The Wonders of Paint

Alexnandru Van Gordon

Yeah…I know. I've been addicted to this because of my sister. Actually, I got the idea for this one out of an incident that happened to me—almost exactly as I'm about to write it. But, of course, I don't live in Gotham and I'm not adopted…Just read it.

DISCLAIMER: Okay, in my other stories, and in all their chapters, I write a different disclaimer. But from now on out, I'm just going to tell you I don't own them!

Important: Same Robin (Richard), same age, and same time—the beginning of summer when he just got out of school. All the "fun" (troublesome) stuff happens when kids have time on their hands, and what better time is there than that of summer?...

Let's go—

Okay…so he was bored. What else was new for a nine-year-old kid who was stuck in a mansion? Ebony was asleep on his lap, Bruce was in the downstairs office working (with the door locked and closed, no less), and Alfred was out in the garden. Truthfully, Richard didn't know Alfred was also the gardener, but good old Al usually did it for some fresh air and the excuse to walk among the green scenery. Richard wanted to help, but of course…the hose got knotted, he tried to fix it while it was on and…Basically, by Bruce and Alfred both, he was under house arrest until tonight's patrol.

Now it was two…six more hours…

Six was too large a number. He needed something to do—he needed to make up all his trouble to Alfred.

Picking up the small kitten, he laid her over his shoulder and she fell back asleep without any protest whatsoever. Then he started out into the kitchen in search of Alfred's To-Do list which he kept pinned on the side of the top cabinets. He had to climb onto the counter to get it, but it was worth his time.

It was basically all the hard things he "couldn't" do...Vacuuming was out of the question because that thing was uncontrollable. It was heavy—and he could stand heavy—but it was so tall and awkward to handle. He'd probably end up breaking something…There was dusting—and he could do that—but not only did he despise it (having to do it whenever he was bad); Alfred had already checked it off the list. There were the dishes…but those were finished too…Fixing…he he he—he'd probably end up breaking something, so No…Painting…

Painting over the old cabinet? It must have been that ruined thing in the back that Alfred was boarding back together. It must have brought back old memories for either Alfred or Bruce to keep it around.

He shrugged—he could paint. He helped in the circus when they made signs and displays.

Re-pinning the list to the upper cabinet, he place Ebony on the counter and jumped down to the floor, racing down the back hall which held all the closets. Ebony was hot on his heels but kept her distance from him when he opened the first closet door he found and looked up to see the paint on the highest shelf.

Yay…more climbing…Not that he was afraid of heights…but he doubted the shelves could hold any new weight.

Well—he was light.

Starting up, he moved quickly until his hand reached the second last shelf from the top. This creaked and began to splinter down the center. This one held the paint, but…

Releasing his grip on the shelf, he jumped down and dodged aside just as the shelf collapsed. An old can of paint fell to the second shelf and tipped over, all the contents falling to the floor…and Richard.

Eyes closed, he wiped his face before shaking out his hands. From head to toe he was covered in a deep, rich colour of red, the same colour that was on the walls in Bruce's office.

Ebony meowed, sitting a safe distance away from the growing puddle of what looked—a lot like—blood. She sniffed it once before recoiling and adding more distance between her and the paint. Bruce was merciful when it came to sneaking pets into the house, but how was he going to deal with paint on the floor? It would take a long while to wash this mess up.

Sighing heavily, he picked up the empty paint can as it rolled from the shelf to the ground, reading the front to see what type it was. It was oil based, so that meant he needed something like Turpentine…and where was that.

Looking around in the shelf, he found on the ground level that there was a clear jug of what read as Turpentine. It had a weird little symbol of a pirate flag, and what was that supposed to mean?

Richard ignored it and opened the lid. It was pretty heavy and he didn't want to spill it—

…But he did…

Half the contents were gone before he could tilt it back up, an odd scent in the air that was giving him a headache now that it was everywhere. But at least it was moving the paint, and that meant he could wash himself off with the stuff too—hopefully before either Alfred or Bruce noticed the mess.

Judging by the scent, he'd have to hurry.

Looking himself over, he noted what a mess he would make of the rug if he walked around just as he was. So, staying on the washable floor, he trailed down the hall to the far closet where all the older rain clothes were kept. From here he took his rubber boots, an old trench coat that just touched the ground when it hung from his shoulders, an old cowboy looking hat, and a pair of gardener gloves to hide the paint covering the whole of his body. But…He grabbed a dark green scarf to wrap around his face, hiding what paint he had there. Hopefully no one saw any paint he was trying to hide.

Thinking things over, he decided that he needed to clean up first in case he was called. Alfred wouldn't go into the hall until he was done gardening, so that would give him time, and Bruce rarely went into the hall—he didn't have any business there.

Grabbing the bottle of Turpentine, he started his trek for the upstairs washroom.

-B-

The smell was overwhelming and he couldn't stand it. He recognized it as both paint and…Turpentine was he second guess. Alfred must have spilt something when he was getting the paint for the old cabinet. It was supposed to be a surprise for Richard, but with him in the house and with a scent that strong, it wouldn't be long before the child went out to find trouble…

Leaving his work at the desk, he stood and opened the door to his office. Alfred would need his help and—

He froze in his tracks, slightly startled by the sight of someone short wearing a trench coat, cowboy hat, scarf, gardener gloves and rubber rain boots in the main entrance as they carried a heavy jug of something with them toward the stairs. Obviously Bruce wasn't seen and he was slightly grateful for that…he was finding it hard not to laugh.

