Howdy! I wanted to quickly thank anyone who has favorited/followed the story The Best Laid Plans and especially those who sent reviews. It was my first ever fanfic, so I have greatly appreciated any and all input. (My sincerest thank you to allGreeekToMe.) Thanks! Also, a thank you to anyone who has favorited/followed the author. I appreciate that too!

- Lux

~~Chapter Rating: K~~

Fiscal Responsibility

It was a cool and windy evening in mid-November. High in his office in the Wayne Enterprises skyscraper, Bruce Wayne had a bird's eye view of his city under gray cloud cover, but he wasn't taking the time to look, whether to admire it or otherwise. It was six o'clock already; he was late leaving work, and he had the promise of a long evening ahead of him after work. Outside his office, aides and interns hurried back and forth, shuttling papers and questions in confusion. Their superiors, most of whom had been working for the company and on Wayne's own floor for at least a few years, knew that Mr. Wayne didn't want to be here today, at this hour, and why, while the young help only knew that haste was not being asked – it was being demanded. Their confusion could do nothing but mount as their superiors became increasingly agitated with the amount of work still to be done while to all accounts Mr. Wayne himself was focused and calm, not so much as sighing at the hour. But they understood better when the clock reached 7:13 and Mr. Wayne finally rose from his desk. Locking away a few files of sensitive information, he left his normally pristine desk cluttered, gathered his briefcase and coat, and left the office, walking in long strides and tossing a hurried "Good work, everyone" over his shoulder. The problem was not how late Mr. Wayne was working but how late he was to get somewhere. Only after he had left did the superiors relax and, tossing each other amused grins, explain to the young staff: today was Richard Grayson's birthday.

Bruce gave a wry smile as Alfred greeted him at the manor; the butler was eyeing him with calm disapproval. His employees at the office, he knew, thought it was sweet of Bruce to be so concerned to get home to Dick every year on his birthday, and he let them think that. In fact, it was coming home to Alfred that concerned him. The man took great displeasure at the event being in any way delayed or spoiled, whereas Bruce knew Dick would be easy to make it up to. A delay just meant the boy would be bouncing off the walls for a while as he waited.

"Sorry, Alfred," Bruce apologized, sighing as the older man silently took his coat, "I got here as quickly as I could. Ran the interns like slaves to do it. Where's Dick?"

Alfred sighed and shook off his displeasure, smiling patiently. "I'm not certain, Master Bruce. I believe he's in the living room, but he could be on the couch or on the ceiling."

Bruce chuckled. He would put his money on the ceiling. "Get him down, Alfred, and let's go ahead and have dinner."

"Very good, sir," Alfred spared him as he hurried to the living room.

Bruce heard the soft thump of someone dropping to the carpeted floor and grinned as he walked toward the dining room. So Dick had been on the ceiling. He stood by his seat at the head of the table and undid the top two buttons of his shirt to make himself comfortable, waiting as Dick ran in with Alfred walking briskly behind him. Dick plopped into his chair and raised an eyebrow at Bruce, grinning. Bruce just quirked an eyebrow back.

Dick cleared his throat. "You may sit," he declared.

Bruce nodded and sat down. Back on his first birthday here, a younger Dick had playfully insisted that on his birthday he should be able to rule the roost. It had been the unspoken rule ever since, although he didn't lord it over the manor now quite as he had then for which Bruce was infinitely grateful. In fact, in something of a role reversal between adult and child, only two such birthdays passed before Dick began to start each birthday celebration with that grinning, questioning look as though he suspected that one day Bruce would grow out of the game. Now it was less one of Dick's childhood demands and more one of the few allowances Bruce made for him on this day. It was an added bonus that if he'd managed to disappoint Alfred in any way on Dick's birthday the butler forgave him the moment he submitted to Dick's game. True to form, the butler began to bring in Dick's favorite foods with renewed mirth. Crossing his ankles under his chair, Dick made no move to place anything on his plate and said nothing, waiting. When he'd finished, Alfred took the chair across from Dick preparing to eat with the two, another thing upon which Dick had insisted on his first birthday. It served as the butler's own special allowance for the day. Dick grinned widely.

"This looks awesome, Alfred, so I'll tell you what," Dick said, leaning back in his chair in a very good imitation of Bruce, "I'll give you both a head start before I dig in."

