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“Listen to- Listen- Richard, please just listen to the-“
Dick clenched his jaw as the instructor pulled back for what had to be the tenth time today. She walked across the hardwood floor and turned off the gentle waltz that was playing out of the speakers. It cut off abruptly and her silence was all the more obvious because of it. He wasn’t looking directly at her, but he was forced to see her face in the dozens of mirrors lining the dance studio. The disappointment, the frustration – Dick recognized it all too well because he was feeling them in himself and he wore them all on his own face.
Curse those damn mirrors.
“You need to listen to the-“
“Listen to the music, hear the beat, feel it,” Dick repeated. He was spitting it out and he knew he was getting temperamental but he couldn’t stop himself. “I know what I need to do. You’ve been telling me to do it for the past two months. I still can’t get it right, I’m not learning it.”
“We could speak with your father and see about adding more lessons,” she suggested.
“He’s not my father,” Dick snapped. “And I don’t need more lessons. I need a teacher who knows how to teach!”
She was quiet but her fingers were tightening around her arms, knuckles turning white. Dick would never get used to the way people would hold their tongues around him now that he lived with Bruce. Before he was a circus brat with dark skin that moved too much and climbed on things he shouldn’t, now he was the kind of person who took hundred dollar dancing lessons – per lesson and Dick’s eyes had bugged when he’d found out - before a charity gala.
She should have shouted at him, gotten angry, defended her long list of qualifications and instead she bit her tongue.
“Richard, I think with some more lessons we could really-“
“We’re done,” Dick said. “I’m clearly not going to figure this out.”
And of course, she didn’t stop him. No one would get in the way of Bruce Wayne’s ward.
Three hours later, Dick pretended not to hear the door open down the hallway as Bruce returned home from the office. Fortunately, his premature exit from his dance lesson had given him extra time to work on his homework. Coupled with the fact that it was math, Dick’s best subject, and Dick would actually be completely done with homework in time to go on patrol tonight with Bruce. It was getting harder to juggle the AP courses and extracurricular activities along with his duties as Bruce’s ward and his job as Robin during the night. Learning to survive on less and less sleep had never been part of the official Robin training program but it was a necessity, so at least Dick had that going for him.
There was muffled talking and Dick imagined it was Alfred asking on Bruce’s day and Bruce describing the boring office work he was so committed to. Bruce usually asked in turn and Alfred’s response was always polite but vague. As Dick finished his seventh geometry problem of fourteen, he waited for the soft footfalls of Bruce heading upstairs to his study before he’d take to the Cave later on this evening. Instead, the footfalls approached the sitting room Dick was using for homework and stopped in the doorway.
Dick didn’t look up.
“Dick,” Bruce said. And when Dick still didn’t look up, it earned a sigh from the older man. “Dick, come on. Don’t be dramatic.”
“Coming from the guy who turned spandex wearing and vigilantism into, like, a thing…” Dick trailed off, reluctantly looking up.
Bruce was quiet for a moment. “It’s not spandex, it’s-“
“Please,” Dick said, cutting him off. “She called you.”
“Of course she called me,” Bruce said.
“Because the only thing more important than pleasing me is pleasing you,” Dick muttered.
“Because she could tell that you were frustrated and she was worried that you would let it keep you from coming back for the rest of your lessons,” Bruce said. “She says you have a lot of natural grace, which I expected, but that you seemed too distracted.”
“I’m not distracted, I’m just not good at dancing. It doesn’t matter. I’ll just stand off to the side. I don’t have to dance,” Dick said.
Dick had to grab his book to stop it from sliding into Bruce when the man sat down next to him on the couch. Bruce closed the textbook, careful to keep his paper visible to come back to, and then moved it out of the way to set it on the table. “You’ll be miserable.”
“I’ll be more miserable dancing,” Dick said.
“You hate being out of the spotlight. It will kill you to stand on the side and it will kill you twice to let yourself down,” Bruce said.
