Typically, Batman saved his fiercest glares for Gotham City's criminal elite. Today, however, it was none other than Dick Grayson on the receiving end. He wasn't sure how effective the bat glare was on his young ward, as Dick refused to extend him the courtesy of eye contact, choosing instead to stare pointedly at his feet. Batman watched Dick, sitting perfectly still in his computer chair, feet barely grazing the floor.
"What happened?" Though phrased as a question, Batman's words felt more like a command to his young protégé.
"Nothing major," Dick brushed off. "The school decided I earned myself a little two week vacation. No biggie."
Batman was less than amused. "Dick, you were suspended." The boy tensed up slightly at the word, but otherwise showed no reaction. "Why."
"Why are you askin' me, Bruce?" Dick countered, "I'm sure Principal Watkins already informed you of what a rotten kid I am." Batman was getting fed up with the attitude.
"I know you're better than your actions today, Dick," he stated, trying not to let his agitation show. "I'm just looking for an explanation."
"I don't know what more of an explanation you need, Bats." He responded, arms folded. "I got into a fight, now I'm suspended. Simple causation." He kicked at the floor, spinning himself to face away from the masked vigilante. He had gone so far as to put a foot up on Batman's desk when the masked man had had enough.
"That's it." Bruce grabbed the top of the chair, spinning Dick around to face him. Dick quickly looked away, face shrouded in the shadows. "I'm only going to ask you one more time. What happened?" No response. "Dick? Dick." Batman grabbed his face, forcing eye contact. He was not met with the defiant gaze he expected; he was met with fear. He let his hand drop. That's when he noticed the bruises.
The discoloration stood out starkly on his pale skin. Bruises littered his jaw, his cheek; a particularly nasty one was forming around his left eye. In addition, Dick sported a split lip and several scratches. There was more to this story.
Batman grabbed a chair, setting it down beside his protégé. He pulled back his cowl, revealing Bruce Wayne's worried face. "Dick..." he trailed off, not quite knowing what to say. The boy's face flushed.
"You should see the other guy," he halfheartedly joked, though the humor did not reach his voice. "Not very impressive, actually. I couldn't make it look too good; a scrawny little thing like me in a fight. Though I'm sure they'll still be feeling it tomorrow."
"They?" Bruce mentally noted. That was a detail the principal had neglected to mention over the phone. "Are you alright?"
"I've been through worse," Dick deflected. "The bruises will heal."
"That they will," Bruce pressed, "but are you alright?"
"I just told you-"
"Your principal says you threw the first punch." Dick was left gaping as Bruce pushed on. "You're a good kid, Dick. It isn't like you to pick a fight. If something's going on-"
"Just because I threw the first punch doesn't mean I started the fight," Dick protested in a mumble, scrunching his knees to his chest. Bruce said nothing, silently waiting for his ward to continue. "People... people say things. Behind my back... To my face... I don't- that stuff doesn't matter. It sucks, but in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't really matter." Bruce was hardly convinced.
"So if it doesn't matter..."
"I was presenting my family history project," Dick started. "Talking about our history with Haley's Circus, my dad's Romani heritage, about how mom grew up in the U.S. before meeting my dad, and..." Dick paused for a second. "They stopped me in the hall after class, James and two of his goons. "They said I was a dirty gypsy, and a circus rat, and that the only reason I got in this school was because I'm a charity case sob story."
"And... I-I didn't do anything. Just corrected them. Said that I am Romani, that Gypsy is a slur, that I couldn't be more proud of my circus background, that even if I am a sob story, my grades are still better than theirs, so who was really having the last laugh. Then they-" Dick took a breath. "James said, that if my mother hadn't run off with some 'carnie freak,' that maybe she'd still be alive, and they wouldn't have to have class with a half-breed like me." Bruce's breath caught, as anger began to boil in his stomach.
"So I punched him." Dick concluded. He looked absolutely drained. Bruce opened his mouth to respond, and was promptly cut off. "Before you say anything, I know I screwed up, Bruce. I shouldn't have let it escalate to the point it did. I definitely shouldn't have thrown that punch, and I know I deserve every hit they landed on me, and that it's my own fault, and I could've put my secret I.D. at risk, and I'm really, really sorr-"
Dick cut himself off when he felt Bruce's arms wrapped around him. After a moment, he relaxed into the hug, burying his head in Bruce's shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut as a wave of relief washed over him.
As they broke the hug, Bruce looked Dick over again and sighed. "Because you threw the first punch, or any punch for that matter, the suspension is going to hold up. However, in the meantime, I'm going to have a talk with your principal about the circumstances leading up to that fight. You should not be held solely accountable for what happened. Those boys will not be getting away with what they said, I assure you. In the meantime..."
Dick slowly stood up, ready to face whatever grounding or punishment he would receive for his own role in what had transpired. "Enjoy your vacation, Dick." The boy offered Bruce a tired smile before heading up the stairs to the manor.
When the boy was out of sight, Bruce sighed, "You've certainly earned it."