Note: This is a new one-shot collection I'm starting. Chapters will range in length from a few hundred words (like this one) to a few thousand. It depends on the subject. Some of them will be related. Some of them will not be.
This is going to be a very family-centric, hurt/comfort collection. This is also sort of my Batfamily version of Bad Things Happen Bingo. I'm not doing it properly since I'm sort of picking and choosing prompts, however.
If you're familiar with the Bad Things Happen Bingo, feel free to give me a prompt, along with a character. If I'm not comfortable with a prompt, I will let you know.
I don't own the quote in the description.
Dick is around twelve in this chapter.
"I will be your sword and shield, your camouflage, and you will be mine." -Meet Me on the Battlefield, SVRCINA
Dick was miserable.
That felt like too much of an understatement.
One sneeze, a temperature that was running just a little too high.
That was all it took for Bruce to bench him from patrol until further notice.
But Bruce was still going. It made sense. Crime wasn't going to take a rest in Gotham because one half of the Dynamic Duo needed a sick day.
It still stung to be the one left behind.
It wasn't as if Alfred could stay with him. Batman's backup. And, being sick, Dick was, of course, not allowed in the cave.
It was selfish to wish Alfred could spend some time with him right now, but Dick couldn't help it. He was sick. He was lonely. He was tired.
He was sitting on the couch, a mug of tea- some herbal remedy concoction Alfred had brewed- clutched in his hand. He hadn't taken more than a sip, but it warmed his fingers, so he clung to it.
And if he felt it was like holding a tiny piece of Alfred's comfort, so what? He brought it close to his nose, breathing deeply. The steam wafted up into his face.
Slowly, he pressed the rim to his lips and sipped. The taste was bitter and he scrunched his nose up- Alfred hadn't added any milk or sugar- but he took another sip anyways.
"How you feeling, chum?"
In his surprise, Dick jumped… realizing belatedly that he still had the cup of tea in his hands. He fumbled with it, miraculously managing to avoid spills.
Despite himself, he grinned victoriously. Acrobatics won out in the end. They always did.
"Steady there." Two strong hands landed on his shoulder.
Dick tilted his head back, eyes widening in surprise. "Bruce?"
He couldn't help it. He grinned, thrilled.
But then… he frowned. Bruce's presence when he was supposed to be somewhere else aside, there was a distinctive lack of a batsuit. Bruce was wearing simple jeans and a semi-nice shirt. It was about as informal as he ever got.
"Wait, aren't…?"
Bruce moved around the couch, keeping his hand on Dick's shoulder the whole time, until he was sitting next to the boy. The couch cushion dipped under Bruce's weight and the man raised his arm slightly.
As soon as the invitation was extended, Dick scrambled closer to his guardian, tucking himself into the little crook against Bruce's side.
Bruce's arm settled comfortably over the boy's shoulders.
"You're asking why I'm not… out, right now?" Bruce asked. The corner of his lip twitched into an almost-smile.
Dick nodded mutely.
"Alfred remind me," Bruce said, "that Gotham isn't the only one who needs me."
Dick gave him a look that was equal parts hopeful and uncertain.
Bruce confirmed it. "That means you, kiddo."
He settled back on the couch, grabbing the remote.
"So," he asked, casually, "what are we watching?"
"Actually," Dick snuggled up against his arm, "I was hoping you could maybe just," he turned pleading eyes up at Bruce, "sit with me?"
Bruce set the remote down on the arm of the couch.
"Yes," he said, smiling fondly at the dark head resting against his shoulder. With his hand, he gently ruffled the dark locks, "I can do that."
