AN:

I've recently been listening to a lot of Owl City's songs. I demand that you all listen to Saltwater Room because good godddd, that song is so sweet and bubbly even if it makes no sense. I love Owl City's songs because A) they don't cuss B) aren't auto tuned C) don't talk about sex and drugs and D) of the cute-sounding instruments.

I like Owl City if you can't tell.

Anyways, this was inspired by a fic that I read on the TV ropes fanfic recs page. Search 'TV ropes fan fic recs Young Justice' and click on the general fics. The story is by anon and it's called Bird Song. Best thing I've read in a while :)))

This really should be part of Boy Wonder, but I just updated that, and this is long enough to be a lone story.

Enjoy!

~Zara

Bruce wasn't sure when he learned that his adoptive son could sing. It might have been a few months after he'd taken the boy in. The child had a tendency to sing at any given moment, usually when he was alone, sweet melodies escaping his lips.

The first time that he could clearly remember Dick singing was when the boy was ten.

It was winter, nearing Christmas time, and for the first time in a long time, Wayne Manor was actually full of the feelings that came with the cheery holiday.

Bruce had gotten up on a Sunday morning and was making his way downstairs after freshening up. As he passed Dick's room, he heard music coming from the other side of the slightly opened door.

No, not music. There was no sound of instruments, no background noise.

Just a voice. A cheerful, joy-filled voice, one that sounded as pure as chiming bells.

"I twirled through the driveway with angelic grace 'till I slip on the sidewalk and fall on my face."

Singing. His boy could sing. Beautifully.

Bruce slipped through the door to see Dick twirling in front of the snow speckled window, his toy elephant Elinore in hand.

"This peppermint winter is so sugar sweet, I don't need a taste to believe."

Bruce didn't make his presence known, sure that the boy would stop singing if he did. And he most certainly did not want that.

"What's December without Christmas Eve?"

The next occasion when he was lucky enough to hear Dick singing again was a rather somber one.

The Boy Wonder was eleven, by which time he was best friends with Wally West.

In a patrol gone wrong with the Flash, Wally had been hit by a speeding car, rendering him comatose. An ironic fact, but not at all a humorous one.

Dick had been over at Barry's when the incident happened, tagging along for the speedsters' patrol as Robin. Bruce had came to Central City as fast as he could.

He made his way to the hospital, and from there to a ward on the fourth floor.

He stopped when he made it to the doorway.

Wally was lying on the white bed, face holding the look of one who was simply asleep. Barry was nowhere to be seen; Bruce found out later that he was grabbing snacks for Dick from the cafeteria.

Dick was in civilian garb, sitting next to his best friend's bed in a chair. His head was bowed, hand clutching the speedsters. And he was singing.

"I am not my own."

He moved forward so that his forehead rested on the stomach of his best friend.

"For I have been made new. Please don't let me go."

Bruce almost moved forward when Dick's body began to shake a little, no doubt because of tears.

"I desperately need you."

It happened again on a regular summer evening, when Dick was twelve or so. Bruce had had an unusually uneventful day, and was sitting in a lawn chair in Wayne Manor's gigantic backyard, enjoying the cool evening air. Dick was climbing up the many trees surrounding the estate, throwing in magnificent flips every now and then.

The sun was setting, casting a beautiful reddish glow over everything. Fireflies blinked serenely in the scenery.

Alfred came over to his older charge, a tray holding a glass of iced lemonade in hand. He bent down and placed the glass on the arm of the chair, and that was when Bruce heard it.

"I'd like to make myself believe that planet earth turns slowly."

"The young master has a wonderful voice, does he not, Master Bruce?" Alfred said, smiling as the sweet voice of the last Flying Grayson floated back to them.

"Hmm," Bruce said, too mesmerized by the voice to pay much attention to his butler.

Whether Dick knew that his guardians could hear his voice or not, he kept singing.

"It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep, 'cause everything is never as it seems."

Bruce was working on a particularly demanding case in the Batcave. He sighed, resting his forehead in his palm. Perhaps Dick could help. The boy had a tendency to find tiny clues that even he couldn't see.

He made his way up the stairs and into the manor's ground level. He passed Alfred in the kitchen, where he was making dinner.

"Seen Dick, Alfred?"

"I believe he's in the study, Master Bruce," the elderly man responded, chopping up basil.

Bruce moved towards said room, thanking the butler over his shoulder, and peered through the open door.

Dick was laying on his stomach, intensely focused on his task, which happened to be drawing. His graceful hand moved over the paper in front of him, forming the image of a skyline.

"I'll be out of my mind and you'll be out of ideas pretty soon."

The boy was so immersed in his drawing and singing, Bruce had no wish to disturb him. He slowly backed back out of the room.

"So let's spend the afternoon in a cold hot air balloon."

The case could wait.

The next time was during a rainy day in spring. It was wet out, gloomy and dark. But the gloom most certainly had not infected Dick.

He found his son in the manor's gigantic gym, playing around on the uneven bars. He swung around and around effortlessly, chalked hands letting go of the higher bar periodically so that his lithe body could flip in midair.

How he managed to sing while performing such feats was beyond even the World's Greatest Detective.

"Home will always be here on sea, out of sight."

His voice held no hint of strain, despite the amount of energy he was using. It was as soft and beautiful as ever.

