Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the plot.
The tiny figure on crumpled sheets shot up, body shuddering. The pale moonlight shone through the slight gap in the heavy, woollen curtains, filling the room with a sickly, white light. Ragged gasps broke out of parched, parted lips, as grey-blue eyes darted around the room. The child slowly deflated, relaxing. There was nothing in the room except for darkness and moonlight. There was nothing anymore.
"Master Bruce? Are you ok?" a worried, British voice floated around the room pushing the darkness back with the aid of a flashlight. Alfred wandered in looking at the small body atop of rumpled, silk sheets. The figure barely took up a quarter of the oversized bed.
Bruce's mouth pursed together thick, eyebrows crinkled together in a way that no ten year olds should. He opened his mouth to placate the older man, eyelids fluttering shut in remembrance, "I just had a..."
"A nightmare" Alfred finished gazing sadly at the young boy. These nights had become a common reoccurrence in the Wayne manor. Alfred wished he could do more for the child, but he needed was someone who understood his loss. The loss of losing a parent.
Bruce made a small unassuming sound; mind still fixated on his dream. Blood and darkness, red and black. His black-rimmed eyes remained shutting out the still dark room, despite the flashlight's soft glow. Alfred stayed still for a moment longer before coming to a decision.
Looking at the young master before flicking the switch bringing the large room into view once more. Bruce's eyes flew open at the sudden bright colouring behind his eyelids, to the rude awaking from his daze.
"Seeing as no sleep seems to be happening tonight, why don't we go for an early breakfast, Master Bruce? It is already 4am and if I remember correctly, the early bird gets the worm. Yes?"
"…Yes" came the tired reply.
The harsh white shone on freshly, polished wooden panels criss-crossing along the expanse of the floor. Lining the walls were piles of books neatly arranged, while gleaming newton balls slowly ticked away unaffected by the stirring tension. The sickly saccharine smell of lemon pervaded the air, oppressing the summoned guest.
The headmaster's dull eyes narrowed at the Wayne family's butler in annoyance.
"This is the fifth fight young Mr Wayne has got into this week," the headmaster said vexed as he looked at the butler. "We cannot let this go on Mr-"
"Pennyworth" Alfred interjected curtly, trying to remain polite despite the circumstances. Bruce was no ruffian, like the headmaster made out to be. He would not stand for anyone making the troubled boy out to be so.
The headmaster thin, spindly fingers rapt against mahogany as he stared at the man, taking in the sharp black suit and professional stoicism. Fingers stopping in their drumming the man open his thin lips, "well Mr Pennyworth, it would seem that there are currently two options available. If young Mr Wayne can find away to rid himself of his more…violent tendencies, and goes to see the school councillor twice a week, he might be allowed to stay at this academy. If not, well it would seem to be the time to start looking for a new school."
"Seriously Alfred? Self-defence classes?" Bruce voice rose from its usual bland, mild tone. The young male stared incredulously at the older man, his body tense and teeth gritted.
"It would seem, young sir, that these were the only conditions for you to continue at the academy, although it does seem like a marvellous idea. Does it not?"
Bruce looked down at the slightly crumpled advertisement from where his tiny fist clenched to tight. Hearing the man's excitement shot down any further objections.
"But who is this guy? What kind of name is Richard Grayson? He sounds like a creep." Bruce knew it was a weak attempt, but the man Alfred had chosen did sound a bit odd.
"Now, now Master Bruce, this man has had glowing recommendation from all those he taught. More so Lucius ran a background check and he has come up clean"
Bruce scowled at the thin paper crumpled in his hands. "Fine. Have it your way"
Richard Grayson (who actually preferred to be called Dick!) was definitely not what Bruce had expected. Not even in his wildest dreams. He was young (though at least double Bruce's age) irritating, bouncy and kept cracking lame puns everywhere. Despite this- or maybe because of it- Bruce found himself smiling more than he had in last few months.
In the short time Dick had taught him they had formed a sort of kinship. He found out that Dick was a circus performer when he was younger; before his parents died during their act- something they (sadly) had in common. Turns out that Dick decided to tour the world learning martial arts from the best masters he could find out of sheer boredom and a lack of purpose. He soon came back to Gotham, his birthplace, (though Bruce would never know why anyone would want to come back) and decided to become a martial arts teacher.
