This story was inspired by a prompt (#2104) I found on Tumblr by promptsforthestrugglingauthor.
TW: Mention of canon character death, anxiety, panic attack, grief, unhealthy eating habits, and (spoiler) character fainting.
Disclaimer: I don't own any DC characters. The song featured in this story is "You've Got a Friend" by James Taylor and Carole King. The lyrics of the song are in italic and in quotation marks; I don't own the rights to that song.
The noise that woke Bruce from his sleep didn't initially worry him. He'd always been a light sleeper and even the subtle sounds of rain falling on the window or the creaking sounds of the Manor's foundation settling woke him up.
So, what actually worried him about the noise was how loud it had been. It also stood out as odd since Bruce couldn't pinpoint the sound's origin.
He'd only returned from patrolling Gotham less than an hour ago; was it worth getting out of bed to investigate? His body said no, but his mind said yes. Before crawling into bed, he'd double-checked that every door and window was locked. If the noise was caused by an intruder, one of Bruce's numerous alarm systems would have already alerted him to their presence. Bruce so desperately wanted to ignore the logical side of his brain; he had to be up early to take Dick to an appointment with his social worker.
Holy shit. How could Bruce have forgotten?
Dick, the young orphan he'd taken in a couple of weeks ago, was sleeping in the bedroom across from his. The loud noise had definitely come from the boy's room. And the silence that now filled the darkness of the night had Bruce jumping out of his bed faster than Superman himself.
Making the executive decision that there was no time to grab his robe or slip on his slippers, Bruce threw open the door to his bedroom and sprinted to the room across the hall.
Within seconds, Bruce was standing in Dick's bedroom. Luckily, after two years of operating as Batman, his eyes had already adjusted to the darkness. Bruce was immediately able to tell that Dick wasn't in his bed. The elephant-themed sheets Alfred had bought Dick upon his arrival at the Manor were now crumpled in a pile on the hardwood floors.
Bruce redirected his gaze to the only, although faint, source of light in the darkness of the room. There was a light on in the adjoining bathroom. There weren't any signs in Dick's room to hint at what was going on which made the silence grow more concerning as the seconds ticked by.
Bruce needed to make sure Dick was okay. He knew that something wasn't right. He frantically knocked on the door to the bathroom.
"Dick? Are you okay?" Bruce asked, trying to keep his panic at bay. But when Dick didn't answer, that panic surged through his entire body. "I'm coming in."
As Bruce opened the door and stepped into the bathroom, the source of the noise that had woken him was immediately obvious. There were large shards of glass all over the porcelain floor.
But solving that mystery did nothing to calm his fear. Because what Bruce saw next was truly horrifying. Dick was laying unconscious on the floor. He was slouched over in a strange manner, with his forehead resting on the fluffy blue rug Alfred had put in front of the sink to brighten the room.
Bruce felt himself slipping into Batman mode; it was the only way to keep the panic at bay as he ran to Dick's side.
Batman needed to find out what had happened. Had Dick had a seizure? Had he fainted? Or had he slipped and fallen while grabbing something to drink and then knocked himself out when he hit the ground? Because of a possible neck or head injury, Batman knew he shouldn't move Dick. So, the first thing he needed to do was check Dick's vitals and determine if he was injured.
Kneeling down, Batman gently placed his fingers on the side of Dick's neck. He meticulously counted the beats he felt in the next minute; Dick's pulse was a bit fast, but nothing too concerning.
"Urgh," Dick suddenly groaned. Batman heard himself release a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"I'm right here, Dick. You're okay," Batman said, his voice tense and commanding. Bruce may have been in Batman mode to stop himself from panicking, but he suddenly realized that Batman was not the person Dick needed right now.
"I don't feel good," Dick mumbled, his voice trembling.
"I know, chum," Bruce said, switching his voice to a calmer tone. He grabbed a towel from the side of the tub. The position Dick was in couldn't be comfortable, but he needed to check something before letting Dick lie down properly. "What doesn't feel good? Your head?"
