A/N Well, I failed at updating. ...Sorry about that, guys. I've been really busy, and I had a really hard time writing this chapter. But, as promised, this update is all about five-year-old Dick with Bruce. Enjoy!

Disclaimer If I owned Young Justice, there would already be another new episode out. Just sayin'.

~Aiva


Something always had to go wrong, didn't it? Bruce supposed it could be worse; his son was whole and mainly unharmed, at least. Just a minor scratch on his arm that required nothing more than a band-aid. That wasn't the biggest issue though; what stood out the most was the fact that his son was now five. Dick had fallen asleep on the way back to the Batcave, the small boy exhausted by the patrol and his encounter with Poison Ivy's spores. He was now curled up in Bruce's arms, refusing to let go even in his sleep. Bruce looked helplessly at Alfred, unable to even change out of his uniform now.

Alfred was clearly trying to hide a smile at the vigilante's predicament, a glint of amusement clear in his eyes. He reached for Dick, carefully prying the child away from Bruce. Dick let out a small mumble before curling up next to the butler, wrapping his small arms around Alfred's neck. Bruce flashed Alfred a grateful look before quickly changing. Dick stirred then, blue eyes blinking open. He glanced around slowly, a small yawn slipping out. "Bwuce," he murmured, voice slurring with sleep as he reached out to his adoptive father.

Bruce couldn't help the small smile that formed on his face as he accepted the boy back into his arms, rubbing his back soothingly. Dick yawned again, clearly fighting hard to stay awake. "Shh, Dickie," he hushed softly. "Go back to sleep."

Dick shook his head stubbornly, dark hair flopping in front of his sleepy eyes. "Not tired," he insisted stubbornly, blinking hard to keep his eyes open. He pulled his head away from Bruce's chest as if to prove how awake he was, glancing up at the man. "See?"

"Dick, you need to go to sleep," Bruce insisted, voice still as gentle as he could manage.

Dick pouted, attempting to scowl. It ended up looking far more adorable than frightening, his face still soft from sleep. "Not tired!" he repeated, with a bit more force.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Let's at least change you into some pajamas, okay? You don't have to go to sleep yet," he suggested.

Dick hesitated, considering the offer before nodding. "'Kay," he agreed softly, obviously sleepy, but still trying to fight it. It was adorable, honestly. Most of his costume was far too big for him, only his tunic clinging onto him, though it now went past his knees. His mask had already fallen off, and his cape was wrapped around him as a makeshift blanket. His dark hair was messier than usual, the scruffy dark locks hanging in front of his big blue eyes, and his small lips were still drawn into a slight pout as he fought to stay awake and somewhat alert.

Alfred produced a pair of pajamas that happened to be the right size and handed them to Bruce. Having been informed of the situation beforehand, the butler had just enough time to run out and get the essentials before their return. Dick attempted to dress himself, managing to pull on the pants and the shirt, but his tiny fingers fumbled with the buttons. Noticing Bruce reaching out to help, he moved away. "I can do it!" he insisted. He did most of them, but got stuck again at the top few. Dick pouted, but finally allowed Bruce to help.

Finally dressed, Dick extended his arms, clearly gesturing for Bruce to pick him up. With a smile, the billionaire complied, cradling the tiny boy in an affectionate way that almost nobody else ever saw. Dick let out a small, contented sigh, snuggling into his adoptive father's embrace.

"I'm not-" he started, a yawn interrupting him, "tired," he finished sleepily, blinking to keep his eyes open.

A large grin threatened to break out on Bruce's face as he rubbed the boy's small back, the soothing motion rewarded by a contented purr-like noise from Dick as he buried his face in Bruce's shirt. The billionaire made his way up to Dick's room, and attempted to tuck the kid into bed. "No…" Dick mumbled, now half-asleep. He clung to Bruce stubbornly though, refusing to let go. "Wanna stay wif you."

