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Bruce heard the whispers and he knew they were about Dick.
“He’s a skinny little thing, isn’t he?”
“Oh, he’s just such a darling little boy. Those eyes!”
And they made him smile, as he wove through the crowd of socialites and titans of industry in his best suit. He nodded greetings at the people he knew, and at the people he didn’t, and finally spotted his boy.
Dick was sitting at a table, back to the wall (just like Bruce taught him; smart boy), swinging his legs and watching the crowd around him. Bruce made quick work of dodging conversations and short skirts until he finally found himself crouching in front of Dick’s chair, “Hi, you.”
Dick smiled softly, “Hey, B.” His blinks were slow, like his eyelids were weighted, and his eyes had begun to glaze over.
Bruce let a fond smile grace his face, “You feeling sleepy?”
Dick let a yawn answer for him, rubbing his eyes with a small fist.
Bruce ran a hand over Dick’s soft hair and down the boy’s back, “I promise we can go soon. I gotta talk to a couple more people, and then I’ll come get you.”
Dick yawned again, collapsing against the back of the chair, “Okay, B.”
Bruce pressed a kiss to Dick’s forehead and stood. He hesitated as he started to walk away. Maybe he could sneak away with Dick now? He’d just have to—
“Bruce!”
Bruce hadn’t even walked away from Dick yet before a voice had him turning back around and plastering a grin on his face, “Joseph!”
Joseph, an older CEO from New York City, smiled brightly and shook Bruce’s hand firmly, “Good to see you, kid. I’m glad I caught you actually…”
The conversation droned on. All Bruce could think about was the little boy sat just next to him, his tired eyes and quiet yawns.
Joseph had decided that 10 PM was a good time to discuss a potential joint marketing campaign with Wayne Enterprises, one that would occur months in the future. Bruce nodded politely and said all the things he was supposed to say.
He was listening to Joseph talk about billboard real estate in New York City versus Gotham when he felt a warm weight lean against his leg and a hand snake up to grip his beltloop.
He looked down to find Dick pressed against him. One hand wrapped around the back of Bruce’s leg while the other was hooked onto one of his beltloops. Dick’s eyes were half-lidded and the boy was absently nuzzling his cheek against the material of Bruce’s pants.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Bruce scooped Dick up, biting back a laugh at the surprised squeak that escaped the boy. He tucked him close, letting Dick wrap his arms around Bruce’s neck.
A strange look crossed Joseph’s face, “Friend of yours, Bruce?”
Bruce chuckled a bit, “My son, Richard. It’s getting late for him; I should probably get him to bed.”
“I won’t be much longer, I’m sure he’ll be fine for a few more minutes. Isn’t that right, young man?”
Bruce bristled at that, and Dick didn’t respond. Bruce was reasonably sure the boy was already asleep, “Email my assistant, Joe, we’ll set up a meeting.”
Joseph let out an almost incredulous, dry laugh, “Going soft on us, Wayne? Missing a business opportunity with an old friend so you can tuck your boy in?”
Bruce stared at the man for a moment. He knew for a fact that Joseph had three kids; all daughters. They were grown now, except for the youngest, who (if Bruce remembered correctly) was still in high school. He wondered how many times, if ever, Joseph had tucked any of his girls into bed. He wondered what the consequences would’ve been if his daughters had “interrupted” a conversation the way Dick had.
Bruce smiled, one he knew didn’t reach his eyes, “I’ll be seeing you, Joseph.”
He didn’t wait for a response, or even try to be sneaky, as he walked out of the ballroom and up the stairs. He listened to Dick breathe, an even rhythm that told Bruce the boy was mostly asleep.
It was a short enough walk to Dick’s room, where he laid the boy on the bed. Bruce tugged his shoes off, setting them at the foot of the bed, then sat on the edge of the bed by Dick’s stomach, “Dickie, wake up, buddy.”
Dick stirred, eyes fluttering open, “Mmph.”
“Come on, kiddo, you don’t want to sleep in a suit. It’s not comfortable, ask me how I know.”
Dick watched him tiredly, “How do you know?”
Bruce hesitated, “On second thought, ask me when you’re about 16.” Dick giggled and Bruce couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped him too, “Go get into pajamas.”
“Mmkay,” Dick rolled out of bed, trudging into the closet.
Bruce untied his own bowtie, letting it hang loose around his neck, and undid his top button. He ran a hand through his own hair, gently massaging out the headache that was beginning to form. Galas always took far more out of him that he expected.
Dick returned from the closet a moment later, wearing a shirt that was almost definitely Bruce’s and a pair of shorts. He watched Bruce amusedly, “You look like Don Draper.”
Bruce half-turned around, eyebrows knit together and almost smiling, “How do you even know who that is?”
The eight-year-old shrugged, “Alfred was watching Mad Men when I got home from school last week.”
“Of course, he was.”
“He says Mad Men is an elevation of classic soap opera tropes to an Art house movie cinematography and dialogue.”
Bruce chuckled as Dick trudged over to the bed, climbing in and under the covers, “You two aren’t allowed to hang out anymore. He’s a bad influence.”
“That’s what Alfred says about you too.” Dick grinned.
Bruce smiled, leaning over to tuck the blankets around Dick tighter, “Fair enough,” Bruce paused, watching Dick writhe around to get comfortable, “Did you have a nice time tonight? I know those things are pretty boring.”
Dick looked nervous for a moment, then met Bruce’s eyes, “What did that man mean? When he asked if you were going soft?”
Bruce sighed. So, Dick hadn’t been asleep. He made a mental note to compliment the kid on his ability to fool him that way.
“Well,” Bruce started. He toed his shoes off and laid on his stomach across the bed to look at Dick in the eyes, “Some people think you can only love one thing at a time. And when you have a business as big as mine or his, some people think you can only love your business and nothing else.”
Dick suddenly looked supremely anxious, “But…that’s not true, right?”
“That’s right, it’s not true,” Bruce soothed, and he watched Dick’s face relax entirely, “Maybe some people can only love one thing. But I can love a lot of things at once.”
“Like me?”
Bruce nodded, stretching out a hand and smoothing back Dick’s hair, “Like you. And Alfred.”
“And the bats?”
Bruce smiled, “And the bats.”
Dick looked very serious now, as he mulled over Bruce’s words. He nodded once, “Okay. Well, good.”
Bruce frowned, “Were you worried about something?”
Dick stared at his own hands, turning them over and running his fingers over his palm, “I just thought that maybe…I don’t know…”
Bruce waited a moment. When Dick didn’t continue, he pushed a bit, “What is it, Dickie?”
“I just thought that maybe you’d think he was right.”
Bruce sighed.
Having a kid was hard.
“Dickie, look at me.” It took a moment, but Dick finally met Bruce’s gaze, “Joseph Lewin has never been right about a single thing in his whole life. He couldn’t convince me to buy a toaster, much less convince me to stop loving you.”
Dick giggled, a bright and rejuvenating thing, and Bruce smiled, “You got it?”
Dick nodded, grin never fading, “I got it.”
Bruce stretched to kiss Dick’s forehead, “Get some rest, buddy. I love you.”
“Love you too, B.”