"No," Dick whined. "I feel dizzy and heavy."
"Okay," Bruce replied. Dizzy and heavy could be signs of a concussion. But it could also just be symptoms of a drop in blood pressure. "You're not in pain?" Bruce asked, just to be on the safe side.
"No," Dick answered, his voice rising in panic. "But I really don't feel good."
"Let me just check your head and then you can lie down on your back."
Dick didn't say anything, but Bruce wasn't sure if it was because Dick didn't know what to answer or because he was too anxious to do so. Dick's panic concerned Bruce, but for now, his main worry was making sure there were no life-threatening head injuries.
After a quick, yet thorough inspection, Bruce couldn't find any bumps, lumps, or wounds on Dick's neck and head.
"Okay, let's get you lying down," Bruce said. He placed his left hand under Dick's head for support and held out his right hand for Dick to grab. "On the count of three, we're going to lie you down on your back, got it?"
Dick simply nodded.
"One, two, three."
Bruce ended up doing all of the lifting and maneuvering; Dick was either too much in a state of panic or too weak to move. Once Dick was on his back, Bruce continued to support his head and with his other hand, he bunched up the towel so he could use it like a pillow.
"I'm going to lift up your legs," Bruce stated, hoping that explaining his actions would calm Dick's panic. If this ordeal was caused by a fainting spell, lifting his leg to get the blood flow back to his brain would be the first step to helping Dick feel better.
Bruce shuffled from Dick's head to his legs. Dick's eyes were squeezed shut and he was breathing rapidly.
"Dick, you're okay. I'm right here."
Bruce took a hold of Dick's legs and gently lifted them. The bottom of his pajama pants were soaking wet; he must have spilled water on himself when he dropped the cup. If the water had splashed his legs, there was also a chance that he'd been cut by the shards of glass.
As he continued to reassure Dick that everything was going to be okay, Bruce expertly checked Dick's legs, looking for any cuts or pieces of glass stuck in the skin. There were no signs of blood. It was reassuring, but Bruce knew that wouldn't stop him from checking more thoroughly at a later time.
"How are you feeling now?" Bruce asked. He was still holding Dick's legs and, from what he could tell, a bit of color had returned to the young boy's cheeks.
Dick seemed to ponder Bruce's question, hesitating before answering in a shaky voice. "I don't know." His eyes were still closed and he was biting his lip.
Not an ideal answer, but he could work with it. After all, he was a detective. "That's okay. Do you remember what happened before you fell?"
Either Bruce had asked the wrong question or the events of the night were finally too much for Dick to handle. Dick burst into tears, losing what little calm and composure he'd had since regaining consciousness.
Through hiccupping sobs, Dick tried to explain what had happened. Bruce was positive that only his training as Batman allowed him to understand what he was saying.
"I woke up," Dick breathed out between gasping for air. "I felt hot and I had a tickle in my throat."
Bruce ran a reassuring hand up and down Dick's calf, hoping it felt soothing. "Take a deep breath for me, chum."
Dick did as he was told, but his breathing was labored. "I ran to the bathroom to get some water. But... but then..." Dick's sentence trailed off as he started to panic, unable to properly explain what was going on.
"Did you feel dizzy?" Bruce asked, taking a guess at what happened next.
Dick nodded, finding it easier than using his words.
"I think you fainted. Has that ever happened to you before?"
Dick shook his head. The tears, the trembling body limbs, and the erratic breathing were more than enough to let Bruce know that Dick was not only feeling crappy but also scared of what had happened to him. After all, he was an 8-year-old child, in a new home going through a scary medical experience without his parents to comfort him.
Bruce knew he needed to help calm Dick down, but he didn't know how. He didn't have much experience when it came to childcare. Alfred was the expert in that department. But going to get him meant leaving Dick alone and that scared Bruce even more than his lack of knowledge and experience. He just needed a plan. Bruce thought back to when he was a child and how he liked having everything explained to him. He disliked not knowing all the facts and possible circumstances. Bruce feared the unknown; maybe Dick did as well.
