A/N HAPPY NEW YEAR! :D

When Dick lived at the circus, he had loved watching his parents practice their routines and helping them prepare for performances. Now that he lived at The Manor, he jumped at the chance to help Bruce prepare for patrol or work.

He would often sit somewhere in the room and give his adopted father a possible rundown of his day. At first, it had been a strange ritual for Bruce, having this little boy so excited to be around him, but now it was actually quite a comfort.

This morning Dick sat on the closed toilet seat of the master bathroom chatting away as Bruce slathered on his shaving cream. The boy paused for a moment as his adopted father pulled out his razor. He'd seen his Tati shave back in their trailer, but he hadn't had as many fancy tools as Bruce.

"Can I try?" Dick asked excitedly. Bruce glanced from the boy to the blade in his hand. Dick handled the sharpened edges of batarangs in The Cave all the time, but somehow it didn't feel right to have him messing with a razor just yet. "I don't think so Dick. I don't want you getting hurt."

"Please? I'll be real careful Bruce, I promise." The little boy begged, scrambling from where he sat to pull at the hem of the grownup's shirt. "Maybe when you're a bit older." Bruce told him and continued to prepare for his day while Dick watched in disappointed silence.

III

"Alfred, have you seen Dick this morning?" Bruce asked the following day at breakfast.

Dick had a ravenous appetite for such a little boy and was usually at the table when Alfred presented breakfast. Granted, they had had a late night as Batman and Robin, but even so, the smell of fresh pancakes should have aroused him.

"Master Dick appears to be sleeping in this morning. But if he does decide to make his appearance, I trust you are capable of operating the microwave so that he may enjoy a warm meal." Bruce rolled his eyes good naturally at the older man's insinuation and went to look for his son.

Dick wasn't in his room or his bathroom. Nor was he in the living room, game room, movie room. After not finding him in The Batcave, Bruce was seriously considering calling Commissioner Gordon to report a kidnapping.

Suddenly a scream rang through the halls of The Manor from the one room he had not thought to search. Bruce charged up the stairs to the master bedroom and burst into the bathroom.

There was Dick, standing on his step stool in front of the sink, holding Bruce's razor. His other hand was extended over the basin, a bleeding gash over his palm.

"Richard John Grayson-Wayne, look what you've done!" Bruce yelled. "I specifically told you just yesterday not to touch my razor for this exact reason!" Bruce snatched up a hand towel and pressed it to Dick's palm before roughly scooping him up and marching down to The Cave.

Other than Dick's whimpering and sniffling, the two of them sat in silence as Bruce cleaned and stitched the cut. "Hold still Richard." Bruce grunted when Dick flinched from the antiseptic. Dick swiped at his nose with his free hand and mumbled an apology.

"Honestly, Dick, why didn't you just listen to me? I told you I'd teach you how to shave when you're older." Bruce sighed as he finished the suture.

"Tati said he'd show me when I got big but now he's gone." Dick said softly. "You get to shave now, and I don't wanna lose another Daddy before I can do all the cool stuff. I just wanted to be like you."

Bruce froze at those words. Dick had already had a father, and Bruce by no means thought he was any kind of adequate substitute. Yet still here was this little boy looking up to him, trying to be like him.

Bruce finished packing up the medical supplies before scooping Dick back up in his arms, gentler this time, and carrying him back upstairs to the kitchen. He sat Dick down on the counter for a moment while he began digging in the freezer.

After a little while, he pulled out a popsicle and handed it to Dick. "Don't tell Alfred." Bruce winked, and Dick grinned.

Once the boy had finished his forbidden treat, Bruce carried him back up to the master bathroom and stood him on his step stool. "What're we gonna do?" Dick asked. In answer, Bruce pulled out his shaving cream and applied a light layer to Dick's chin and cheeks. He then pulled out the popsicle stick and placed it in Dick's hand.

"You really wanna learn how to shave?" He asked, and Dick nodded excitedly. Bruce took his little boy's hand in his own and gently began guiding his no-cut razor along his face. When there was no more cream left, the two Wayne men looked at their reflections, smiling back at them.

"There's my handsome little Dickiebird." Bruce praised softly. "Bruce?" Dick whispered as if speaking louder would make the entire scene disappear. "I like having you as my Daddy." Bruce practically beamed at his son's words and squeezed him tight to his chest. "I like having you as my son."


"Where's Bruce?" A thirteen-year-old Dick asked as he and Jason sat down to breakfast that morning. "Master Bruce is in the Batcave and has requested that you meet him there after you've had your breakfast." Alfred reported as he placed the boys' plates in front of them.

"Ooo Dickie's in trouble." Jason sang smugly. "Am not." Dick retorted, although he suddenly had a guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach.

