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The forecast called for clear skies and sunny weather all day, making it the perfect day for Gotham Elementary's zoo field trip. Bruce had rearranged his whole schedule for the trip, sandwiching the board meeting his presences was required but unnecessary between other civilian obligations and handing the case folder of evidence on his current target over to Gordon while reluctantly trusting the police could handle it. It was shaping up to be the perfect day. Still, Bruce thought trying to shield his eyes from the sun, did it have to be so bright?
Pain was stabbing behind his eyes reminding Bruce why he avoided the sun if possible. Dick ran around chatting with his classmates, bouncing from group to group as they gathered for lunch. He was glad to see that he was making friends after his adjustment period, although it didn't appear he had any close bonds. Bruce closes his eyes as he rubs at his temples. When he looks up, Dick has disappeared.
A weight collides into his back, tiny elbows digging into his sides. A pair of sunglasses are pushed over his head too roughly the arms poking Bruce as the settle over his ears. "Here you go, B!" Dick says right next to his ears too loudly to be comfortable. Not that Bruce would tell him that.
The sunglasses squeeze Bruce's head in an uncomfortable manner, but they block out the light letting Bruce look around without squinting. "Is their a reason you're giving me your sunglasses?" he asks.
"'Cause the sun's bothering you. You're being all squinty and trying to stay in the shade," Dick says, his tone saying 'duh.'
Bruce hadn't realized he was being so unsubtle. "Thanks, chum," he says ruffling Dick's hair. "Why don't you go hang out with your friends before we split off to see the giraffes?"
"Okay. But you have to tell me if you're in pain!" Dick says.
"I will." Bruce watches him scamper off to a different group of friends.
Bruce grits his teeth as the Bat-computer screen starts becoming blurry. Batman is need for tonight. There's a deal happening between Scarecrow and the Falcone family near the docks and while Bruce hasn't been able to find out exactly what was being exchanged, he was largely certain it was something that would put the rest of Gotham at risk. But now that Bruce is aware of it, he can feel the pressure building in the base of his skull. By the time he gets to the docks, the pain would be debilitating.
"You have a migraine, don't you?" Dick asks from behind him. Bruce turns to find him fully dressed in his Robin costume sans the domino. His brow is furrowed as he studies Bruce, attune to him in away Bruce wishes he wasn't.
"I'm fine," he says flipping over the cowl. "Let's go."
Dick scoffs. "If you have a migraine, you should just stay home."
"We can't let Crane and the Falcone family get away with this."
He crosses his arms, stalking over so he's in front of Bruce. Dick can look him in the eye now, a fact that always fills Bruce with a sense of remorse. "You're dead weight on the field like this," Dick says. "I can go by myself."
"No!"
"I do patrols alone all the time!"
"There's too many of them for you to handle by yourself."
"Then I'll pick up Batgirl!"
"Ahem." They both look over to see Alfred has approached them. "If I may, Master Bruce. The lad is more than capable of handling himself—as you have spent years ensuring. And if you are indeed suffering a migraine, you should retire to your room. We both know that stubbornness will help no one."
"Fine," Bruce growls. "Alfred, is Robin doesn't report back in three hours you're to wake me."
He stalks off to change out of his suit before retiring to his room only stopping long enough to take an ibuprofen. Alfred brings him a cool mask for the pain which he gratefully puts on while he makes sure the curtains are drawn shut. His stomach rolls and Bruce can't tell if it's a symptom or concern.
Stabbing pain starts behind his eyes making Bruce glad for the cool mask. He lays star fished on the mattress trying to keep his movements to the minium least he cause irritation that dominos into pain. Sleep does not end up capturing Bruce into its sweet embrace freeing him from the pain.
The door creaks open just barely noticeable to anyone who doesn't have Bruce's training. Peeling off the mask slightly, he can make out Dick peeking through the crack. He lifts up an arm and Dick comes crawling on to the bed.
"Are you feeling better?" he asks quietly.
"It's almost gone," Bruce says. Not technically lying because he can feel the pain receding, but implying that the migraine is further in the cycle than true. "How did your mission go?"
"Great! Batgirl helped me and we cleared out the whole warehouse in, like, thirty minutes."
"Hm." He brings his hand to Dick's face drawing out a hiss. "You're hurt."
Dick scowls. "It's just a bust lip. I'll be good as new in, like, a week."
Bruce considers pressing the issue. He doesn't care how minor the issue is, what matters is that his son is hurt. Instead he decide to drop it—Dick will no doubt turn it into a shouting match Bruce will have no tolerance for.
"Okay. Good night, chum."
"G'night, B."
Bruce turns when he hears the cave entrance open. Turning he sees Dick driving in on a motorcycle dressed in civilian clothing. Dick breaks beside the Bat-mobile before hopping off the bike.
"I'm only here for dinner," Dick says when he spots Bruce, drawing up his shoulders and puffing himself up. "Alfred insisted on it. I'm not doing any vigilant business tonight."
Bruce is starting to wonder why his children seem convinced he'd be upset with them taking a night off vigilantism. "Okay," he says.
"And you're not dragging me into training the kid!"
Ah. Jason would be disappointed to miss out of gymnastic lessons, but he'd hardly force Dick's hand on the matter. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"I understand," Bruce says passively.
Dick deflates slightly. "Alright then," he says like he can't believe it was that easy.
Bruce calls out to him before he can go upstairs. "I'd appreciate it if you could help me with something."
The fight comes back into Dick immediately. "I already told you I'm n—"
He cuts him off, "It isn't cape stuff."
"Then what is it then?" he asks skeptically as he creeps towards Bruce.
Bruce holds up his shot. "I could do it myself, but I believe you'd have a better chance at find somewhere not already bruised."
Dick takes the needle and the offered alcohol wipe. "Is this for you're migraines?"
"Yes. The other one stopped working as well."
"You should have told me," Dick says, opening the packet. Bruce doesn't point out that their last call ended in a very strongly worded request to never call him again. "I should just stab you before this dries."
Despite his words, Dick lets the alcohol rub dry off before pushing in the needle. Bruce doesn't react as he feels the pinch followed by the push of the syringe emptying. "Thanks, chum," he says as Dick pulls out the needle.
"Yeah, no problem." Dick heads up the stairs and Bruce pretends he isn't watching him.