"Fainting happens when there isn't enough blood flow to your brain. Your blood pressure suddenly drops and that's why you feel dizzy, heavy, or sometimes even fuzzy," Bruce explained in a calm and, what he hoped was, a reassuring tone. "I think when you jumped out of bed, your blood pressure didn't have enough time to adjust. And you also barely ate any food during dinner. That can affect your blood pressure as well."
Dick's eating habits had been chaotic, to say the least, since arriving at Wayne Manor. Some days he had no issues sitting down and eating a meal with Bruce and Alfred. While other days, he refused to eat, even when Alfred offered to cook a different meal. Bruce had been worried, but Alfred had assured him that it wasn't out of the ordinary for Dick to be having trouble eating. The anxiety, distress, and grief felt after losing a loved one could affect appetite. As a matter of fact, Bruce had gone through a similar experience in the first couple of weeks after his parent's death.
So, hours ago, when Dick had only taken three bites of the butternut squash pasta Alfred had made, Bruce hadn't been overly worried. He knew Dick would either snack on something else or eat breakfast the next day when he was feeling better.
However, this was the first time that not being able to eat had affected Dick's health. It worried Bruce, he would need to figure out a way to help Dick.
"Fainting is unpleasant, but most of the time, it's not a life-threatening experience."
"But I couldn't see anymore!" Dick exclaimed as he continued to hyperventilate.
"You mean, just before you fainted?
Dick nodded aggressively, the floodgate of tears coming back in full force. "Everything was black even though I turned on the light."
"A complete loss of vision is a symptom of fainting. It's unpleasant, but you'll be okay. You can see me now, right?" Bruce asked.
"I won't lose it again?" Dick replied, his voice quivering.
"No, I don't think so," Bruce told him. He chose to remain honest and not give Dick any false hope. Bruce was ninety percent sure Dick wasn't going to pass out again, but in case he was wrong, he chose not to lie. "Why don't we try sitting up and see how you feel."
Dick's eyes widened in fear, clearly scared of the idea of moving and possibly losing consciousness once again.
"We're just going to sit; we'll wait before attempting to stand up. I'll be right here to catch you if anything happens," Bruce said because he knew that it was a promise he could keep.
Once he agreed, Bruce gently lowered Dick's legs, laying them flat on the ground. "Here, grab my hand and we'll gently sit up. Then we can slide over and lean against the edge of the tub."
Luckily, Bruce remembered to sweep the floor and push the shards of glass out of the way. Dick held his breath the entire time he and Bruce moved over to lean against the tub. Bruce hated seeing him like this; he needed Dick to trust that he was safe now and that even if something happened, Bruce would be here to help. He wasn't alone, and would never be.
"Dick," Bruce said as he grabbed one of Dick's hands. He gave it a reassuring squeeze. "We're going to try and take some deep breaths together, I want you to copy me, okay?"
"Can I have some water?" Dick asked instead. His tiny hand was trembling in Bruce's grasp.
"Of course, hang on one second." Bruce gave Dick's hand a final gentle squeeze before standing up. Careful to avoid the shards of glass, he walked to the sink and grabbed the other cup that was on the counter. He filled it with water before making his way back to Dick. Bruce was glad Dick asked to drink, that meant he was aware of his body's needs.
"Take small sips," Bruce instructed as he held the glass out for Dick.
With shaky hands, Dick managed to grab hold of the cup and bring it to his lips. He took the tiniest sip Bruce had ever witnessed and then looked up at Bruce with huge, worried eyes.
Bruce immediately recognized that look. It was the same look given to Batman whenever he rescued a victim from a dangerous situation. It was the look that said the victim needed to know that they were going to be okay. "You're doing good," he reassured Dick.
