Credit to whomever thought of 'Agent A' being Alfred's code name. Idea was not mine.

Disclaimer: Not yet.

Sleepover

"I do not like getting roped into babysitting," I tell Ollie, arms crossed over my chest as I situate myself on the kitchen chair.

"C'mon, Roy, it's not babysitting. You said so yourself that Robin is your friend."

"Yeah, but with you and Bats on an out-of-country mission, that leaves just him and me. And since I'm older, that means I'm watching him. And that means I'm babysitting."

"Huh. Never thought of it that way. I had just assumed it would be Robin watching out for you."

I scowl. "You're hilarious. Splitting a gut over here."

With a sigh, he places a hand on my shoulder, and I decide to be nice and not shrug it off. "He's your friend, and you two are just hanging out while we're gone. Nothing else."

"But what if something happens?" Christ, when did my mouth get a mind of its own? "If, if he gets hurt or something, or sick, what I am going to do?"

"Roy, are you really worried about that? Why would you even think—?"

"I don't know, alright?" There's more bark behind it than I meant, but Ollie must be use to that. "It's the first time it's just me and him, no adults whatsoever, and I don't want anything to happen."

"Nothing's going to happen." He's standing in front of me, but I prefer to look at the floor instead of meeting his eyes. "I promise you, nothing is going to happen. What could possibly go wrong if you to just stay in the house like you're supposed to?"

"Idon'tknow," I grumble, shifting uncomfortably.

"Look, I'll bring my phone. There's an emergency, you call me. And if you need help right away, call Dinah. It'll be okay, Roy. Seriously."

I want to answer, scoff a bit and give a sarcastic reply, but I can't seem to manage. See, I've known Robin for a few weeks now, and for some inexplicable reason, the kid looks up to me. He's always got this goofy grin on his face whenever we get together, and he calls me his best friend, and it's fricking adorable, not that I would ever admit that out loud. We've only ever hung out as heroes, though, when GA could convince Batman that working together was a good idea, so we've always had backup, I guess you could call it. This time around, with it just being the two of us, I don't want anything to go wrong. Not only because Batman would use me as a personal piñata—if something happened to Robin, I'd never be able to forgive myself. Not that I'd ever admit that out loud.

Before the conversation can enter Fluffy Heart-to-Heart zone, the doorbell rings, and I take no time jumping out of my seat and sprinting to the front door. When I yank it open, it's not Batman and Robin before me; well, it is, technically, but they're not in their uniforms, which shouldn't surprise me but does. Anyway, Robin's wearing shorts and a Batman t-shirt while the Big Bad Bat is wearing a nice suit and an Al Capone-looking hat. What really throws me off is the fact that they both have sunglasses.

"Hi, Roy." The ten-year-old beams at me as he steps inside, dragging a backpack with him.

"Hey, kid." Playing the part of a good host, I take his stuff and lead him to the living room, assuming Batman's smart enough to find Ollie on his own. I'm only entertaining the kid, not him, after all. "What's up with the sunglasses?"

"Gotta protect my secret identity," he explains, voice completely serious. "Batman says no one can ever know."

I snort. "Ever? For real?"

"For real. It's the only way he'll let me be Robin."

I'm tempted to roll my eyes, but I refrain. "So, you ready for tonight?"

"I've been looking forward to it all week!" Cheeks reddening, he amends, "I mean, yeah."

Chuckling quietly, I drop his things and get him in a headlock. A startled grunt escapes him before he fights back, maneuvering out of my grip and scaling me like the little monkey he is.

"I win."

"Not so fast," I protest, flopping onto the couch. Just as he's crushed against the cushions, Batman and GA enter the room.

"Robin."

I immediately get to my feet, and the slightly-winded child unhooks himself and approaches his mentor. Dropping to his knees, Batman instructs, "Listen to Roy. All the rules at home apply here. Understand?"

He nods energetically. "You'll be home tomorrow?"

"We should be. If not, Agent A will be back. He'll contact you if it comes to that."

"Okay."

Batman starts to stand, but stops himself and pulls Robin into a hug. "Goodbye, Robin."

"Bye, Br—Batman," he returns, speaking into his neck.

I'm so surprised that Batman's being sentimental that I don't notice GA until his arm is slipped around my shoulder. "Be good. See you soon."

"Bye," I return, not wanting to get emotional. Yeah, it's the first time Ollie's going away since he took me in, but I'm fourteen, almost fifteen, and I'm too old to act like that. Still, I give him a quick squeeze, just to let him know I'll miss him.

With that, he ruffles my hair and Batman releases Robin and they're both out the door. Glancing at the bird, staring at the place his mentor once was, I propose, "So, what do you want to do?"

"I dunno. What can we do?"

