Whaaaattttt Rebecca likes superheroes? Hell yeah I do The Flash is my child and Batman is perfect goodbye (this story can be considered to take place anywhere in the Arrowverse or any plot line with Batman and the Flash, but it's in Young Justice because it makes the most sense there and, tbh, is the most popular of these fandoms).

This is my 99th story wtf. What am I even doing I have no idea holy shit. I apologize in advance, I have yet to write for this fandom so this might end terribly (of course, I say this every time I write for a new fandom and I have yet to die. So we'll see).

GENERAL POV

It wasn't very often that Barry Allen was allowed in Bruce Wayne's private home office. Even rarer were the occasions where he was able to be in the office alone.

But he, Batman, and Green Arrow had been on a mission several hundred miles away and Batman had discovered that the files that were necessary to infiltrate the building they needed to get into had been left on his desk in the rush that morning to get Dick to school and leave in time for the mission.

Being the fastest man on the team, Batman had reluctantly called ahead to let Alfred know to leave the front door open for Barry so that he could get the files for them.

"No opening anything Barry," Bruce had warned him, his eyes narrowed menacingly. "I will know if something has been moved that doesn't need to be. The file is in the top drawer on the right side. Arrow and I will wait here for you."

Barry had merely winked at the bat and zoomed off, promising to be back within the half hour.

Now he stood in front of the desk, admiring it's neatness for a brief second before tugging open the right hand drawer and leafing quickly through the files, pulling out the one with that day's date marked on it and taking a quick glance inside to make sure that the blueprints of the building were laid out inside.

With a nod of affirmation, Barry shut the drawer and stood up, studying the desk to find a paper clip or rubber band so that the file wouldn't accidentally fly open while he was running.

Seeing none, the Flash silently whispered an apology as he broke Bruce's no snooping rule, pulling open the middle desk drawer and smirking as he spotted a tin of paper clips sitting in the corner.

He grabbed several, sticking them on in various places around the folder edges, and he was just about to close the drawer again when an official looking piece of paper caught his eyes.

Bruce Wayne's Last Will and Testament.

The Flash froze and hesitated for a moment before reaching a hand in and tugging the sheet of paper out, no longer caring about Bruce's threats.

As a superhero, Barry had revised his will more times than he cared to admit to anyone. Hell, he had revised it several times just being a forensic scientist; one of these days his work on the police force would catch up to him, he was sure of it.

But there was something about Batman that almost seemed immortal. Barry couldn't ever see the man dying, whether in battle or of natural causes. So the fact that Bruce had taken the time to draw up a will startled the speedster a fair amount.

Even as he told himself he shouldn't, Barry let his eyes scan the page, speed reading all while clutching onto the folder that belonged to the mission he was supposed to be getting back to.

It didn't surprise the man that Bruce had left the house and a fair portion of money to Dick; that was obvious. Money had also been left to Barbara Gordon, which Barry had trouble understanding for a moment before his mind flashed on a recent image he had seen of Batgirl and Robin arm in arm.

Alfred was left the collectible and priceless artifacts that Bruce had in his possession, Clark Kent was given ownership of Wayne Industries…

Barry hit the last line of the will and nearly fell over, his feet stumbling back uncharacteristically and his calves slamming into Bruce's desk chair.

If I should perish while Richard Grayson is under the age of 18, I leave him in the care of my trusted friend and colleague Bartholomew Allen.

The sentence went on to describe a sizeable amount of money that was to be left with Barry-the hero had never seen so many zeros-but Barry's eyes remained trained on the first sentence, re-reading it over and over again as he let the information sink in.

Bruce trusted him with Dick's life. He trusted him above anyone else, even Alfred (though Barry suspected that the man's age might have played into the decision a bit), to take care of Dick if he died.

It should have made sense; after all, he was Wally's uncle. But if Wally was the factor here, why wouldn't Bruce send Dick to live with Wally and his parents rather than him?

