Author's Note: Thanks to all who reviewed last chapter. A special shout out to Smile, who earlier in this story criticized the treatment of Superman in the fandom over the issue. You have them to thank for the long chapter last time.
As promised, my Christmas fic, suggestion by xSapphirexRosesxFanx back in November and story drawn from We Love Our Two Dads, along with every other annoying Batman fic where a gala is involved.
This is one of my biggest pet peeves in Batman fanfic clichés. Makes me want to throw something.
Please review!
Disclaimer: How often did we get to see more than the "one-dimensional snotty rich character" in Batman comics? Other than Batman: The Animated Series, that is. None? Then all rights to Batman belong to DC Comics, Bob Kane and Bill Finger.
Dick looked at his reflection in the mirror and swallowed a few times, his mouth dry. Several months ago, his best outfit was a yellow sweater that was handknitted for him. Now, he was dressed in a tuxedo tailor made to his size, a blue sash-thing that he was told was a cummerbund, with his hair covered in gel and flattened into a pulp.
He always performed for an audience, but Dick always had the support of his family. He had his folks, his aunt, uncle, and John, who always ruffled his hair and told him stories about Robin Hood and Marian, his beloved – "bleah!" Dick would say, sick of hearing so many mushy romances – as they stood against King John and his minions.
Uncle Rick teased John for the stories, questioning them in detail – "How could a guy with a bow and arrows fight a scaly lizard who breathes fire and flies?", "There's a weak point that Robin Hood could get where the heart is, Pops" – and even adding a few of his own "interpretations" on the character at times. Aunt Karla would call it fanfiction, but Uncle Rick would always reply,
"Fanfiction is for people who love using whips and for anyone who thinks their original character would make everything perfect. I am simply creating stories that would fit the narrative. Unlike some people."
John and Dick checked on computers in libraries to find out what Uncle Rick meant and closed the windows several lines into a random story they found online.
"I'd give that story an F if I were a teacher." John muttered. "I can barely read it. This wouldn't make bunce if this idiot thinks they can sell this crap."
Every Christmas was spent in the barns somewhere where the snow couldn't reach. Dick forgot which state they were in during those months. He never saw snow until last week and thought it would have been nice if he and John could have gotten into a snowball fight with the other kids from the troupe.
Telling stories they would make up on the spot each year was always fun, even with the commentary from the others. Those were the types of gifts that the Graysons could give on Christmas; the gift of memory.
He didn't want to spend his first Christmas without his family here, Wayne Manor. He wanted to be with Uncle Rick, talk to him in the hospital, keep each other from going mad from solitude, try making up stories for each other. But there were appearances that had to be made, people that wouldn't want to be kept waiting, events that had to be attended.
There were times where Dick thought Bruce just didn't care, he seemed more focus on keeping up the "playboy" act than making sure Dick was alright. Dad used to describe some people as "a man of few words", and now Dick understood the meaning. Bruce barely said anything, and the words he said were never wasted. He preferred action over discussion, which irked Dick. He loved conversation, he didn't care what it was about – well, maybe a little bit – he just needed to speak.
Alfred was no better, even if he was more emotionally supportive than Bruce at times. He was the one to offer tea and biscuits or a supportive hand on the shoulder. Not Bruce, though.
Even when they were sparring, he always seemed distant. Blows barely grazed Dick, the movements mechanical, his passion for acrobatics ignored. It was like there was a fear that physical contact of any kind would be toxic.
There were odd moments where Bruce would forget about that idea he had in his mind about connecting and just…talk. Those times, both were able to share their pain,
Dick realized a month in that there wouldn't be much of this, and he didn't try crying over it. He felt lucky that someone would take him in, even if the foster home was decent enough. He almost wished he stayed there, at least some of the older kids didn't mind dealing with "babies." Some of them even let Dick vent about…that night…and would agree that Zucco ought to pay.
He tried not to cry again when Bruce came around about a week into his new "home" and said he would be staying with him.
