Author's Note: I posted two parts today, so if you opened straight to this chapter make sure you go back one to stay on track! Happy reading!
Lunch passed with painful slowness. The food, having been made by Alfred, was naturally excellent; the company was something else. Bruce had few opportunities to get a word in between Candice's sugary-sweet doting and her mother's running commentary on all of the society weddings that were planned in the coming months, so he focused on cleaning his plate instead. Keeping an eye on Dick's meal, he was pleased to see most of it disappear. Sitting next to little miss chatterbox might have been grating on the ears, but if it allowed the boy to eat despite Mrs. Eldredge's remarks he considered it worth the annoyance.
Their noisy peace was ended when that ample woman, accompanied by her husband, puffed her way to their table. "Mr. Wayne," she wheezed, "I'm afraid we'll be leaving early. My allergies are simply unmanageable."
"Oh?" He feigned sadness at the news. "I'm sorry to hear that. I hope we'll see you at the summer fundraiser next month? We missed you at the museum."
"I assume that there will be a more...select...company this time?" she asked, sending a darting glance towards Dick. "It's amazing what sort of annoyances some people drag into enclosed spaces with them. Terrible for my allergies."
Bruce almost bristled at her renewed implication that his son wasn't worthy of appearing in society. "I'm sure your allergies won't be a problem at our next event." Just show up, give the Foundation a check, and keep your opinions to yourself, he bit back. Your money might do good, but your mouth only makes me angry.
"Yes, well...it's an evening thing, after all. Awfully late for children to be out." With that farewell she drew herself erect, her chins quaking, and lumbered away, her husband following in her wake.
Stewing beneath his mildly puzzled mask, Bruce turned to check on Dick. "How's the cake, chum?" he inquired when he found the boy's hurt eyes riveted to the departing behemoth's back. Ignore her. She's not worth your concern.
"You can have the rest of mine if you want it, sweetie," Candice crooned. "Don't listen to that mean old lady. She's just angry none of her kids turned out as cute as you."
"Huh? Oh," the youth sent her a fleeting smile. "I'm okay. I'm actually really full. Um...Bruce? Can I go for a second? I'll be right back."
Recalling his crying jag at the museum fundraiser, Bruce studied his face before agreeing. There were no tears hiding that he could discern, and they had been outside for over two hours now without a bathroom break, so after a moment he nodded. "Sure, kiddo. Come back when you're done, okay?"
"And don't forget to wash your hands, for heaven's sake," Mrs. Higgins contributed. "Well, I'm sorry," she defended herself when three gazes landed on her. "It seems a natural enough thing to say to a child. I had to remind Candice until she was-"
"Mother!"
"Uh...'scuse me," Dick muttered and made a quick escape that Bruce wished he dared imitate. Once he'd disappeared into the guests, some of whom had finished eating and were moving out onto the open lawn, the billionaire returned his attention to the insipid conversation of his female attendants. Ten minutes, he determined, and then I'll go looking for him.
It didn't take ten minutes. It didn't even take two. Almost as soon as he'd succeeded in directing the topic away from summer fashion and towards the Higgins' vacation plans – it was no less boring of a discussion, but at least it wasn't about dresses – there was a ruckus near the edge of the dining tent. "Mr. Wayne!" he heard an outraged cry. "Mr. Wayne!"
Even if he hadn't recognized the raised voice as that of Mrs. Eldredge he would have known immediately that it had something to do with Dick. Glancing around for allies, he spied Alfred behind the drinks table, where he appeared to have been in conference with one of the bartenders. The butler gave him a grim nod just as the complainant began barging her way between tables, knocking over empty chairs with her rush and girth.
"Mr. Wayne!" she panted as she drew up, "this is unacceptable!"
"...What's unacceptable, Mrs. Eldredge?" he asked, trying to keep exasperation out of his tone. "Surely it's not worth all this fuss."
"Not worth the fuss?!" she exclaimed. "So you intend to allow this...this vagabond,"she jerked the boy forward into view, "that you've taken in to steal from your guests?"
A black shadow slithered forward from the back of Bruce's mind, easily shoving 'Brucie' aside and only giving in to Bruce himself under protest. Rage glimmered for the briefest of moments in his eyes, and as he stood up Mrs. Eldredge took a step backwards, her fingers spasming in her captive's clothing. "I must not be understanding you. Surely you aren't accusing Dick of anything? He left my side less than three minutes ago."