Barry swallowed and slid the paper back into the drawer, knowing for a fact that Bruce would know it had been moved. Honestly, Barry didn't care. He shut the drawer, moved the chair back into place, grasped the folder tightly in his hands, and sped out with a quick goodbye to Alfred.

Bruce…trusted him.

The Flash had always had the sinking feeling that Batman didn't like him; or at least, that he merely put up with him. Sure, they seemed to get along and Barry had even seen the man smile once in a while.

But never had Barry anticipated this.

Barry shook his head and tried to focus, running his thumb across the surface of the folder as he sped towards the last place he had seen Bruce and Oliver.

This revelation would have to be put on hold; as much as he wanted to confront Bruce about it the moment he spotted him, it would have to wait until later that night.

He had a mission to focus on.

"Hey Bats?"

Batman gave a small sigh and turned away from the computer console of the space station, raising an eyebrow at Barry as he approached. "Yes?"

Barry paused, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing aside to collect his thoughts for a moment. "Can I talk to you?"

Bruce looked just a tad bit startled, and inwardly Flash smirked, having never gotten that reaction from the dark knight before. Outwardly, however, he kept up a calm façade. "If possible…somewhere not here?"

At that, Batman's eyebrows furrowed and he stalked towards Barry slowly, crossing his arms over his chest. "What's wrong with here?"

Barry held up his hands quickly. "This uh…isn't the kind of thing we should discuss as Batman and Flash. Coffee? On me?"

A smile twitched at the corner of Batman's lips and he nodded once. "All right. Let's go."

They took the zeta tubes back to Gotham, since Barry knew that Bruce would want to be close by in case anything happened that night.

Though perhaps taking Bruce to his own home town to tell him that he snooped through his personal stuff wasn't the best plan. He would have the home field advantage in the event that Barry needed to make a quick escape.

Regardless, the two of them changed into their civilian attire and ventured out towards a corner coffee shop, getting their drinks from the counter before grabbing a booth and sinking down across from one another.

"What's this all about?" Bruce asked curiously, cocking an eyebrow as he sipped at his coffee.

Barry couldn't bring himself to take a drink, which really spoke to how nervous he was; he was always in the mood for caffeine. Instead, he traced his finger thoughtfully around the rim of his mug and kept his gaze down.

"How do you feel about me Bruce?"

Bruce spluttered a little on his drink and Barry worked to keep the smile from his face at how easily he had flustered the bat.

"Pardon?"

Barry forced himself to look up, feeling incredibly nervous all of a sudden. "Exactly what I said. How do you feel about me?"

He couldn't understand the calculating look of sympathy in Bruce's eyes until the man spoke again. "Listen, Barry, I think you're a great man. But I'm not-"

Oh.

Barry was suddenly glad he wasn't drinking the coffee, because he would have done the biggest spit take of all time as he started laughing. Bruce just seemed bewildered, and Barry waved a hand at him until he regained his composure.

"No," he wheezed with delight, the nerves settling in his stomach. "No. That's not what I mean at all."

He looked up with a twinkle in his eyes to see Bruce sagging in relief. "Ah. Okay, good. Then what is this about, Barry?"

Barry sobered up quickly and clutched his hands around his coffee mug, his leg jittering anxiously under the table. "This afternoon, when I went to grab the files with the blueprints in them for the mission," he said quietly, well aware that anyone could be listening. "I uh…I needed something to hold it together. The folder, I mean. So it wouldn't blow open when I ran."

Bruce frowned slowly, his eyes studying Barry cautiously. "You went into my drawers?" he guessed.

Barry winced. "Well, yeah. To get paperclips."

The man across from him tilted his head. "Which are in my middle drawer," he noted.

Of course Bruce would know exactly which drawer his stupid paperclips were in. Which meant he knew exactly what Barry was about to say and so there was no point in him even saying it but of course he had to because Bruce wasn't about to compromise himself if Barry hadn't seen anything.