Dick took two more slow and steady sips before placing the cup down on the porcelain floor.
"Let's try breathing together now, okay? I think it'll help you feel better."
Dick looked uncertain but agreed. Bruce took in a deep breath through his nose and then exhaled slowly through his mouth. Bruce repeated the structured process a couple of times as Dick watched.
"Okay, now you try with me," Bruce stated once he was sure Dick knew what to do.
Bruce was hoping that the breathing exercise would help Dick feel less panicked; as a bonus, the steady intake of oxygen would probably help him feel less lightheaded. Breathing exercises were one of Bruce's preferred methods for dealing with anxiety and stress; he was hoping it would have the same effect on Dick.
But after a couple of minutes of breathing, Dick didn't seem to be feeling better. His breathing hadn't slowed down and he still seemed panicked.
"Is the breathing not helping?" Bruce asked.
Dick shook his head. "There's not enough air in the room."
"I promise there's enough air," Bruce reassured him. But breathing exercises weren't for everyone, so he needed a new plan. "How about you describe some things you see in the room," Bruce offered. "I'll start. I see a white shower curtain that has pictures of birds on it. Now your turn."
Dick shook his head once again. "I don't want to talk," Dick replied. "I can't breathe if I talk!"
"Okay," Bruce said, reaching down to once again grab Dick's hand. "How about I talk? Or we can do something that usually makes you feel happy."
"No!" Dick yelled, but he seemed surprised by his own outburst. Before Bruce could react, Dick once again burst into tears.
What had just happened? Bruce quickly replayed the conversation in his mind. Had he said something to insult Dick?
"Shh, it's okay," Bruce said. "You're okay."
"I'm sorry!" Dick moaned in between heart-wrenching sobs.
Bruce felt his heart drop to his stomach. What was going on? "Why are you apologizing, chum?"
"I just want my mom," Dick admitted, his voice quavering as he continued to cry. "I just want to hug my mom."
As Batman, he'd witnessed some incredibly horrifying events and he'd been on the receiving end of some truly painful beatings. But as Bruce, hearing Dick cry out that the only thing he wanted was his mother was easily the most painful experience he'd ever had to endure.
There was no good answer to Dick's request. Bruce could not say anything that would replace the soothing voice of Dick's mother. He could not hug Dick and replicate the loving and warm embrace of a mother. There was nothing Bruce could do or say that could measure up to the presence and love that had been Mary Grayson.
Bruce knew this because he'd never been able to fill the gaping hole in his life that had been left behind by his own mother's death.
So, Bruce did the only thing that he could think of. He knew that it could never measure up to Dick's mother, but maybe it could bring comfort as it had for him, once upon a time.
Bruce repositioned himself so he was sitting beside Dick, shoulder to shoulder. And then he started to sing; keeping his voice low and soft.
"When you're down and troubled. And you need some lovin' care."
It was the song his mother used to sing to him whenever he was sick or couldn't fall asleep. He hadn't heard the song in years, not even daring to listen to the official recording out of fear of the memories it would drag up.
Bruce couldn't count the number of times he'd heard his mother sing this song. Whether he'd asked her to sing it or not, hearing the melody and his mother's soothing voice always calmed him down.
Bruce knew he couldn't compare to his mom's voice; he knew he wasn't doing the song justice. But Bruce hoped that it would help distract Dick from all the pain, sadness, and fear he was feeling.
"And nothin', nothin' is goin' right. Close your eyes and think of me."
Dick sat rigidly against the tub. But, as Bruce continued to sing, he eventually leaned into his embrace. He was still crying, but at least it was less erratic.
"And soon I will be there. To brighten up even your darkest night."
By the end of the song, Dick had his head on Bruce's chest, right above his heart. Dick had now stopped crying and his breathing had evened out. He sat in silence listening to Bruce's heartbeat. So, Bruce let him be, waiting for Dick to process what he was feeling.