"Oh, you pampered child. Don't you know that's all the more time it takes for one of them to rob you blind?"
You shut your goddamn mouth of that sort of talk, you bitch. I swear, if you make him cry... "Mrs. Eldredge-" he ground out.
"I caught him red-handed going through my things!" Her voice rose to a veritable screech, and the sections of the assembly that weren't already observing their little drama were drawn in.
...This doesn't make sense. Dick couldn't possibly have been stealing, but clearly something had happened to set the woman off. He turned to the child hesitantly, expecting to see tears and uncertain of how well he would be able to control himself if he did. Instead he found a fed-up look that he'd witnessed only once before. Wait...that's the same expression he had on when we had our little tiff after the museum fundraiser, he realized, his momentary relief draining. Oh, total hell. "Kiddo," he spoke quietly. "You want to tell me what happened?" Calm down, chum, he begged. Don't blow up at her. Please, not here.
"Yes," Dick said in a shaking voice. Holding his guardian's gaze, he took a deep breath. "I do. I was on my way to the bathroom when I found a bag on the ground. There wasn't anybody near it, so I opened it."
"You see! He admits it!"
"I opened it to see if there was an ID," the boy crossed his arms as best he could with his jacket crumpled in an over-plump fist. "I was trying to help. I don't steal!"
"Ask why he dumped it out on the ground, then, if not to try and get away with the cash before anyone noticed!"
A murmur went through the gathering.
"...Dick?" Bruce knew the reason had to have been innocent, but he was on tenterhooks anyway. If the wrong thing was said at this crucial moment, it would take years of perfect behavior to cover up the scar that Dick's name would earn. Not even his substantial influence would be enough to speed the bleaching of his son's reputation, and everyone listening knew it.
"I wouldn't have dropped it on the ground if someone hadn't grabbed me from behind."
"He's contradicting himself! He just said there was no one around!" Mrs. Eldredge interrupted.
"She hasn't let go of me since. I didn't mean to drop it, but she surprised me. I'm not a thief!"
"You're a liar, is what you are! Mr. Wayne, I insist you do something about this!"
Another wave of whispers began.
"Look in her purse if you don't believe me!"Dick burst out.
Bruce, his vision fuzzy with rage, paused on the edge of saying something that he would have regretted. "...What did you say, kiddo?"
"She won't look in her purse! She made her husband pick everything up off the ground while she was shaking me, but she won't check to see that I didn't take anything!"
"...Mrs. Eldredge? Are you actually missing anything?" the billionaire inquired in a brittle voice.
"I...I don't...hmph...that isn't the point!"
"Um...isn't that the whole point?" Dick challenged. "If nothing's missing, then what was stolen?"
A few amused chuckles sounded.
Sensing that popular opinion was turning against her, Mrs. Eldredge's approach roughened. "Intent matters, you little brat!" she proclaimed, shaking him violently. "If I hadn't caught you when I did, god only knows what you would have made off with!"
A fist had only just begun to form at the end of Bruce's arm when there was a tearing noise. Gasps rang out as Dick pulled away from his accuser and danced to his guardian's side, the seam along his shoulder gaping and trailing fine threads. "I wouldn't have 'made off' with anything," he glared from the safety of his new position, "because I wasn't trying to steal. I was trying to give you your stuff back after you lost it." He shoved his hands into his pockets and pulled the linings up until they were inside-out. When they proved empty, he crossed his arms again. "See?"
"You still intended to! Empty pockets only prove that you didn't get a chance!"
Clearly at the end of his rope, Dick flailed to indicate the billionaire beside him. "What do you think I need your money for, lady?!"
No motive, Bruce grinned suddenly, no evidence, and an idiotic accuser. Dicky, if Alfred doesn't give you double cookies tonight I might just steal them for you. "...Yes, Mrs. Eldredge," he found his voice after a moment of stunned silence had passed. "What does he need your money for?"
The woman flushed until she looked to be on the verge of apoplexy. "I have never been so insulted," she hissed.
"I'm sorry to hear that," he answered, tugging the boy close with one hand. "I think we've got this all settled other than hurt feelings, though, don't you, Mrs. Eldredge? Even if your claims were substantiated, which it doesn't seem that they are, I'm sure Dick wouldn't have 'made off' with more than, say..." He fingered the ripped fabric along his son's shoulder. "...The cost of an Armani juniors' jacket?"
