Chapter Text
“I don’t need a new dad,” Dick whispers, huge eyes shiny with tears.
“That’s alright,” Bruce says back, his voice just as soft. “I would never try and replace your parents. I just want to look out for you, if that’s alright with you?”
Dick hesitates, chewing his lower lip and staring at the floor. He’s so small, with a little button nose and lingering baby fat on rosy cheeks. Bruce has obviously seen children before, but it always hits him hard, threatens to barrel him over, when Dick looks up at him. He’s tiny, so small and fragile and breakable—he needs someone to look out for him, to keep him safe. Someone who understands.
Finally, Dick nods, looking up at Bruce and offering him a small, watery smile.
Bruce’s heart cracks in his chest just a little bit at the sight of it and then immediately begins to sew itself back together because Bruce could never do that when he was in Dick’s shoes, back when he was a tiny new orphan himself.
This is good then, maybe. This could be right.
“What exactly am I looking at here?”
Bruce doesn’t startle, because he’s Batman and that would be ridiculous, but he is a little… confused as to why Selina Kyle is in his backyard at ten o’clock at night. He glances up to see her standing over him, arms folded across her chest and a smirk on her face.
That smirk doesn’t usually make him feel quite so… ridiculous.
He is suddenly very aware of the fact that he is wearing Batman-themed pajama pants, whereas Selina looks as suave and stylish as always.
“Uh…”
“Bruuuuce!” A tiny head pokes out of the tent a few feet away, mussing up his hair up along the way. Dick blows his bangs out of his eyes just to have them fall back down again. He scowls up at them for a split second before turning his attention back on Bruce. “What’re you—Oh.” He apparently catches sight of Selina, because suddenly he’s scurrying out of the tent and over to her, Superman pajamas now on full display. Dick smiles shyly up at her, shifting back and forth on balls of his feet. “Hi! I’m Dick.”
Selina’s teasing smirk melts into something soft and genuine—further evidence to support Bruce’s hypothesis that Dick Grayson has some sort of superpower that makes him so endearing. Alfred claims that he’s ridiculous, that Dick is just genuinely friendly and naturally charming, but Bruce hasn’t closed his investigation yet. Even if the first three tests for the meta-gene came back negative, there’s still got to be something fishy going on.
“Hello, Dick. My name’s Selina. I’m a… friend… of Brucie’s.” She jerks her thumb at Bruce and Dick giggles at the nickname. “Nice pjs.”
Selina shoots a quick smirk at Bruce as she says it, but Dick answers her in earnest. “Thanks! They’re super soft. B hates them, but that’s just because he’s jealous of Superman. Probably because Superman has better hair, and can probably microwave soup without blowing up the kitchen.”
(That is not why. Superman is too idealistic and frankly naive, and he’s always trying to butt into Batman’s business. Plus, the look on Dick’s face when he flew with him last weekend didn’t exactly help. Nor do the pajamas. They had Batman ones too, for crying out loud! And it’s not like Dick doesn’t know…)
“Bruce Wayne, you can’t even microwave soup? I think it’s high time to give Alfred a raise.”
“This is a dangerous combination,” Bruce grouses as Dick cackles, high and delighted. Normally Bruce loves it when Dick laughs (It’s become one of his favorite sounds, embarrassingly enough. He’s gone way too sappy way too fast.), but not when that laughter is directed at him instead of with him. “You two should not be allowed to meet.”
“Oh yeah?” Selina grins wide and dangerous like a shark. “You any good at teasing the old man, Dick?”
“He just makes it so easy,” Dick says between his giggles.
Bruce grunts in protest, and for a split second Dick looks almost scared that maybe he’s overstepped. It squeezes Bruce’s heart painfully, but Selina quickly swoops in to fix Bruce’s mistake.
“He really does. Maybe if he wasn’t such a stick in the mud…”
Dick’s grin returns full force. “Hey, he’s fun. Sometimes.”
“Oh really?”
“Yep. We play legos together and basketball and he gives really good piggyback rides. Plus it’s really cool being able to go camping, even if we are just in the backyard. Oh, and he reads me a story every night.” Dick leans in closer, prompting Selina to follow his lead, cupping a hand around his mouth and whispering conspiratorially. “If I’m having a bad day, he’ll even do the silly voices.”
