Oh. My. Gosh. Y'all gave me such encouraging reviews over the last few chapters! (Especially "Ninja.") Seriously, I'm beyond whelmed by my asterous readers. I'm going far enough to say that I'm overwhelmed by you all. I can only begin to explain how grateful I am to you, but I hope this quick (it's been about twenty-four hours since the last one) update helps to convey how truly thankful I am.

This next chapter has a bit of inspiration taken from FiTeamFreeWill's prompt about Dick going to Bruce for advice about relationships. I doubt it will be anything like you expected, but I hope it's satisfactory. Who knows, maybe I'll go more in depth with your prompt in a future one-shot. ;)

Dick hadn't talked to him in two days. Ever since Bruce had scolded him Saturday morning, the kid had been quiet. Now, the scene was early Monday morning. Bruce was in his office as usual, and Dick was getting ready to head off to school. Usually, his son would be grumbling and complaining about it being Monday, but so far, he had been silent. And Bruce would have been lying if he said he wasn't worried.

Yes, he understood why Dick was upset. No one liked to be yelled at. But Bruce knew he had done the right thing. Dick had deserved to be berated. Now, Bruce only had to make him see that.

But that could wait, for Bruce had to glance up from (you guessed it) his paperwork when the door to his office creaked open and a head of ebony hair poked its way inside.

"Dick? Is something wrong? I thought you were taking the bus."

"I am," Dick said quietly, uttering the first words Bruce had heard from him in days. "But I...need your help with something first."

"Of course," Bruce said, perhaps a bit too quickly. He gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Have a seat."

Dick sat down wordlessly, tugging at his tie and shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He was quiet for several long moments (fortunately, Bruce was patient) before speaking. "There's...this girl. Melissa. At my school. I-"

Bruce inwardly cringed, regretting what he was going to have to say. Dick was finally talking to him and he was going to have to shut the kid down. "Sorry, but I'm going to have to stop you there. We've discussed this in the past. You're too young and busy to-"

"I don't want to date her!" Dick interjected with an eye roll, his voice taking on the exasperated tone that Bruce knew and loved (sometimes). "You've made it clear that I can't date until I'm forty."

Bruce resisted a chuckle at the exaggeration as Dick continued, "But I at least want to get to know her, you know? Be her friend if possible."

Normally, Bruce might have scolded Dick about his lack of talking in full sentences, but he figured now wasn't the time. At this point, he was entirely too amused to ruin the moment. "So? Try talking to her. You can't really get to know a person without using that primary form of communication."

"Yeah, yeah, I know that. But she's like, super popular and I don't think she's even noticed me before."

"Hm," Bruce hummed thoughtfully, setting his pen down and leaning back in his chair.

Dick began chatting again before his guardian could get in another word. "I mean, you have woman hanging on you all the time. If anyone has any pointers, it's you, right?"

Bruce resisted the slight smirk threatening to curl his lips and instead cleared his throat. "I suppose you have a point."

"So, how do you do it?"

"I remind them how rich I am."

Dick let out a loud sigh and leaned back in his own chair, crossing his arms. "I don't have to remind anyone of that. Besides, Melissa's rich, too, so I don't think she's impressed. What else?"

"I act like a gentleman. I offer to carry their things and compliment them on their looks. You can never go wrong with that."

"What, so I just stroll right up to her and say, 'Hey, Melissa, we've never talked before, but your hair looks beautiful today. Want me to carry your textbooks?'"

"Sounds good to me."

Dick pursed his lips in thought before nodding slowly. "It could work. She seems to like more outspoken boys."

"There you go, then," Bruce said, sitting back up in his chair and picking up his pen, already beginning to refocus his attention on his work. "Good luck. I'll see you after school."

"You're going to be here?" Dick asked as he got to his feet, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

"Someone has to look after the house while Alfred's away at the Pennyworth Family Reunion."

Dick nodded, starting towards the door. He hesitated on his way out, glancing back over his shoulder. "Oh, and, Bruce? Thanks for the advice."

Bruce glanced up once more, sending a small smile Dick's way. "Anytime. Now, get going. You don't want to miss your bus."