With two rambunctious young boys, Bruce often stressed that The Cave was a place for serious things. In the past, when the boys were in trouble, they would receive their punishment in their rooms or Bruce's office if they'd particularly screwed up. If Bruce wanted to talk in The Cave, it couldn't be anything good.

The rest of breakfast consisted of Jason suggesting all manner of atrocities his brother could have committed and the punishments they would warrant while Dick tried to pry information out of Alfred. "Master Bruce was quite adamant that he be the one to speak with you on this matter." Was all the old butler would say.

Dick tried to ignore Jason's provocative chatter as they headed for the grandfather clock. Bruce was waiting for them in the vehicle bay with a stone-cold look on his face.

Dick swallowed hard as he stood in front of his mentor. Whatever he'd done, he'd own it and take his punishment. What he would not do is give Jason the satisfaction of seeing him squirm.

"Dick, I'll admit I wasn't thrilled when you chose to become Nightwing." Bruce started, not even giving the boys a chance to ask what this was about.

"But even I have to admit that you've done good work. However, you're not being as efficient as you could be with Batman having to chaperon all your missions. With that said…" Bruce paused for a beat to pull a clicker out of his pocket.

Both boys' eyes grew wide as a black motorcycle with blue decals pulled to a stop beside the Batmobile. "No way." Dick breathed as he took tentative steps towards the still revving bike. "This bike is for Batman sanctioned missions only." Bruce warned. "I expect you to be responsible with it."

"I will! I promise! Thanks Bruce, you're the best!" Dick cheered, throwing his arms around his mentor for a moment before running to examine his newest toy. As Bruce reveled in his older son's delight, he felt a tugging at the hem of his shirt.

"Where's mine Daddy?" Jason asked, looking up at him with exuberant eyes. Bruce winced internally. He should've known Jason would want his own motorcycle after seeing Dick's. "Sorry Bluejay, but you've still got a ways to go before you go on solo patrols."

"No fair. I wanna bike too" Jason huffed and folded his arms. "You'll have your own soon enough." Bruce promised, before ruffling his little boy's hair and heading upstairs.

III

With Bruce handling business at Wayne Enterprises, Alfred overseeing the gardening crew, and Dick talking to his friends on his phone, Jason had no problem sneaking down to The Cave unnoticed.

There in the vehicle bay was Dick's new bike, which he already affectionately named the Wingcycle. The clicker remote was predictably in the front of Nightwing's utility belt. Jason wasted no time snatching it and pulling himself onto the motorcycle's seat.

Aside from a few obviously custom modifications, the controls looked just like the ones on the motorbike games at the arcade. Jason grinned. If he couldn't have his own bike, he saw no harm in taking Dick's for a spin.

He scooted forward, trying to reach the handlebars from where he sat. Just he managed to grab on, he felt the bike tip sideways and moments later was pinned by its weight.

iii

Dick knew something was off the moment he realized he'd been talking to Wally for an hour without Jason barging in once. After not finding his younger brother in his room or raiding the kitchen for treats, Dick headed down to The Cave to check for whatever trouble Jason could have gotten into.

The older boy laughed out loud as he spotted his brother trapped under the Wingcycle. "Having fun?" Dick teased as he loomed over. "Just lemme up Dickhead." Jason snarled. Dick obliged and propped his bike back on its kickstand.

"You better not have scratched it." He scolded, and Jason glaired. "How come Nightwing gets a stupid bike and Robin doesn't?" He growled. "Maybe cause Nightwing doesn't still need training wheels." Dick joked, and Jason turned his back moodily.

Dick sighed. He got it. It couldn't have been easy for Jason to see him get such a cool gift. There had to be a way to make his little brother feel better.

"Go suit up." DIck instructed. "What for?" Jason huffed, glancing over his shoulder. "Just do it. And grab a helmet." Dick smirked. Jason grinned. This was going to be fun.

III

Nightwing tore through the back allies of Gotham, with Robin clutching him with fearful excitement. The Wingcycle handled like a dream, and Nightwing even got the courage to pop a few wheelies just to hear his brother squeal.

The young vigilantes were both laughing as they pulled back into The Cave but fell silent when they spotted their mentor glairing them down.

Bruce didn't say a word. He merely stuck out his hand for the clicker, which Nightwing immediately handed over. Then with a look that could freeze blood, he pointed a stern finger to the manor stairwell. Both boys changed out of their costumes as fast as humanly possible and dashed up to the sanctity of their rooms.

iii

Bruce was still in The Cave when Jason snuck back down hours later, and by the sound of his grumbling, he was still mad.

"Daddy?" He called softly and made himself stand his ground when Bruce turned around with a furious glair. "I tried to steal Dickie's bike so you would see that I could handle my own." Jason admitted. "Dickie was just trying to make sure I didn't get hurt."