Dick blinked, still seeing a nine-year-old boy in a tuxedo with his face through the looking glass. Was he actually wearing the outfit? He had been to at least five galas in similar attires, but he still couldn't believe it.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
"Master Richard, are you almost ready?" Alfred on the other side of the door, he knew that the old man would assume Dick was "primping" like he did with the first Robin outfit – Bruce took out the champagne when Dick decided no pants was a bad idea and went for an outfit that fit his Flying Grayson costume more closely – and check up to see if he was finished.
"Almost." Dick sighed. Time for another round of 'Let's Talk About the Charity Case' to start.
Bruce tried tuning out what Miss What's Her Face was saying, knowing she was going to say something trashy and blame it on the nonexistent alcohol.
"So, when are you going to dump the kid? You've got to be bored with him by now."
He was failing miserably.
He couldn't stand the way Dick didn't look at him, not even bothering to stay close to Bruce like he did the first couple times. The women that came towards him that time had the brilliant idea of shoving a little kid out of the way like he was a bother. Not even a minute later, Bruce had "accidentally" stepped on their feet and scrambled to find Dick, hearing from the poor kid the disgusting gossip about them.
"Honestly, they don't have something better to talk about?" Veronica Vreeland stirred her coffee aggressively the next day when Bruce mentioned it. "Like that red robot that can make twisters, for instance. That's good gossip. Not talking about some little kid that lost his family!"
She wasn't the only one thinking that, fortunately. During the galas attended, Bruce heard a mixture of good and bad conversation focused on the adoption.
"– he's so cute –"
"– what was Bruce thinking, taking in some circus freak –"
"– would you shut up, he's just a little kid –"
"– probably meant to be a toy –"
"– just hope that boy, Richard, is happy. If my kids were orphaned –"
Every time, Bruce would end up slapping his date for her cruel words. Usually when Dick was tucked in and wouldn't see a thing. Why couldn't they get the hint that Dick wasn't going anywhere?
This time, Veronica offered to be his date "as a favor to a friend", as she put it. And Bruce was thankful for that. Dick wasn't shying away from them and Veronica did her best to keep up a conversation with him. But even she wasn't excluded from tide of women who kept getting in-between Bruce and Dick, Bruce watched as she was physically pulled away from some of her "friends" who wanted to hear the latest dirt she might have had.
The noises were getting louder, Dick's hand was slipping from his grasp, the grip weak this time. Someone backed away when they saw his scowl. Sneers. Mockery. Dick willingly freeing himself from Bruce's grip, the sheer delight on some girl's face as she tries to swoop in and take Bruce somewhere else.
Blood boiling. Vision blacking out. Focus fading.
"– charity case –"
" – circus freak –"
"– boy toy –"
" – gypsy –"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Bruce roared, shoving away the latest batch of potential Mrs. Bruce Waynes and reached for Dick, wrapping his arms around him protectively and picking him up. Dick flinched and covered his ears, possibly thinking that there was going to be another explosion of anger.
He was right.
People began muttering about this update when Bruce let out a wordless shout, silencing them complete this time. Veronica used the opportunity to get away from her "friends" and stood by Bruce's side.
"Are you alright, Dick?" Bruce whispered. Dick slowly shook his head. Bruce combed a hand through his hair. "They're going to stop this time, I promise."
"They were..." Dick couldn't let the words free, his mouth failing. Veronica placed a hand on his shoulder protectively.
Bruce spoke quietly, but Dick could imagine a dog in his place, the tone threatening and growling.
"I don't want to hear another syllable about my kid! You want to talk about what I'm doing to him? Great, you just lost the business of Wayne Enterprises! Want to think I'm using him and then decide to flirt with me? Congratulations, now everyone in your circle will think you're dating a pedophile. Want to insult a little kid you barely know for no goddamn reason?"
Bruce held up his hand. "I think I made my point very precise a few times already."
Dick saw several women flinch and rub their faces.
"The next time I hear this crap out of anybody will lead to a discussion with my lawyers! GOT IT?!"
Veronica gently tugged his arm and pulled him away. "I think this is a good time to leave, Brucie. Merry Christmas!"
Her tone of voice was too cheerful. Those who weren't intoxicated felt their skin crawl.