"I...you...hmph!" Whirling with all the grace of a landlocked hippo, Mrs. Eldredge departed, nearly tripping over her husband along the way.
That man, to his credit, approached the billionaire apologetically. "I'm sorry about her," he pleaded with an obsequious posture. "It's her allergies. Everything upsets her when they're acting up."
"Certainly, Mr. Eldredge," Bruce answered coolly. "Please relay to your wife that in the future there's no need for her to inconvenience herself by attending events when she's...under the weather. I'm sure we'll all understand the necessity of her absence." She ever accuses my boy of theft again, I'll have her hauled away, he threatened silently. I swear to god, I'll do it.
"I'll, ah...I'll just send the checks along to the Foundation office along with our regrets until she's...ah...feeling better, then?"
"If you're inclined to do so, ." Get that woman you married off of my property.
"Yes, well...ahem...guess I'd best get her home. For the record, Mr. Wayne, ah...the boy didn't do anything wrong that I saw."
"Oh? I'm glad to hear that you were a witness to his innocence. Thank you so much for speaking up." Spineless toad.
The older man's ears turned as red as his spouse's gargantuan cheeks. "Might as well clear the air," he tried to joke. "Ah...goodbye."
"Goodbye, Mr. Eldredge." On second thought, keep your rotten money. Whatever you fail to contribute to the Foundation, I'll make up.
When the Eldredges had gone, Bruce waved Alfred over. Squeezing Dick's shoulder, he entrusted him to the butler and watched them start towards the house. Finally he turned to address the low hubbub that had risen amongst the guests. "Well, I don't know about anyone else," he announced, "but I could use a little exercise after all that food. Candy?" he offered her his arm. "May I interest you in some bubbly and a stroll?"
Candice Higgins may have been a giggly, syrupy thing barely a year past her debut into Gotham society, but she showed her training to perfection when she accepted his invitation as if nothing unpleasant had just happened. The billionaire ached to run after the boy, but he took a glass of Champagne instead and pasted on his 'Brucie' grin. The altercation of a moment before could not be allowed to become the penultimate event of the gathering, no matter how angry he was inside; such things simply were not done.
Another hour and several toasts passed before the last attendees rolled down the driveway and out of sight. Bruce ducked into the house the instant they were gone and strode to the kitchen, guessing that he would find the person he'd longed for for the last sixty minutes waiting there. His gamble was proven correct when Dick leaped into his arms before he could cross the room's threshold. "Don't be mad," the boy begged immediately. "I just couldn't stand it anymore, and-"
"Hush," he soothed. "I'm not mad."
"I don't know why he's still so flustered, sir," Alfred advised from where he stood by Dick's abandoned stool. "I've been telling him since we came inside that he's done nothing wrong."
"I didn't mean to mess it up!"
"You didn't mess anything up. Chum..." Sitting, he settled the child onto his knees. "Look at me, okay? Look. Dicky..." A tear-streaked face rose. "Ooh...my clever bird. Don't cry, baby. Listen to me; you were perfect out there."
"I...I was? But I wasn't good!" he insisted. "I talked back to an adult, and I...I said that awful thing to you..."
...Wait, what? "Kiddo, you didn't say anything awful to me. Alfred, what is he talking about?"
"I've been trying to figure that out, sir, but he keeps breaking down."
"Dicky? Tell me what you think you said, huh?"
"I...I...the thing...not...not needing..." He lowered his face, trembling. "'Bout not n-n-needing her m-m-money..."
For a moment Bruce was at a loss. "I don't understand why you think that's a bad thing," he shook his head.
"Cause the m-money doesn't m-m-matter! I m-m-made it sound like I d-d-don't love you, just your m-money!"
The billionaire's jaw dropped. "No one thinks that, chum," he promised the shivering weight in his arms. "Nobody took it that way, and I definitely didn't. I know better than that. I know." He rocked him for a minute without speaking, letting him calm. "...What you said was perfect, Dicky. Hey. Do you know what you did out there?"
"Wh-what?" Dick hiccuped.
"You did what I did at the museum fundraiser. Remember that speech I gave, when I matched what everyone else had given that night with my own money?"
