New Story! This story as a whole was inspired by the Aqua song, which is melancholic, but i just find it more terribly morose.

All Properties and Characters Belong To DC

A slight thumping on the staircase brought Bruce up from his breakfast. Alfred was in kitchen and wouldn't makes such racket, so he wondered what Dick was doing up so early. He did not start at Gotham Academy until tomorrow.

"Bruce!" An overjoyed voice called out and echoed through Bruce's family home, while such behavior from anyone else would have annoyed Bruce, Dick joyous echo just seemed to light up the halls.

"Bruce! Bruce! Look! This is what I'm going to wear for my first day of school!" Dick yelled despite not being in the room yet. Mary and John Grayson had home schooled their son very well, and after a year of legal paperwork and catching up, Dick would likely slip into his class just fine. Bruce was waiting for his son to come into the room when a colorful smear cartwheeled into the arch that led to the kitchen.

"Bruce, Alfred, how do I look !? " Dick said spinning in a circle. The most striking aspect of Dick's outfit was a pair of dark magenta tights that led down to pair of blue sneakers that had streaks on the outer side of them, that lit up electric blue light with each slight movement. The tights were cut off by the least loud garment, a pair of jean shorts that ran to the acrobat's knees. Dick's t-shirt was a blinding red with white, hollow stars for a pattern. Bruce was pretty sure if it had longer sleeves it would be a fitting Christmas sweater.

Bruce turned to Alfred, whose face made it clear he'd had no knowledge of the clashing ensemble. Dick's hopping also triggered the metallic sound of his backpack . While it was a standard black design when Bruce had first gifted it to his son, Dick had hundreds of pins stuck into it. Making the once monochrome backpack a flood of color and logos.

Dick's brow became determined as he ran up to his father, "Bruce, what do you think ? " he asked for what felt like the millionth time. He reached and took a strip of bacon off Bruce's plate and quickly crunched it down, in the process revealing his nails to be painted the same colors as his tights.

"Dick where did you get nail polish ?" Bruce questioned, finally speaking.

Face falling briefly at Bruce's tone and lack of positive feedback, Dick looked at his hands. "One of the women you brought home last month left it in the upstairs bathroom, I was going to give it back , but then she uh…..never did," Dick said giving an awkward smirk.

Bruce's eyes widened a bit, trying to remember which woman Dick was referring to. He'd ask Alfred later. Focusing his attention on Dick, he felt his stomach shift a bit at the apprehensive smile on the boy's face.

"Dick, Gotham Academy has uniforms and a dress code. You can't wear that to school," Bruce said gently and placing a hand on Dick's starred shoulder. His son's face seemed lost for a moment, trying to process what had been said. Alfred broke the silence.

"Your uniform arrived a few days ago, I was going to lay on your bed tonight after I'd finished washing it Master Dick," Alfred said drawing the small child's attention by putting a gloved hand on the boy's right shoulder.

"Oh," Dick shifted his feet, two flashes of electric blue dotted the kitchen floor, "I guess...I thought that," Dick was trying to find something to say, something to overtake his disappointment. He'd looked in the mirror before coming down to meet his new family, loving how colorful and fun his now clothes at looked. In back of his mind he began to remember Alfred's somewhat shocked (for Alfred anyway) expression when he grabbed the colorful tights and a few other items of clothing when he'd taken him shopping last month.

Bruce saw Dick's eyes take on something hazy and noticed his little painted hands shaking. Swallowing his own scruples about showing affection, gently Bruce reached over and guided to the boy onto his lap.

"Your outfit is very nice Dick," Bruce taking the tiny hand into his and rubbing his fingers over the dried polish, "Next time we go to the park or have a picnic, I promise you can wear it," Bruce continued to rub the boy's hand. Dick remained silent, but pushed his head into Bruce's shoulder as often did whenever his father held him close, not matter the context.

"Sirs, I was hoping to have picture of you both on Master Dick's first day and wouldn't mind having more than one," Alfred spoke up entering the room holding a camera in his hands, a warm smile on his face.

Bruce and Dick looked up. Bruce smiled at his long-time friend's resourcefulness , Alfred truly did know ways to soothe even the most foreign of situations. Standing up and setting back Dick onto the ground, Bruce walked to stand next to Alfred.

Dick looked at the light of his sneakers as Bruce returned him to the floor, his gaze then followed his father taking his place next to Alfred. He felt his emotions splitting, veering from the warmth he felt at his family's kind gesture, to something he wouldn't quite grasp. Despite this he walked toward both older men and grasped Bruce's hand as they walked towards the front door.

The three men of the house entered the morning light and made their way towards a large rose bush that was in full bloom and ran into Alfred's garden. Bruce guided Dick to stand next to him and kneeled on one knee next to his son, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Dick looked at Bruce, feelings of confusion and loss evident in his face. Bruce gave him a small smile and gripped his shoulder. Taking in breath Dick mirrored his father and turned towards Alfred.