"Where I disappear and hide."

He flipped off the higher bar and latched onto the lower one, spinning around it three times with a grace that was indescribable.

"I think dreamy things as I'm waving goodbye."

Spinning around the bar again to gain momentum, Dick launched off it and into a series of four consecutive somersaults. Bruce's breath caught in his throat.

"So I'll spread out my wings and fly!"

He landed smoothly on the blue matt, face alight with a joy that no other activity could bring to him.

"I'll spread my wings and fly!"

Bruce climbed the stairs on May twenty-fifth, ready to collapse into bed. He'd had an exhausting day; three meetings in a row, each longer than last.

He turned to Dick's door to check on the boy. He knew the hurt the poor teen must have been feeling today; he was no stranger to it.

Knocking on Dick's door, he waited for a response but heard none. Concerned, he opened the door.

The dark room was empty, moonlight filtering in through the open window.

Open-?

He crossed to the window and heard an angelic voice coming from somewhere on the roof.

"I opened my eyes last night, and saw you in the low light. Walking down by the bay, on the shore, staring up at the planes that aren't there anymore."

Thought the voice was as wonderful as always, Bruce could hear the hidden tears in it. He carefully climbed through the window and up to the roof using the little handholds that Dick had had installed for his many climbs of the house. Though there was no way that he had not heard Bruce approaching (the handholds were meant for someone of Dick's size), Dick went on.

"I was feeling the night grow old and you were looking so cold. So like an introvert, I drew my overshirt around my arms and began to shiver violently…"

Bruce made it to the roof and squinted to see his son, the only source of light being the full moon overhead.

"Before you happened to look and see the tunnels all around me, running into the dark underground. All the subways around create a great sound."

The thirteen-year-old was sitting near the chimney, legs folded to his chest as he started up at the moon. His expression was hard to place. He looked slightly melancholy, but there was a touch of a smile as well. The type of smile one gave while reminiscing.

Carefully making his way over to the acrobat, Bruce sat down next to his son and pulled his lithe body into a sideways hug. Dick gave a soft smile, resting his head on his adoptive father's shoulder. He continued his sweet melody.

"To my motion fatigue: farewell. With your ear to a sea shell…You can hear the waves in underwater caves, as if you were actually in a saltwater room…"

It obviously was not the end of the song, but Dick stopped there. He inhaled shakily, hands trembling ever so slightly.

"Is that it?" Bruce asked, looking down at his son.

Tears were glimmering in sapphire orbs, illuminated by the moon overhead. Dick smiled softly again and opened his mouth to respond, but found that he couldn't.

Bruce sensed his son's obvious sadness. "Didn't know you could sing," he said, trying to lighten the mood. How ironic, the Dark Knight trying to lighten the mood.

"Uh huh," Dick said, voice still slightly unsteady. "Like you never heard me that time when I was ten. Or when Wally was hurt or when I was in the backyard or-"

"You knew?" Bruce chuckled. Dick rolled his eyes.

"Well, duh, trained by the World's Greatest Detective, 'member?" he said, elbowing his guardian.

"Should've known," Bruce smiled, ruffling Dick's dark hair in an act of affection. Dick made an annoyed sound and swatted the man's hand away.

They both sat in silence for a moment, gazing at the star-littered sky. It really was beautiful, looking as if diamonds were embedded in dark velvet.

"M-mamica and I used to sing all the time during practices for shows," Dick said finally, raising a hand to wipe away a droplet that had finally escaped from his eyes. "We used to sing for Tati and John and everyone else. She…she had the prettiest voice."

"She certainly taught you well," Bruce said softly, looking down at Dick again. The teen smiled a bit wider.

"Thanks…"

Silence was draped over them again, and once more, Dick was the first to break it.

"That- that song has a d-duet. I…don't like singing it for her…"

Bruce smiled sadly but still didn't say anything, instead letting Dick gather his thoughts so that he could continue.

"But…" Dick's voice had grown even softer. "I guess I could sing it…just this once." A pause.

"As a birthday present."

And with that, he leaned into Bruce's side again. The older man waited as his son steadied his breathing.

And the angelic voice started up again.

"Time together is just never quite enough…When you and I are alone, I've never felt so at home…"

He had to stop there as a small sob escaped him. Bruce gripped his hand as the younger shook.

He composed himself though, and went on, his melody riding the soft breeze blowing around them and carrying into the night. A gift, a boon, a blessing in the dark lives of Gotham's heroes.

"What will it take to make or break this hint of love?"

"Only time… only time…"

That's it! My first fic using songs, btw, hope the lyrics weren't typed too awkwardly. It was hard to decide when to cut off each song.

Here're are the songs used, in order: Peppermint Winter, Meteor Shower, Fireflies, Hot Air Balloon, Umbrella Beach, anddd SALTWATER ROOMMMM.

I suggest you check them out. :)

I might've skipped around with the lyrics, and sorry if not all of them are right. And May 25 is not Mary Grayson's correct birthday, I made it up.

Hope you enjoyed, and sorry for any OOC-ness.

(Listened to Saltwater Room on repeat while typing this :D Seriously obsessed.)

~Zara

EDIT: just bought the whole Owl City album 'Ocean Eyes', not to mention a pair of Superman headphones and a Nightwing figurine! So happy!