A/N) Short as an elf.
Just needed airing out. Like a bridge to other shots.
Motivation is your Superpower
Dick goes flying across the Batcave for the hundredth time that night.
"Owww." He groans, face squished against the blue training mats.
"Again."
"But Bruce - u can't feel my . . . anything."
"I said. Again. Get up." Bruce's voice is firm and almost cold as the computers he stares at all the time.
Dick drags his weakened arms up and pushes, hands sore, muscles cramping all over and he shakes - he shales so bad. And falls flat on his face for his efforts.
"Owwww."
He can practically hear Bruce's exasperation.
"Dick - I told you, if you want to do this . . . you have to be prepared."
He's been saying that for six months. Dick's getting tired and antsy from it. He'd discovered Bruce was Batman six months ago. Tan he'd been an idiot and tried to go after Zucco himself, nearly got killed for it, and they didn't catch him either.
Bruce promised they would. When Dick was ready.
Well, Dick thinks he's ready. Bruce on the other hand keeps training him so hard he can hardly walk straight by the end of the day so he never has a chance to show Bruce how ready he really was.
"I'm just gonna take a breather s'all." Dick mutters against the mat.
He hears Bruce walks closer, his bare feet coming into view. "Fine, Alfred expects you upstairs anyway."
Dick groans in response.
Bruce heads off to take a shower.
Sometimes - Bruce's ability to turn everything, even the unexpected things, into routine, drives little Dick crazy. It's why he missed the circus so much most of the time. Because when he lived at the circus . . . nothing was the same, ever. Everyone did something different and you never know what'll happen on the road.
He misses the unpredictability.
Then he thinks of his parents and - he doesn't want to miss it anymore.
Slowly he pushes up, his limps ache and shake, he feels like a twizzler crossed with a fruit loop - ow. Man, Bruce sure pushes hard.
He takes the elevator upstairs.
Alfred has dinner and a smile for him. Dick feels better now, he has homework to catch up on after dinner and - and maybe the manor is starting to feel a tad bit like home recently.
Bruce comes upstairs, tank top and towel around his neck. He sits silently at the table, thanks Alfred for the food and proceeds on eating. Dick hides a grin and digs in heartily. He's been finding eating easier too lately. Maybe this training thing changed a lot of things for the better after all. And if he has to put up with a little pain for it - so be it.
At least now Bruce pays attention to him and grieving has gotten slightly less intimidating to deal with.