AN: Done for the YJAM! Gotta love the relationship between Bruce and Dickie :3
Inspired by this (minus the spaces): http: / / brokendeathangel. deviantart. com/ gallery/ 27350744 ? loggedin =1#/ d2vi7f7
Just if someone's interested ;) Please review!
1 – Dick, 8 Years Old
Richard John Grayson had never been a very easy frightened child. On the contrary, he had learned to be tough and quite fearless for an eight-year-old. It did, after all, take a lot of courage to learn what he'd been taught since the age of four. Acrobatics, if being learned properly, was not some pushover work. However, there were times where even Dick, now adopted son of Bruce Wayne, ended up in a situation where he shamelessly had to admit he was scared; very scared.
It was his first night at Wayne manor and the memories of his parents passing away were still strong within his mind. Lightning struck from the midnight sky and he could hear bat wings flapping outside the giant window. Maybe, if he hadn't gone through such a traumatic experience, he would have been able to convince himself that being afraid of something as silly as lightning and bats was plain idiotic.
But, Dick was, unfortunately, in a very fragile state. For each truck of lightning he would flinch and the hostile, creepy face of Tony Zucco would flash before him. Right now, his own child imagination was his worst enemy.
With a small whimper, Dick carefully removed the quilt from his body. Nude feet touched the cold surface of the enormous bedroom, practically leaping across it. Before Dick really knew it he was standing nervously outside the door of Bruce Wayne's bedroom, feeling like a small, negligible being and that everything around him had suddenly become so much bigger. Had that door looked so big when Alfred had previously showed it to him today? Somehow, young Dick didn't think so.
The small boy turned his blue eyes to the floor for a moment and then looked up at the door once again. He inhaled some air, let it out and then stood on his tiptoes to twist the doorknob around (very silently, of course). He made a small gap and peeked inside, nervously tightening his grip on the door.
Bruce Wayne was asleep. The tall, muscular man had a black quilt thrown over his shoulders, his back rising and falling softly and in a steady pace. Apparently, he was sleeping on his stomach.
Dick remembered the first time he'd seen this man. It had been at his parents' funeral a month ago. While he had mostly been occupied looking brokenly at their graves, his future, it seemed, had been a frequent topic between the Circus owner, Commissioner Gordon and, well, Bruce Wayne, Gotham's White Knight. As young as he was, he had no idea what they had talked about and the grief of his loss had been far too great to let him focus on anything else anyway.
The first weeks after his parents' death had been awful. He had been moved to such a horrible place where he'd been beaten up more than once a day. Then, when he finally got away, he was moved to a catholic orphanage, which was not a big improvement at all. However, this tall, mighty man of Gotham, who had just been present to the Circus performance when his parents died, had approached him and asked (asked; he honestly cared for his opinion!) if he wanted to come live with him.
Though he was huge compared to little Richard Grayson, Bruce Wayne had felt safe to him. His eyes held security, understanding. It had been enough to gain Dick's trust and days after he had found himself at Wayne Manor, where he met Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce's butler, and was given a tour around the facility – his new home.
Sure, the manor was not similar to his parents' camping van whatsoever and of course he missed it, but it was better than the juvenile and catholic orphanage. So much better.
Slowly and with great caution, Dick stepped inside. He glanced warily up at the giant bed while he took yet another step. It was his first night here, he barely knew Bruce Wayne… but… he didn't dare to sleep alone. If he went back he knew he would most definitely not sleep. He would lie awake, frightened and his parents' murderer fresh in his mind.
"I see you're awake,"
Dick had never gotten as startled as now. He let go of a shriek and flinched away, but calmed his beating heart when he noticed that it was his adoptive father was sitting up in the bed, eyeing him carefully.
"Everything all right, Dick?" he asked calmly, though with a slight frown on his face.
Blue eyes directed themselves to the ground and Dick let his right hand attach itself to his left arm, rubbing it nervously. This whole situation felt awkward and weird, because… he didn't know this man. He just knew, that Bruce Wayne was a good guy. How he knew was simple. He had showed him nothing but kindness since he arrived. Silent, yes he was. Distant, yeah, that too. But his eyes were soft, held… something different – different from the other adults around him who told him to forget.
Bruce understood. Bruce was safe. He didn't want him to forget.
Dick looked up to meet the dark eyes of his new… No, not his father. Couldn't be. But the security of a father lay there, within those dark orbs. It made Dick feel a bit braver and yet, to his horror, he realised that salty tears were running down his cheeks. Gently and slowly, they rolled down his flushed skin and he, subconsciously, sniffled. Why did he cry like this? What had happened to make him lose those tears?
Those drops he'd hold black ever since the funeral.
The funeral Bruce had paid for. Already back then, he'd cared and Dick had no idea why he did.
Then, right out of nowhere, Bruce Wayne was kneeling before him, looking him in the eyes. "The nightmares are always worse when you're alone," he said, shifting a bit. Bruce did feel uncomfortable, but he tried not to let it show. "I know it too well."
Dick didn't answer, but instead sniffed again. Annoyingly enough, the tears just kept coming. "I-I… miss them," whispered the dark haired boy.
Strong, robust arms were suddenly around him and then his face came in contact with a chest. It smelled… like Bruce. All ice-walls melted, all distance was gone. Dick let this safe man embrace him and hold him close. "You want to sleep here?" Bruce said calmly, never loosening his hold on the boy.
"Y-yeah," sniffled Dick.
The bed was soft and so big. He felt small, but not like before – now it was okay. With Bruce stroking his back soothingly, though a bit hesitant, it was different. The bed could've been a thousand times bigger and it wouldn't have mattered.
With his face pressed against Bruce's chest, Dick sobbed quietly, but as time dragged on they subsided. His breath evened out, his heart calmed and soon small, barely noticeable snores were heard from the young boy. Bruce Wayne could only smile silently as he too settled in his bed once again. He felt insecure about taking in the boy, but right now… he felt like he'd done the right thing.
Tony Zucco's face did not show itself in Dick's dreams. Instead, he dreamt of… American Robins. They felt safe too.
Part 1 of 5