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It’s been...interesting, having a partner. Bruce didn’t think he would grow to like it as much as he does, and it’s only been a month. Before Dick, it was all silent patrols and empty car rides. Now he has a nine-year-old talking his ear off every second of the night, and he doesn’t seem to hate it as much as he thought he would. Dick is a welcome addition to this life, slotting in perfectly like a puzzle piece.
Earlier this night, Bruce and Dick had the same battle they did the night before. And the night before that. And two nights before that.
“Come on, Bruce, I’m tough. Those guys will never see me coming.”
“No.”
“You’re being a bully.”
“Still no.”
Dick pouts, but he doesn’t stop swinging from Bruce’s arm like a chimpanzee. “Why not? Don’t you trust me?”
“Of course I trust you. That doesn’t mean I’ll let you fight criminals before you’re ready.”
Dick sticks his tongue out. “Meanie.”
It’s not like Dick never does anything. Far from it, actually. Bruce lets him take the lead on missions such as helping cats in trees or consoling frightened mugging victims. He isn’t allowed anywhere
near
a fight yet—not until Bruce can be confident that the boy won’t get killed when his back is turned. That’s not so unreasonable, is it?
Bruce ties up the last goon with a zip-tie, then shoots a text to Gordon to come pick these guys up. (It’s fine, Jim has learned to stop holding a grudge when he gets woken up at midnight to clean up Batman’s messes. Bruce sends him edible arrangements once a month as a thank-you.) With that dealt with, he goes to track down his partner. “Robin? You can come out now.”
Dick
should
be where Bruce left him, sitting on the stack of shipping crates to the side, safely out of the action. “Robin?” There’s no red tunic in sight, even though Bruce
swears
he was just here a minute ago.
Then he hears a small, “Batman?” Bruce turns around and finds his Robin yards away near the warehouse’s exit, peeking out from behind a row of tool shelves.
Bruce lets out a breath. “Why didn’t you stay where I asked you to?” It’s his own fault. He was so caught up in the fight, he forgot to check on his partner at the regular intervals. As he approaches the kid, he sees Dick’s crooked stance, the damp blotches under the fabric of his mask. “Are you hurt?”
“One of the bad guys, he was getting away.” Bruce
knew
there was another one. He figured he’d just counted wrong. “I tried going after him.” He’s holding his left arm at a funny angle, bent at his mid-forearm in a way that arms are
definitely
not supposed to bend.
Bruce kneels in front of him, puts a gentle hand on the boy’s elbow. “Can I see?”
“It hurts.”
“I promise to be careful.”
Dick surrenders his arm, wincing at just that tiny motion. Bruce holds it carefully as promised. He feels around lightly until he finds the break. Dick flinches. “Sorry. It hurts there the most, right?”
“I think it’s broken.”
“I think you’re right. Are you hurt anywhere else?”
Dick shakes his head. “I tried to stop him, but he—he pushed me really hard and I fell into a shelf. He got away after that. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t care about that. But you
know
you’re not supposed to get into fights. Not yet. You could have been killed.”
“I just wanted to help.” His voice is scratchy, breaking every once in a while and making Bruce’s heart pang. God, when did he start caring so much about this kid?
“And you do help. You help me more than you’ll ever know. But I would rather have a bad guy or two get away than see you put yourself in danger. From now on, you obey orders and stay when I tell you to, otherwise no more patrolling. Do you understand me?”
Dick nods, sniffling.
“Good.” Bruce wipes away a stray tear with his thumb. “Now come on, let’s get you fixed up.” He stands, lifting Dick in his arms and settling the boy against his side. Dick whimpers as his arm is jostled, burying his face in Bruce’s shoulder. “I know it hurts, kiddo. It’s going to hurt for a little bit, but then we’ll get you a cast and it’ll start to feel better. You can even pick out the color.”
“Can I make it red?”
“Of course. That’s a great choice.”
Dick pulls back a little. “What about Robin? Dick Grayson and Robin can’t have the same cast.”
Bruce rubs the kid’s back in small circles, feels him clutch Bruce tighter with his good arm while the other stays securely against his torso. “Well, I think it’s best if you don’t patrol for a little while. Rest up for at least a week, maybe more. After that...I’m sure we can figure something out.”
They make it to the Batmobile where it idles, secluded against the warehouse’s shadows. Bruce sits Dick on top of the hood and tells him to stay still for a minute. Bruce goes to find the first-aid kit and brings it back to Dick, who’s returned to holding his arm.
“Let’s get this mask off.” Bruce soaks a cloth with solvent, pressing it to the edges of the mask to loosen the gum. He slips it off, revealing teary blue eyes and clumped eyelashes. He wordlessly wipes the tears from Dick’s cheeks. “Better,” he says. He takes out a bottle of baby ibuprofen next and taps a couple of capsules into his palm. “Here, these will help with the pain some.”
Dick takes them silently, then accepts the water bottle Bruce hands to him. Bruce sets about fashioning a sling for Dick’s arm, just to stabilize it enough for the ride home. Alfred can take over from there.
“I’m sorry,” Dick says after a minute, his gaze fixed on his boots.
“For what?”
“Messing up the mission. I didn’t mean to.”
“I know you didn’t. And I’m not angry with you. I just get worried.”
Dick sniffles. “I wanted to be brave.”
“You
are
brave. No one is saying you aren’t.”
“But you still keep me on the sidelines. You don’t think I can help.”
“Of course I do. You help me every day, Dick. The reason I keep you on the sidelines is for your own safety, so you can
keep
helping me. I promise, when you’re older and can hold your own in a real fight, I’ll let you help more. I’ll even let you patrol on your own one day. But right now, your only job is to stay out of the action when I tell you to. Watch from a distance. Learn how this works. Do you think you can do that?”
Dick nods. “Sorry.”
“You don’t need to be sorry. Just promise me you’ll keep yourself safe from now on.”
“Okay. I promise.”
“Good. And if you don’t tell Alfred about me letting you ride in the front seat, I’ll let you have ice cream before dinner.”
Dick’s eyes light up. “Deal!”
Bruce ruffles his hair with a smile. He finished tying the knot for the sling. “There. Feeling better?”
Another nod, this time with one of Dick’s toothy grins. He slides off the car’s hood. “You should get a rainbow suit.”
“Excuse me?”
“For the broken arm. Nobody will notice that Robin has a cast if Batman is rainbow.”
Bruce chuckles. “You really think I can pull that off?”
“Sure. You’re Batman. You can do anything.”
One of these days, Bruce is going to be able to look at this kid and not feel like a supernova is blazing through his chest, burning right through the vessels. Anyone who says that having kids will ruin your life is a fucking liar, and Dick Grayson is living proof. This kid is the best thing that has ever happened to Bruce.
“Let’s put a pin in that, okay, chum? Right now I just want to get you home.” But he’s definitely tabling the rainbow batsuit for further discussion. After all, it’s not such a bad idea. He might even bedazzle the cape if it’ll make Dick laugh.