"Y-y-yes..."
"It's the same concept that you used today. You have no reason to steal her money because you don't need her money, and you don't need her money because you have mine."
"Nooooo..."
"Yes. I know you still aren't comfortable with that, chum, but it's true. I, and by extension you, have a net worth that is miles above the heads of...well...everyone who was out there today, the Eldredges included. That doesn't make us better or worse than any of them, and I know you know that, but do you know what it does do?"
Another hiccup. "...What?"
"It gives us a damn powerful – sorry, Alfred – weapon to pull out when people start putting on airs and accusing us of things that we would never do. Doesn't it?"
A beat passed before Bruce felt the boy in his grasp take a deep breath. "...I guess it does. But...it feels wrong." He sniffled. "I...I know I wasn't really talking back. Alfred said that it was okay, that I was...that I was just defending myself against a...what'd you call her, Alfred?"
"...I referred to Mrs. Eldredge as a 'slanderous bint,' young sir, but please do not repeat it," the butler answered with a chagrined look. "The second word, in particular, has no place in your vocabulary."
"...A 'slanderous bint,' Alfred?" Bruce smirked.
"It's hardly a laughing matter, Master Wayne. I'm quite disappointed in myself for not keeping a better grip on my emotions this afternoon. Thank heavens I wasn't any closer to her."
"Don't feel bad about it," Dick said, staring up from where he'd nestled his head against his guardian's shoulder. "I think we were all really angry at her when she was saying those things about...about me."
"We were, chum," Bruce squeezed him. "To be honest, I probably would have choked her into shutting up if I'd thought I had any chance of finding her windpipe under all that fat."
"Ewww..."
"...I feel as if I should reprimand you for making such a suggestion, sir, but since I had a similar thought it would be hypocritical of me to do so," Alfred commented. "In any case, Master Dick, you and Master Wayne behaved admirably today. I'm very proud of both of you." Moving to the cupboards, he pulled a container down from the top shelf, pried off the lid, and set it in front of them. "Here. You've more than earned your cookies."
Dick shifted and leaned forward to look. "Double chocolate! How many can we have?"
The butler considered him for a second, then smiled. "Just don't make yourself sick on them, young sir, and we'll call that the limit."
"...Really?!" His hand darted into the jar. "That's amazing!"
"Hey," Bruce nudged him. "What do you say?"
"Huh? Oh! Thanks, Alfred!"
"You're quite welcome, dear boy. Master Wayne, I must go look in on the tearing-down of the tent. Can you manage?"
"I'll make sure there aren't more messes to clean up later," he chuckled. "Thanks, Alfred."
"Of course, sir."
The pair munched in silence for several minutes. "...Bruce?"
"Hmm?"
"Um...was I really, truly good today? I mean, for real?"
"Yes, chum. Why do you keep questioning that?"
"Well...it's just..." Sighing, Dick put half of his third cookie down on the counter. "If I was so good, then how come it feels like everything still thinks I'm a thief? I know why...why they think that...but I'm not, and it's so mean for them to just assume that because I came from the circus...because d-dad was Romany...that we...that I...it's mean!"
Oh, baby. "Listen, Dicky...I can't speak for everyone who was here today, but I'm pretty certain that a lot of people left with a better opinion of you than they came with. Not Mrs. Eldredge, obviously, but some of the others. What that woman tried to pull was absurd. She might have gotten away with it if you hadn't said anything, but you did; you stood up for yourself. What's more, you stayed calm much longer than she did, and the ability to deliver insults without screaming them...well, it's an important skill. To see a nine-year-old with no training in high society keep his calm better than a grown woman with years of etiquette lessons behind her...I know you impressed some people. A couple of them even said they thought your behavior was exemplary."
It wasn't a lie; a major factor in his ability to calm down once he'd had a drink in one hand and Candice in the other had been the comments of several of those who had stopped to talk. He was sure that there were still a number who maintained Mrs. Eldredge's sort of opinion – although they'd wisely kept it to themselves after her departure – but if he had to guess he'd say that the spectacle had pulled twenty or thirty socialites off the fence and into their camp. There was no telling how long that would hold, of course, but for now he was content to be happy with the victory.
"...'Exemplary?'" Dick's voice dragged him back into the present. "They...they really used that word?"
"They did." Picking up on an odd note in the question, he frowned. "Does that matter?"
