This is my first foray into writing for this fandom. I have no idea where, or even if, this fits with continuity, so if it doesn't think of it as an alternate universe piece.

I'm not making any money from this, all the characters etc. belong to DC Comics, I'd just like to borrow them for a while.

Too Big to Carry

The arms traffickers had been exactly where they had predicted them to be, operating out of an abandoned mackerel canning factory in the docks. Dick had come to him two weeks ago with information. There was a sudden glut of illegal firearms available on the streets of Bludhaven and Nightwing wanted to know why. He'd painstakingly tracked the suppliers as far as Gotham but knew better than to walk into Batman's city unannounced. Their relationship of late was better than it had been but it was still some distance from being comfortable. The two had worked the case together, the convoluted trail eventually leading to the docks, enough evidence for the prosecutor to secure a conviction and the main protagonists gift wrapped for the Gotham PD. A successful night - a successful fortnight, Batman amended mentally. He hadn't worked this closely with Dick in some time but the results spoke for themselves.

It had been good to have him back, Batman realised. Tim was a capable fighter, eager to learn and sharp as a tack but he didn't have Dick's irreverent sense of humour and athletic grace. It wasn't that Bruce ultimately preferred one to the other, although Dick was the more experienced of the two, it was simply that his partnership with Dick had a different dynamic to the one that he shared with Tim and he found that he missed it. Of course that dynamic had mutated since the days when Dick wore the green and yellow and scarlet. Bruce wasn't sure the mutation was completely finished yet but he was beginning to see the shape of the final article and found himself both surprised and oddly pleased by the results.

Batman glanced across the cockpit of the Batmobile at his former partner. The young man was spark out in the seat next to him. His head lolled gently to one side, eyes closed, his body utterly relaxed, only held in place by his seat belt. Batman allowed himself the smallest of smiles. Dick had been running himself ragged, as per usual. He had yet to recognise and accept the limits of his endurance. This was the inevitable result. Between patrolling Bludhaven as a beat cop during the day and as a masked vigilante at night the boy was scarcely getting any sleep at all. Of course, Dick was hardly a boy these days, but just as there was a part of Alfred that would always see Bruce as his little boy so there was a part of Bruce that would always think of Dick that way.

Batman remembered the last time Dick had done this, fallen asleep in the Batmobile. They'd not been patrolling together for very long, no more than a week or two. Bruce had discovered that the boy could handle the late nights without difficulty, a legacy, no doubt, from his days as a circus performer. Getting up for school the following morning, it rapidly became apparent, was another matter entirely. The arrangement was still so new to both of them then. They were feeling their way forward blind. Ironing out the kinks as they went. Dick had managed the first week on adrenaline alone. By the second week he was flagging. Even his seemingly boundless energy had limits, it appeared. Alfred had tried, in his subtle way, to point out that children require more sleep than adults, particularly adults who dress as small flying mammals to fight crime. But the boy was so eager to please, so driven, seemed to derive such joy from his duties as Robin that Bruce was reluctant to restrict him. Goodness only knew he'd had few enough activities at Dick's age that had brought him half as much happiness as the boy seemed to have swinging between the skyscrapers downtown. And, if he were honest with himself, it felt good to have Dick around. The looks of shock and utter confusion on the faces of the cowardly and the superstitious the first time Robin had appeared had been most gratifying. As had the triumphant grin that appeared on Robin's face when he brought the first of them to the ground. As the nights mounted up, though, he realised there was more to it than just having a surprisingly capable fellow fighter next to him. Dick could somehow lighten the mood of any situation. There were fewer nights when Bruce felt like he was bailing out the sinking ship of Gotham's crime scene with a sieve. Dick counterbalanced the darkness around him with the ease of an acrobat. And although the boy's incessant chatter in the Batmobile disrupted the settling of Bruce's mind into what he liked to think of as Bat-mode, he found that he missed it the night the boy fell asleep.

