A/n: As if it wasn't obvious from the get-go, option A won by a landslide.
So many reviews, alerts, and story favorites from chapter one alone! I'm whelmed beyond belief.
Wordplay
Two - Questions for Bruce
Bruce Wayne was a man with a brilliant mind. Naturally, he enjoyed the company of other brilliant minds, but more importantly he enjoyed it when said company was also equally curious to learn. After all, there is no such this as having learned enough and the world is evolving everyday.
When the playboy billionaire adopted young Richard Grayson as his ward, he knew the child was bright right from the start. However, in a short amount of time, he found himself pleasantly surprised time and time again with the child's intelligence. How couldn't he be? Based on nothing but a few common gestures of habit, the young acrobat was able to unravel his vigilante alter-ego. Bear in mind that was after meeting both Bruce Wayne and Batman only once. And let's not forget that within a month of living in the mansion he found the Bat-cave all on his own. Then he openly, and enthusiastically, embraced a will to adopt the vigilante nightlife by his side...He never admitted it aloud, but secretly Bruce was thrilled to find that Dick was an active learner. Somehow, it made everything so much easier for the man who felt like he was such an awkward and terrible parental figure. Whenever he felt like he made two wrongs, Dick would prove him otherwise with an unexpected right. He deduced, after a year with his "ward" (now much more appropriately dubbed son), that this was how parents must feel.
However...there were some days and there were some occasions where Dick mentally exhausted him. Dick was...what was the best way to phrase this...Dick was...too eager to question and learn sometimes? And it was literally impossible for him to sit still. And he, for the life of him, could not stop talking. Each trait of the baby bird were difficult enough to handle individually.
But when they combined?
Eight-year-old Richard Grayson was all abuzz with excitement. It was his first time accompanying Bruce to work. He'd never been to Wayne Tower before, never even driven close enough to it to take in its full grandeur. The child with a big imagination didn't think he'd be coming to his new father's workplace so soon. Sure, it was almost a year since the billionaire had adopted him, but for some reason he imagined that this moment would take longer to come. He supposed that if anything, he had to thank the snowstorm that pelted down on Gotham the previous evening. Because of it, Alfred's chores around the manor doubled, and he had no time to keep tabs on the little boy. Bruce normally would've stayed in and worked from his office (making the trip into the city after snowfall was hell and the Gothamite tried avoiding it when he could), however, he had a board meeting he couldn't afford to miss with potential partner consolidations that flew in from the other side of the country.
Dick was heart-broken to say the least. He'd been wishing for snow since November came rolling in. He couldn't wait to play in the seemingly infinite acres of the manor and make snowmen and forts, tumble in the snow; he'd even gone out with Alfred to buy snow gear and a sled. Unfortunately, that wouldn't be the case...
...At least not until he returned home with Bruce, who promised that if Dick could behave himself at the office, he would teach him the fine art of creating the perfect snowball.
They drove to work sans the company of their favorite butler in the Rolls-Royce, pulling up at the front entrance. Bruce stepped out first, handing the keys to one of the employees that already stood waiting for him, then walked around the car to open the door for his son. He was taken by surprise when the child launched himself from the seat directly into his arms, and allowed himself a chuckle and grin.
"Now Dick, remember our agreement?" The man's deep voice rumbled in his chest, making the child's ear tickle as he rested his head there. Bruce didn't know if Dick had this habit before he took him in or not, but he noticed the child loved listening to heartbeats when he hugged someone. He preferred to just enjoy it and not think too much into it. He set the little acrobat down as they waited for the elevator, smoothing down the lapels of his winter coat.
Dick's eyes were sparkling with a twinkle of enthusiasm. He nodded fervently. "No jumping and climbing on anything."
"Well, er, yes, that as well, but...?"
The child's smile brightened; he was bouncing on his feet and didn't even realize it. "Remember my manners, no silly questions, and behave extra-good when I need to quiet." He recited. The elevator opened, and the Dick ran to the control panel to hit the button of the floor his father's office was located on. He had to jump to reach it. "Bruce, Bruce, Bruce! After we make snowballs and igloos and snowman and snow angels and—!"
"Breathe, chum."
"Can we have hot chocolate with the big marshmallows that leave sticky mustaches?! And Alfred's cookies?!"
The man smirked, "I don't see why not."
Dick's smiled evolved into a full-on wide, toothy smile. "Can we make it?!"
"No."
