Archive of Our Own

Bruce Wayne had not been a very tactile boy. It had taken a few dozen galas for him to learn how to keep himself from grimacing every time he was forced to bear the pinching of his cheeks by aging socialites and stretching the sweaty hands of his father’s business partners. 

On the other hand, as Brucie Wayne he had no issue with double-kisses, sticky hand stretching and even some mildly scandalous PDA. He was an approachable man, the life of the party, someone you wanted to have a drink with and get to know a little better.

Dick Grayson made a perfect addition to him. For a while he was a charity case and Brucie’s latest whim to the public eye, but whatever notions Gotham’s high society might have had of him were quickly swept away by the boy’s charm: a performer by birth, he knew how to conduct himself around a crowd and play it like a fiddle. 

Unlike Brucie though, Dick retained most of his charming persona once he was out of the spotlight. He was more… boyshis, though. Acted more his age rather than like a seasoned showman wearing a four-foot tall costume. 

Dick had needs that Bruce had failed to consider when he had first taken him in. He could not be all charm and confidence at all times, and he made it easy to forget that he was a boy who had not slept alone until his parents died. 

He sought Bruce often. Not just his company, but his whole person: soul and body. The dimensions of his new role were yet to fully settle in. A few nights ago he had woken up to Dick’s soft footsteps crossing the hallway. He held in his breath as the boy lingered outside the door, Bruce could practically picture holding up his fist, hesitating before knocking. 

In the end, he did not.

Bruce heard his footsteps fading away as he eventually returned to his room. After, he stared at the canopy of his bed for what felt like hours, battling an odd sense of shame. 

With a new day comes opportunity, so CEO Bruce Wayne decides to take his ward along to a meeting in the financial district. 

He had Alfred drop them early a few blocks away, so they would get to walk together and maybe do some window shopping. Dick was unfortunately uninterested in the latter, but he did gape at the skyscrapers, having never seen any quite as tall.

“Robin could walk the tightrope between those buildings,” he mused, eyes sparkling. 

Bruce silently shut down the idea, but gave a thoughtful nod anyway. 

Like hell.

The financial district was busy and careless corporate workers bumped into them as they hurried towards their offices. Dick got the worst of it, a good few heads below the average. 

Bruce could not recall being that small. Objectively, he knew Dick was hardly helpless, but in a sea of black and grey suits…

His father, Bruce remembered, used to put him on his shoulders, all while complaining about his poor back. 

Bruce licked his teeth. He had a perfectly good back. Odds were that Dick would laugh in delight if he were to just grab his waist and pull him up, but it felt… Rude? Cowardly? 

All he had to do was ask. Open his mouth and speak like he had failed to do last night, and sure, it was not the same, but it would be something. 

His mind went blank as Dick’s hand closed around his. His grip was feather-light, his warm fingers barely there. The offer died in his lips and he despised the relief that went through him in that moment. 

Another occasion, he told himself. There would be other opportunities. 

Bruce had never considered that being Batman and Robin would be easier than being Bruce and Dick. Duck, cover, come under the cloak. There was no hesitance there, no nervousness about having his tiny body stuck right to his, shielded from rain and gunfire alike under Batman’s cloak. 

Shouldn't the offer to shield a boy from his nightmares with a bedsheet come just as easily?

A thousand nights he had dreamt of a splatter of blood and pearls and woken up with his heart about to jump from his throat. There had been no one to comfort him then, not even Alfred, resting half a manor away in the staff’s apartments. 

Bruce was a corridor away. 

Tonight, he conceded. He would not wait for Dick’s footsteps. He would suggest they watch a movie together, share some warm milk and cookies and a quilt. If the boy fell asleep on his shoulder he could act as a pillow. 

It would be even better if he offered now, once it was out he could not take it back. 

He could be casual about it, no need to make it a big deal.

They had almost reached the building where the meeting would be conducted without him noticing. He did not want to make the offer in an elevator full of employees that would coo at the tender moment, lest Dick interpreted it as part of a spectacle. 

Only when he had made up his mind and the words had formed in his tongue did he realize that Dick's fingers had vanished. 

Bruce blinked, looking down to his side to find it empty. He turned around, eyes scanning the crowd as a sense of dread mounted inside him. 

Dick was nowhere to be found. He was gone. 

He willed himself to remain calm. 

He went back on his steps, to see if something had caught his eye and made him let go of Bruce’s hand, but he was at none of the shops, nor at the food stands. 

The streets were only growing busier. It was lunchtime. 

How could he have been so careless? 

His suit suddenly felt too hot, the fabric scratchy and heavy in a way it had not been a second ago. Bruce took the jacket off and grabbed his phone. 

Think, he needed to use his head. He needed his hands to stop shaking. 

What was the more likely scenario? Odds were that someone had seen Bruce Wayne and his ward unguarded in broad daylight and taken their chance. And Bruce, like a fool, had allowed it to happen. 

Had Dick fought them? Bruce had made it clear that they had to do their best to keep their identities a secret, which included hiding their martial skills. Whoever had done this had been swift and Dick had not struggled. 

They would not hurt him, he told himself. At any moment he would get a call with a set of demands to be met, all of them pending on Dick’s wellbeing. 

Knowing this did not stop him from checking the nearest alleys and shops again, in hopes of finding the boy there.