"Bruce raise your arms higher and keep your legs further apart," Dick said as he circled around the boy looking for any problems with the boy's stance. Bruce, despite only just starting, was a good fighter and was flourishing quite quickly. Bruce's feet sunk into the soft cushioning of the training mat, trying to fix his stance to Dick's advice. Alfred had one of the old manors room renovated, seeing as it hadn't been used for decades into a training room. The room itself was filled with state of the art equipment; only the best money could buy.
Dick grinned, "looking good kiddo," arms reaching out to ruffle the boys sweaty, raven hair. Bruce dodged out of the way glaring at the smiling man, although its effect was ruined due to the red flush painting his cheeks, a mixture of exhaustion and pride. "You'll be as good me one day!"
Bruce had to admit it to himself- never out loud to add to the older man's ego- that Dick was an excellent fighter. He switched from one form to another with fluidity that only a professional could do.
"One day, you're gonna have to meet some of my other older students. You could probably knock them on their butts. That would lower their egos." Dick reached for the towel that had abandoned on the blue mat earlier to wipe his sweaty, flushed face.
"Don't use me as one of your teaching tools, Grayson" Bruce replied, looking at the older male through the corner of his eyes as furtively as he could, with elation.
Dick looked at the child in front of him, trying to act as nonchalant and cold as possible. "Huh…how cute"
Bruce had just turned eleven when he came face to face with another mugger.
He had decided to go for a walk in the park while Alfred talked to some lawyers about the state of the company, when he heard a sharp cry for help. Bruce stood in the shadow of the alley wall, out of both the robber and his victim's sight. There was some scruffy man in ratty beanie, held a young brunette woman, maybe in her twenties, at gunpoint.
"Give me yer bag, 'fore I put a bullet in yer 'ead" slurred then man as his hand twitched around the trigger of the gun.
Bruce zoned out after that. He probably should have called help, but this dark, dank alley was the same as that one. In place of the brunette woman were the familiar slender and the towering, broad figures of the only family he ever knew. They were going to die all over again and he would be helpless to-
No. He could do something this time. He knew how to fight now and could probably sneak behind the mugger, who was obviously intoxicated and take him out before he ever used the gun. Racking his brain he tried to remember what Dick had said to his the week before.
Alfred had just made his famous cookies and they were trying to sneak around and get some before dinner.
"Now remember" Dick whispered as his bright blue eyes darted around keeping a look out for the tall, thin form of the old butler. "When trying to be ninja always notice your surroundings. If you wanna walk silently walk heel to foot and keep close to the ground." He moved carefully into the shadow of cast by one of the old wooden cupboards. "The darkness is your best friend."
Bruce could remember trying to hide his snickers at his older friend. They had been caught of course. Nothing could escape Alfred, although it was entertaining to watch Dick trying to wheedle himself out that one.
Bruce shook his head of the memories before employing Dick's tactics. He stuck to the shadows cast by the stone wall, picking up a broken piece of wood from a discarded crate.
THWAP!
The mugger went down from the force of the hit, crumpling in of himself. Bruce had to resist from going in for a second strike on the downed man.
Dick looked at Bruce with seriousness that he only used when he was fighting. "There is one thing you must always remember. Never attack a person if their back is turned or they're already down. It is dishonourable. There is no grace in winning a fight from a defeated man."
The woman let out a small gasp at the crumpled body of her assailant before looking at Bruce in fear. Her eyes widened in shock as she took in the small child before realising he was no threat to her. Pulling him into her arms she kept muttering 'thank you' over and over again. Bruce usually hated being manhandled, but something felt right in being hugged by this grateful stranger.
The woman ended up calling the police explaining to the officers what had happened, while they cuffed the groaning thief.
A hand clamped down on Bruce's shoulder as he looked into the kind, yet stern face of Officer Gordon. "You did good kid, but next time call the police. It's unsafe to go 'round whacking criminals with wood."
Alfred eventually found Bruce after Officer Gordon called him. Bruce couldn't really remember what Alfred was saying while he was reprimanded for running a way and taking down a man twice his size. The only thing Bruce could remember was the feeling he had when he took down the man and watched him taken away in a cop car.