Getting to the office literally took the pair twenty minutes. Bruce's employees were enamored by the child that radiated with good vibes. He immediately suspected they were sucking up to the boy. Because, well, let's be honest, Dick was his son: what half-intelligent man wouldn't suck up to the boss' son to earn a few brownie points? However, he saw that they truly took a liking to Dick. He wasn't surprised. Really, who wouldn't like Dick? Dick may as well be the human embodiment of happiness, idealism, and optimism. Quite ironic that Bruce of all people adopted him...
Having Dick settled in took another twenty minutes. Between sifting through his files to get the right documents for the meeting and prepping himself for the droning voices of his co-workers, Bruce had to break the news to Dick that the little boy could not, in fact, stay in the conference room with him during the meeting. Saying all this only took five minutes. Getting Dick to stop crying was what took another fifteen minutes. He finally got the little acrobat's tears to quell by making another agreement with the little boy.
Outside his office, none of the employees questioned the odd sight that was Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles playing on the flat screen in Mr. Wayne's office.
Leaving Dick content with his snacks and ninja turtles (he asked his secretary to keep an eye on him; the man could handle taking notes of the meeting by himself), Bruce went to the meeting, where everyone was already waiting. He suppressed the urge to sigh when he realized that this meeting was going to take longer than he liked. Could these people ever come to an easy agreement?
An hour passed, and his suspicion was confirmed. No they couldn't.
A knock from the door interrupted the bickering businessmen present. None of them needed acute hearing to hear the scuffling feet behind the door. The tinted glass door swung open without a sound, allowing a tiny boy to come darting in from behind it. Sheepishly peering in after him was Bruce's secretary. The blonde woman clutched her clipboard with such nervousness that her knuckles were white. Dick ran straight for Bruce and clung to his father's strong arm, hiding his face.
"M-Mr. Wayne sir, R-Richard want to, u-uhm, see you." The lithe woman explained, trying hard not to stumble over her words. "I tried to get him to stay—."
"It's alright, Miranda, I'll handle it." He told her with a nod, turning his attention to Dick. He lifted the boy's little face up by his chin, brushing loose strands of the unruly black hair back with the rest of his coiffed hair. Dick hastily tried to wipe away tears before they could spill and Bruce could notice. He only accomplished one of the two. The look in the little acrobat's watery blue eyes told him enough. Dick was lonely. He didn't handle solitude well for long periods of time.
"Mr. Wayne, would you like me to take him back?"
The panic that flashed through Dick's eyes made Bruce choose otherwise. Wordlessly, and much to Dick's surprise, he lifted the boy off the ground and sat him on his lap at the table. He gave the child the pen and notebook he was 'taking notes' with to doodle on. It was blank save for a few test scribbles on the corners of the sheet. Bruce was more of a mental notes person. "No, Miranda, I'll keep Dick here with me. You can go ahead and get started on the updating this week's paperwork into the system files. Thank you." The secretary left, and the room was silent. The board members and businessmen stared nervously at Bruce and the oblivious child on his lap drawing ninja turtles and making sound effects of the fight as his imagination soared. "You were speaking of a new site proposition?" Bruce prompted, urging the men to continue. He just wanted to get this finished fast to take his boy home for the promised afternoon of fun in the snow.
"O-oh, yes, well," The lanky man running the Power-point said, swallowing dry. Bruce smirked to himself. They were intimidated by Dick's presence. Hopefully this meant that they wouldn't argue anymore, and they could be out of here within the hour. Why hadn't he thought of bringing Dick in before?
The lights dimmed momentarily and the projector above the table lit up, creating a 3-D hologram image of the project. The man went on to explain multiple points of interest in opening a branch of Wayne Enterprises in Turkey. No one, not even Bruce, noticed that Dick's attention had long left the his doodles and were focused on the big words and logic of the meeting that didn't make sense to him, but interested him nonetheless. Once the entire plan was explained, a board member opposed.
"I'm not so sure it's in our best interests. Wayne Tech has a base of operations in Dubai, I see no necessity in having another building made just four countries away."
Another threw in his comments, "But he does make a good point with shipment. Cargo leaving harbors in the Mediterranean is in our best interests to improve delivery to our customers."
"We have no issues with shipping from Dubai, nor has delivery ever been an issue."
"But it can improve, which would draw in more customers. All it would take is a budget increase—."
"Why waste money on a budget increase as inane as that when it could be better spent elsewhere? Money doesn't grow on trees!"
And just like that, the board members were bickering again. This time, Bruce didn't bother trying to mask a sigh that slipped through his teeth. With the hand that was holding Dick's middle, keeping the boy still in his lap, the man rubbed his temples. Oh, how he loathed board meetings.