"Um...sort of? Alfred...Alfred told me that if I was 'an exemplary young gentleman' today that maybe I could change somebody's mind. So...it worked, then?"
Bruce smiled. "It did, chum. You were absolutely exemplary, and you absolutely changed some minds."
The boy wriggled around to face him. "...Did I make you proud, Bruce?"
"...So proud," he whispered, brushing dark locks back from his son's forehead. The special smile that was reserved only for him made an appearance, and he had to swallow the second lump of the day to keep from choking on emotion.
"...You're, uh...you're not going to, like, marry Candice, are you?"
It was such a switch in topic and such an absurd idea that he threw his head back and laughed. "No, Dick," he swore, wiping at his eyes. "You don't have to worry about that."
"Oh. Because you were flirting with her, I thought."
"I was. Well... 'Brucie' was."
"So...it was just for show? You're not in love with her or anything?"
"No. I'll probably date her for a few months, but unless she's a completely different person in private than she is in public you won't have to put on a tux to be my best man any time soon."
"...Eww, tuxedos." Dick wrinkled his nose, the comment about his place in any hypothetical wedding party going straight over his head. "Also...kind of eww, Candice. She's nice – nicer than most of the other people who go to your parties – but I don't think she'd be a good fit for you."
"No? Me, neither."
"She'd drive Alfred up the wall."
"Yeah, she probably would." Oh, god, I'd never hear the end of it...
"And...I don't have to hang out with her, right?"
"Not alone. She'd probably make you try on everything you own so that she could coo over it."
"...That doesn't sound so awful, actually."
"It doesn't?"
"No. I like trying on clothes and costumes and stuff, I just don't like tuxedos." He paused. "Suits aren't as bad, I guess, except that you can't do anything in them. I kind of like ours," he tugged on Bruce's lapel. "They aren't so bad."
"Did Alfred say if he can fix yours?"
"Mm-hmm. He said it was just a popped seam."
"Good. And Mrs. Eldredge didn't hurt you, right?" He couldn't imagine that Dick wouldn't have said something sooner if she had, but it was worth asking just in case.
"...Just my feelings."
"Yeah...I know about that part," he breathed. "Would it make you feel better if we spent the rest of the time until dinner playing video games and watching movies?"
"Can we?"
"You bet."
"Even Mario Kart?! Rainbow Road?!"
Bruce winced, remembering how the last time they'd played that particular level he'd fallen off the map twelve times in a single lap. Still, if it made his boy feel better... "Sure."
"Hooray!" Cheering, Dick slid to the floor. "Let's go!"
"Whoa, hold up. Are you done with the cookies?"
"Yes. I don't want to get sick."
"Then let me put the lid back on." Having done so, he stood. "Now...I'll race you to the game room. Winner gets to be player one."
"But..." Dick's eyes widened. "Alfred..."
"Alfred is outside," the billionaire raised his eyebrows, "and he lacks Superman's x-ray vision, so..."
"So he can't see us."
"Right."
"Okay...then...onetwothreego!"
Laughing again as he took off after the gun-jumping child, Bruce felt the last of his anger ebb away in favor of a warm contentment.
Author's Note: That concludes this arc, but not 'Summer Shorts'; there's still lots of ideas in the hopper for this particular series of (supposed) short pieces. I'll be finishing off 'Turkey Song' and 'Gastronomy' over the next couple of weeks, and then we'll be on to two new stories, 'Camp Batman' and 'The Superheroes' Guide to Mountaineering.' The second title is the hiking story I promised a million or so years ago involving Dick and Tim; 'Camp Batman' will be a Spark in the Dark story set after 'Turkey Song' and rooted in the 'Camp Bruce' chapter of 'Summer Shorts.' Between those two tales and the occasional flash fic, 'Tea' chapter, or 'Shorts' chapter, I think we're in for an exciting spring. Happy reading!
A message to guest reader Jayla728: To answer your questions, I try to post something at least every three days. I often have two stories going at once, so I tend to bounce back and forth between them. As for Dick's age in this story, he's just past nine; you've actually picked up in the middle of a series of mine entitled 'Spark in the Dark,' of which this is a part. If you're interested in reading more in this series, please visit my profile page, where I keep a list of Spark stories in chronological order by Dick's age. Happy reading!
