Bruce sighed heavily entering his hotel suite. Another grueling day as businessman Bruce Wayne. He couldn't wait to get back to Gotham and the familiar skyline tomorrow afternoon. Batman needed to think clearly, and he couldn't do that while stuck behind a desk in Idaho. As much as he wanted to help people and maintain his status as one of the richest men in the world, some days he just wanted to be Batman, and only Batman.

Course if Alfred knew about the pulled stitches and bruising and strained muscles under his shirt, he'd be confined to the cave for a week. Some days he could swear the man acted more like a mother hen than a butler. He was worse than the League who only left him alone because he assured them he wouldn't be swinging from rooftops for a week because of work. Day jobs were a necessary evil.

Stripping himself of his tie, jacket, and cufflinks, Bruce made himself comfortable as he looked around for the menu for room service. There was a tart they served he wanted to try and Queen had said this hotel had some of the best cooks in the country. Though Oliver was a sassy, overrated drunkard, he did know where all the best hotels and parties were. So far he was right here too.

He scowled when the menu wasn't where he left it last. It had better be housekeeping that moved it or so help them... Taking a paperweight off the coffee table, the CEO silently prowled the room. A window shade wasn't the way he left it, and there was a candy bar wrapper in the trash, and only the wrapper.

Someone was there.

Silently he crept down the hallway leading to the bedroom he was using, hypothesizing it'd be where the intruder would be lying in wait for him if they hadn't jumped at him already. Who was there? Why? And who was their target? Bruce Wayne or Batman? Only a small number of people knew they were the same person, and all of them had the skills to get in there undetected. He came up next to the door, slightly ajar, and peeked inside.

No one. Just a large camping bag at the corner of the bed.

Flush

Jerking around he looked to the bathroom door nearby and saw it open. His jaw dropped a fraction as Dick came out of it, completely at ease. Their eyes locked onto each other, both surprised to see each other so soon. "Dick?"

"Ah crap." Instantly the young man pouted, snapping his fingers in protest. "I was going to sneak up on you too! This is what happens when you get done early Bruce. Your secretary out here swore you'd be back at seven! Nice paperweight."

Blinking, Bruce placed the makeshift weapon on an end table and gaped at him. "Dick, what are you doing here?"

Dick shrugged. "Figured it'd be cheaper and easier just to use your suite tonight instead of trying to find a place of my own last minute. And since you didn't answer the phone last few times I tried to call, dropping by sounded like a good idea."

"Been busy."

"You're the one who told me to stay in contact."

"Phone broke."

"Right..." He eyed the man for a moment. "And you didn't replace it because..."

"Been busy." Bruce relaxed his shoulders slightly, shaking his head. The same expression was appearing on his son's face.

"You kinda need a cell phone Bruce. Really helps with work, staying in contact with people, getting intel, ordering pizza-"

"Did you order pizza?"

"Just the best kinds. And a highly caffeinated soda, liter sized. Now about the phone-"

"I still have my comlinks and if someone really needs to contact me, the hotel phone or Laura's will do just fine. I was enjoying the quiet. Couldn't you have ordered something else?" He started leading the young man back to the living room of the suite, bantering like in the old days. "You're not a kid anymore."

"I have simple tastes. And what's wrong with soda? Has plenty of carbonation and caffeine to satisfy your needs."

"It also has a high amount of sugar and that has never been good for you." Bruce pinched his brow, remembering numerous sugar highs with his first partner.

"Says you. I quite enjoy it." Dick grinned like a maniac at him as he flipped over a couch and flopped onto it. Bruce shook his head, smirking slightly. Typical Dick.

"You didn't have to clean up the mess." The CEO settled down into a nearby lazyboy, the correct way.

"Neither did you. Alfred got all the dirty work. And I didn't make that big of a mess."

"Hm." The man watched his young charge for a long moment in silence, a soft smile peeking through. "It's good to see you Dick."

"Same here." The acrobat's grin just got bigger. "But I have to know, what are you doing all the way out here? Tim said you were on a business trip but you didn't say what for."

Bruce shrugged slightly, hiding back a wince best he could. "A computer parts factory out here needed a few personnel changes, along with a full inspection. I'm nearly done. What about you?"

"Just finished chasing down Sportsmaster and making sure the cops got him back behind bars." A tilt of his head told the man he wasn't fooled. They were too good at reading each other. "After hearing you were conveniently in town, I decided to drop in. Are you feeling alright?"

"Just some minor injuries." A shrewd glare from the guy didn't make him confess to anything more. "I've kept track of your adventures. Getting some closure?"

"Some." Dick eyed him again. "Stitches?"

"Not relevant." Waving it off wouldn't fool him, but he just needed to distract him for a while. Maybe he'd lose interest. "From my count you've uncovered fifty-seven grave sites, four weapons caches, three arms dealers, and taken down four men on the League's wanted list. And you haven't even made it back to Jump yet."

It was his son's turn to shrug. "Well... I keep busy. Not done yet, obviously."

"Still need a haircut."

"I'll get to that." An impish grin flashed on his face. "Eventually. There's just a lot more I have to do before then. Now about those stitches, did you pull them?"

A cold glance from the man was all he received in response. Lucky for them there was a knock on the suite door. Dick smiled sweetly at him, batting his eyes. "Should I answer the question for you or just the door?"

Bruce rolled his eyes, groaning at the lad. The both got to their feet at the same time turning in opposite directions. While he headed to the bedroom and what he needed inside there, Dick took care of the food delivery. "You better be getting the med kit!"

"Just get the damn food." Despite wanting to slap him over the head for his cheeky comments, Bruce couldn't help but to smirk from the boy's banter. He really could read him like a book, and knew exactly what to do to get him to act. And to think it used to only work one way. As soon as he was done finding the medical kit he stashed into his luggage with his uniform, he rejoined his son. Dick was opening one of the pizza boxes on the coffee table, the liter of coke next to the two of them. The man scowled and pointed to the dining table not too far off. "We're eating at the table."

"What?" The young man looked up in surprise, making Bruce frown a little more. This must have been another bad habit he picked up from either Slade or the Titans.

"We have a proper table, we're eating there."

"But-"

"You picked dinner, I'm picking the place. Table, now." Shocked into silence at the order, Dick picked everything back up and joined him at the kitchen table. Satisfied, Bruce laid down the med kit and started unbuttoning his shirt to get to work on his stitches while his son fetched some cups from the minibar. "Imagine what Alfred would say if he saw us eating on the couch."

"Okay, seeing your point now." Setting the glasses down and smirking at the older man, he eyed the healing wounds and nodded. They were well tended to after all, he just refused to rest. "Alfred would have a cow. But hey, at least you're not cooking."

"Hey!" The laughter that followed warmed each of them as they tended wounds and filled bellies, just talking. Not about a case or a crisis, just talking and enjoying each other's company. That night they'd both sleep better than they had in weeks, especially if they Skyped Tim beforehand to ease everyone's worries.

It was just too bad the suite only had one bedroom. One of them was sleeping on the couch. Bruce was in no condition to be anyone's teddy bear that night.