That had to be Richard—and what exactly was he doing?

Waiting until the boy was up the stairs. Bruce strode back toward the way he came to the old hall. The scent was heavy there and he was sure the boy had something to do with it—

He caught his balance just in time and leaned against the wall. He saw that paint, but it was the clear Turpentine that he missed in the darkness. It was now quite apparent that Richard had something to do with this—he was the one probably trying to clean up the mess.

Then what was he carrying?

Turpentine, maybe?...

Oh God.

Startled, Bruce ran back the way he came and dashed up the stairs to the upper floor. Richard had the bathroom door opened and Bruce could hear the bath water running. He just hoped to God that Richard didn't jump in before he got there.

Sliding to a halt in the doorway, the dressed up figure had his back to the door, the jug of Turpentine in his hands—pouring it out into the bath.

"Richard!"

The boy, startled, dropped the jug into the bath and almost fell after it before Bruce caught him from behind. Lifting the boy up and placing him back on the floor besides him, he leaned into the tub and turned off the taps before staring down at his ward.

The extremely small figure was staring at the ground, the rim of his hat hiding his face successfully. The boy probably thought Bruce was angry at him—and he had to admit he was a little upset that the boy was fooling around with the paint—but he was more worried than anything else, and most certainly glad the kid didn't dive into a tub full of poison. If he had gotten even the slight bit in his eyes or mouth…the list went on.

"Sorry…" Richard whispered; his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to make a mess, but I know paint is hard to get out."

"You'd kill yourself with the Turpentine, and besides—I'm sure you didn't get too much on you."

Richard shook his head, still refusing to look up at his surrogate father. "Uh-uh!"

"Uh-huh." Bruce corrected and swiped the hat off his head. "You can't be that—"

Okay…so maybe the kid was right.

Red paint too…looked like he had a blood bath.

Bruce ran a hand through Richard's short sticky hair before pulling the scarf down from his mouth. Luckily, only the right side of his face was covered…but what about the rest of him.

Bruce assisted his ward with taking off the trench coat, gardener gloves and boots; tisking when he saw exactly "how much" had gotten over Richard. The boy could have jumped into a pool of the stuff for all he knew. Wouldn't have made much of a difference anyway…

"Sorry…"

Bruce shook his head, trying to think of what to do. "Well, Alfred is going to have a hay-day with you…"

"No!" The boy squeaked. "Please don't tell Alfred! He'll ground me!"

"And I won't?"

Richard reached out to touch Bruce—but the man stepped back quickly. The boy was grinning. "I'll get you messy." He warned.

Bruce tried to look serious…but had to crack a small smile. "You can try."

And then he was out the door, Richard keeping a steady pace behind him. His first instinct was to get outside, lead Richard to Alfred which was as good as No-Man's Land, but, of course, the quickest way was the dark hall—which he forgot was filled with spilt paint.

Not seeing the puddle until it was too late, he tried to regain his balance as he slid forward like ice, finally slipping too far forward and falling sideways onto his right hips. It was a little painful…but he was more worried about the red paint soaking into his clothes.

Richard, almost forgetting too, slid forward but prevented himself from falling. Being an ex-acrobat, he had all the balance in the world.

Stopping beside Bruce, the man grabbed Richard's left leg and pulled him down into the mess with him. The boy, in protest, splashed up some of the paint toward the cleaner half of Bruce's suit.

"Master Bruce?"

Boy and father halted in the activity, the door at the far end of the hall opening up to the like to show the silhouette of someone entering. Apparently, Alfred didn't see them just quite yet.

"Bye." Richard whispered, quickly jumping to his feet and sliding expertly down to the other end of the hall. He was around the corner before Bruce could stand himself, and by then Alfred had spotted him.

"Master Bruce, what in heaven's name happened here!"

Bruce rubbed the back of his head nervously—getting paint in his hair at the act. "It was Richard." Was the only thing he could come up with to say.

"A most likely story…" Alfred tsked with a shake of his head, reaching into the opened closet for the mop hidden on the side. This he handed to Bruce. "Blaming something like this on a small boy—really, Master Bruce…"

Shocked, he stood there stunned for a moment. "What! I'm telling the truth!"

"I know, sir." Alfred said with a small—omniscient—smile, and he headed down the hall. "I suppose Master Richard is in a mess as well—did you see where he went."

"No, but when you do see him tell him he has to come back here and help me with this."

"I think you can handle that on your own." Alfred said, not bothering to look over his shoulder at Bruce. But Bruce knew he was still smiling. "I think it's about time you got out from that office. Leave the back door opened to air out the hall please, sir."

"And what about Richard? Is he getting out of this?"

"I think a bath is all he'll have to deal with. Make sure you clean up right away sir—that Turpentine will begin to burn after a while."

Staring at his butler's back he waited until he was out of sight before beginning to mop up the mess. He'd need a bucket…

Ebony, sitting at the end of the hall, meowed and laid down, staring at him with content.

"Ya ya—I know." He muttered to the kitten. "But just you wait and see, I'll get my revenge…"

-A-

In the next chapter you get to see his revenge, so don't worry about having to guess or never know the awful things Bruce can do without having to dress up like a bat to do them. I had a similar incident…and I actually ended up bathing in watered down Turpentine. Your skin does burn…and I won't go any further. Just remember to never let wet paint dry on you or your clothes—it'll soak through them and stain your skin! The pain! Ack!

You'll see me really soon with part two,

Alexnandru Van Gordon