Dick rolled his eyes and looked away. “I’m not letting myself down. I’m quitting. I didn’t fail.”
“And maybe you’ll convince yourself of that but on the side of the dance floor?” Bruce asked. He didn’t force Dick to look at him but from the way Bruce’s hands twitched slightly in his lap, he wanted to. “Because you’re a perfectionist.”
“I’m not-“
“Trust me, Dick. I recognize one when I see one. I look at one in the mirror every morning when I shave,” Bruce said dryly. “You think I didn’t notice the courses this semester? The soccer team?”
“You didn’t come to the games,” Dick said.
“I didn’t think you’d want the press stalking your soccer team,” Bruce replied.
Dick felt something warm, knowing Bruce hadn’t come only because he’d felt it would be a hassle for Dick. Not because he didn’t want to.
“And while I’m sure running into something you truly couldn’t do well would be a significant challenge for you, I don’t really think that’s the issue,” Bruce said.
“So what do you think is the issue, oh mighty detective?” Dick asked sarcastically. “Profile me.”
Bruce’s lips thinned but he didn’t rise to the bait. “You have stage fright.”
Dick scoffed. “No, I don’t.”
“Dick-“
“That’s actually insulting,” Dick interrupted.
“Dick-“
“I’m a Flying Grayson. We don’t get stage fright,” Dick said.
“Dick-“
“I’ve never had stage fright in my entire life,” Dick said.
“Dick!” Bruce said, cutting Dick’s rant off into an abrupt conclusion. He lowered his voice and replied, “It’s okay to be nervous.”
Dick swallowed once. Twice. He pulled one leg up, resting his elbow on his knee. He mumbled his response. “I can’t focus on listening to the music.”
Bruce didn’t speak, maybe sensing that interrupting would make Dick clam up once more.
“I can’t focus on anything but all those mirrors and watching every mistake I make. I know you need me to be good at this, Bruce. I know it’s important we have a good public image for this and I keep messing it up,” Dick said. “I just don’t want to let you down.”
Bruce reached forward, resting a warm hand on Dick’s knee. “You have never let me down, Dick, and you never will. I’m sorry I ever gave you the impression that you could.”
“You didn’t,” Dick said quickly. “I just know you need me to be perfect.”
“Dick,” Bruce said softly. “I need you to be your best. Sometimes your best is so close to perfect that I wonder how you manage it, but I don’t need you to be perfect.”
Dick didn’t say anything. Bruce’s words changed nothing. If Bruce could do everything – be Bruce Wayne, CEO, and Bruce Wayne, playboy socialite, and Bruce Wayne, Batman then Dick could juggle just as much. He had to, in order to be worthy of being Bruce’s partner.
“How much homework do you have left?” Bruce asked.
“Half the problems,” Dick said. “I’ll have them done before patrol.”
Bruce stood, holding out his hand to pull Dick off the couch. He motioned for Dick to follow and then led him out of the sitting room. “We’re not patrolling tonight.”
Dick felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Bruce, look, I get that I should have been nicer to the instructor. I’m planning to apologize. We can still go on patrol tonight.”
“It’s not a punishment. We’ve been patrolling regularly. One night off will not send the city into a catastrophe, and if it does then we can certainly don our masks and take care of it then,” Bruce said.
Dick followed him through the hallways. The Manor was enormous. Dick had explored it in his youth but even now, sometimes he’d stumble on a room he hadn’t seen before. This hallway he recognized but there wasn’t much down here but dusty grand pianos and long forgotten artwork.
Bruce opened a set of double doors. It looked like a smaller version of the big ballroom Bruce held the parties in. Much smaller, which was still bigger than a room in most anyone else’s house. There were some covered furniture in here. Old antiques that took up the majority of the floor space.
“What are we doing in here?” Dick asked.
“Help me move some of this stuff,” Bruce ordered.
