Author's Note: This story marks the first one-shot I have done in years. This story is set during the middle period of Dick's tenure as Robin, when he is fifteen. It is summer in Gotham City. The heat is making Dick crazy. Bruce is not happy about his conduct during patrol. The teenager's attempts to mend the situation prompt a far more intimate conversation between them, and the real reason for Dick's unprofessional behaviour.
Please tell me what you think.
Enjoy.
Heat
It is August. Summer is here. And while the additional daylight deters criminal activity, making our jobs easier, it also brings the heat. Despite being eleven in the evening, the temperature is still bordering on eighty degrees. The city is experiencing its usual heatwave. Criminals are understandably scarce. In taking down a pair of would be car thieves in Park Row, we have brought our patrol tally to six. The boy is not happy. My suit employs a cooling system for the summer months: he enjoys no such luxury. His complaining has not stopped since we left the cave two hours ago. It is beginning to grate. I hold my tongue barely when he yells a series of expletives to describe the weather shortly after midnight. When it happens again just before two, I clap him on the back of the head.
"Be professional." I tell him sternly. He glares at me.
"Says the guy walking around in a mobile fridge." The boy pauses to run a forearm across his face. "Can we go home now? This is crazy." I nod my head.
"I think that would be best."
We are on route back to the cave. The boy has turned the AC up as far as it will go. And yet he is still attempting to twist the dial. I admonish him twice for this. His response both times is to cross his arms and sulk in his chair. His behaviour tonight is a sure indicator to bench him until the heat subsides somewhat. I am not prepared to put up with this display for another fortnight, the timescale predicted until the heatwave passes. When we arrive in the cave, I make a point of telling him as much. He immediately tries to absolve himself of blame.
"It's not my fault it's a million degrees outside." He begins, already divested of the majority of his uniform as I exit the armoury in a shirt and slacks. "And if you weren't wearing the tech factory…"
"I would feel the same way?" I say to finish his sentence. He nods.
"Exactly."
"And I would also complain about the heat?"
"Absolutely."
"And yell expletives at the top of my lungs in front of law enforcement professionals during a transfer of personnel…twice?" I check. He flushes slightly at this, but the excuses do not stop.
"It's not me, it's my hormones screwing up my emotions…" I jab a finger in his face to curtail this theory.
"It is you not being professional. It is you letting the weather dictate your attitude to this job."
"I did my job."
"You acted appallingly. Until you get a grip of yourself, I am not willing to take you on patrols. I will overlook any other punishments for your behaviour, but you will not be accompanying me during the next two weeks." I say before turning my back on him and sitting down at the command centre.
"Bruce…"
"I suggest you go to bed now. I do not wish to see you again this evening. Goodnight Dick."
"Fine." I hear him turn and stomp his way back up to the house. Once he is gone, Alfred draws up to my side.
"Are you alright, young man?" He asks me as I bring up the statistical database for August to input tonight's numbers. I let out an irritated sigh.
"That boy forgot himself tonight. The results made me look like a fool for employing him as my partner. It was unacceptable." I say pressing the nine key in the criminals apprehended column. The old man pats me genially on the shoulder.
"I'm sorry your evening was so unpleasant, Sir. You do realise that tomorrow he will feel awful about it, don't you?"
"Yes, of course I do. So he should. But I will not change my mind on the subject. If he knew he was going to react this way to the weather, he should not have accompanied me at all. I gave him the option to stay home for the night. He decided not to. Now he can stay home for the next two weeks. It is barely a punishment at all. He should be thankful." I say saving my work and closing down the system. "I wanted to ground him for it." I rise to my feet and turn to face him. Alfred smiles at me.
"You are remarkably restrained in your parenting style, Master Bruce. It is a far cry from how you would have reacted only a few years ago." The old man says almost admiringly. I groan.
"He is a good boy. He just needs to try harder to control himself. Adolescence is not an excuse for vulgarity, particularly when in public."
"Of course not, Sir. Just remember you were not much better at fifteen than he is. And your tantrums did not just yield abrasive cursing. How many windows did you break?" He says to bring me back to the worse days of my childhood. I was very angry back then without the added pitfalls of hormonal anarchy. The number eventually totalled sixteen. Both of us know this. I had to fit every single one. The old man saw to that. I see his point though.