Barry nodded and clenched his fingers even more tightly around his mug. If his power was strength instead of speed, it would have shattered in his hands by now. "Yeah. I…might have seen your will."

He squished his eyes shut and ducked his head, waiting for the low voice of anger that terrified so many Gotham criminals.

Instead, a hand settled lightly on his forearm and Barry couldn't help but flinch.

"Barry."

The voice was low, yes, but not menacing. Rather, it was Bruce's usual speaking voice, if not a bit more filled with concern. Barry looked up to find Bruce watching him with a thin smile.

"You're not pissed I went snooping?" he asked, feeling almost like a child who had gotten their hand caught in a cookie jar.

"Oh I'm beyond pissed," Bruce said with a roll of his eyes. "That'll teach me to let you go back to the manor without an escort."

Barry grimaced and ducked his head again. "Sorry."

"But your question makes much more sense now."

Barry nodded and sank back into the booth, fingers tapping on the edge of his mug as he glanced up at Bruce. "Why me?" he asked softly. "Was it because of Wally?"

Bruce smiled, a genuine smile that was rarely seen on the man, and took another sip of coffee. "No. Well, part of it was, but if Wally were the only reason then I would have left Dick with him and his parents, not you."

"That's what I thought. So then why-?"

Bruce held up a hand and Barry shut his mouth quickly.

"You care about him Barry."

Barry frowned, propping his ankle up on his knee and jiggling his foot. "The rest of the League cares about him too. And I'm not the only one who knows your identities. Oliver, Clark-"

Bruce snorted and Barry blinked in confusion, trying to figure out what was so funny. "Barry, can you picture Clark trying to take care of Dick?"

No, not really. Clark couldn't even handle Superboy, who was relatively well behaved, if not a little temperamental. Dick might be polite, but he was wild and sarcastic. Clark would probably shoot him with his laser eyes after too long in the same room.

"And Oliver," Bruce continued thoughtfully, "is a little too dark for my tastes."

Catching the pointed look that Barry shot him, Bruce chuckled. "I know," he promised. "But Barry, I've never killed anyone. Oliver has. He's a good man, and I trust him with my life and Dick's in battle, but I don't think I would want him as the caretaker to my child."

It was a good point, one that Barry hadn't thought of. But still, it brought him back to the same question.

"Why me?" he asked again, genuinely not sure of the answer. "Yeah, I care about him. Everyone on the team does. But why me, of all the people you could have chosen?"

"You have heart, Barry."

The quick answer startled the man, but Bruce continued before he could comment.

"You have heart; you would sacrifice yourself for him, even though he isn't related to you in any way. He looks up to you more than almost any other hero, and you treat him like an actual person rather than a child. You know what he can and can't handle, and you genuinely enjoy being around him. You've saved his life more than a few times, put yourself at risk for him even when you didn't need to."

Bruce shrugged and took another sip of his coffee. "What more of a response do you need, Barry?"

He could only sit there and gape at Bruce before running a shaky hand through his hair and letting out a breathless laugh. "Uh…wow. I don't ever think I've heard that many compliments from you in the entire time I've known you."

Bruce cracked a sly grin and chuckled. "Don't get used to it."

He set down his empty mug and Barry glanced down at his, knowing without even tasting that it was cold.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, looking up again and locking gazes with Bruce Wayne. "It means far more than you could imagine for you to entrust me with someone so important to you."

Bruce nodded once and stood from the booth, holding out a hand and clasping it with Barry's to pull him from the seat.

Barry paid in silence and then shoved his hands into his pockets as he and Bruce strolled outside and turned towards the Wayne manor.

"Though I doubt anything will happen to you before Dick is 18," Barry found himself saying, "I can guarantee you that if anything does I will treat him like my own son."

Bruce gave him a side smile. "I know, Barry. That is why I picked you, after all. Now, about you snooping through my drawers-"

Barry Allen was gone before the sentence ended.