Together they moved a couch to the side and two armchairs. An overly ornate lamp with a lampshade in a terribly unfortunate color of green. It was weird to see Bruce on his knees in his suit pants and white business button down, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, rolling up the rug on the floor to reveal the hardwood floor underneath. The jacket had been thrown over a dusty armchair, something that would probably put even more frown lines on Alfred’s face.
“We’re using our day off of patrol to clean up rooms that don’t look like they’ve been touched in a thousand years,” Dick asked.
“A thousand would be a slight exaggeration,” Bruce said. “But no, we’re not just moving furniture. Stay here while I’m gone?”
“Yeah,” Dick said, dropping onto the piano bench with his arms crossed over his chest. “Don’t take too long.”
Bruce huffed a breath that could have been a laugh but Dick looked up too late to see the small smile that had crossed the man’s face.
Dick sneezed once and the sound was so loud in the empty room. He couldn’t begin to understand what Bruce was having them do in this miniature ballroom but he hoped they weren’t in here so long that he ended up sneezing his head off all night.
The door opened and Bruce stepped in with a radio. He opened the CD player portion and slid a CD inside. He waited a moment and then pressed play. The familiar strains of a waltz came from the speakers and Dick tensed. “Bruce…”
“When I was younger,” Bruce started, ignoring Dick’s obvious discomfort. “My mother taught me how to dance. I was seven, maybe? Too young to have developed an aversion to spending time with my mother the way teenagers do. She dressed me up in my nicest tux and wore her favorite dress and her pearls. Then she took me down here, and back then the room wasn’t cluttered with furniture like it is now, and she had Alfred play music while I stood on her feet and she taught me the steps to dances.”
Dick’s expression softened. For someone who let his life revolve around his parents, Bruce didn’t talk about them much. They were a mystery to Dick and he knew they always would be.
“You are slightly too old to be stepping on my toes but I think we can do something similar here,” Bruce said. He walked over and held his hand out for Dick to take. Dick hesitated and Bruce patiently added, “There’s no mirrors here, Dick. Trust me.”
Of course, Dick did so he had to stand up and take Bruce’s offered hand.
“You have a natural grace, Dick, and you’re a natural performer. You’ve let yourself get caught up in your head,” Bruce said.
“It’s just dancing,” Dick muttered, letting Bruce lead him around the ballroom mindlessly.
“Doesn’t matter. You’re human and humans are notorious for letting the smallest things get into their heads,” Bruce replied.
“Like dancing,” Dick said.
“Like dancing,” Bruce repeated. “One, two, three. One, two, three.”
Following Bruce was easy because Dick had been doing that for years. He’d followed him into much more terrifying things than a dance. They were partners and Dick knew without a doubt that Bruce trusted him as much as Dick trusted Bruce.
The song came to an end and Bruce let them stop on the floor. Dick thought they were done but Bruce moved Dick’s hand to his hip. “Now you lead.”
“What?” Dick asked. The next song started up.
“Now you lead,” Bruce repeated. “This dance, you get the reins.”
Dick blushed a little. “I’m no good at this, Bruce. I told you that.”
“You know how to dance, Dick. You know the steps because you’ve been learning them in your instructor’s class for the past few months. You know how to lead, you know how to perform, you’ll be fine,” Bruce said. “Now lead.”
Dick listened to the music, really listened to it like his instructor talked about. He took a hesitant step forward, and then let his steps match the beat.
It wasn’t perfect. Far from it. Dick cringed the first time he made a mistake. Bruce didn’t. He fell into the motion, followed the sweep of Dick’s steps. The next time Dick made a mistake, he didn’t cringe as much.
Their feet made soft sounds against the wood floor, the music twisting around them.
Dick stopped cringing when he stepped wrong. He stepped wrong less often. Bruce stayed loyal to Dick’s lead as he did. When the song ended, Bruce stepped back first and Dick dropped his hands to his side. Bruce didn’t smile but there was something in the set of his jaw that conveyed happiness. “Guess you learned something in those classes after all.”