Dick nodded again, offering his own smile. It was hesitant, but it was there. Then, he lifted his hand in a slight wave and jogged out the door.

Dick had been extremely hesitant to ask Bruce for help that morning. He was still pretty upset about Saturday. The thing was, though, he wasn't necessarily mad at Bruce. No, he was more mad at himself.

But now wasn't really the time to think about that. Right now he needed to focus on approaching Melissa Hart without looking like a complete idiot.

He paused at his locker (how convenient that it was across the hall from Melissa's) and smoothed his hair down, hoping the gel he had used would stay in place. Taking a deep breath (and being grateful that the halls were virtually empty due to class almost starting), Dick walked up to the pretty blonde-haired girl.

"Hey," he greeted, casually leaning against the locker next to hers and watching her retrieve her books. "Need some help carrying those?"

Melissa hugged her books to her chest and slammed her locker door closed, turning to face Dick and flicking her forest green eyes up and down, taking in his appearance. She was quiet for so long that he was starting to worry he had something on his face or clothes.

"You're Richard Grayson, right?" she asked finally, her voice nonchalant.

"That would be me," he answered with a nod and a half smile. "But you can call me Dick. All my friends do."

"What makes you think I want to be your friend?"

The words were like a knife blow to the chest, sharp and cold. It took Dick completely off guard and he found himself standing up straight and taking a step back. "Uh...excuse me?"

"I said," Melissa began, her nonchalance being replaced with a dryness that could rival a desert, "what makes you think I want to be your friend?"

Dick frowned. He didn't like the direction this conversation was going. "I'm not sure I understand."

She rolled her eyes, letting out a sigh that clearly said she thought he was an idiot. "Do I have to spell it out for you?"

His eyes narrowed. "I can spell just fine."

"Cute," Melissa said with a tight-lipped smile. "Look, I don't want to be seen hanging out with Bruce Wayne's charity case, okay? It could ruin my family's reputation."

"I'm not..." Dick glared at the ground, forcing his voice to stay even when it almost cracked. "I'm not a charity case."

"Aren't you, though? We all know Wayne only took you in because he felt bad for you. Everyone here at Gotham Academy certainly thinks so," she explained as a couple of her guy friends from the football team came up behind her. Dick was starting to be less grateful that the halls were empty.

"Everyone, huh?" Dick asked, clenching his hands into fists at his sides. He had to come up with something to say before he broke down in front of Melissa and her crew. "Tell me, does everyone know your family doesn't have much of a reputation to protect after Bruce Wayne bought out their failing company last week?"

Melissa's green eyes darkened with hatred. "Why, you little-"

"Dick?" he quipped, allowing a familiar feeling smirk to take over his features.

That did it. Melissa signaled her jock thugs and Dick was soon experiencing pain all over and staring up at the ceiling. He rested a hand on his stomach and winced at the feeling it caused. His ribs were definitely bruised. He just hoped they weren't broken.

As if to insure he was down, one of the jocks landed one last solid kick in Dick's stomach, causing the boy to curl into himself and groan. Man, he so wished he was allowed to use his ninja abilities on these jerks.

"Hey!" a feminine voice called from down the hall. "Get away from him! Don't make me sic the principal on you!"

"Dang it, that's the Commissioner's daughter!" one of the boys muttered, promptly stopping in his torturing of Dick and jogging off down the hall. "No way am I gettin' in trouble with her."

Not surprisingly, the small group didn't argue and darted down the hall after their friend. Though, Melissa whispered, "I hope you learned your lesson, Grayson," before she left.

Dick then heard the sound of retreating footsteps as he moaned again. He needed to get up before Barbara had to help him. He couldn't deal with that kind of humiliation right now. He was already embarrassed enough as it was.

So, Dick pushed himself to his feet, letting out a few gasps of pain as he did so. Though, not all of that pain was coming from his ribs. Some of it was coming from Melissa's words. No matter how hard he tried, he would always be seen as the little orphan circus freak who didn't belong. He would always be seen as the kid whom Bruce Wayne had adopted out of pity.