Grinning mischievously, I offer, "I have these pretty sick Nerf guns, y'know, the kind with the foam bullets. If you wanted to play that—"

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Are we playing inside or outside? What are the rules? Do we need—?"

"Slow your roll there, kid," I interrupt. "Inside game—house is plenty big enough. Only rule is that there are no rules. We start with fifty bullets each, whoever hits the other guy the most, wins. Alright?"

"Okay!"

"The guns are in my room. Let's go."

We ascend the stairs, him trailing behind me. I don't notice anything's off until I'm in my room and actually look at him. His face is crestfallen, and he's nervously tracing the design on his shirt.

"Wassamatter, kid?" I ask, wondering what the heck happened in a span of twenty seconds.

"Batman has a no gun policy."

I almost laugh, but a sudden bout of maturity stops me. "Robin, this isn't the same thing. They're toy guns, with fake bullets. No one can get hurt. Just a game, okay?"

It doesn't seem to soothe him.

"Listen, you're not disobeying him or anything. He meant he didn't want you using guns on the bad guys. Seriously, this isn't even close. Please, trust me on this."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." Walking to my bed, I reach underneath and snag the two toys, plus the bags of ammunition. Taking out one of the little yellow balls, I place it in his hand. "See? Soft. Squishy. Can't do any damage to anyone. So just have a little fun, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good. Now, go hide in one of the rooms. I'll scream when it's time to start." Nudging him out the door, I add, "Just relax, Robin. It's only a game."

With that settled, I stock my weapon and count to one hundred, enough time for him to get ready. "Alright, GAME ON!"

I burst from the room, eyes focusing on my surroundings. Each step is hesitant as I wait for the ninja to appear out of nowhere. After a minute, I take my chances and cautiously open the guest room door. Scanning it, I accept that it's empty and turn—

An onslaught of bullets hits my back, and cackling fills the air. Whipping around, I see him on the bed, that grin on his face.

"You little—" I raise my weapon and open fire, but he jumps off the bed and throws himself into the closet.

"Bad move, pipsqueak." I rush into the confined space and flick on the light. No Robin. "Huh. Going all ninja on me, are you? Well, I know you're in here." Kicking aside coats and old junk, I continue, "You're not going to get awa—"

A shadow flits above my head, but before I can react, the door slams shut. Growling in frustration, wondering why I chose to play this against a Bat, I escape my confines, but the kid's already gone.

We proceed in this manner for nearly two hours, until we're both out of ammo and he's thoroughly kicked by butt.

"That was fun," he pants. "Should be pick up the bullets?"

"Nah, I'll get them later." My stomach growls loudly, and I notice it's five-thirty. "I say it's time to eat. Ollie has stuff for sandwiches."

We head for the kitchen, where I toss everything on the counter. Taking out plates, I hand him one and start making my sandwich, stacking everything on the roll. When I see Robin keeping it simple with just ham and cheese, I mutter, "Wow, how interesting."

Instead of responding, he asks, "Do you have vegetables?"

All I can do is stare at him. "What?"

"Batman says I have to have vegetables with dinner."

"News flash: Batman isn't here."

"But whatever I do at home, I have to do here."

Knowing there's no way around this, I search the fridge, finally finding what seems to be a salad. Man, Dinah's already getting to Ollie. "Ta-da, salad. That good enough?"

Nodding, he piles the rabbit food onto his plate and sits down at the table. I join him, focusing on my dinner so I won't have to see him eat that nasty stuff. How he managed to do it without gagging, I'll never know.

"Alrighty, what do you want to do now?"

"Should we do the dishes first?"

"Eh, I'll do them later." Placing them into the sink, I say, "I have video games and movies. Want to check them out?"

"Sure! But they can't be T or PG-13 because—"

"Batman says so," I supply. "Yeah, I figured."

It takes a couple of minutes, but we scrounge up a Mario Bros. game and Cheaper by the Dozen. We play first—I win, by the way—before putting the movie in. Just when the kid goes missing, Robin gasps, "It's almost nine!"

"And?"

"That's my bedtime."

I freeze the television, trying to wrap my brain around this information. "Na-uh."

"It is!" Taking his backpack, he asks, "Where's the bathroom?"

"Down the hall, second door on your left. You know, Robin, if you stayed up a little later—"

"I can't," he insists firmly.

As I watch him disappear, I wonder how any ten-year-old can be okay with having this early of a curfew. That just isn't right. In fact, I would have to classify that as an emergency.

Before I can come to my senses, I flip out my phone, punch in Ollie's cell number, and wait. "Roy? Roy, what's wrong? Are you hurt? What—?"

"Can Robin's bedtime be later?"

There is an incredibly long pause. "You called me, on an out-of-country mission, to ask that?"