“I made mistakes,” Dick said.
“I didn’t notice,” Bruce said. “And no one else will either, because you’ve always been a great performer. It’s not about not making mistakes, it’s about not letting your mistakes control you.”
Dick nodded. Then, “We’re never going to tell anyone we did that, right?”
Bruce did smile then, laughed even. “I suppose I won’t ruin your reputation that much.”
Dick looked down at the floor and then back up at Bruce. “Thanks. I mean all of it. The lesson and the dancing and the story about your mom.”
“I know I’m not perfect,” Bruce said. “But I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t come to me.”
“I don’t think that would ever happen,” Dick said.
Ten Years Later
Dick twirled around the dance floor with Sara Braun. The daughter of an energy mogul, Dick liked her better than most of the women he danced with. She’d shown some interest in him back in high school but had seemed to respect that there was someone else, even if he hadn’t known that much himself at the time. Now she was dating a woman in the same graduate program as her and Dick liked to think they’d bonded over that.
Not sexuality, though that might have helped, but the hidden aspect of their relationships. What Sara didn’t know is that Nightwing did his homework on all of the guests to Bruce’s parties, she didn’t know that he knew about her hidden girlfriend. But she must have sensed that Dick’s heart and dance card belonged to someone else. He liked to believe that some part of her had sensed a kindred spirit, finding someone who danced because it was expected and didn’t judge or desire their dance partner.
He kissed the back of her hand. “Thank you, Sara.”
“I love dancing with you, Dick,” she said. “You’re a natural on the dance floor.”
He laughed. “If only you knew. I was a terrible dancer when I started.”
“You?” Sara asked. “Never.”
He smiled and then separated ways amicably.
The night drug on, Sara was not the last dance partner but she was easily his favorite. For the majority of the night, Dick stole glances at Bruce as he twirled his own parade of women across the floor. Bruce wondered if he had his own Sara, someone who understood without truly knowing.
Party guests left. The heavy drinkers went last. All that remained with the help hired for the evening, waiters and bartenders. Dick watched them clean up the mess of empty flutes and take away half eaten trays of hors d’oeuvres. He sat down on the bottom of the stairs beside Bruce. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Bruce said.
“You don’t seem like you enjoyed your own party,” Dick said.
Bruce hummed in response.
Dick let him have his silence. There were people around. Bruce never relaxed when someone could be watching. Instead, he faced the ballroom. Evidence of the party disappeared. The wait staff disappeared. The bartender packed up and then he too disappeared. There were some decorations left on the walls and the music continued playing.
Finally, some of the tension eased out of Bruce’s shoulders.
“Happy Birthday, old man,” Dick whispered.
Bruce’s lips thinned. “Watch it. I’m still young enough to take you down on the mat.”
“I think it’s time I admit that I’m letting you win,” Dick said, smiling easily.
“Dick,” Bruce started.
Dick leaned forward, cutting off the rest of Bruce’s words with a kiss. He pulled back after that. “Slow down, birthday boy. I have a surprise for you.”
“I don’t like birthday presents,” Bruce said. “I told you not to buy anything.”
“Well since I didn’t buy you anything I suppose you can’t be mad at me,” Dick said. He stood up. “Alfred!”
Bruce waited and then his eyes widened some when a waltz came over the speakers. Dick was glad to see that Bruce remembered it, remembered its significance. “I taught you to dance to this song.”
“Yeah,” Dick agreed. “You did.”
Bruce smiled and then arched an eyebrow when Dick held out his hand. Indulgently, Bruce took it and let Dick pull him to his feet before taking him into a dancing position and twirling Bruce around the dance floor. The song died away. Bruce stole a kiss which made Dick smile. “Thank you, Dick.”
“Now you lead,” Dick said back.
Bruce met his eyes.
“I’m waiting,” Dick said.
Bruce shifted their hands and when the next song played, he guided Dick into the first step to spin him across the floor.