Dick awoke a few short hours later to an empty bed. …Where did he go? his eyes narrowed as he sat up. The bathroom door's open. I guess he went downstairs, but… But that meant that he had to traverse the foyer by himself, and that was far from the first thing he wanted to do so early in the day. For all that his fear of the broad, empty space had waned somewhat over the past two days, he was still far less comfortable there than in the rooms beyond. No matter how frequently they passed in and out of the house, the entryway never felt like a spot where people had ever enjoyed themselves.
Nevertheless, he wanted to see Bruce more than he wanted to avoid the vestibule. That being the case, he extracted himself from the bed and shuffled down the corridor, arms crossed tightly over his stomach. Keeping his head bowed in a futile attempt to ignore the vastness of the grand entrance hall, he traversed the stairs, his pace quickening the closer he got to the featureless plain of marble at the bottom. Reaching it, he broke into a half-run and headed for the opposite side. Almost there, almost there, just…whoa!
He barely glanced up in time to see the billionaire step out of the passage that was his destination. His attempt to stop, while whole-hearted, was insufficient on the well-polished floor, and he slid into the man with a thump. Heavy hands gripped his shoulders, at first to keep him from falling in the aftermath of the collision and then simply because their owner wanted physical contact as he crouched before him. "…Bruce," the boy smiled. "I found you."
"I was just coming to get you. Alfred left us breakfast."
"…'Left us'?"
"He went to pick out a few tuxedos for you to try on and to check the fence after last night."
"Oh," he nodded. "So…breakfast?"
"In a second, yes. But first…why do you always seem like you want to run across the foyer?" His fear that someone might come to claim the boy was still echoing in his heart, right alongside his determination not to throw the child deliberately into the path of danger. The best way he could think of to make him want to stay even if he were to be given another opportunity at his old life – other than Batman's suggestion, which a night's sleep had forced him to recognize as a good idea, if only in theory – was to ensure that he became fully comfortable with the house as soon as possible. The entrance that seemed to terrify him so much seemed like as good a place to start as any.
"I…it's just really big," he answered lamely, looking away. "That's all."
"…Is that really all?" the man asked, fingers tightening slightly. There has to be more to it than that.
"It looks like a big, creepy mouth in here," he burst out suddenly before slapping a hand over his lips. "Oh, gosh, I didn't mean to say that out loud. Did…did I just insult your house?"
Bruce was laughing as he shook his head. "No, chum, you didn't insult the house. You just…pointed out something that I'd forgotten about."
"…Huh?"
"I used to feel the same way," he recovered. "It was a long time ago, of course, but…the chandelier's the teeth, right?"
Dick fidgeted, then nodded hesitantly.
"Yeah. I thought so. And the stairs are the tongue, and-"
"Stop," he whispered desperately. "Please?"
"…Sorry, kiddo," the billionaire apologized sincerely, wincing as he realized that he'd scared him. Understandable; having an adult validate what he's probably been trying to convince himself isn't a reasonable fear can't be helping. "I didn't mean to make it worse. But," he added, "I know how to make it better, too."
"Y-you do? How?"
"The same way Alfred made it better for me," he shared quietly. "I'm not supposed to tell anyone that he ever allowed this, but…when I was afraid of the foyer like you are now, he had a special trick that made it much less frightening."
"What was it?" the boy queried, eyes beginning to shine with interest.
Bruce glanced down and was pleased to see that the child had worn socks to bed. "You must be good at keeping your balance, right?" How could you not be?
"Yes."
"Okay. It's easy; just run out into the middle of the room, and then slide along on your socks. Start slow until you get the hang of it," he cautioned, envisioning a fall at high speed onto the unforgiving stone and shuddering.
"You…you want me to run inside the house, and then…just slide?" Dick gaped.
"Mm-hmm," a tiny grin tugged at his lips. "That's exactly what I want you to do."
That does sound like fun, but… He cast a nervous glance over his shoulder. Running into the center the way he'd been instructed to would put him right under the hundreds of glittering crystals that seemed ready to chomp down on anyone who dared pass beneath them, and as much as he wanted to please the man whose palms were still bleeding warmth into the base of his neck he wanted proof that it wasn't dangerous first. "Could…could you show me how?" he asked, gulping.
…You know how, kiddo. I know you do. "Dick, it's not going to hurt you. I promise." It was obvious that he wanted to believe him, but there was still a ghost of uncertainty behind his gaze. Well, I can't really blame him. I swore I wanted him, too, and then I ignored him only to reverse again. My track record for keeping promises is terrible right now; I wouldn't trust me, either. "…If I do it, will it help you trust me again?"
"I…I…yes," he blushed slightly, embarrassed to admit that his confidence in the man's word had slackened somewhat since the events of a few days before.