A sense of purpose he hasn't felt since his parent's death warmed him inside.
"So…is this a thing now?"
Bruce looked up from the small time thief who was kneeling on the floor groaning, before punching the guy hard enough that he lost consciousness, but was still breathing. He never killed. Never.
"You're going around beating up criminals, huh. If this is what your doing with your spare time I-"
Bruce knelt, zip locking the fallen criminal's hand and feet. "What are you doing here Grayson."
Dick shuffled into small alleyway, hands pushed firmly into the pocket of his jeans, frowning at Bruce. "I make an effort to know what all my students are doing…plus Alfred called. He said you weren't in bed when he checked, so I told him I'd go look for you. It was sure lucky I found you before-"
"I would have been fine."
Bruce could hear Dick snap from a metre away.
He grabbed Bruce by his black hooded jacket and shoved him up against the brick wall. Hard. Dick growled lowly. "You'll be fine. You'll be FINE! You're beating up criminals. How long has this been going on? You could have died!" Dick's voice kept rising in volume as his face was flushed with rage.
Bruce took it stoically, wiggling his feet that were up in the air. "Why do you care? Plus the police are corrupt, and hardly competent."
Dick dropped Bruce, causing him to have to bend is knees to absorb the impact, although he stumbled slightly.
"Why do I care? WHY DO I CARE, HE ASKS!" Dick turned around waving his hands widely in the air in a fit of rage. "Because I think of you as my little brother. Maybe that's why!"
Steely-blue eyes widened in shock as Bruce turned to look at the other male. He thought of all the times Dick would ruffle his hair and joke around with him. How he would come and have dinner with him and convince Alfred to sit at the table and with them. He thought about how he made Bruce feel better when he was angry with bullies or drowning in sorrow, grief and memories. Bruce realised that Dick had been taking less and less jobs choosing to spend more time teaching Bruce.
Both Alfred and Bruce had been treating Dick as a part of the family for more than a month now. Somehow Dick had wheedled his way into their lives and settled down roots. Hell he has his own room in the manor from when he's too tired from training Bruce to go home.
Bruce swallowed, suddenly looking down properly chastised.
All the rage had finally drained out of Dick as quickly as it came, leaving only wariness and fatigue. "Come on lets get you home."
Bruce didn't see Dick for weeks after the encounter. As soon as they came to the manor, Dick explained to Alfred, much to the old man's shock, what Bruce had been doing at night before leaving without a good bye, just a curt nod in Alfred's direction.
Bruce had gotten thoroughly reprimanded before getting brought Leslie, the family doctor, to check wether he caught anything from the streets or the criminal he was beating up.
Bruce was doing his homework, AP calculus, a month later. He had skipped a few grades, but math was always quite easy for him. There was always a right or wrong answer.
"Master Bruce, it seems that you have a visitor."
Bruce's head shot up from his work to lock eyes with a tired looking Dick Grayson who was standing in the entrance of the lounge. Dick managed a small, exhausted smile at Bruce before sitting across from.
Alfred as always sensed the tension filled atmosphere. "I best go check on dinner before it overcooks. Master Richard, I hope you will be staying for dinner."
Dick looked at Bruce's face for a reaction, before smiling softly again. He must have seen something because he chose to respond with a, "thank you Alfred. I would love to stay."
Alfred then excused himself and Dick's attention to once again focused on Bruce. The light of the fire seemed to catch the side of Dick's face casting shadows as he gazed at him solemnly.
"Why." Dicks voice was so quiet that Bruce almost missed it in the crackling of the wood and flames. Bruce's body tensed immediately knowing what Dick was referring to.
"I needed to do something." Bruce hated how small his voice came out as he clenched his fist staring into the plush, crimson carpet. "I hated how useless I felt when they died and I knew I had to do something. I mean what are the police going to do, they can hardly protect themselves, how are they going to protect the whole of Gotham."
"And what could a kid like you do. You're going up against men twice your size with twice the power. They won't hesitate before shooting a kid."
"A sure lot more than the police force can. I just…I just need to do something" Bruce trailed off squeezing his eyes shut, as he felt his eyes begin to water.