When Bruce eventually felt Dick move, he looked down to see a pair of dazzling blue eyes staring up at him. They were still wet with tears and red with irritation, but they seemed calmer.
"How are you feeling now?" Bruce dared to ask.
"Better," Dick replied a bit shyly. Bruce didn't blame him for suddenly feeling self-conscious. This had been a lot and losing control of one's emotions was never a fun experience. "But I still feel weak," Dick added.
"I know, chum. It's normal." Bruce agreed. Mentally, he checked another accomplishment off of his list of things to do to help Dick. He'd already explained to Dick the reason for fainting and hopefully cleared up any fears. Bruce had now managed to calm Dick down and bring him out of his panic attack. These were the same things Martha Wayne had always done for him when he felt the same way Dick did.
But if he truly wanted to do everything Martha had done for him, Bruce needed to address the other possible issue that could be causing Dick some distress.
"Dick, I need you to know that I'm not mad," he said, looking into Dick's eyes. He had a gut feeling that Dick needed to hear this. "I'm not mad that you fainted and made a mess in the bathroom. I'm not mad that you felt anxious and cried. And I could never be mad at you for missing your mom."
Dick looked away, but Bruce knew he was still listening.
"I just want to make sure that, physically, you're feeling better. I think we've gotten through the worse of it. But it's okay if you aren't okay emotionally."
Dick nodded and met Bruce's gaze once again. Hopefully, this meant Dick believed him.
"Do you think we can go to the kitchen before heading to bed? I want to make sure you don't have any injuries that I missed and I think you should eat or drink something to help your sugar levels," Bruce explained.
"Okay," Dick agreed. "I won't faint when I get up?"
"I can carry you downstairs if that makes you feel safer?"
"Yes, please."
It didn't take long to maneuver Dick into his arms. Bruce was glad he could safely carry the boy out of the bathroom, avoiding the possibility of him stepping on pieces of glass. Bruce would need to come back and clean the room as it was a safety hazard. But that was a job for later. For now, Bruce concentrated on getting Dick to the kitchen.
Once he'd settled Dick down on one of the chairs at the kitchen table, Bruce went to grab a Gatorade from the fridge. Dick had asked for the blue flavor, which Bruce agreed was the best one. Bruce also grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink before returning to the table. He took a seat in the chair beside Dick.
"Do you feel any pain anywhere?" Bruce asked as he opened the first aid kit. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that Dick had been too panicked earlier to realize that he'd been injured.
Luckily, Dick shook his head in response to Bruce's question. But Bruce had always believed in a "better safe than sorry" mentality, which meant he preferred to give Dick another quick examination.
"Is everything all right, young sirs?" a voice suddenly said from behind them. Both Bruce and Dick turned their heads to find Alfred entering the kitchen. He was in his pajamas and wrapped in a fuzzy gray housecoat.
"Dick wasn't feeling good," Bruce replied.
"Oh my," Alfred answered, coming over to sit with them. He took the seat on the opposite side of Dick. "Are you still feeling ill, Master Dick?"
"No," Dick said. He seemed a bit more energetic compared to earlier. "I don't feel dizzy anymore."
"I'm glad to hear it," Alfred replied, but not before exchanging a look with Bruce. Bruce nodded in response, letting Alfred know that he agreed with Dick's statement. Bruce thought Dick was alright.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Alfred asked, satisfied with Bruce's silent reply.
"Would you stay with Dick while I go clean his bathroom?" Bruce asked once he'd finished re-checking Dick's head for bumps.
"Certainly," Alfred agreed. "Would you like a light snack, Master Dick?" Alfred asked as he expertly took over the situation. Bruce knew he was leaving Dick in capable hands.
As Bruce walked out of the kitchen and back up the stairs, he heard Alfred list a selection of snacks Dick could choose from. Once he reached the landing of the second floor, Bruce felt like he could finally let out the breath he had been holding since waking up.