Bruce ran a hand through his hair. "You know you're in trouble, right?" Jason nodded and headed back upstairs.

Bruce shook his head at it all. Jason had only been trying to be like his big brother, and Bruce could hardly fault Dick for trying to be a good one.


Batman had always been protective of his third Robin. Tim was smaller and more fragile than his brothers, and Bruce was always worried about him. Which was why Tim now sat in front of the Batcomputer wrapped in a blanket with a runny nose.

It was just the sniffles, but Bruce had insisted that the youngest vigilante stay in for the night lest the rainy night of Gotham turn his sniffles into the flu. Tim was far from pleased, but with no veto power in the situation, he resigned himself to monitoring the night's activities.

The sound of a revving engine caught the boy's attention, and Tim turned to find Red Hood pulling into The Cave on his motorcycle.

"Jason!" Tim cried excitedly as he hopped up from his seat and ran to meet his brother. "Hey Timmy. How ya feeling?" Jason greeted as he dismounted and took off his helmet. "I'm fine and could've gone on patrol." Tim muttered.

Jason ruffled the boy's hair good-naturedly. "Let the old man worry for one night. You'll be back out there in no time." With that, Jason went to rinse off, and Tim went back to the monitor. He yawned uninterestedly at the data on the screen.

Usually, he would have been happy to analyze it, especially if Bruce was there with him, but he just couldn't seem to get into it tonight. He was restless. He needed action. Tim got up and began strolling around The Cave, looking for anything more invigorating.

As he walked past the costume display cases, he noticed Red Hood's discarded uniform in a heap on the floor. Tim sighed as he began to collect them. Jason was messy and rarely put his things away unless Bruce or Alfred was nearby to scold him.

As he picked up the leather jacket, Tim heard the hard clunk of something metal hitting The Cave floor. One of Red Hood's guns.

Bruce and Jason disagreed on a lot of things, but they did have a compromise that Jason would secure all firearms on returning to The Cave. The rebellious older boy had clearly forgotten that tonight.

Tim picked the gun up and weighed it in his palm. The cold metal felt odd in his grasp, like the feeling of holding something he knew was forbidden. He held it out in front of him like he'd seen Jason do.

It wasn't as comfortable as his bow staff be still Tim felt a twinge of confidence. He began stalking around The Cave in the way he'd seen on cop shows. In his mind, at this moment, he was the Red Hood. A fearless vigilante. His own hero. Courageous, brave, bold, and…

"What are you doing?!" The sudden yell sent Tim into a panic, and without thinking, he pulled the gun's trigger and dropped to the floor at the sound of the shot.

The bullet ricocheted off support beams before getting lodged in the stone walls. After a few beats of silence, Tim dared to peak up out of his fetal position and saw Jason glaring down at him.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" He snapped venomously. "You know better than to mess with a loaded gun. You could've killed one of us! And you know who Bruce would blame? Me, Replacement! Damn it, what is wrong with you?"

"I-it was an ac-acident." Tim whimpered, trying and failing not to break down into tears. Jason's anger disappeared at the sight of his little brother crying. "Oh, don't cry Babybird." He sighed as he sank to the floor, scooped Tim into his lap, and held him close.

The poor boy was still shaking from shock, and he had gone and made it worse with his yelling. "It's ok. We're all ok. You just scared me."

"I-I didn't mean to." Tim sniffed, and Jason pulled him closer. "I know you didn't. I shouldn't have left a loaded gun lying around." They sat there for a while, waiting for both of their hearts to stop racing.

"What were you doing, Timmy?" Jason asked after a while. Tim didn't answer at first but then dared to look up at his brother. "I was playing Red Hood." He admitted and waited for Jason to start laughing at the absurdity.

Instead, Jason just blinked at him. "Really?" He asked, and Tim nodded shyly. The older boy couldn't wrap his head around the idea. Tim was smart and kind and good at just about everything, and yet he was pretending to be Jason, the self-proclaimed family screw-up.

"Yeah, he's cool." Tim continued. "He's not scared of anything and gets to go on missions all by himself." Jason felt his heart swell with pride at this. "Well, if you wanna be like Red Hood, you should at least know how to shoot straight." Jason declared, setting Tim on his feet and pulling him towards the shooting range Bruce had put in just for him.

III

Like most things, Tim was a fast learner. By the time Jason called it a night, the younger boy was hitting slow-moving targets. "Ya know, Timmy," Jason started as the two of them headed upstairs to bed. "I'm glad you like Red Hood but don't forget, Robin is pretty cool too."

Tim beamed at the praise. He was glad to be cool like his big brother.


Damian's fingers flew furiously across the keys of the Batcomputer. Had he been a cartoon, smoke would have been billowing from his ears. He was livid and pitied the source of his rage.

