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“It’s the second time this week Dick.” Bruce sighed looking at the teacher’s notes in his hands.
“What? History is lame anyways, I don’t need it to fight!” Dick huffed crossing his arms stubbornly, Gotham’s school uniform still on.
Bruce had been receiving more and more reports on Dick’s behavior in class. “He can’t focus”, “He is distracting the class” “he can’t sit still”
“he made a cartwheel in the middle of the class” . That was the last one he received, and honestly, it sounded ridiculous but something Dick would totally do.
He had adopted Dick officially some months ago, it had been a long and tedious process, full of psychology assessments. And the therapist had noticed something “he might be different, Mr. Wayne” one of them had said.
Different, they really didn’t have a diagnosis, just some type of neurodivergency . Alfred had found it hilarious that Dick ended up being more similar to Bruce than first expected, Bruce was not happy at all. If he already had troubled understanding people, understanding a kid who was… like him, but not at all, was a big challenge.
“History can be boring, I get it,” —he didn’t get it, he had found history in elementary school very interesting back in his days— “But doing a cartwheel? Where did that came from?”
“I needed to do it!” Dick whined “And everyone liked it!”
Bruce sighed again. How was he supposed to do this again? He always relied on Alfred doing this hard things, he wasn’t father material. He tried to remember what Alfred had said. Be firm, yes that was it.
“Sorry chum, no patrol for you today” he said seriously.
“What!?? No way! Come on B you need me out there!” He pleaded,oh those damn puppy eyes.
“Well… M-” Alfred interrupted him clearing his throat behind Bruce, puppy eyes couldn’t win the terrifying idea of Alfred’s potential disapproval. “No patrol.” He repeated.
“THIS IS SO NOT FAIR!! I HATE YOU!” A foot was stomped and then the kid run away to his room.
The room was deadly silent and Bruce hissed to himself when he heard the door get slammed upstairs. He sighed again turning around to find Alfred, looking at him approvingly.
“Well done Master Bruce” he said stepping closer and fixing the collar of Bruce’s shirt “Being a father isn’t easy, you are doing well.”
“He hates me” Bruce muttered like a kicked puppy.
“He does not, kids say those things whenever they are upset.” Alfred said trying to suppress a smile, this man was as clueless about people as when he was a kid. “You were more literal, but as dramatic as him”
“I was not dramatic!” Bruce almost pouted as Alfred pulled away and patted his chest.
“You were very dramatic, my boy, now come on, you have to save Gotham or whatever, I’ll go prepare dinner for the young master” Alfred said turning around and waving a dismissive hand.
Bruce grumbled under his breath but left to the cave anyways, patrol couldn’t be cancelled, although he would miss the little boy wonder on his side.
Patrol usually was fun with Dick, he was the little sunshine, the positive thing that kept Bruce from spiraling through all the negativity around them. If Batman was the night, Robin was the shiniest of stars. Dick was not the easiest in patrol, he would be silly, make jokes to thugs before hitting them and do more acrobatics than necessary, but it was fun, and now that Bruce was alone patrolling the city, he was really missing that fun.
***
“Young master, you have to eat.” Alfred repeated at the boy who was pouting at the food and playing with one vegetable instead.
“Not hungry…” Dick mumbled stubbornly.
“You are upset, I can understand, but if you don’t eat you can’t go patrol.” Alfred said sternly. “you know the rules.”
“What does it matter!? I can’t go anyways!” He snapped and gasped at his own outburst “I’m sorry…” he said covering his mouth with both his hands.
“Don’t be.” Alfred smiled fondly, sitting down next to Dick “You are allowed to be upset, and you’ll return to your crime fighting” he reassured rubbing his back gently.
“It’s not fair… How am I supposed to focus on school?” He murmured quietly “it’s boring! Villains are more entertaining” he huffed.
“You just sit down and focus dear, it’s as easy as that.”
“It’s not easy!” Dick protested, “I sit there and want to move! But they don’t let me move! It’s not easy Alfred!” He hiccuped, now distressed.
