I finally thought of something to write! Inspiration from the Dear Prudence advice column.
Bruce stood patiently in the bathroom door, supervising as Dick brushed his teeth. Although everything seemed normal, he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. And when it did, it was almost always around bed time.
Dick had been unusually clingy that Saturday, barely giving Bruce space to go to the bathroom alone. It had started immediately after Bruce had picked Dick up at Oliver Queen's house. Bruce, of course, had regretted sending Dick to sleep over at Ollie's even before it had happened, but it had been his only option. With Alfred out of town, his own Friday night filled with tedious social obligations, and every other Leaguer unavailable, Ollie was the only babysitter Bruce had been able to find. Bruce had optimistically hoped things would work out alright because Dick would have Roy to play with, but it appeared something had gone wrong.
The World's Greatest Detective, however, didn't have a clue.
"All done!" the eight-year-old boy announced, grinning broadly to show Bruce his spiffy clean teeth.
"Good boy. Time for bed." Bruce gestured towards Dick's bedroom, which adjoined the bathroom.
A fleeting look of panic crossed Dick's face. "Can… can… can I sleep in your bed?"
"Then where am I going to sleep?" Bruce asked with an amused look on his face.
Dick gave an exasperated huff. "Can I sleep with you tonight?"
"Aren't you getting a little old for that?"
"No!" Dick replied fiercely.
Ahh, Bruce thought. Maybe he's afraid I'll leave him. "You know, Dick it was just a temporary thing – you staying at Ollie's. He was the only babysitter I could find."
"I know that!" Dick was a tad miffed, as though Bruce had insulted his intelligence. "I know you'll never leave me."
"Then why can't you sleep in your own bed, chum?"
"Because."
"Because why?"
Dick looked at the floor. "I can't tell you."
Bruce ruffled Dick's hair in amusement. "I'm afraid that's not a very good reason, youngster."
"But it's Saturday! I don't have school tomorrow."
Bruce could feel his resolve crumbling.
"Please?" Dick fixed him with a pouty face and puppy-dog eyes.
"Okay, but just for tonight."
"Yippee!" Dick said, taking Bruce's hand and walking both of them out of his bedroom and into Bruce's. Bruce tucked Dick into his bed, then turned out the light and started to exit the room.
"Where are you going?" Dick asked, almost worriedly.
"Just to finish some paperwork," Bruce assured him.
"Okay." Dick snuggled deeper under the covers. "Don't stay up too late!" Dick added, sounding like his usual cheerful self.
"I won't." Bruce smiled as he left the room. Maybe everything was alright. Perhaps Dick had been clingy to make up for lost time on Friday. And what was the harm of letting the boy sleep with him for one night?
Except it wasn't one night. For the next four days, Dick insisted on sleeping with Bruce. He would cry and pitch a fit if Bruce tried to put him to bed alone in his own room. On Tuesday night, Bruce had (by some miracle) managed to get Dick to go to sleep in the boy's own room, but had awakened in the middle of the night to find Dick curled up next to him in the bed in the master bedroom. Since it was four in the morning Bruce didn't try to move Dick, but the older man could tell that a serious intervention was called for. Thank Heaven Alfred was returning on Thursday; Bruce didn't think he could solve this problem alone.
So when bedtime rolled around on Thursday, Bruce and Alfred had steeled their resolve. No matter how many tears Dick shed, they were going to get to the bottom of this mystery.
When Dick emerged from the bathroom with freshly-brushed teeth, Bruce was standing next to the boy's bed with the covers turned down.
"Ready for bed, chum?" he asked with a smile.
Dick glanced at his own bed, shifted uncomfortably, and then asked, like clockwork, "Can I sleep with you tonight?"
Bruce sighed and sat down on Dick's bed. "Dickie, this has to stop. You have your own bed. You need to sleep in it."
Dick shook his head. "No."
"Why not?"
"I can't."
"You can't sleep in your own bed or you can't tell me why?"
Dick hesitated. "Both."
"Dick, this isn't going to work. You have to sleep in your own bed. You're too big to sleep with me."
Dick just closed his eyes and obstinately shook his head. "No. I won't sleep in here. I just can't."
As if on cue, Alfred smoothly slid through the doorway. "Now, Master Dick, is something the matter with your room?"
Dick looked up in surprise at Alfred's presence. "Noooo," he admitted slowly. "Nothing's wrong with my room."
Alfred and Bruce both noticed Dick's emphasis on the word "my," and shared a bewildered glance.
"Is something wrong with Master Bruce's room?"
Dick avoided eye contact. "Maybe," he admitted, before hastily adding, "but I don't know."
Alfred and Bruce remained silent, knowing that Dick would be the first to feel awkward and break the quiet himself.
"And Alfred -. You should probably sleep with me and Bruce, too."
Okay, something was clearly going on. That was an unusual request, even for Dick.
"And why is that Master Dick?" Alfred asked gently.
"Well,…. It's safer."
"Safer than what, Dick?" Bruce patted the spot on the bed next to him, encouraging Dick to come sit down.
"Than sleeping separately," Dick replied, plopping down next to Bruce.
"And why is that, chum?" Bruce was beginning to feel relieved. Finally – he was getting somewhere!