Julien Kesler, a midyear transfer to his fourth-grade class, was an insufferable know-it-all. The boy had spent the whole day spewing falsehoods, and the rest of his class, like contemptible sheep, had taken every word as gospel. And on top of it all, every time Damian had tried to present reason, Kesler had dismissed him.

The boy claimed his parents were well-established professors at Gotham University and were knowledgeable on all manner of subjects. In fact, he claimed to come from a long line of academics, thus making him more of an authority than the businessman's bastard.

Well, of course, this would not stand. The moment Damian got home, he was in The Cave, looking for Julien's family history and any inconsistencies that would allow for his destruction the next day.

Unfortunately, two hours of pouring through Batman's databases had proved fruitless, which only made Damian more furious. He was the son of the world's greatest detective. If he couldn't find this supposedly well-known family, how could he be a worthy heir?

As he began to analyze what he already knew for the hundredth time, he heard a pointed cough from behind. "Shove off Demond Brat. It's my turn." Tim said crossly. Damian turned his eyes back to the screen. "To my knowledge Drake, Cave equipment is first-come, first-serve unless requested by Father."

"Well, I have actual cases to work on." Tim countered. "I think that beats your game of stalker." Damian spun around to glair at his brother. "I am on a mission to destroy an enemy. That takes precedence over whatever so-called contributions you were planning to make."

Tim glanced over at the screen. "Well, if you're trying to find a civilian, you're doing it wrong." The older boy reached across his younger brother and made a few keystrokes.

"The Batcomputor only saves the data of people with criminal records. Civilian records would be in City Hall's database protected by several firewalls." Damian grimaced. This presented a problem. "Not that I care, but why do you want to destroy this kid anyway?"

Damian crossed his arms and slumped down in his seat. "He takes joy in belittling me and my superior knowledge." He muttered.

Tim frowned slightly. While Damian pretended not to give two bat craps about what anyone thought of him, the truth of the matter was that he was insecure. While they didn't always get along, Tim was hardly the kind of big brother that let someone pick on his little brother and get away with it.

"Want some help?" Tim offered. "I suppose your technological knowledge could be useful." Damian relented. Tim gently nudged Damian over so they could both sit in the chair, and the two got to work digging up dirt on Julien Kesler.

III

Tim really was good at what he did. In an hour, they had not only found out everything there was to know about Julien but had found his family history going back four generations.

As it turned out, his parents had been employed at the university but had recently been dismissed for stealing the work of several highly noted professors. In fact, it seemed Julien's entire family were suspects of several white-collar crimes. Even his admission to Gotham Academy looked to be the result of blackmail.

"I'm sure Commissioner Gordon will find these files very interesting." Tim smirked as he prepared the anonymous tip. "Well, with Kesler's life upended, I suppose you may use the Batcomputer for whatever nonsense you were planning." Damian said briskly and headed for the manor.

As he reached the stairs, however, he stopped. "Drake… Tim…"

"You're welcome Dami." Tim smiled. Damian nodded and continued on his way. Even for all their quarls, he had to admit he was lucky to have a brother like Drake.


Bonus Part

Nine-year-old Bruce wandered aimlessly through Wayne Manor until he found himself in the kitchen. Alfred stood at the stove, his back to the boy as he pulled himself up onto a barstool.

The old butler didn't mind his company. He much preferred it to worrying about the kinds of trouble the young master could be getting himself into.

Bruce watched his caretaker work for a while but soon let out an exaggerated sigh. "Is there a problem Master Bruce?" Alfred asked, still focused on the meal he was preparing. "I'm so bored Alfred." Bruce huffed, tipping his head back as far it could go.

"Master Bruce, how can this possibly be so when you have the entire product line of Gotham Toys in your playroom?" The butler inquired pointedly. "I've been through all that stuff." Bruce replied. "Besides, half of it's no fun unless there's someone else to play with."

"Then perhaps I should call some of your schoolmates over for the afternoon." Alfred suggested placing a warm cookie and a cold glass of milk in front of his charge. Bruce looked down and began drawing absent circles in the condensation of the glass.

"They don't really like me." He mumbled. "No one want's to come over since…." The boy trailed off and the two let the silence sit for a while.

Alfred felt for the boy. The last year had been an epic trial. He had done his best to be a caretaker, but now at this moment, he saw what this boy needed was a friend.

"Come along Master Bruce. I'm sure there must be a chess set in your arsenal of playthings." Alfred said with certainty as he turned off the stove and headed for the door. Bruce hopped down from his stool but didn't follow.

"But aren't you busy?" He asked, a bit guilty. Alfred turned and gave his young charge a firm but gentle look. "I assure you, Master Bruce. You will always be my first priority."

Bruce smiled a full smile and ran to catch up with the only friend he'd ever need.