They had tangled with Mr Freeze. Robin ended up on the worst side of it. That his sleeves were short and his legs were bare did not help matters. By the time Batman had managed to extract him Robin was shivering violently. He had gratefully guzzled hot chocolate provided by a kindly policewoman whilst Batman watched and Commissioner Gordon watched Batman, wondering if he should get Child Protective Services involved and just how one did that for a semi-mythical masked vigilante anyway.

Batman had turned the heat up in the Batmobile on the way home. Between the temperature, the hot chocolate and the motion of the vehicle the boy's tiredness had got the better of him. He had slept, pretty much as Nightwing was sleeping now, peacefully and utterly unselfconsciously. When they had reached the Cave and the powering down of the Batmobile hadn't woken Robin, Batman pondered what to do. He could, of course, wake Alfred and ask him to deal with the boy. The butler could certainly handle the necessary arrangements with the minimum of fuss but he would also bring with him a pointed discussion on childcare and parenting aimed straight at Bruce and delivered as soon as the boy was in bed. Actually, that particular lecture was probably inevitable when Alfred discovered what had happened but Bruce would prefer to be subjected to it tomorrow morning, rather than right now. He showered and changed and still the boy slept. He considered his options. Dick could not stay in the car overnight. That left waking him up, something Bruce was loath to do, or somehow moving him upstairs without waking him. In the end he gently removed Robin's cape, mask, belt and boots. He would risk the uniform being worn in the Manor this one time. He took the sleeping boy in his arms and carried him up to bed. He was pleased to note that Dick felt quite warm. Freeze had only succeeded in subjecting the boy to a nasty chill, not hypothermia. He tucked Dick into bed below a smiling portrait of the Flying Graysons. The boy stirred, sleepily opening his eyes.

"We're home, chum," Bruce said. "Go back to sleep."

Dick barely managed to nod before his eyes slid shut again. Closing the bedroom door behind him, Bruce found himself smiling. He had the sudden sensation of being watched and looked up to see Alfred in a dressing gown and slippers observing him from the end of the hallway. His face wore an expression that was an odd mixture of pride and exasperation.

"Goodnight, Alfred," Bruce said firmly.

"Goodnight, Sir."

Bruce headed for his bedroom. There was definitely a lecture to be endured tomorrow.

They arrived back at the Cave. Nightwing didn't stir. Batman showered and changed and checked the newsfeeds. They contained nothing of particular note. Alfred appeared silently at his shoulder bearing a platter containing two glasses, a jug of iced water and a large plate of sandwiches; Dick's favourite, Bruce noted.

"I have taken the liberty of making Master Richard's bed," Alfred announced as Bruce drank a glass of water.

He had seen then. That wasn't surprising. There would be none of the reproaches of last time. Dick was an adult and responsible for his own sleeping patterns, however much Alfred might feel his adoptive father had been a bad influence on him in that regard. Bruce grunted his thanks and crossed to the Batmobile. He chose his stance and positioning for what he was about to do carefully. Dick was someone it did not pay to surprise, especially if he was not awake enough to distinguish friend from foe. He shook Nightwing gently by the shoulder calling his name as he did so. The young man's eyes flew open, disorientation evident on his face.

"We're home," Bruce announced.

"Oh," Nightwing straightened, pulled off his mask and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. He could feel his muscles beginning to stiffen up from a lack of stretching. He was also dog-tired.

"I'm sorry I had to wake you," there was a hint of amusement in Bruce's tone, "But I can't have you spending the night down here and you're too big to carry these days."

A look of confusion crossed Dick's face followed by realisation and a sheepish smile.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Alfred has your old room ready. We'll talk about your schedule in the morning." The tone was no-nonsense Batman.

Dick squinted at Bruce. He knew he should probably argue, assert his independence but right now he was simply too tired to care.

"Right."

Bruce watched as his oldest trudged wearily towards the showers. He might be older and a good deal larger than the little boy he had tucked into bed all those years ago, certainly a good deal of water had passed under the bridge between the two of them in the intervening years, but when all was said and done Dick was still Dick - sunny, enthusiastic and irreverent. Holding a grudge just wasn't in his nature. In the end the two of them would be OK.