Bruce rolled his eyes and carefully picked a few things for himself – a slice of rubbed pork, two pieces of seasoned and grilled asparagus, and the smallest roll he could discern – before leaning back and waiting as Alfred did the same. Bruce schooled his face into blankness. This too was a game, and Dick was still grinning from ear to ear over it. It had only taken one time for both Bruce and Dick to learn that as Alfred had made this specifically for Dick he'd take it badly if Bruce took anything too good before Dick had a chance, so the offer of a head start was just Dick teasing them both. After Alfred had finished, Dick quickly sat forward in his chair and leaned over the table in all the ways designed precisely to make Alfred have to hold back his frowns at the bad table manners, snatching up the best bits of everything for his own plate. He placated Alfred by placing his napkin in his lap.

"Ok! Now we can eat!" Dick declared, his games over for now.

Alfred smiled. "Happy twelfth, Master Dick."

"Happy twelfth," Bruce echoed, lifting his glass of water with a nod and a grin.

Dick just smiled. "How was work today, Bruce?" he asked, and normal conversation descended. An outsider looking in probably wouldn't have been able to tell it was a birthday party at all. Dick never invited friends. There was no cake either, not yet anyway, and no presents, despite what might have been expected of a billionaire's ward. The dinner was Alfred's gift, though, and Bruce always had a gift of sorts. From the beginning, Bruce had just decided to go with what he knew for a fact Dick liked, so every year for his birthday the Batman saved something new and particularly complex to teach Robin or else allowed him a new gadget in his belt and trained him in how to use it properly. He'd gotten lucky with this idea. It seemed that Dick's family, who had never had much money to spare or room to keep things as they traveled, had done much the same thing. His family's gifts to him had been new tricks of the trade, and Bruce's approach had been well received by the child. Still was, Bruce thought, smiling, if Dick's behavior was any indication. To anyone else, Dick wouldn't have seemed to be behaving any differently than usual, but he hadn't put much on his plate, despite it all being his favorite things, was eating quickly, and was lightly sweating in the pants and slightly unbuttoned shirt of his school uniform. He had put his impatient antics to good use warming up and would be finished with dinner as soon as possible, ready to jump straight to training.

After just half an hour at the table, Dick was already finished and, although keeping up conversation, kept checking the clock for the time, beginning to look concerned. According to Batman's normal schedule, patrol would begin in just over forty-five minutes, not nearly as much time as he normally gave to giving Robin his birthday gift.

"Concerned about the time?" Bruce asked.

Dick paused in the middle of both discussing an upcoming history essay at school and checking the clock yet again. He turned toward Bruce and forcefully put on a grin, "Looks like it'll just be patrol tonight."

"Not tonight," Bruce replied, shaking his head. "I have to meet with the League to discuss developments in an ongoing off-world mission I might need to join soon."

Dick's grin fell, his eyebrows pulling down and eyes looking away as he finally gave way to disappointment. "How long have you known? You could have at least told me earlier. I can't go on patrol by myself, so…what?" He brought up his hands in a questioning gesture before dropping them in his lap. "Homework?"

Alfred's eyebrows were knitted in disappointment as well, but it was resigned. The League wasn't something Batman could just put off, even for a birthday.

Bruce frowned. "Dick,-"

"I could come with you!" Dick said, sitting forward eagerly.

"No, Dick," Bruce said, sighing, "You cannot, and you know that. We've been over this. You'll be introduced to the League in stages and the League as a whole will vote on when you're ready. I can personally guarantee you it won't be when you've just turned twelve."

"But age has nothing to do with it! Experience is what matters, and I've been doing this for years!"

"Age has everything to do with it, and you are not guilt-tripping me by bringing this up now," Bruce replied firmly.

"So you don't think I'm good enough?" Dick crossed his arms, glaring.

Bruce studied him a moment then sighed. "Good has…more to do with it, but it's not the most important thing." Suddenly seeing a way to helpfully redirect the conversation back toward what he wanted to talk to Dick about, Bruce held up a hand to quiet further protests while Dick just spluttered indignantly at the gesture. "The important thing is maturity. And that's why this year your birthday present is a bit different than usual." Dick just scowled at his knees, slumped back in his chair. "I realize it's not what you want, but it's one step in the right direction. I think you're old enough to be given an allowance." Dick offered Bruce an annoyed grimace.

"I highly doubt an 'allowance' is going to get me any closer to the League or save me from being left behind on my birthday," Dick paused, "Whatever it is."