Dick had a pensive look on his face before choosing to respond. "Ok."
Bruce shot of the chair like he was burnt, looking at Dick with unadulterated shock clouding his face. "I said ok, but we'll have to set up some ground rules. Firstly, you can only fight crime if I'm by your side. Secondly you're going to need some more training. Third, were going to need better outfits. A hoodie and jeans aren't going to cut it. We could easily get shot or stabbed. There is like no protection."
"How are we going to find something to wear that could do all that?" Bruce inquired, still feeling slightly astonished and breathless.
Dick got a large shit-eating grin that took up half his face, eyes lit up with mischief. Bruce could easily detect the amusement in Dick's voice with his next words.
"Well Brucie, you are one of youngest billionaires in the country. What's the point of having all that money if you can't even use it to fund your particular…hobbies."
Dick's training regime was hard. It was meant for professional black belts and masters, but it paid off. They had come to a decision that they would need to keep their identity a secret, for their safety as well as those close to them.
"How about Awesome Man and his sidekick Kid Cool"
Bruce glared at the older man as if he was taking this as a joke. "First of all, those are stupid and I'm not your sidekick-if anything you're the sidekick. Plus this is Gotham, we wouldn't be taken seriously with names like that."
Dick pouted, which should look unbecoming on a man his age, but he still managed to pull it off. "Then what do you propose, smart guy".
Bruce's eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he thought of what there alias should be.
"…Batman…"
Dick who was obviously setting himself up to joke realised what Bruce had said. Bruce had told him of the time he had fallen into the cave below the manor and how the leathery creatures had swarmed at him in the dark. Dick knew that that was his one of the things he was scared of.
Dick smiled with understanding. "It's a cool name but I think you're to young to be using man."
Bruce looked at Dick dead in the eye. "It's not for me, it's for you."
Bruce could see the happiness fill Dick as his eyes slightly misted over, at the thought that Bruce had finally opened up to him. Emotional idiot, Bruce thought with an inward grin. My emotional idiot.
Bruce continued speaking, "but I still don't know what I should go by."
"Robin."
Dick had spoken so fast and with so much conviction that it caused Bruce's mind to come abruptly to a halt.
"It was what my mum used to call me, her little Robin. She said it would protect me on the trapeze. I thought it would be nice 'cause it could protect you and-"
"I like it." Bruce cut of Dick's nervous rambling, grinning at Dick. "You'll be Gotham's Bat and I'll be her Robin."
"Robin concentrate" the deep, husky voice forced Bruce out of his thoughts. He looked the cowled face of one of Gotham's new protectors. Bruce-now Robin- pulled on the black and canary cape as Dick stood silently and motionlessly as his own black cape whipped in the strong wind behind him. Both of them gazed at the city from on top the tall building, anticipation.
Gotham, itself, stood proudly with it spires and lights piercing the night sky, becoming to them. The whole city for once was strangely quiet as if it was holding its breath knowing something truly amazing was about to happen.
Bruce could not stop his body from trembling in his black boots, from excitement or fear he would never know. "So were really going to do this" Bruce queered looking at the face of the man who was merely and employee, then brother, now mentor. Bruce knew Dick understood the unasked question- you can pull out if you want? I understand.
"We're really going to be vigilantes."
Bruce could see Dick breathe in deeply and exhale heavily though his nose, while squaring his shoulders glancing at him. The two of them both turned back on tandem at the silent city with a strange mixture pride and humility, like one would look at a child.
"No Robin. We're going to be heroes"
Authors Notes: Wow that ended on a really bad cliché. Oh well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ what can you do (except change it but I can't be bothered). I mainly wrote this because there is no Robin! Bruce story, like at all. There's Batman!Jason and Joker!Tim and all other weird combinations but no one has written a story where Bruce is an adorable little robin. Although my writing skills leave much to be desired, I hope you enjoy. Also I know Bruce hired Lucius but for the sake of the story, let's just say he was there at the start. Also Bruce isn't as dark and brooding because Dick was there to open him up and give him an outlet for his anger.
I just realised that made Bruce sound kind of like Damian…which, I guess, makes sense since their related…
(BTW, the title comes from the song Till The Sky Falls Down by Dash Berlin)