Despite everything that had happened, Dick was okay. He'd been lucky that the rug had softened his fall and that no shards of glass had cut him. Based on everything he'd observed, Bruce's conclusion was that Dick's fainting spell wasn't a cause for concern. But that wouldn't stop him from keeping a close eye on the boy over the next couple of days; just to make sure he wasn't wrong.
Before grabbing the cleaning supplies he needed from the linen closet, Bruce made a quick pitstop in his room to put on some slippers. The footwear would offer some protection. With some garbage bags and a vacuum in hand, he walked over to Dick's bathroom and started to clean.
Bruce picked up the big shards of glass and placed them in the garbage bag. He then vacuumed the rest of the floor. He also placed the rug in the laundry basket, just in case there were any pieces of glass he'd missed. Finally, Bruce used the same towel he'd made into a cushion for Dick's neck to mop the water off the floor. He also added the towel to the hamper.
The last task before leaving the room was grabbing the other, non-broken, glass of water that had been left on the floor. Bruce needed to bring it to the kitchen and put it in the dishwasher. He made a mental note to ask Alfred if they had any plastic cups they could leave in Dick's room for the next time he woke up in the middle of the night with a dry spot.
Satisfied that he'd successfully removed all hazardous material from the bathroom, Bruce made his way back down the stairs and toward the kitchen. The next steps in his plan were to check a final time that Dick was feeling okay before putting him in a pair of dry pajamas and tucking him into bed.
Despite his motivation to complete the mission, the early morning appointment was still at the back of his mind, Bruce found himself slowing down to a stop right outside the kitchen. Tucked away in the shadows, he took a moment to listen to Dick and Alfred's conversation.
"Would you like some more crackers, Master Dick? Or are you full?" Alfred asked. Bruce could hear the sound of the legs of the chair scraping against the floor. Alfred must have been getting up, ready to either grab more food or clean up the table.
"Have you ever heard the song about someone who's there through all the seasons of the year, ready to be there for their friend?" Dick interrupted, his voice timid and quiet.
Bruce was surprised Dick remembered that part of the song. To be honest, he hadn't been sure if Dick had actually been paying attention to the lyrics, he'd seemed too overwhelmed by panic when Bruce had started singing.
Bruce wondered if Alfred remembered that song; Bruce hadn't spoken of it since the night he lost his parents.
"Yes, You've Got a Friend is a beautiful song," Alfred replied, a strange tinge in his voice. "Did Master Bruce sing it for you?"
"Yeah," Dick confirmed. "I liked it."
Bruce heard more shuffling noises, most likely indicating that Alfred had taken a seat back down at the table.
"Master Bruce also likes that song, but he hasn't sung it in ages. I'm glad he decided to share it with you."
Dick didn't reply and Alfred didn't share any more information. The two seemed content to sit in silence. Bruce had no doubt that Alfred knew he was around, it was too quiet in the house. Also, Bruce was positive that Alfred had eyes in the back of his head; that's how he always knew everything that was going on in Bruce's life.
Deciding not to eavesdrop anymore, Bruce left the shadows of the hallway and walked into the kitchen to find both Alfred and Dick sitting exactly where he'd left them. The pair were sporting identical pensive expressions and seemed lost in thought.
"How are you feeling, chum?" Bruce asked to signal his arrival.
"I think I'm all better," Dick answered, the pensive look quickly disappearing only to be replaced with a tentative smile.
"Good. Do you want to try going back to sleep?"
Dick nodded, seeming more eager than he had all night. He made a move to get off of the chair, which prompted Alfred to follow suit. The older man helped Dick get out of his seat, making sure he didn't topple over or faint again in the process. But Dick was fine.
"I trust you can both make it back upstairs, safe and sound?" Alfred asked as he pushed the chairs back in their place.
"Of course, Alfred. Thank you for your help," Bruce said as Dick walked over to join him near the door frame.
"No thanks necessary, Master Bruce. Goodnight to you both."