"You probably won't believe me."
"You can tell me anything, Dick," Bruce said, simultaneously rubbing comforting circles on Dick's small back.
"So I can protect you from the demons."
"Demons?' Bruce and Alfred both gasped in shock.
Dick nodded his head vigorously. "There are demons that roam the earth at night, looking for people to kill. I have to protect you and Alfred, but I can't do it if we're not together. I can't let you die!"
To say Bruce was shocked was putting it mildly. "Dickie, demons aren't real."
"You only say that because you can't see them!"
"I can't?"
"No, only kids can see them. That's why I have to protect you and Alfred! Without me, you two might die!" Dick began to cry a little, fearful of Bruce and Alfred dying on him.
Bruce picked Dick up and placed him on his lap, gently shushing him in an effort to get him to calm down. "No demons are going to get me. I promise."
"But you can't promise," Dick wailed. "You can't even see them!"
"I do promise. I'm an experienced demon hunter."
"But… but… but how?" Dick blubbered. "Only kids can slay the demons. Roy said."
Bruce went rigid. "Roy said?" he demanded, a hard edge to his voice.
Dick misunderstood Bruce's sudden change of tone, mistakenly believing Bruce was angry with him. He began to cry harder. "Rrrrr…Roy said that only kids can kill the demons, and if I don't protect you from them you'll die. I don't want you to die Bruce!" Dick collapsed into a heap of tears. "I have to sleep with you or you'll dieeeeeeee." His voice trailed off into an agonized wail.
Bruce stood up, gathered Dick into his arms, and began to rock the eight-year-old as though Dick were a baby. "Shhh, shh, shh, Dick. Everything's going to be fine."
Dick sniffled. "Bbbbut the demons -?"
"Don't worry about the demons," Bruce cooed, holding Dick with one hand and patting his back with the other.
As Dick began to quiet down, even doze a little in Bruce's arms, the billionaire turned to Alfred.
"The phone, please."
"Right away, sir."
When Alfred returned, Ollie's number had been dialed and the phone was already ringing.
"Put it on speaker," Bruce instructed as he sat back down on the bed with a half-asleep Dick still in his arms.
"Hello. Oliver Queen speaking."
"Ollie, it's Bruce. Get Roy on the phone immediately."
"Well, hey there, Bruce. How's it going?"
"Ollie. Get Roy NOW!" Dick stirred in Bruce's arms and lifted his head up. Bruce adjusted the child so that he was sitting upright on his lap and could be a part of the conversation.
"Geez, alright," Ollie muttered. "Roy!" he could be heard yelling in the background. "ROY!"
"Hello?" Roy said tentatively a few moments later.
"Hello, Roy. This is Bruce Wayne. Would you care to explain your little theory about demons to me?"
"My what?" Roy's voiced cracked with terror.
"Your theory on demons. According to Dick, you told him that demons might kill me in my sleep and that only he could protect me."
"Well, I didn't mean it -."
"Did you say that or not?"
"Yes," Roy grumpily admitted.
"And would you care to explain why?"
"Because I thought it would be funny? I don't know."
"Well, it's not funny. Is it Dick?"
Dick sniffed loudly and leaned towards the phone.
"Aww, Dick is that you?" Roy asked before Dick could say anything. "Look, I didn't mean to scare you little buddy."
"Are the demons real?" Dick asked softly.
Roy sighed. "No," he admitted, actually sounding ashamed of himself. "I just made that story up to scare you. There are no demons."
"Are you sure?" Dick was still hesitant.
"Positive. Trust me, I don't protect Ollie. If demons were real, he'd have been dead a hundred times by now."
"ROY!" Bruce snapped.
"Sorry, sorry. Demons are not real, Dick. I promise."
"Pinkie swear?" Dick held his pinkie towards the phone.
To his credit, Roy didn't even question how one could pinkie-swear over the telephone. "Pinkie-swear. Demons are not real - cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye."
Finally, Dick seemed satisfied. "Okay. I forgive you for scaring me."
"Thank you, Dick. I appreciate that."
"Just a second, Roy," Bruce commanded. He gently lifted Dick off his lap, promised the protesting boy that he would be right back, and picked up the phone. Switching off speaker-phone, Bruce stalked out into the hallway.
"Roy," he hissed menacingly into the phone, "Dick may forgive you but I have not. If you ever, ever scare my son again -."
"I got it! I got it!" Roy fearfully shrieked, not even permitting Bruce to finish his threat.
"Good. Then we're done here."
"Thank god," Roy breathed in relief. This had been the worst phone call of his life. "Bye, Bruce." And he hung up before Bruce could get in another word.
With a sigh, Bruce turned off the phone and retuned to Dick's room. The child looked up at him with puppy-dog eyes.
"Can I please sleep with you one more time?"
Bruce ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "Okay. But tomorrow night you're back in your own bed."
Dick nodded enthusiastically. "Okay. Deal."
Bruce picked Dick up and carried him down the hall to the master bedroom. Alfred followed, greatly relieved that the bedtime problem was solved.
But as Bruce tucked Dick into his bed, he added, "But Alfred has to sleep in his own room tonight. There just isn't room for three of us in this bed."