"You've…never heard of an allowance," Bruce shared a puzzled look with Alfred. "Ok, then. An allowance is…" he paused to think on his explanation, "well, basically it's a set amount of money given on a regular schedule to a child for them to use at their own discretion."

Dick's expression darkened at the use of the word "child". "You're giving me money for my birthday. I'm touched, Bruce." He stood up, throwing his napkin down beside his plate. "I'm sure that was a real stretch for you."

Bruce's eyes grew stern. "Dick, sit down. This is exactly what I'm talking about. You're behaving like a child."

"Well, apparently I am a child!" Dick burst out.

"Sit down, Dick," Bruce said, his voice dropping toward his Batman voice. "I'm not finished talking."

Dick hesitated at the change in his guardian's voice then sunk back into his chair. Silence fell. After a few moments, Alfred cleared his throat. Bruce turned toward him, and Dick looked up at him miserably.

"Master Dick," Alfred began carefully, "no one has gone out of their way to make this birthday less…well, less than usual. I'm sure Master Bruce would agree with me in saying that we want this day to be very happy for you, but there is little to be done about a League mission, and" Alfred said growing a little more stern, "one should never look a gift horse in the mouth. Master Bruce would not hold you back from anything he believed you were ready for. Which is precisely why he's discussing this allowance with you now." Alfred looked at Bruce expectantly.

Taking his cue, Bruce leaned forward seriously, hands folded on the table. "Exactly. I'm not trying to give you money. Well, I am, but it's not just that. It's an opportunity for you to learn how to be responsible with your money, and responsibility and maturity are exactly the sort of things the League is looking for, I'm looking for, in deciding when you're ready to start moving on in your…career." He stopped a moment, choosing his words carefully. "I believe…that you're ready to start proving that you are that responsible and mature." He glanced over at Alfred who nodded approvingly at his phrasing. Dick contemplated.

"So…" Dick began, "basically I get a certain amount of money at a certain time and I'm supposed to be able to use it however I want, but the idea is to show I can use it well." He was still clearly not very whelmed with this idea of a gift, but he knew Alfred was right so he was trying to be mature about it. Failing, as he gritted his teeth to keep from thinking about spending the evening left behind, but trying.

"Basically," Bruce replied, nodding. Then he abruptly smiled. "But I do have something else for you."

Dick blinked, not sure whether to be hopeful or not. "That's ok…I mean, you don't have to just come up with something. I can wait until tomorrow to do training," he said, still hoping that there was a new move, strategy concept, or crazy ninja skill hiding in the wings of this discussion.

"No," Bruce said, shaking his head, "you can have this now, and maybe it'll help you pass the time." He gave Alfred a meaningful look, and the butler disappeared to fetch it.

Dick nodded, deflating a little. If he was insisting on giving it to him now, it definitely wasn't a new move. Bruce just smiled. Alfred brought in a white box about the size of a shoe box and set it next to Dick on the table. Straightening, he gave Bruce a tired but happy smile over the boy's head. Bruce returned the look. They both knew that once Dick opened this gift the world wasn't going to know what hit it. Dick opened the box and looked…puzzled.

"New…gloves…" he said, pulling out one green Robin glove. "Very thoughtful…" he tried, hoping not to still sound disappointed. Bruce didn't mind.

"Here, hand it to me," he said, reaching out a hand to take the glove. Dick shrugged and handed it over, blinking when as he did so he felt the true weight of the glove and noticed it was heavier than usual by just a little. Bruce took the glove, flattened it out on the table, and touched the back of the hand...Dick's eyes grew wide…he couldn't help the smile that grew across his face. There was a computer in his glove. A holographic computer actually inside of his glove. Bruce gave Alfred a knowing smile.

"So? Do you like it?" Bruce asked.

Dick tried to look embarrassed about his behavior and also not eager to pull the glove back immediately and look it over more carefully. He failed on both counts.

"Well," Bruce laughed, "I know it's no four hour long training session followed by patrol, but maybe while I'm gone you can figure out everything this little piece of tech can do."

Dick nodded, grinning. "Are there instructions?"

Bruce shook his head, standing. "No, but it's modeled after the computer in the cave. You'll pick it up quickly. Try not to start any national emergencies with it before I get back."

Dick paused at that and looked up at Bruce seriously. "When will you be back?"

"Not sure," Bruce answered, "but by tomorrow evening at the latest."

Dick nodded. "See you sometime then."