-

Gordon’s reassurances do not provide much comfort. 

Bruce had called him solely in case that things went public. Which turned out to be a good decision because the kidnappers had uploaded a video of Dick, scared if unharmed, to prove he was still alive. 

Bruce hated being kept at the margins while the police worked. Batman could have taken care of everything much quicker. Dick probably knew this too. 

Was he waiting for him, he had wondered around a dozen times. Was he hoping for a caped vigilante to rescue him?

It has been a while since he last felt so useless. The feeling was not one he cared for. 

The kidnappers, as expected, wanted money. Bruce was happy to provide it. Cash, untraceable, not a soul would follow them as long as they let Dick go. 

Unfortunately, the police essentially forced the matter out of his hands. Leaving it to the professionals made him grit his teeth.

How was he supposed to just stand there and let them work knowing he could do a better, far more efficient job? Dick would be home by now if things had been up to him. 

“I know this isn’t easy, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce resisted the urge to glare. 

“How-”

“Sir?” A young man interrupted him before he could say something regrettable. “We have them on the-”

He barely got to finish the sentence before Bruce was sprinting towards the improvised center of operations that the police had set up in his dining room. 

The designated negotiator was talking on the phone, tone carefully even as he went back and forth with the kidnappers. 

The money was to be divided into three bags and left at three separate locations. No following, no media coverage, they wanted things to be kept under wraps. 

Bruce wanted to talk to Dick.

“Tell them to put him on the line,” Bruce ordered.

The negotiator faltered, eyes flying to Gordon.

“I want to talk to him,” he raised his voice, hoping the men on the other side of the call would hear him. “Now.”

“Mr. Wayne, you must let us-”

“No. They won’t see a cent until I know he’s alive and well. For all we know the video-”

The video could have been taken right before- Before- 

He felt dangerously lightheaded. He tasted bitter bile at the back of his throat. 

It was not until Gordon gave his approval that the negotiator relegated his wishes. There was a moment before the kidnappers agreed and the phone was suddenly being pressed in Bruce’s hands. 

He barely heard the police’s instructions, all he could focus on was on the boy on the other side of the line.

“...chum?”

“Bruce!” 

He nearly fell to his knees with relief. For the first time in hours he breathed. 

“Are you hurt anywhere?” 

“No. I’m just a bit tied up at the moment.” 

Bruce’s stomach turned at the light tone. Dick was trying to put him at ease, even under the circumstances. 

“You’ll be home in no time. Just do as you’re told and- And don’t try to fight them, ok?”

To an outsider it might seem like the plea of a concerned parent to keep their child from provoking their captors’ anger- Bruce realized that it was not too far from the truth. 

“Ok,” Dick whispered. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Yes,” he choked out, wishing there were not so many eyes and ears upon them. “Would- Would you like to watch a movie later?”

The line went quiet for a second and Bruce felt very foolish. That was not what he meant to say. 

“That would be nice,” Dick said at last, sounding very small. “Can we have crab-stuffed mushrooms tonight?” 

“Absolutely,” Bruce licked his lips.

He heard the kidnapper telling him to hurry. He did not want the line to remain open for any longer, lest they managed to track them down. 

This might be his last chance to talk to him- Before he was released. Because Dick would be released. No other outcome could even be considered. 

“I’ll hold your hand tighter the next time we go out- I’ll carry you on my shoulders, if you’d like that,” he blurted out ungracefully, too aware of the many people in the room. 

It was odd to be Bruce, not Brucie or even Batman, before such an audience. The rawest he would ever be, with all the awkwardness of the child he had been and the lack of subtlety of the man he had become.  

“I’d like that,” Dick answered lightly. “We could go to the zoo tomorrow.”

“You’ve got class tomorrow,” Bruce retorted automatically. “ But you can skip it- Let’s go out tomorrow. Together.” 

The line was cut before he could expose himself further, before he could hear Dick again. 

The mask slid onto clammy skin as he met Gordon’s eyes. 

“Do you have them?”

-

Dick is in one piece. All of his limbs are in place, all his fingers and toes are unbroken and his heart is beating wildly against Bruce’s chest, where he has pressed his body tightly against his. 

“Bruce,” he muffled against his clothes, Bruce made a point of squeezing him tighter. 

The men got away. From the police, that is, for Batman would be paying them a visit later once Robin has been safely tucked in. 

But that’s later, right now there were more important matters at hand. 

“Chum,” he whispered in his tangled curls. “You gave me a good scare.” 

“Sowwy.”

“It will never happen again,” he said. He was not sure if this was a threat or a promise. “It should have never happened to begin with. Dick-”

“I’m sorry I got caught,” Dick unburied his face to meet his gaze. His eyes shone with unshed tears. “But we said we shouldn’t use our skills if-”

“It was not your fault,” Bruce cut him off. “It was mine. I was careless.” 

And it had almost cost him everything. 

“It won’t happen again,” he repeated firmly. 

“It’s alright,” Dick swore, wrapping his tiny arms around his neck. “I’m fine, B.”

By miracle, not by any virtue of Bruce’s. They could not go on as they had been before. Bruce knew that lessons like this one were rarely learnt so kindly. 

“Chum, how do you feel about a sleepover tonight?” 

The smile he got in response let him know he was on the right path.