Alfred frowned looking down at the now crying kid, he knew Dick had some trouble with focus, the kid usually wondered on his own mind which had became difficult in patrol as told as Bruce. But not being able to focus at all? That was news to the old butler, maybe that therapist was right after all. He would have to talk to Bruce about this.
“I’ll tell Bruce to talk to your teacher.” Alfred said grabbing a handkerchief and cleaning the little boy’s face. “Now eat your meal dear, I’ll give you ice cream if you finished all the veggies”
That seemed to do it for Dick who dug into the plate of food with gusto.
Later that night, after taking a shower and dressing in sweatpants and a clean white shirt, Bruce walked into the living room. He found his son, now on his blue striped pajamas, one hand holding his stuffed elephant and the other holding a popsicle —that was getting all his hand sticky— laying in the couch and humming to himself.
He smiled to himself but neutralized his expression again when Dick turned to him, he was expecting to be met with the same anger from before he had left for patrol, but Dick looked up and pouted at him, eyes watering instantly, and Bruce was more than confused.
“Chum? Everything alright?” He asked trying to not show how out of it he was.
“Am I weird?” He sobbed putting his arms up, something not usual for him.
Still, Bruce had the instinct to grab the boy and so he did. He lifted him up and set him on his hip ignoring the sticky hands that clung to his new clean shirt. He hated sticky hands but right now the important thing was the little boy crying in his arms.
“Dick, we both dress up and fight crime at night, we are both weird.” He said making a wobbly smile appear on the boy’s face. “Where is this coming from, kiddo?”
“Alfred said normal people can focus” — he didn’t said that exactly but whatever— “And I can’t do that.” He sniffled.
“You might be different then, but that isn’t bad chum.” He said kissing his forehead. “I’m different too”
“But you are always focused!” Dick said confused looking up at him with those damn big eyes.
“I am, that is not normal.” He said shrugging “normal people can focus on command, they sit down focus on work and then get up and do something else, I can only focus on one thing.” He explained.
“Being broody?”
“Being Batman” Bruce huffed smiling down at the boy. "My brain only thinks about Batman, plans for everything that can happen, organize everything neatly and I get anxious when my plans are changed."
Dick giggled resting his head on Bruce’s shoulder. And Bruce smiled to himself, this kid was not like him, not at all, and that was very confusing. But he clearly wasn’t normal too. Maybe that was why they fitted so perfectly as a family, both weird in different flavors.
“There might be some way to help you focus on school, and keep that focus when we need to work on patrol” he said starting to walk upstairs still holding Dick in his arms.
He noticed Alfred smiling while he walked upstairs. Bruce had always doubted his parenting skills, and with Dick those doubts grew even more, but Alfred’s smile told him that he was doing a good job. And even if he was not, he was at least trying.
“Will you be able to sleep alone tonight?” Bruce inquired as he opened the door to Dick's bedroom.
“I am not a kid” said the 10 year old kid.
“Of course, my bad" Bruce hummed "My bedroom is still open for not-kids who can’t sleep” he continued, putting Dick down on the bed.
He tucked Dick in and grabbed his favorite fairy tale book. Alfred had insisted on Bruce reading to Dick since the first day, at first Bruce didn't understood the need of it, Dick was ten, for him ten years old could sleep alone. But now he understood.
It was a bonding moment, he liked reading out loud, Dick seemed to get soothed to sleep by Bruce's deep and steady voice. Bruce might not be able to understand the need to be read to sleep, but he knew this part of their routine was now settled, and he hoped it would stay like it for forever. He looked at the tiny kid, to think that this little guy was full of anger some months ago, that he was one of the best fighters Bruce had saw, and he was only a kid.
This little kid, had became Bruce’s entire world, Gotham could burn if it meant he got to see that smile, those little dimples and big happy eyes.
They were weird, two different kinds of weird. And even if the Parenthood thing was harder than it looked like... Bruce wouldn’t change it for anything.
This was his little weird boy, his entire world.