Dick had pretty much grown out of the habit of sleeping with Bruce, only doing it after a particularly bad nightmare or traumatic experience. He was determined to do it now though, and Bruce wasn't willing to argue. "Go back to sleep, Dickie," he hushed. Dick mumbled something, his eyes drifting back shut again.

Bruce ended up with Dick curled literally on top of him, small hands still clutching his shirt in a firm grasp. His tiny pink lips were parted slightly, soft snores escaping them every now and then. Bruce wrapped a strong arm around his son, maintaining the protective gesture even when he was asleep himself.


Sunlight peeked through the bottom of the curtains, casting the room in shadows. Bruce stirred, navy eyes blinking open. A small smile formed as yesterday's events came back and Dick let out a small yawn.

His baby blue eyes were only half-open, glazed from sleep. He rubbed them with the palm of his hand, letting out another yawn. He offered his adoptive father a small, sleepy smile. "Morning, Bruce," he greeted. He made no move to get off of Bruce's chest, preferring to remain there and snuggle up against him still.

Bruce sat up carefully, one arm supporting Dick's tiny frame. A surprisingly loud growl suddenly pierced the quiet morning atmosphere, and Dick's cheeks flushed a gentle pink as his blue eyes peered up at his guardian. "I'm hungry," he announced, one hand moving to his stomach.

"I'm sure Alfred has something cooked up," Bruce chuckled, still holding Dick as he stood.

"I want you to make it," Dick added, lips suddenly forming an irresistible pout. "Please?"

Bruce hesitated. He did not need a repeat of what happened the last time he had been allowed to actually cook. "What do you want?" he asked cautiously. He could probably manage a bit of toast, right? He hoped it would be something easy.

Dick frowned, brow furrowing as he thought. "Cereal!" he answered brightly, pleased at having come to an answer. "Please, Daddy?"

Bruce tensed, surprise flickering in his eyes; not about the cereal. He could handle cereal; there was no way he was setting that on fire. No, it was the last word that caught his attention: Daddy. Dick never called him Daddy, unless he was drugged or seriously injured. It wasn't that he didn't think of the billionaire as a father; it was just that the memories of his birth father were far too prominent to be able to call someone else that. Dick just called him Bruce, even though the father-son bond between them was obvious.

Being reverted back to a child, apparently, allowed Dick to think differently. Because honestly, kids were pretty much made up of emotion. In this state, Dick wasn't afraid to call Bruce daddy. And Bruce didn't mind one bit. He wanted his son back to his normal age, of course, but…being called Daddy had filled his heart with warmth and an even stronger paternal instinct.

"Daddy?"

Dick's curious voice interrupted Bruce's thoughts. "Hmmm?" Bruce responded, turning his attention back to his son.

"…Will you get me cereal?" Dick asked, trademark puppy-dog eyes starting to form. Those things were effective at thirteen, but at five? It took everything Bruce had not to melt into a pile of mush.

"Of course, Dickie-bird," Bruce smiled, adjusting his grip on Dick as he walked down the stairs.

Dick nuzzled his face into Bruce's shoulder. "…Are you going to go to work today?" he asked hesitantly.

"I have to, chum. You can stay with Alfred, okay?"

Sudden tears welled up in Dick's eyes, and he sniffled. "But…I don't want you to go," he whispered sadly. "I'll miss you."

Bruce hesitated, immediately feeling guilty. "I can move those meetings to another day, sir," Alfred spoke up, seeming to appear out of thin air.

Dick's face lit up at the thought, a smile replacing the tears that had threatened to fall. Bruce nodded gratefully at the butler. "Thank you, Alfred," he sighed in relief. He didn't want to have to face a crying five-year-old.

"Morning, Alfred!" Dick chirped cheerfully.

"Good morning, Master Dick. Would you like breakfast?"

"No thank you," Dick refused politely (which only made him sound more adorable), "Bruce is going to make me cereal!"