"That was some party, wasn't it?" Veronica said as the limo came up to her mansion. "Thanks for being my date, Bruce. I'll come by tomorrow to drop something off. Merry Christmas, Dick."
She smiled at Dick, who gave a small grin back in appreciation.
The ride home was quiet. Dick started running up the stairs as soon as the door was opened. Bruce quickly followed. He made it to Dick's door right as it closed shut and waited a few minutes before knocking gently.
"Dick…I wanted to talk to you about earlier tonight…"
"Sir, I just received a call from Miss Carrie…I seem to have forgotten her name."
"Tell her I'm not interested." Bruce said, opening up the newspaper the next morning.
"It's not that, sir. She's not looking for another date, she's pressing charges for assault on her person and dress. Along with everyone else you've attacked over the past several months. She was passing the message along for everyone else, in case you were wondering."
"Then tell them I'm suing them for defamation of character and slander, then." Bruce didn't bother looking up from the newspaper he was reading. "And harassment, I saw some women trying to intimidate Dick and I have several witnesses that can attest to that. I have their names."
Alfred gaped. "B-b-but, sir. This problem will –"
"– be dealt with, but I'm not worrying about it." Bruce interrupted him. "I am sick and tired of everyone taking my decision out on Dick. And I'm sick and tired of Dick thinking that I don't care enough to do something about it."
"Then last night was….?" Alfred paused.
"The final straw and to show Dick that he's not a charity case."
"Well, then," Alfred turned around and walked over to the sink. "What does Master Richard think of the spectacle you put on?"
Bruce sighed. "I know what you're thinking, Alfred, I told him what I told you. He is a part of this family, and I am going to try harder to show it. I don't want him to have the same childhood I had…"
Alfred ducked his head, uncertain if Bruce was aware of the retort he made against him.
"Anything else, sir?" He asked quietly.
"He…called me Dad…well, actually, he called me Daddy." Bruce remembered how red Dick's face had gotten when he realized what just came out of his mouth. Today was going to be good, he just knew it. He promised Dick that there would be no planned events for today and it would be relaxing. Opening presents and watching some movies with popcorn. Dick asked if they could try telling each other stories later on; he added that they had to be improvised on the spot. His grin when Bruce said yes spoke volumes.
"Is it the best Christmas gift you've been given, sir?"
Bruce smiled, realizing for the for the first time that it felt real. "I think so."
Author's Note: I wish I had more time to work on this, but I kept getting interrupted and then I was talking to jettmanas through pms about beta reading – they've been helping me with grammar for the Child Prodigy rewrite – and then there were Christmas gifts to get and cookies to bake – yes, I baked a lot and I have improved on making sure the dough spread out this time – so I haven't had much time. I did say that this would be a short chapter, though.
I really hate gala chapters in Batman fics. They are always the same for the most part. Some bitches shove a young Dick away - as young as six, in some fics, even the ones I favorited - where he overhears people talking trash about him and when he is reunited with Bruce and tells him what he just heard loudly, Bruce doesn't call out anyone while people continue to whisper and they just leave. And nothing seems to change from that.
Also, why would everyone be talking trash about some little kid? There have to be some half-decent snobs in the crowd who know when to shut up. Pretty unrealistic as usual for the disapproval to be unanimous. I always imagined it would be a mixed bag when I was thinking of a Batman fic to write.
Bruce's actions might have been cathartic to me in this chapter, but I should have realized a long time ago that he would have faced actions for that behavior. Which turned into a reconstruction on the consequences…he just wouldn't care. A Young Justice incarnate of Batman is supposed to be a better parent somewhat, so he should be able to demonstrate better empathy.
And why would he never suspect that Dick would become apathetic to him for not doing anything about it in his eyes? These writers online seem to forget that children aren't diabetes-infecting creatures, they are people too with feelings and depth. I can see Dick becoming extremely resentful to Bruce, almost like Jason, if any of these clichés were to happen and Bruce did nothing to protect him. No way there would be a loving relationship after that.
As always, please review and be sure to add stuff on the TV Tropes page, it needs love. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!