Bruce picked up the glove, pulled a folded envelope from his pants pocket, and laid both in front of Dick. "The envelope has a prepaid card and a note on how much it has on it, how often you'll get it, and the few things I expect from you regarding your spending. The rest is up to you. See you sometime. And happy birthday, Dick."

Dick's hand hovered over the glove wanting to touch it but not sure where or what it would do yet. He nodded absently, "Thanks. This is great, really."

Bruce just nodded, unseen by his ward, and headed to the cave. Dick put his gifts back into the box and headed to his room. Alfred just sighed, looking over the empty table still full of so much food. That really hadn't gone to plan at all. Well, he'd just pack the food away. Perhaps Master Dick would be hungry again later.

Late the next day, Batman returned. He was tired and spent from dealing with the League for nearly twenty-four hours, but he wondered how Dick had spent his time. He wasn't very worried. The gloves seemed to have made up for any disappointments over lack of training and would have kept Dick busy for some time. He wasn't worried about the allowance either. The worst that could happen was Dick might lose the card or not follow the rules he'd been given, but they could talk about that. The money itself, at least, was not a real issue if it was lost or misspent. Dick's rules for his allowance were simple: the card had three-hundred dollars on it in total, but only fifty of it was his to spend for the month. The rest was to be used only in case of emergencies. This provision actually went some way toward alleviating Bruce's worry for his charge. If anything happened to him in his civilian identity, he'd at least have something in his pocket to fall back on.

The Batmobile pulled into the cave and parked, the lights to the pad and stairways coming on when he entered. Climbing out of the vehicle, Batman suddenly stopped stock still. He peered around the room, eyes narrowed. Something was off. The cave was strung with something and littered with other somethings all across any space you could walk on. New lights which he hadn't placed and which hadn't been there when he left glowed in odd places. A vague chorus of hooting noises bounced from the walls repeatedly at regular intervals. Moving carefully, Batman climbed the small metal stairway to the next level. The things littering the ground seemed to be…small toys. Spinning tops and tiny bottles of bubbles in various black and yellow colors. Someone had clearly been in the cave. Perhaps Joker, but he could hardly believe that was possible. Certainly not when Robin would have had something to say about it yet there were no signs of a struggle. Still, his eyes narrowed in concern. He crossed the level at a run and climbed the next flight of stairs, accidentally kicking some of the toys into the abyss below in his hurry. As he climbed, he saw he was approaching one of the things stringing across the ceiling – it was a garland. A garland of cut-out bats so black that he couldn't tell what they were from below when they melted into the darkness of the cave ceiling. Still climbing, he passed another string, this one dangling some of those glowing lights he didn't recognize. Bats again. Little fairy lights with plastic covers that cast shadows of bats when the lights were on. Whoever came in here clearly had no trouble discovering exactly whose cave this was, or had already known whose, and yet still no sign of a struggle or anything tampered with. Moving even faster, he approached a table standing in between himself and the stairway up to the manor entrance. He vaulted himself over it only to land spluttering on the other side when he ran face-first into another garland too dark for him to notice hanging there. He pulled it off his face and in the process off the wall and was just about to turn back to the stairs when he noticed what he'd vaulted over. The table had Dick's birthday cake on it, finally brought out even in his absence and partially eaten, and the little cake too had been decorated with the tiny toys and some bat-shaped edible confetti. He was startled out of his observations by that chorus of honks from before. It blared from behind him, louder now that he was closer, and he whirled in its direction. He blinked. A smaller table had been set up with four small party blowers taped to whoopee cushions which in turn were situated under an automated pulley system which regularly dropped weights onto the cushions. The cushions were then forced to expel air into the party blowers…and the blowers were making that concerted hooting sound. Moving closer, he noticed that the blowers too were bat-themed. And there was a note on the table! Praying it was no ransom note, Batman snatched it up and quickly read it. It read:

Batman,

Don't worry, I had a great birthday. Party decorations, cake, the whole shebang. Check the computer.

Batman sighed, half in relief, half in disbelief. Hauling himself over to the computer while trying not to slip on spinning tops, he turned it on. A picture appeared, blown up to full-screen size. From the picture, Dick and a school friend, Barbara Gordon he thought it was, smiled back at him from campus as the boy held a birthday card and cupcake which must have been from the girl. Batman smiled then blanched as he took in the full picture, which had been hard at first because of its size on the screen. Three guesses which of the two was wearing a conical party hat sporting a picture of Batman throwing a punch with the cartoon caption "BIFF!" over his fist. A message at the bottom of the screen read:

P.S. I consider this money well spent.