Alfred raised an eyebrow, glancing at Bruce.

"Just cereal, Alfred," Bruce assured. "I doubt I can set that on fire."

Alfred looked a bit skeptical, though it wasn't obvious. "Well, I suppose we'll find out, won't we?" he responded before walking off, probably to clean some part of the Manor.

Bruce stared after him. "I can't burn cereal," he muttered, though the butler could no longer hear him.

Dick giggled, his laughter pure and innocent. "Can we have toast, too?" he asked hopefully.

Bruce was determined to prove Alfred wrong; he could handle cereal, and he could handle toast as well. He wasn't going to burn anything this time. He walked into the kitchen and set Dick down on a counter; the boy perched there happily, feet swinging in the air. Bruce decided to make the toast first, slipping the bread into the toaster before pulling out a box of cereal.

"After this we can play!" Dick said excitedly. "We can play tag, and build with blocks, and watch tv, and climb on the dinosaur, and play hide-and-seek, and-"

"Let's just stick with eating breakfast for now," Bruce suggested, amusement clear as he tousled Dick's dark hair. He beamed, then his nose crinkled. "Bruce, why does it smell like smoke?" he asked curiously.

Bruce's eyes widened and he turned to the toaster. Sure enough, thin tendrils of dark smoke were rising from the appliance. Bruce hastily turned it off and pulled out the blackened pieces of bread. "At least it isn't on fire," Dick offered, staring at the "toast" with wide eyes.

Bruce shook his head slowly; sometimes, he was sure Alfred was psychic.


He made cereal without any problem, and Dick ate quickly, eager to be done and officially start the day. He shoveled a few more Cheerios into his mouth before tugging on Bruce's sleeve. "Can we play now?" he asked hopefully.

Bruce nodded, and Dick giggled, tapping him lightly on the leg. "You're it!" he cried, delighted laughter filling the air as he ran off.

Bruce chuckled, standing up and racing off after the small boy.

Three long hallways and a staircase later, Bruce finally caught up to Dick; for someone with such short legs, he sure could run fast when he wanted to. Bruce scooped him up, Dick laughing as he was hoisted into the air. "You caught me," he giggled.

Bruce grinned. "Do you know what happens to people who get caught?" he asked.

Dick shook his head, giggles increasing as his eyes widened.

"They get a visit…from the tickle-monster!" Bruce roared, immediately launching into a full-out tickle attack.

"No!" Dick shrieked, laughing as his sides were mercilessly tickled, followed by his legs and feet. "Stop, it tickles!" He struggled to get away, finally tapping Bruce on the nose. "There," he giggled. "Now you're off."

"That's not my off button," Bruce argued, a smile still clear on his face.

Dick cocked his head. "It isn't?" he frowned, confused. His eyes widened as Bruce advanced.

"Nope," Bruce said, shaking his head.

"Then what button was it?"

"It wasn't a button."

"It has to be a button!" Dick explained. "That's part of tickle-monster!"

"Well, then it was a mute button."

"Why are you talking then?" Dick giggled.

Bruce grinned in response, launching into a now silent tickle attack.


Two more games of tag, three games of hide-and-seek, a quick lunch, and one Lego tower later, Dick was worn out. Halfway through the cartoon that had been on, he had fallen asleep, head in Bruce's lap and a Batman plushie clutched adorably to his chest.

Things were pretty peaceful for about an hour; by that time, Bruce had changed the channel to National Geographic. If he was going to watch something, it wasn't going to be a brightly colored kids' cartoon. Dick's breath suddenly caught in his throat, eyes flitting back and forth underneath his eyelids. "No," he mumbled. "Don't go. Please, you'll die. No, Mommy, Daddy! You're going to fall! NO! No, don't send me back, I'm sorry. I tried to stop them…Mommy, Daddy!"

Bruce knew enough Romani to understand what Dick was saying, and tensed immediately. It was another nightmare about his parents. "Dick, wake up," he tried, placing a firm hand on the boy's shaking back. "It's just a dream, Dickie. Wake up," he repeated.