"Enough. I broke enough to realise I was acting like an idiot." I tell him. He nods in satisfaction.
"Master Dick will realise too. He will learn from this mistake soon enough. He rarely makes one twice."
It is shortly after nine in the morning. Today is Saturday. The heat is still suffocating. I have let the boy sleep in long enough. I am currently outside his bedroom door, nursing a cup of black coffee, my second of the day. I open the door to the sound of a fan set on maximum. When I walk in, I instantly wish I had not. The boy is naked on a stripped mattress. All his bedsheets and pillows lay in a heap on the floor. The fan is positioned less than six inches from his face at the side of the bed. The only mercy to this scenario is the fact he is laid on his side with his legs closed. Nothing is on show. I am about to leave and return much, much later when I spot something on his dresser.
Upon closer inspection, I find it to be a letter addressed to me in his handwriting. I take a measured sip and read it:
Dear Bruce,
I want to apologise for my behaviour last night. I was not a good soldier…or human being for that matter. I'm sorry I embarrassed you. I want you to know I understand why you won't take me on patrol with you at the moment. I can't handle the heat. I whine. I complain. I don't really make either of us look good when I'm like that. So I get it.
I hope we can work past this really soon and get back to kicking ass for justice.
Sincerely,
Richard Grayson (Dick)
The boy will never be a poet. But at least he is honest and level-headed enough on paper for me to forgive his actions. I take another sip of coffee in returning the letter to the dresser.
"Good enough?" Dick enquires from the bed. I look over and find his eyes are still closed, but he has evidently been awake for some time. I nod whilst moving back over to the bed.
"Satisfactory, yes. Are you getting up today? Perhaps getting dressed today at the very least?" I ask. The boy smiles before opening his eyes to regard me.
"Maybe. Are you going to leave first?" He says teasingly. I offer a small smile.
"I was not planning to stay."
"You could've really punished me, you know." He says a moment later. I nod.
"Yes I could have."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because it would have solved nothing. You know what you did was wrong. You know you will not do it again this year. If you do, I will ground you properly for a month. Clear?" I caution him. He nods.
"Yes, Sir."
"Good boy." I finish my coffee whilst briefly appraising his appearance. "You could use a shave."
"On my face?" He checks. I shake my head. The boy does even have the beginnings of peach fuzz on his face, let alone anything more substantial. He casts his eyes down whilst raising his eyebrows. "Do guys actually do that? I thought it was only for girls." I shake my head again.
"Not anymore. These days, everything needs a trim."
"And you practice what you preach?" He asks. I nod.
"Women appreciate the gesture."
"What makes you think I'm anywhere near getting my pants off in front of the ladies?"
"The empty condom wrappers Alfred found in your jeans whilst doing the laundry." Dick looks shocked by this revelation. He should not be: he leaves his belongings scattered throughout the house like the aftermath of a natural disaster. One could piece together his entire life history with the amount of things on exhibit in the living room. I have known he has been sexually active for at least four months in any case.
"Did we skip a ton of conversations? The last thing we talked about like this was not using socks to…"
"I do recall that conversation quite well, thank you. We do not need lectures for these matters. You are sensible and you are safe. If I had any notion you were otherwise, this dialogue would be awkward." I say to make him frown in bemusement.
"This isn't awkward? You're talking to me about my sex life while I'm naked in bed and you're stood there drinking coffee: how is any part of this not awkward?"
"You have not told me to leave yet. Should I leave?" I check whilst manoeuvring towards the doorway. Dick considers the matter carefully for a few seconds. "No. Actually…no. Just let me get some underwear on." I turn my back and hear him leisurely get off the bed, open his dresser and snap on some boxers. "Okay, you can turn back now." I do so and find him sat on the edge of the mattress. He motions for me to sit beside him. I comply amicably enough. "I never saw this kind of conversation being less than painful between us. I kind of assumed Alfie would be fielding the supplementary Sex Ed classes in this house." He says with a sheepish smile. "I keep forgetting you're not old or married like all my friends' parents." I reach across him and put my empty cup on the bedside table.