When he puts it that way… "Please, talk to Batman."

"No, Roy, I think you should talk to Batman."

"What?! No, you must be jok—"

"Hello?"

He wasn't joking.

"Hey, Batman. See, it's around nine here, and the kid's getting ready for bed, and I just figured, you know, that's really kind of early, and he can't even possibly be tired yet, and he's having fun, and he might as well live a little, and—"

"If I say yes, will you stop rambling?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, totally."

"I will allow, in this instance only, for his bedtime to be extended by one and a half hours, on the condition that he is fully functioning tomorrow and is not suffering from lack of sleep. If he is, you will answer for that. Is that clear?"

"Crystal. Have fun saving the world!"

Before he can change his mind, I snap the phone close just as Robin enters the room. He has on blue pajamas with circus seals, and I can see a bear's heading sticking out of his bag. The sunglasses are still on his face. "Who was that?"

"Batman. Said you can stay up until ten-thirty."

"For real?"

"Swear on my life." Picking him up, I plop him on the couch. "Don't move. I'll be right back."

Deciding that convincing Batman to do anything is worthy of a celebration, I stack two bowls high with triple chocolate ice cream, syrup, whipped cream, and caramel. Armed with spoons, I bring them to the living room. "Bon appetite."

"But I already brushed my teeth."

This time, I roll my eyes. "Dude, you can brush them again. Just eat the ice cream."

He relents, taking his dessert, and I hit play. By the time the movie's over, he's entered a sugar rush, bouncing in his seat and rambling about everything he can think of. Huh. I must have overestimated that sugar to body mass ratio.

"Kid, I'll be right back. Don't hurt yourself, alright?"

Nodding, he keeps talking. I assure myself that this is normal before dumping the bowls in the sink—I'll get them tomorrow—and going to my room to get changed into sweats. When I return, he's passed out on the sofa.

"Hmm." Tentatively, I poke the side of his face, just to double-check that he's alive. He flails a bit before mumbling, "Teeth."

"What?"

"Gotta….brush…I'mma needto…" Half-awake, he straggles from the room, walking into the door on the way out. I wince slightly; maybe this wasn't my best idea.

He gets back, still just as sleepy. Flopping onto the couch, he mumbles, "Night, Roy."

"Night, Robin." Reaching into his backpack, I take out his bear and gently place it beside him. It's quickly taken into his arms.

Smiling, I turn down the volume and fall asleep to some comedy show. A few hours later, I wake up to use the bathroom and notice Robin isn't there.

My heart stops beating for a good ten seconds because I just lost the Dark Knight's protégé, and I'm damn near hyperventilating when I hear sniffling. Calming myself down, I go into Speedy mode and trace the sound.

Robin is curled in a little ball underneath the kitchen table. Quietly crouching to the floor, I place a hand on his back. "Robin? What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," he hiccups, refusing to face me.

"Then why are you in here?"

"I didn't want to wake you up. I…I…I had a bad dream." He takes a few deep breaths. "I get them sometimes. Not a lot, like before."

I don't ask what that means; I assume he wouldn't be able to tell me anyway. "Are you alright?"

"Uh-ha."

"Really?"

Silence.

I gather him in my arms and bring him back to the living room. He doesn't protest.

"Do you tell Batman when you have nightmares?"

"Yeah."

"What does he do?"

"He lets me sleep with him," he mumbles, embarrassed.

"Then I guess that's what we're going to do." I move his pillow and bear so they're on the floor, next to me. Carefully placing him down, I claim my own spot. "You know, right after I moved in with Ollie, I had nightmares, too."

"Really?"

"Really. And the one night, they were so bad, I slept with him." I had sworn to take that with me to the grave, but I figure the kid deserves to know. "So you should never, ever feel bad about not being able to sleep, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Roy."

"No problem, kid."

We fall asleep after that, but all too soon, I'm awakened by, "This is so adorable."

A flash of light follows that sentence, and I open my eyes, glaring at whoever dare interrupt my sleep. GA and Batman, still in uniform, are before us, but my mentor has a camera in his hand.

"What are you doing?" I grumble irately.

His response is to take another picture.

I growl lowly but stop when I realize that, at some point during the night, the kid had decided my chest was a good enough pillow and my arm had thought wrapping around him protectively was a good idea.

"Will you stop that? It's not that cute."

Of course, Robin picks this moment to let out a small, kitten-like yawn and snuggle closer to me. I groan, accepting that there's no chance of Ollie stopping now.

"Thank you."

I turn my head to the Gothamite, who somehow knows exactly why we're in this position. And even though his face is completely stoic, it almost seems like he's smiling, in a Batman kind of way. Officially one of the best days of my life.

Now if only I could get that camera…