “I'm sorry kiddo, but what ?!”

“So what kind of waffle are we making?” Danny decided it was best to just move on. Even if the vein in Dick's neck might think otherwise. 

“Danny, please, did you fight a Thanksgiving turkey ?”

“Y’know, I really like blueberry waffles. A bunch of whipped cream, syrup…maybe some crushed Snickers too?” Danny said as he thoughtfully tapped his chin. Dick still hadn’t moved from where he held a whisk haphazardly above the mixing bowl, goopy batter dripping onto the counter a little. He watched, waiting for the hard reboot to finish, as another fat dollop dropped down with a funny-sounding plop noise that Danny enjoyed.

“ Kid. ” Dick's voice sounded like someone was tugging on his throat, barely able to get the one word out while staring at Danny in horror.

“What? Snickers on waffles are tasty! You should try it some time, old man.” He eyed the bowl and whisk as another drop of half-stirred goodness fell. Would Dick notice if he ate some of the mix out of the bowl? He didn't really think so, the man looked kind of out of it right now. “Do you need some help stirring or something?”

“What? I uh, no--” Dick stuttered before setting the bowl back down on the counter to instead rub his hands up and down his face as he loudly sighed. “Sure, kiddo, go crazy.”

“Sweet!” Danny reached over to grab the large mixing bowl, furiously moving the whisk around with a maniacal grin. He flicked his eyes up to Dick, sneaking a little taste while the older man had some kind of crisis in the kitchen and didn't notice him.

He kept an eye on Dick though anyway, who seemed to give up trying to make sense of his life (felt that) before grabbing a waffle iron out of another random cabinet. The man plugged it in before opening his fridge. “I don’t think I have any blueberries here, sorry kiddo, but I do have whipped cream and syrup for you.”

Danny scowled at the waffle mixture, giving it an extra hard stirring at the news. “So you just hate me, huh?”

“ What?! ” Dick once again, dropped his jaw in shock as Danny furiously beat the cheap waffle mix.

“You don’t have blueberries. So you hate me. I can’t believe this, the man who kidnapped me from a tasty meal in the dead of night hates me.” Danny heaved a great, dramatic sigh before turning his deadly puppy-dog eyes full of acute heartbreak to his caretaker. “This is why I should never trust strange men dressed up like crime fighting furries.”

“Danny, when I found you, that ‘tasty meal’ you mentioned? Wasn't that going to be hot melted garbage?” Dick quirked a single eyebrow at him, setting the cold ingredients near Danny's foot on the counter and crossing his arms. “Then I brought you to Alfred, who gave you actual food that you had scarfed down in seconds? So what should you actually say to the nice vigilante who helped you?”

Danny paused for a second to enjoy Dick's smugness before it would come crashing down.

“You suck–should have left me to the raccoons if you didn't have blueberries in your fridge.”

Dick gazed despondently into the void that was his kitchen sink. Danny glanced over to see if a portal to hell opened up or something, but nope it was just a sink. He heard Dick whisper though, horrified and probably to himself. “God, is this what Bruce felt like having to raise us?”

“Hell if I know.” Danny openly stuck a finger into the bowl, happily licking at the tasty batter once more since he was sure Dick was off in La La Land. “My ultimate goal is to give as many gray hairs to as many people in my vicinity as humanly possible.”

“...So this is what Bruce felt like.” Dick glanced up at Danny, narrowing his eyes at Danny's batter coated fingers as he came back to his senses. Finally, Danny was getting bored watching him dissolve into a mindless weirdo. “Also, language Danny--hey, stop eating the batter straight from the bowl, you'll get sick!” Danny screamed a bit as Dick lunged at him, managing to grab the plastic bowl full of tasty goodness away from him.

“Give that back, you blueberryless furry!” Danny protested as he scrambled to try and get the bowl back as Dick avoided him. “That's my food!”

Dick danced out of the way, laughing lightly as Danny slipped off the counter and face planted onto the floor in his mindless flailing. He groaned as he attempted to snatch the older man's ankles. “It’s not even cooked! It’s not food yet!” 

“Says who?! The food police?!” The little boy leapt up at Dick, jumping to try and reach the bowl once more. Dick–the unfairly tall person that he was–just held the bowl up and out of Danny’s way, balanced on his fingertips. The more he tried to jump towards it, the more frustrated Danny got. If only he was a couple of inches taller! Danny ignored the reasonable part of his brain (it was small anyway) that told him even a couple of inches weren't enough when he was so short .

With a small growl, Danny pushed his entire might into one final leap at the plastic prison that housed his tasty treat. His eyes never left it even as his hands met the cool material and with a shout of triumph, he spun around to gloat at the fun police with an unfortunate name.

“Ha, it's mine…now…” Danny's voice trailed off from victorious to confused as he realized he had to look down at Dick. Small hands gripped the edges of the bowl, whisk hanging precariously off the edge as Danny wondered how he suddenly grew taller. Did he have a sudden growth spurt? He didn't think so, one that big would have hurt and ripped his clothes he figured. Danny thought about it as he watched Dick run around the kitchen island, eyes locked onto Danny above him.

“Danny?! Are you alright, you aren't hurt or anything are you?” Dick screeched, hands splayed on the counter as he took one breath in and two out. Danny counted it.

Hmm, Danny wondered for half a second before it hit him. He must have unlocked some reality altering superpower that must have made Dick really small or gave Danny super height! That was so cool! 

He grinned toothily as he called out to Dick. “Hey hey! Guess what? I think I have some kind of superpower, Dick!”

He gave Danny a smile that didn't reach his eyes like the others, it looked more like the one he gave Alfred last night when he was getting a lecture about something. Why was he not more excited? Danny had reality-altering superpowers! He could get Dick some blueberries and he would never have to suffer through blueberryless waffles ever again!

“That's uh, yeah I can tell you've got powers, kiddo,” Dick looked stressed as he nodded back. He climbed on the counter and Danny cocked his head as he watched. The counter didn't seem to shrink, so Dick didn't seem to either…which left him with the fact Danny got bigger! Yes, he was going to be taller than Dick now!

“Danny, just stay still alright? I'm coming for you now,” Dick wobbled a little on the counter. He may be a vigilante, but when your foot slips into the sink it'll knock anyone off balance. Danny nodded sagely at his own thoughts, sympathizing with the man as he yelped in surprise.

He paused though, when he realized Dick's words didn't make sense. “Wait, what do you mean ‘coming’ for me?” Danny leaned forward to watch Dick get his foot unstuck, and the whisk finally slipped away. He watched as it tumbled around in circles, waffle mix flying everywhere for a precious few seconds before it went splat on the floor below him. Wait, below him?

“Huh?” Danny made a little noise, carefully lifting the bowl above his head with both hands to peek beneath his feet. He saw that there was no floor right under his feet for one, and for another he was still the same short size as before. There went that idea of reality powers , Danny thought bitterly. But then he realized something new, lowering the bowl to sit in his lap and he moved his legs applesauce style and slowly reached a hand to touch the popcorn ceiling grazing the top of his head.

He was floating. In the air, all on his own! Danny giggled, his whole body shivering in new excitement. Calling out to Dick, little fingers still rubbing the bumpy ceiling he told him, “Oh man, Dick I'm floating–this is so cool! Do you see this?!”

Dick sighed under him, sounding utterly exhausted and muttering to himself. “Welp, that's another thing to add to the discussion list after breakfast.”