Alfred aimed the camera at his two charges and smiled slightly at both boys. Snapping the shot a few times just in case, Alfred asked, "Who would like to get another why were are out here in such lovely light Sirs, ", knowing the answer he began setting up to take another picture.

Bruce looked at Dick, who seemed to brighten a little at the attention. Launching himself into Bruce's arms and wrapping his own around Bruce's neck. Smooshing his check against Bruce's Dick looked toward the camera. Alfred nodded once the shot was taken, Bruce was shocked as Dick climbed him to perch on Bruce's shoulders. Despite knowing Dick could handle himself, Bruce placed his hands on the boy's covered knees and looked up to see Dick had placed his hands on Bruce's hair, fussying it slightly. Alfred got a shot of Bruce's eyes averted and another when he turned back toward the camera.

After taking a few more photos of Dick making silly faces, the three headed back inside. Bruce had to leave for work soon and Dick decided to enjoy his final of freedom from school by returning to sleep.


That night Bruce sat on the edge of Dick's bed, not at all affected by the strong stench of alcohol in the air. He continually moved a cotton ball back and forth over Dick's fingers. Dick had told him he could do it himself, but Bruce had insisted.

Dick watched, frowning as the dark hue disappeared from his nails and began to color parts of Bruce's fingers. Dick's eyes moved from his hands to the bottle of nail-polish remover on his bedside table. He hoped Bruce didn't think he was mad at him. He didn't know WHO he was mad at.

As Bruce finished cleaning Dick's thumb he paused and looked at him. Noticing the sour look he was giving the chemical beside him. Reached for a tissue, Bruce began wiping the off-purple from his hands and what little remained on his son's.

"Rinse your hands when go to brush your teeth," Bruce leaned over and hugged his son who returned to the gesture, "I'm sorry Dick,"

Dick pulled away, a forlorn smile gracing his features, "It's not your fault Bruce, " Dick said

Bruce leaned down and kissed his son's forehead, "Get some sleep," Bruce walked with a smiled that faded once he reached the hall outside of Dick's room. He made his way downstairs where Alfred had just finished cleaning up dinner's mess.

He sat a cup of tea in front of Bruce and both men sat down at the long dining table. Only the dim kitchen lights and a set of candles close by giving alumnation. Neither made in motion to begin a conversation for a long time, Alfred however made the first effort by taking out a small envelope from his coat pocket.. Inside where the series of photos that had taken this morning.

Bruce took in each photo and noted how Dick seemed to brighten with each picture. However, as he left his son that evening, he noted there was lack of enthusiasm of any kind.

"I feel like this is somehow my fault," Bruce said handing the photos back to Alfred.

"You know that's preposterous Sir. If anyone has to shoulder the blame, it's me," Alfred said putting the photos back into the envelope with sigh.

"How is that ? " Bruce questioned raising an eyebrow.

"I remember taking Master Dick shopping last month and him grabbing multiple articles of clothing I had not expected. The tights for example. I would have asked him where he intended to wear them, but he seemed so overjoyed. A part of me didn't want to be the one to take make the boy's world smaller with restrictions, the purpose of which escape me to this day. I ask that you forgive me Sir," Alfred ran his finger over the now filled envelope, eyes now averted from the boy he'd raised.

"I wasn't like Dick growing up, you had no point of reference when it comes to this. You made the correct decision letting Dick make his own choices. I just worry that he's going to think this is what I want for him, that I'm trying to shove him in a different direction. He's already lost so much Alfred. I've tried to give him as much as can this past year, but it won't matter when Dick realizes what life outside the Circus is going to take," Both men sat in silence.


Dick sat by his dresser , running his fingers over the pair of tights he wished he could wear tomorrow. He'd thought back to his life at the circus often, thought about life at the manor and Gotham society events were so different from the lights and big top. The only aspect they had in common was the knowledge everyone had their eyes on you. The difference was what they expected.

Dick remembered how sometimes one of the showgirls would put makeup on his eyes, his parents hadn't said a word. He remembered learning how to do clown paint when he was six, he would add colorful shapes all over his face. A part of him knew such things wouldn't be accepted outside the circus, the clowns did wash the paint off after all. He just didn't realize what other small differences there were.

Dick slid the tights back into his dresser, far into the back. Flipping off his light and flopping into his bed. Dick looked up into the darkness of his room. When he'd been schooled by his parents, he worn tons of colorful outfits and didn't think he would ever have to question that. He felt something twitching uncomfortably in the back of his mind, a thought beneath a curtain Dick hadn't and could not yet pull back. Anticipation kept him awake for awhile before tiring his mind enough to let him drift off.

If anyone doubts that Dick would dress this way, you haven't seen what he wore in the 90s.

ALSO, I have not forgotten about Something To Me! I'm working on Chapter Two still, the stress of school kinda wounded my pace a bit. However, I'm now on break so expect it sometimes soon. Sorry for the delay.

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