“Okay!” Bruce interrupts. “That’s enough of that.”
“Aw, c’mon B. You don’t need to be embarrassed.”
He absolutely does. Of all people for Dick to ruin his reputation to… At this point he might as well just plop Dick in front of the entire JLA and let him spew all of Batman’s secrets. He’d say throw in the Joker too, but the idea of that psychopath getting within five miles of the kid makes him sick to his stomach.
“Yeah, B…” Selina teases. “Don’t be embarrassed.”
He opens his mouth to retort before Dick interrupts, yawning loudly, and Bruce remembers exactly what he was doing before Selina crashed their backyard camping night. He glances at the storybook he’d been sent to fetch, still sitting next to the remains of their s’mores supplies.
“Bedtime, kiddo,” Bruce says. “I’ll be in in a minute.”
Dick pouts for a second, but any hope he had for arguing against going to bed is abruptly cut off by yet another yawn, this one somehow louder than the first. “Fine. G’night, Selina. It was really nice to meet you.”
“Goodnight, Dick,” Selina says with a gentle smile. “I’ll see you again soon, alright?”
Dick nods excitedly. “Yes please.”
“Alright, Dick,” Bruce says, rolling his eyes. “In your sleeping bag. You and Selina can scheme at a later date.”
“Promise?”
Bruce sighs. “I promise.”
“Awesome,” Dick says, drowsy voice finally starting to match the drooping eyelids and sideways listing that had prompted Bruce to call bedtime in the first place.
Bruce passes him the storybook before gently taking his shoulders and steering him into the tent. Dick makes his way over to his sleeping bag, stumbling just slightly—a sign that he’s actually much more tired than he’s letting on, and only the prospect of meeting a new person, especially one that Bruce is supposedly friends with, was really keeping him on his feet. It’ll be impressive if he makes it through even one bedtime story.
“Better hurry up, B,” Dick mumbles around yet another yawn. “Or else I’ll demand the voices.”
“Alright, alright. It’ll be just a minute.”
“Mhm,” Dick hums sleepily. Bruce’s fingers itch to ruffle his hair, but he doesn’t, instead backing out of the tent and stepping out to speak with Selina. He’ll have to keep this brief.
“So,” Selina says, “what exactly is going on here?”
Bruce sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Dick really wanted to go camping. He’s been begging for weeks so we compromised.”
“You compromised… by going camping?”
“By going camping in the backyard, ” he corrects, before Selina can get it in her head that Dick has Bruce wrapped around his finger or something. It’s not like that. Not at all.
Dick had wanted the full camping experience, but Bruce is adamantly against using the bathroom in the woods whenever he can avoid it.
“Awww,” Selina coos.
“What?” he snaps.
“Just, you’re a good dad. It’s cute.”
Bruce rolls his eyes. “I’m not his dad.”
“No?”
“No. He’s a good kid, and I’m happy to be helping him out, but that’s all it is. I just couldn’t leave him in that horrible place.”
One of Selina’s perfectly-sculpted brows shoots up into her hairline. “What place?”
Bruce scowls, rage curdling in his stomach at the mere thought of the Detention Center. He has the sudden urge to go back out on the streets and punch some goons’ faces in. “A juvenile detention hall." He's careful to lower his voice so Dick can't hear. The last thing he wants is to remind Dick of what was a horrible and traumatic experience. "They threw an innocent eight-year-old who’d just lost his entire world in with sixteen- and seventeen-year-old criminals.”
Her face darkens immediately, reflecting Bruce’s own savage fury. “How could they do that? It doesn’t take more than a brief conversation to see that he’s a total sweetheart.”
“Yeah, well Gotham’s social services are a racist, classist shitshow, so. No big surprise there.”
“You’d better be doing something about it, Bruce.” There’s a fire in her voice that startles him a little, but it matches the feeling in his chest, and it just burns brighter with this new solidarity.
He nods. “I am. But it’s a long process, and I wasn’t about to let Dick suffer during that time. Especially not when I… because I knew what he was going through. Except I didn’t, exactly, because I had a house and Alfred at the very least. He had nothing. I couldn’t just leave him there alone.”