"Then that's reason enough for me." Standing, he kicked off the house slippers he'd been padding around in since he'd left the child fast asleep in his bed. Then he sent him a secretive look, pressed a finger to his lips, and took several fast steps. Halfway across the room he went into a slide, arms carefully extended to keep his balance. When he'd come to a halt, he turned back and put on an expectant expression. "…Well?"
The chandelier hadn't come crashing down to chew up the figure that had passed beneath it, much to Dick's relief. More importantly, he now had a target to aim for. He bit his lip for a second, then set his jaw, backed up a bit, and pelted towards the waiting man. As he went into his own glide, taking to the motion with a natural grace, a little giggle slipped through his lips. A second later he was lifted off the ground and spun around, and his laughter rose in volume. "…That's really fun," he confessed when he was set back down.
"You want to do it some more?" the billionaire asked, a glint of devilry in his eyes.
"Um…yeah," the boy nodded back eagerly. "I know Alfred will be super mad if he catches us, but…can we?"
"I don't see Alfred anywhere, do you?"
"No."
"Then I'd say go for it."
"…Will you do it with me?" he asked, offering his hand. "Together?"
The request drew a rare broad smile, and Bruce grasped the narrow fingers that had been extended to him. "Let's do this."
There was no telling how long they half-skated back and forth across the smooth floor, grinning at one another like fools and occasionally bursting into outright laughter when one had to save the other from drifting into a wall or taking a spill. Improvising tricks that they could only half-finish due to friction, they would likely have stayed entertained all day had a discreetly cleared throat not interrupted them.
"Oh, shit," Bruce exclaimed, straightening mid-slide and nearly crashing as a result.
"He means 'hi, Alfred,'" Dick covered for his guardian as he, too, came to a stop.
"…I'm certain he does, young sir. Thank you for the translation," the butler said drily, observing them from the doorway. "If I may inquire as to the purpose of this…activity?"
"Uh…"
"Bruce was helping me not be afraid of the foyer anymore," the boy piped up. "He thought if I had a little fun in here it wouldn't be so scary."
"I see." He raised an eyebrow, but a series of obviously restrained twitches about the corners of his mouth gave away his amusement. "And have either of you breakfasted?"
"We, uh…we got distracted," the billionaire explained.
"…Well, I suppose I'd best get to work reheating it for you, then, or else you won't have time to eat before you have to depart for your tuxedo fitting." With that, he crossed the room briskly, only pausing when he reached the hallway. He turned back to find both of his charges staring after him with confused looks. "…Carry on," he ordered with a wave of his hand, then continued on his way. A delighted giggle followed him into the kitchen, drawing a chuckle from his own throat as the door swung shut. It isn't the most civilized activity in the world, but if sliding across the vestibule in their socks is the worst trouble they get into I've really no cause for complaint. Besides…it did rather look like fun. He frowned. For children, he added hastily. Fun for children. And Master Wayne is exempt in this instance due to the fact that he was working to make the young sir more comfortable in the house and because of his own curtailed youth. Otherwise, of course, it is not a suitable undertaking for adults. Nevertheless, as he tucked two plates into the microwave he couldn't help but wonder what it was like to slip along the floor as the younger members of the household had been.
…I can't believe we didn't get chewed out. Hell, I don't even think he's going to lecture me later, Bruce thought as the kitchen door closed. A second later Dick slid into him, a happy smile plastered over his entire face. "…You get away with a lot, you know that?" he commented down at him.
"I guess. But…that means that you get away with a lot, too," the child replied slyly. "I know you had fun just now. I could hear you trying not to laugh."
"You could not," the billionaire challenged, fighting a smirk.
"Could too," he nodded.
"That's slander."
"Nuh-uh. Slander's when you say something bad that isn't true. What I said was true, and there's nothing wrong with laughing."
"…Did laughing make the entryway a little less scary?"
"Yes." He gazed around. "…It just feels like a room now. Maybe…maybe even a happy room."
"Good," Bruce said firmly, ghosting his hand over dark hair. A little victory, then. I'll take every one I can get. "…Come on, let's eat so we can get ready to go."
"Tuxedos?" he wrinkled his nose.
"Tuxedos," the man nodded. "But then toys."
"I have toys, though."
"Mm. You need more. Ask me."
"Well obviously I know what your answer would be…"
"Exactly. So there's no point in asking." When the boy gave him an unimpressed look, he sighed. "Just let me do this, okay?"
"It's weird for me, Bruce. I'm not used to have loads of money just spent on me."
"I know, but…" But it makes me feel so much better. "…Let's talk about it later. Alfred's waiting."
An hour and a half later found them standing in a private fitting room in what Dick had instantly gathered was an extremely expensive clothing store. Four suits were laid out before them, each looking just as uncomfortable as the others. "…Do you have a preference?" the billionaire asked him.