"Goodnight, Alfie!" Dick said as Bruce guided them out of the kitchen and back up the stairs.
Bruce made sure to stay a step behind Dick, watching him like a hawk in case he lost his footing or started feeling dizzy again. Apart from the several eye-watering yawns Dick tried to fight off, they both made it upstairs without incident.
Dick had been about to climb into his bed when Bruce gently reminded him that he'd probably sleep more comfortably if he changed out of his wet clothes.
So, while Dick went into the newly cleaned bathroom to put on a fresh pair of pajamas, Bruce untangled the sheets that had fallen to the floor and remade the bed. It didn't take Dick long to change. Before climbing into bed, he left his damp pajamas in the laundry basket, which Alfred would most likely come to fetch tomorrow.
"Goodnight, Dick," Bruce said as he pulled the sheets over Dick. "I'll be in my bedroom if you need anything. Don't be afraid to wake me up."
Dick nodded as he rolled onto his right side, getting into a comfortable position.
Bruce turned around and walked back towards the door, but Dick's timid voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Bruce?" Dick whispered; his voice muffled by his blankets.
Oh no. Was Dick not feeling well? Had he been masking his pain in front of Alfred? Had Bruce missed an injury? Bruce tried to mask his concern as he turned to face Dick.
"Yeah, chum?"
"Thank you for letting me hear your song."
Hearing those words instantly filled Bruce with a warm feeling.
Maybe he'd done something right. Maybe he'd somehow made a small difference in Dick's unpleasant experience. Bruce knew that what he'd done was nothing compared to what Mary or John Grayson could have done for their son, but Bruce took comfort in knowing that he didn't make the already distressing situation any worse.
"You're welcome, Dick."
Bruce hesitated for only a second before crossing the short distance between the door and the bed. He leaned over Dick and placed a soft and gentle kiss on the boy's forehead. Dick smiled.
But something felt off. Dick seemed happy and calm now, so why didn't Bruce? He had a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. He'd said something wrong, he knew it; his instincts were never wrong. He'd learned very early on that he needed to always trust his gut if he wanted to be useful as Batman.
So, he replayed Dick's words in his head. Thank you for letting me hear your song. Oh. That was the problem.
"It can be our song now if you want?" Bruce added in a hesitant tone. Was Bruce overstepping? Was it too soon to propose something so personal; Dick had only been living with him for a handful of weeks. He didn't want Dick to think his proposal and song choice would ever replace the memory and comfort of his parents. He didn't want—
"I like our song," Dick replied, interrupting Bruce's spiraling thoughts.
How could it be so simple? Just like that, Dick had accepted that this was their song now. Something that would bond them forever, a song that would serve as comfort when comfort couldn't be found by the ones who mattered the most. Dick, who barely knew Bruce, had somehow already decided he wanted to share something special with him.
Or maybe it could be as simple as that. Bruce had never thought about any of this when You've Got a Friend had become his and his mother's song. It had come naturally. Martha had simply held him tight as he cried and decided to distract him by singing. It had worked, so she'd never stopped doing it. She'd sung the song to console him whenever he needed it the most.
Maybe that's all Dick needed as well.
"I like our song too," Bruce finally settled on saying. It was the truth as well as a promise. Bruce liked that it was their song and that it would always be theirs.
Bruce is still new to this whole parenting and is trying his best. (And he's succeeding in my opinion!)
It took me FOREVER to decide on which song Bruce would sing to Dick. I settled on "You've Got a Friend" because there's a version by Carole King (which I imagine is Martha singing to Bruce) and a version by James Taylor (Bruce singing to Dick). Also, I didn't want a song with lyrics that feature a parent and their child since, in this stage of Dick and Bruce's relationship, I don't think Bruce feels comfortable calling himself a parent, he's very much afraid to replace Mary and John Grayson.
I'm interested to hear your thoughts on the song or if you headcanon a song that Bruce sings to his kids!