A/N: By no means do I own the rights to Batman or Imagine Dragons.
When the days are cold
And the cards all fold
And the saints we see
Are all made of gold
Breath misted from masked faces. Bruce glanced over at Dick from their perch overlooking a bank receiving fresh mint. The boy was shivering, but trying so hard to hide it, being brave and strong, the R on his chest shining gold. He shifted unknowingly under his mentor's gaze, but kept his eyes on the bank.
But when coughs shook the young boy harder than his shivers, Bruce reached an arm out to encircle his shoulders to make sure he didn't slip from the edge. With no hint of the worried emotion that he felt, Bruce said in his normal, gruff voice, "Doesn't look like anyone is planning to pull a scheme tonight. Let's head back to the cave."
Dick just nodded, and made no protest. This worried Bruce more. Shooting a grapple in the direction of the Batmobile, he scooped up the ten-year-old and swung them down. No words where exchanged as Bruce set Dick down in his seat and settled his cape over the boy wonder, who slipped into sleep almost as soon as they started driving.
When they made it home, Bruce gently scooped up the boy, and swooped pasted Alfred, giving him only a nod to say Robin was unharmed. After placing the boy in bed, Bruce slipped off his shoes, cape, and mask. Leaning down to pull up the blankets, mumbled words made him pause.
"Thanks, Dad," Dick said, calling Bruce by that name for the first time.
Smiling gently, Bruce found he liked it, much better then Bruce, and maybe more than Batman.