“Good. Whatever this is,” she waves her hand at Bruce and the tent, “it’s good. You’re doing something right, Bruce. I’m… I’m actually impressed.”
“Mm.”
“Well,” she says, sliding up close to him, finger trailing along his shoulder and dipping down toward his collarbone, (and Bruce is glad that she’s keeping things PG for once because Dick is right there ) “I did come to see you, but I can see that you have more important things to attend to, so I’ll leave you be. But don’t think I’ve forgotten about your little promise—I absolutely plan on enlisting that boy in my plan to make your life exceedingly difficult.”
“Please don’t turn him against me.” He says it as a joke, but really he wouldn’t be able to handle it.
She pats his cheek lightly before stepping away, and he has to fight the instinct to follow. “Mm, no promises. I’ll see you later, Brucie.”
(Bruce feels a certain kinship with Commissioner Gordon as Selina slips away into the night, disappearing almost as quickly as she’d first appeared. Batman must be incredibly frustrating to work with.
Meh. He doesn’t feel all that bad about it, at least not enough to stop. It’s fun. )
Shaking thoughts of Selina from his head, Bruce turns back to the tent, stalking over to it in just a few short strides before hunching over to clamber in. Rather than finding him curled up under his blankets, Dick is sitting up on top of Bruce’s sleeping bag, the book in his lap and his chin in his hand. His eyes droop closed before he jolts himself awake again. The moment he catches sight of Bruce, he sits up straight, grinning.
“Hiya, B. Did Selina leave?”
“She did. That is not your sleeping bag.” Dick’s is smaller, and decorated with cartoon elephants, whereas Bruce’s is a more traditional camping bedroll. Dick had made fun of him mercilessly for being a 'boring old party pooper.'
“No, sorry. But I wanted to make sure I didn’t fall asleep before you came back. At least this way you’d have to wake me up to move me and we could say goodnight.” Dick's smile is small and shy and it does something in Bruce's chest to think about the idea that Dick didn't want to fall asleep without seeing Bruce one more time.
“Hm. I suppose I can forgive that.” He settles in next to Dick, who immediately leans over to rest his head on Bruce’s shoulder, maybe without even realizing it. “You still up for a story or are you officially ready for bed?”
“Story please.”
“You got it. Wanna lay down in your sleeping bag?”
Dick shakes his head, still firmly planted against Bruce’s side. “Comfy.”
“C’mon, Dickie…”
“Please? I won’t fall asleep, I swear, and I’ll get in my own bag as soon as the story’s over… Please?”
Clark has kryptonite, but Bruce has big blue puppy dog eyes. He doesn’t stand a chance.
“Fine. But just one story, and then you’re moving. Deal?”
“Deal,” Dick cheers softly. He hands Bruce the book before snuggling even closer into Bruce’s side. It’s a cool night out, and Dick is small and young, so Bruce reaches over to grab the spare quilt Alfred had left them, draping it over the boy’s shoulders to stave off any potential shivers. Dick sighs contentedly as Bruce wraps an arm around his shoulders.
Less than a year ago, this much purely affectionate physical contact would have left Bruce’s nerves fried. But Dick has changed all that, at least as far as the kid himself is concerned. Dick didn’t force it on him, but it was obvious from the start that the boy craved physical affection beyond the occasional shoulder squeeze or hair ruffle, and it didn’t actually take that long for it to become almost natural for Bruce to scoop the kid up and hold him in his arms, to catch him in a flying leap when he greeting Bruce upon coming home from work, to tuck Dick’s head under his chin and rub soothing circles on his back after a particularly nasty nightmare. Dick is teaching him all the different ways to hug, and he’s finding that it isn’t actually a terribly difficult topic to study.
Dick’s breathing turns heavy and slow before they even make it through the forth page. Bruce sets the book aside before slipping an arm under Dick’s knees and shifting him over into his own sleeping bag, zipping it up around him and brushing a few stray hairs out of his eyes.
“Thanks, Bruce,” Dick breathes, caught somewhere between asleep and awake. “This was really fun. I like camping.”
“Of course, chum,” Bruce whispers back, and finds that he means it. There’s not a lot he wouldn’t do to make this kid smile.