"Um…" Not to wear one, balanced at the edge of his lips. No, I can't say that. If I don't do this then I don't get to come up with a costume for Robin. That was the deal. "…I don't know. They're all okay, I guess. What do you think?"
Had the butler not picked out all four, the businessman would have been completely terrified that he would make a bad fashion choice for the child's society debut. As it was, however, he could be confident that any one of the ensembles he'd been presented with would be suitable. With the Englishman's early morning scouting putting his mind at ease, he chose based on the whim that struck as the youth tilted his face upward, his gaze mildly panicked but determined. "Put on the one with the blue vest and tie," he decided.
For the briefest of moments after Dick turned around fully dressed, Bruce allowed himself to pretend that he, not Alfred, was the one with fashion sense. The accent color made the boy's eyes stand out even more than usual, and the crisp black of the suit jacket deepened a faint duskiness in his complexion that the billionaire hadn't noticed before. He raised a hand to his mouth and tried to look pensive as he covered his delighted grin. You're going to slay them tonight. Let the paparazzi in; I want the whole world to see this.
"…What?" the miniature gentleman inquired warily, one hand rising as if to tug at his tie before falling back to his side with its mission incomplete. Every piece he'd tugged on had made him feel further removed from himself, as if the fine fabrics were chasing off the real Dick Grayson and replacing him with something else. "Does it look bad?" I don't belong in fancy clothes, he lamented. I don't know how to act in this. Crud. This was a bad idea…
"It doesn't look bad," the man soothed immediately. It looks fucking adorable, is what it looks like. I wonder if you'd blush if I told you that…no, I'll let everyone at the dinner tonight say it for me.
"It looks fabulous," the waiting tailor opined. "It needs taken in in about eight spots, but other than that…"
"It…I mean…it doesn't look out of place? On…on me?" It should, because this…this feels wrong.
Bruce, reading the look Dick was struggling not to let show, asked the other man to give them a minute. Closing the distance between himself and his ward, he knelt. "It's perfect," he said quietly, straightening the cloth that encircled his throat.
"…I feel like a fraud."
"You are not a fraud." Christ, you're nine years old. Most kids your age don't even know what that word means; how could you possibly be one? "You look like exactly what you are, Dick."
"There's no way I look like a circus kid in this stuff. I look…I look like the kind of people dad always used to make fun of," he closed his eyes miserably. "I look like the people he always said don't know what really matters in life. But…that's not what I want to be, Bruce. Is that what I already am? A…a fake?" I don't get it, though. It can't just be money that makes people fake, because you aren't like that. He wiped his suddenly-sweaty palms against his pants, his trapeze callouses catching slightly on the high-end weave. "I feel like I'm wearing a lie."
Ooh, boy. "…Sometimes," he started carefully, "you have to be a bit of a fake in order to protect what really matters. Sometimes you have to wear a lie to keep the truth from coming out."
His head snapped up at that. "You mean…?" he trailed off, leaving the question hanging in the hope of mutual understanding.
"Yes," he nodded, understanding what he was referring to. "Tonight, you're going to go to that dinner, in this suit, and you're going to do a bit of acting, Dicky. Just like I am. You're going to pretend to be pleased to meet a lot of people who will bore the hell out of you, and ninety nine percent of them are going to make some blithe comment about how well you clean up or ask you if you're grateful I took you in. I want you to do two things when that happens," he told him gravely.
"…What?"
"First, I want you to smile and give a polite, boilerplate response. While you're doing that, though, I want you to ignore what they're saying. Because they'll be wrong, chum. So very wrong. This suit doesn't make you look like a fraud, although you'll probably overhear some of them saying that, too. It makes you look like an intelligent, kind, eager person," he cupped his jaw. "Which is exactly what you are, even if they're all too stupid and self-absorbed to see it."
"…Is that how you see me, Bruce? I mean…honest and really?"
"Yes."
Lower lip trembling, Dick threw himself forward and wrapped his arms around the billionaire's neck. "Then I don't care what they think," he said in a tiny, determined voice.
"That's my boy," he murmured as he squeezed him. "And this won't be such a bad event to start out at; there's a little bit of social time, but a lot of the evening gets taken up with speeches and presentation of checks. I might drag you on stage with me at some point," he warned, "but we'll keep it short. Just think of it as another performance," he whispered. "Because that's all that these nights are; they're just an act for the cameras."
"…I know how to put on a show," came back in an equally low tone. "If that's what I have to do…I'm good at that."
"Show me tonight, then."
"I will." I'm going to make it my best performance yet, Bruce, he swore silently as they broke apart. Even if I do have to do it in this stupid tuxedo.
