Summary: Sometimes you actually have to try.
It had been the hardest month of his life. His parents had been murdered on what was supposed to be the best night of his life, ripped from the people who had been taking care of him since he was born, thrown into a place where he was lucky if his stuffed elephant Elsie was only thrown across the room and not into the street, again, and finally adopted by a man who hadn't spent more than five minutes in the same room as him unless it was for publicity. He stared at his oatmeal. It wasn't like he hadn't tried to get back to his real family, it's just that Bruce was freaky good at knowing the freight train system, and had caught him every time. Last time he had almost made it too. All he had to do was hop one more and he was home free. But as he jumped in, he slipped a bit, and there was Bruce, pulling him back in. They got back to Gotham, and he disappeared into his office.
Now he wanted to take him to a nice luncheon at some restaurant that probably couldn't even make a decent chicken strip. Not that he would be allowed to order that anyway. There were appearances to keep up after all. He was going to have to order some crazy expensive steak thing or something to show that 'Oh look Bruce is spoiling the poor little circus freak. What a wonderful guy he is.' He finished his breakfast, placing the dish in the sink, before hurrying back to his room. A suit was laid out on his bed with a note. "Master Richard, Master Bruce requested that you accompany him to luncheon at Clen's Steakhouse this afternoon. I humbly request that you be ready before eleven o'clock, so I may help you with your tie. -Alfred". He sighed as he flopped on the bed. He had a few hours to spend before he had to get in the monkey suit.
Everything was horrible. He was stuck in the back of a really nice car with a guy who didn't care about him, going to eat at a place that he didn't like, and he was in a suit. The suit alone made this bad. But as they pulled up he put a smile on his face. Three reporters were waiting outside for them to exit. He waited for Alfred to open his door before moving to stand close to a happy looking Bruce. A large hand settled on his shoulder as they walked through the front door.
Since this was Bruce they were quickly seated in their private booth. The waiter came and dropped off their drinks, a glass of wine for Bruce, and a water for him. That was another thing Bruce had decided would be a great thing to do, take away all of his sugar and sodas. But he just smiled and thanked the man as he looked at the menu.
"You can order anything you like, Dick." Bruce said with a smile as he looked through his own. He politely thanked him before looking at things he would never, ever like to eat. Overpriced steak, overpriced fish, overpriced everything. But when the waiter came back he just smiled and ordered an overpriced, probably not very good burger.
"So, Dick, how's school going?"
Everyone there hates me, I got shoved in my locker last week, and my new nickname is charity case. "It's going great. I'm making lots of new friends and learning a lot." Bruce took another sip of his wine, nodding in agreement.
"That's good. I know how hard it is to change schools."
I didn't change schools. I've never been to school before. I'm supposed to be flying the days away, not sitting. "Thank you for putting me in the best school you could find."
"You're my ward, of course I want whats best for you." The rest of the conversation was awkward, at least for him.
As they left the restaurant the reporters moved in on them. "Mr. Wayne, I see that you've taken your young ward with you to Clen's. Would you recommend this to others in the city?"
"Mr. Wayne, what are you going to be doing about the alleged corruption in the orphanages?"
"Mr. Grayson," he perked up a bit. "Would you say that Mr. Wayne is a good father to you?"
Remember, smiling suppresses the gag reflex. He gave them the largest smile, slipping his hand into Bruce's. "He's an excellent father to me. I'm very lucky to have him." The reporters awwed at him as Bruce gave him a side hug.
"If you get me a list of questions at my office, I'd be more than happy to answer them there. But for now, I just want to get home with my son." The reporters allowed them to get to the car.
Dick didn't drop his act until they were back in the manor.
"Dick, I'm sorry that I haven't been around a lot. I've been so busy with work that I haven't been spending enough time with you, but I want to change that." Bruce had gone down on one knee to look him in the eyes. "I want to be a good dad to you."
That was it.
"Now you care about me? What gives? You were perfectly fine to leave me here in this huge house where I'm afraid to touch anything in case it broke earlier. What, did the reporters finally figure out that I don't want to be here and now you're trying to make me stay? Well guess what, I don't want to. You're not my dad. You made that clear when you took me in." His eyes blurred with tears. "I'm not a puppy that will just sit there while you decide whether or not you want me. I just want to go home."
Before Bruce could respond he turned and fled to his room.
"Alfred, I think I've really, really messed up this time."
"Just keep trying Master Bruce. He will come around."