"Money doesn't grow on trees?" Dick's innocent voice piped up, snapping the men and women out of their heated debates, to look at him. His brow was stitched together in confusion, his cheeks puffed and lower lip pouting in his adorable and signature 'thinking hard' face. "But...isn't money paper?"
A stout man with a balding head replied, "Er, yes it is."
"Isn't paper made from trees?"
"...Yes." The same man answered.
"Then money does grow on trees?"
This time, a woman with her hair up in bun answered with a little chuckle, "Well, when you put it that way, technically yes."
Dick looked even more confused. Bruce smirked, patting his ward's shoulder. "It's an expression, Dick. It means that money isn't something you frivolously waste."
The cloud of confusion didn't lift from the child's galaxy-blue eyes. "But banks have branches. That lady just said so. If money doesn't grow on trees, why do banks have branches? Are banks trees?"
Bruce's expression hardened slightly in thought, a habit he exposed more as his civilian-self. Dick watched him with wide-eyed wonder, curious for an answer. The child was like a sponge, soaking up anything and everything he could learn. "It's another expression. When a bank has branches—just like a business or different specialties of a similar topic—it means that it has different areas pertaining to the same source. For example, the medical field has many areas of focused abilities, such as cardiology and pathology."
Dick nodded slowly, looking straight up at his father from under the man's chin. "Like Wayne Tech?"
"Just like Wayne Tech," The man inwardly grinned in pride, "Now let us fini—."
"I have another question. Why did you," The child gestured to the board members as a whole, "call the shipments 'cargo'?"
As much as Bruce was glad to see his son's mind was tinkering, he wanted to get this meeting over with. "That is what product that is being moved from one set location to its delivery point is called. Dick—."
"But it's on a ship."
"Yes, now if you'd—."
"Then it should be called a shipment."
"No, that is when you're moving product on land. By sea it's called cargo."
Dick's confused pout was back on his face, and he waved around his hands as he heatedly debated his perplexion. He completely forgot that he was still holding a pen and notebook in hand; he came close to hitting the nearest board members a few times as well as Bruce. "But that doesn't make sense! If you move the boxes on a ship it should be shipment, cause it's on a boat! The word says shipment! And if it's on the ground in cars and trucks it should be called cargo!" He stopped for a split second, "Or is it truckgo for trucks?"
"Because it..." Bruce momentarily faltered. He forgot to remind himself not to think too much into Dick's ramblings. Since English is the boy's second language, and he and Alfred (mostly Alfred) gave him an intense crash-course on the language after adopting him, the child developed a knack for breaking down the written language's odd ends.
Dick was growing anxious that he didn't get an answer. He came to rely on his beloved adopted father for all the questions he couldn't find answers to. Bruce knew everything. Bruce became a little hot and nervous under the collar; Dick unintentionally (unknowingly) put his parenting on the spot for all his associates to see. He couldn't just brush the boy's question off. He had to think fast.
"Because...way back in colonial times, the only way of transporting anything on land was if it was on a horse-drawn carriage." He fibbed. "So they created the word cargo from 'carriage' and 'go', to shorten the phrase "going by carriage". They didn't find a good reason to change the name for overseas product, so they kept it."
Dick was buying his story word for word, staring at his daddy in awe. "They should've changed it so I'm not confused." A few of the board members chuckled at this, and it was then Bruce saw how they were poorly concealing their amusement. It wasn't everyday you saw the famous Bruce Wayne coming up with on-the-spot stories for children.
"Yes, they should've," Bruce agreed. "Hundreds of years later, when the first steam engine was invented and later the automobile, the speed of land transportation was so fast and revolutionary that the slang term they created for transporting product was shipment." Before Dick could ask why, Bruce continued, "It was used to mock how slow sending something overseas was in comparison to sending it by land."
"Wooooooow." Dick was amazed. "I get it now!"
Bruce was relieved. "Good. Now if you're all set, you can sit quietly and let us continue." The boy nodded vehemently, his black hair slightly falling out of place, and began madly doodling cars and boats on his notepad. The meeting went on without a hitch for a total of six minutes before Dick interrupted again. He had a bit of a "verbal vomit" issue. It was one of the most difficult things to discipline in his training when they both donned their costumes back home.
"Bruce, why is it called a building if it's already built?"
Unfortunately for Bruce, he had to accept humiliation and defeat with this question. He had no idea how to answer this one.
A/n: A part two of this will come, but instead Bruce will get to go through the humiliation as the Dark Knight...
Review please! How did daddy Bruce handle public parenting?
Next chapter (vote):
A. Meeting the League
B. Wordplay