Dick merely tossed and turned, locked firmly inside of the horrible nightmare. Bruce wrapped comforting arms around his son immediately, forcing him to be still as gently as possible; it wasn't unusual for Dick to lash out, possibly injuring himself or others. "No. I don't want to go back. I want Mommy and Daddy. Please, I'm sorry!" Dick cried. Tears were coursing down his cheeks by this point, his face flushed and heartbroken.

Bruce felt his own heart breaking just having to watch Dick go through another one of these. Dick screamed, the sound painful and heart-wrenching, filled with far too much grief for anyone to have to bear. His tear-filled baby blue eyes shot open, harsh sobs shaking his body. He latched onto Bruce immediately, seeking any form of comfort right now.

Bruce ignored the wet spots that formed from Dick's tears, rubbing the small boy's back and rocking back and forth, offering as much comfort as he could. He didn't say that things would be alright, that they were okay now; because they weren't. All he could do was be there for him.

It took an hour for Dick to calm down enough to speak, his sobs turning into quieter sniffles. Sad eyes, tinted red from tears, looked up at Bruce, holding far too much pain to belong in such a young face. "Daddy," he whispered, voice hoarse and tear-choked.

"I'm right here, Dickie," Bruce murmured.

"They d-died," Dick sniffled, fresh tears dripping down his cheeks. "They f-fell, and I c-couldn't d-do anything."

"It's not your fault, Dick, I promise," Bruce said.

"B-but y-you said it w-was. You s-said you were g-going to send m-me b-back. To th-the orphanage," Dick explained, the grief growing in his big blue eyes. "Y-you were going to s-send me b-back because I l-let them fall."

"Dick, I will never send you back," Bruce promised without hesitation. "I will never willingly leave you, ever."

"P-promise?" Dick sniffled.

"Promise," Bruce nodded, pulling the little bird closer into his embrace.

Alfred cleared his throat then, announcing his presence. He carried a tray in his hands, two cups on it. "Master Dick, I brought hot chocolate," the butler said. Hot chocolate was part of the ritual, just like Bruce's promise. Dick offered a watery smile. "Thanks, Alfred," he said softly, accepting a cup. He blew on the creamy liquid to cool it off before sipping it, snuggling back into Bruce's chest.


After the nightmare, Dick refused to go back to sleep. Instead, he resumed the Lego tower he had started with Bruce, ending up building something that resembled Gotham. "Look, Daddy! I built Gotham," he explained excitedly, pointing at the colorful plastic blocks.

"Good job, Dickie," Bruce praised, ruffling the boy's dark hair.

Dick beamed with satisfaction, blue eyes lighting up as he turned back to the structure, adding more blocks to the building representing Wayne Tech.

"I was only able to move the meetings back a day, sir," Alfred said quietly behind Bruce. Dick, engrossed in his work, didn't pay attention.

Bruce nodded, glancing at his son. He couldn't just leave him at the Manor; Dick had already shown that he didn't want to leave Bruce's side, even to stay with Alfred. Maybe if he had one of his friends babysit him though, he would be distracted enough that Bruce could leave. The solution was obvious; Roy. Though the teenager was rebellious and…well, Roy, he had proven himself to be trustworthy multiple times. Besides, he was practically an older brother to Dick. He made a mental note to call the archer later.

Why did he already have the feeling that something was going to go wrong?


A/N ...Not exactly sure how this turned out; as I said before, I had a hard time writing this chapter. I practically had to force myself to write this...I hope it wasn't too terrible though.

Anyway, I'm really, really close to 500 reviews; if we could get there before the next update, that would be amazing. :D I'm also open to suggestions again; it can be as simple as one word, really. I do have some ideas, but I don't have much inspiration for any of them right now. So...ideas anyone?

Reviews are greatly appreciated!