"Fortunately, I do not." I say with a smile that makes him laugh aloud. It helps break whatever tension may have been present instantly.
"So, how long have you known?"
"Since you lost your virginity."
"And how long ago was that?"
"Four months ago."
"Do I want to know how you figured that out? I only left condom wrappers in my jeans this week." He points out. While this is true, being a detective encompasses more than collecting physical evidence to establish proof and fact. I answer honestly.
"I recognise the signs. You have a very expressive face. How many girls?"
"Two. I don't want to get a reputation."
"No, you do not. Always protected, yes?"
"Always."
"Check them before use?"
"Yup."
"Good. Do you have any questions for me?"
He looks surprised by this open invitation. I will admit to being slightly unnerved by the potential scope of the topic in question, but feel I am equipped to handle the strain. At this juncture, anything to distract him from the heat is a smart choice. He mulls on the matter for some time before posing his first question.
"How old were you when you lost yours?"
"Nineteen." Dick looks puzzled by this.
"That late? Or am I just early to the party?"
"Adolescence spans many years. A good way to think about it is you lose your virginity when you are ready, not before. I was not ready to lose mine at fifteen, but you were. Despite last night's display, you are generally mature for your age. Such an attitude is very important where sex is concerned." He nods in understanding at this. I am sure he grasps what I am saying. I can already tell he is wording his next question.
"So…how many…women have you slept with?"
"Is that important? It should never be a competition, Dick. It only demeans all involved. I have been involved with a number of women over the years. Some have ended amicably, some have ended badly, but in each instance I respected my partner and their wishes."
"So no one-night stands for Bruce Wayne?"
"No. You?" I say to earn a scoff in reply.
"With my two?"
"Is it any less valid a question?"
"I guess not. Answer's 'no'. I broke up with the first girl after a month and got together with my new girlfriend six weeks ago."
"And why haven't we met her yet?"
"Because we broke up…yesterday." He admits. A bigger reason than the heat is finally presenting itself for scrutiny. It is also more credible for his behaviour. I frown at all this secrecy.
"And you neglected to mention this prior to patrol because?"
"I can't help you kick ass because my girlfriend dumped me is a good excuse?" He says with more than a little bitterness in his voice. I shrug my shoulders.
"It is more than reasonable, given the impact it had on your mood. Did Alfred know?"
"Nope. Think I'm dumb for keeping it to myself?"
"No. I'm just saddened you did not feel like you could confide in Alfred or I on the matter."
"Am I still banned from patrol?" He asks with more than a trace of hope in his voice. I am firm in quashing it.
"Yes, of course. Reasons aside, you still acted terribly last night. You clearly need time to process this before returning to work and the heat is not helping. However, I am glad the reasons for it are now clear. Do not be afraid of telling the truth. It saves me having to wrangle it out of you." Despite this response not going in his favour, Dick still manages a grin.
"I know right? Such a pain in the ass." He pauses to reflect. "Rejection really sucks, doesn't it?"
"Yes, it does. But with enough experience, you will find a way past such difficulties. There is a person out there for you, Dick. It is merely not the person you thought it was." I assure him. He nods in appreciation.
"Mm, got that right. You know, I never really thought you'd be this cool about me going with girls at my age. I thought if I told you, you'd get mad or something and say I was too young to start having sex. It probably seems really stupid to you that I'd think that, but until today, I wasn't sure if you still thought of me as that little boy you met all those years ago." He laughs. "I wasn't sure you could handle me growing up. Like you weren't ready or something. You, the guy who handles anything without batting an eyelid."
"You were never 'that little boy' to me, Dick. You were and always will be my little boy. But watching you grow and mature is a privilege all in itself, one I am glad I get to witness first-hand." I say so there are no misunderstandings about our relationship. This boy is not my ward: he is my son. Sometimes we like to pretend otherwise, to lessen pain over arguments or enforcement of rules, but we are father and son when it is all stripped to its bare bones. He smirks at me.
"Even my mistakes?"
"Especially your mistakes. There is nothing human about perfection."
"Is that you admitting you're an alien?"
I clap him lightly on the back of the head which he takes in good spirits. We exchange smiles. He is not too old just yet. We sit and talk further about nothing in particular for the next while. Neither of us notice the heat.