"Dick! Are you okay?" Barbara asked, interrupting his thoughts, running up to him and looking at him with concern in her eyes.

"I'm fine," he muttered, brushing off her worry.

Instead of pushing the subject, Barbara just nodded and let him lean against her as they headed to class. That was why Dick liked her. Not only was Babs one of his only friends at school, but she knew when to leave him alone.

Still, Dick glared at the ground again as he trudged toward class. This was exactly his point. He couldn't be a kid and have fun when he was Robin, and now he was being forced to eliminate childhood and fun when he was Dick Grayson as well. Sometimes he really hated his life.

Bruce had barely moved all day. He'd taken the opportunity to catch up on all his paperwork while he was staying at the Manor to keep an eye on things. That was why he was satisfied that he was practically finished with his work by the time Dick came home. Maybe he could challenge his son to a rematch for that game of one-on-one basketball.

But that was proved to be unlikely when Dick shuffled past Bruce's open office door. He was hunched over and one hand rested on his stomach.

"Dick," Bruce said cautiously but worriedly as he stepped out of his office and followed Dick down the hall. "What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it," the boy muttered, refusing to turn around and face his father.

"You're hurt," Bruce said firmly, using his Batman voice to get Dick to halt in his tracks. "I think we need to talk about it."

"Fine! You want the truth?" Dick asked, whirling around to face Bruce with anger and frustration clouding his bright blue gaze. "The truth is, I hate being your son!"

Bruce's jaw clenched, but it was the only sign he showed to indicate that he was shocked. That was okay. Dick was just upset. He would be quiet and let the boy finish.

"I hate being Robin, too. Heck, I even hate being Dick Grayson! And it's all because of...because of you!"

Okay, that did it. Bruce crossed his arms and frowned in disapproval to hide the fact that he was a little hurt by his son's words. "If this is about Saturday, I'm sorry that I upset you. But I can't take back what I said. As your father, it's my responsibility to make sure you accept the consequences of your acti-"

"You're not my father!" Dick interrupted, his voice raising to a yell.

Bruce closed his mouth and stopped talking at the words, feeling his eyes widen slightly before he could stop them. The small amount of hurt that had started to surface turned into a large amount of agony. But before he could get another word in, Dick was talking again.

"You were never my father. My dad is dead." Tears were streaming down Dick's cheeks now, but the boy didn't even seem to notice. "My dad is dead and he's never coming back! Stop trying to pretend like you can replace him!"

"Dick, I-"

"If my dad were still alive, I would never have to deal with people calling me a charity case, or bullying me at school, or-"

It was Bruce's turn to interrupt. "Is that what happened?" he demanded, his tone becoming firm again. But he couldn't help it. If someone was hurting Dick... "Did that girl call you a charity case? Did someone hurt you? Because if you give me some names, I could-"

"Oh, shut up!" Dick snapped, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "You can't fix this, Bruce. Every time you try to fix my problems at school, you only make things worse! Just drop it, okay?"

"I'm not sure I like your tone, Richard," Bruce said, making it very clear that he was serious by using Dick's full name. "I know I don't always go about things the right way, but at least I'm trying to help. The least you could do is show me some respect."

That obviously wasn't the right thing to say, because Dick's blue eyes only became stormier as he grew even angrier. "How can I show you respect when I hate you!"

With those final screamed words, Dick darted into his room and shut the door behind him, slamming it so hard that the air near Bruce stirred. At this point, Bruce didn't even care about the 'no slamming doors' rule. He only cared about how Dick's words were making him feel: miserable and useless. He wasn't even mad at the boy.

All he could think about was how he had failed his Little Bird yet again.

Okay, so I lied. The tension between Dick and Bruce will obviously extend over three chapters instead of just two.

I think I'm doing an okay job with Bruce because I feel like he honestly has as hard a time with this father/son thing as Dick does sometimes. I mean, he's never been a dad before and his own father died when he was pretty young. So, I don't think parenting would be something he would be spectacular at. Besides, I like that Bruce has his own real life struggles outside of being Batman. But maybe I'm being too bold in my assumptions. Let me know, would you? Please and thank you!