"I need to warn you, sir. Adopting a child over the age of three means that he may never really see you as his father. You need to be ready to accept that you may only ever be a stand-in in his eyes."

Yyyyy

Bruce couldn't stop thinking about the social worker's parting words as they had left the courthouse. And then for a while after they'd returned to the manor. Alfred was slicing assorted fruit in the kitchen in a bid to get their new charge to eat something, and Dick was up in his new room unpacking his bags, but Bruce was mentally going over and over those words.

Father? Did that word apply to him now? Did… did he even want to be called that? He was sure he wanted to take in and raise Dick, but he'd never considered what Dick would call him.

Bruce? Maybe? He guessed it would be up to Dick.

He knew that after his own parents had passed, he'd never called another adult 'mom' or 'dad', but that was because he'd been raised by Alfred.

Speaking of which…

"Hey, Alfred?"

The butler didn't look away from the bowl he was arranging for Dick. "Yes, Master Bruce? Something on your mind?"

"I was just wondering… did it ever bother you? That you raised a kid who never ended up referring to you as their father?"

Alfred stilled. He blinked and pushed the bowl aside so he could lean against the counter. "Master Bruce," he thought for a second, wanting to pick his words carefully. "In short, no. It never bothered me. Because I wasn't your father. But that didn't mean we weren't, if I may be so bold, family. I knew that you saw me as a parental figure, someone you could trust if you needed help or advice, and I knew that it didn't matter to me what you called me. It wouldn't change a thing. I wasn't going to let how you, a child, saw me dictate how I viewed our relationship."

Yyyyy

Bruce never forced, encouraged, or even suggested that Dick call him by anything other than Bruce. In fact, he'd forgotten all about the conversation pretty quickly as parenting, running a multi-billion dollar business, and vigilantism tended to take up a lot of his time. It wasn't until one night, a few years after he'd adopted his son that he even recalled it.

"Dad?"

Bruce looked up from his paperwork at the sound of the hoarse, quiet voice. Dick was standing in his home office doorway, drowsy, wrapped in a blanket, and pale.

"You don't look so good, bud." He put his pen down and hurried over to the twelve year old and felt his forehead.

"Can we not go out tonight? Please?"

"Yeah, no worries there. You're going back to bed. Let's go."

"Okay." Dick allowed himself to be guided back to his room, where he crawled back in bed and closed his eyes tight.

"I'll be back with some water, alright? And I'll have Alfred make you soup. It looks like you've caught that bug that's been going around. Barry says it knocked Wally out for a full day, but with that boy's metabolism, I really don't know how long this will take to run its course."

"Mn, soup sounds good." Dick mumbled into his pillow.

Bruce smiled softly as he was able to watch Dick actually fall asleep mid-conversation. He pulled another blanket up over the sleeping mound of child on the bed and tucked him in.

Down in the kitchen, he found Alfred just getting out the dishes he would need to prepare dinner.

"Hey, Alfred. You haven't gotten started yet, I hope?"

The butler shook his head. "Not yet. I was just about to make spaghetti, unless you wanted something else?"

Bruce nodded, walking past to grab one of the colorful, plastic cups they had gotten Dick to help him feel more at home. "Dick caught Wally's cold. He's asleep now, but I told him you'd make him… um,"

Something clicked.

He was replaying the conversation mentally so he could relay anything important to the one who had more experience dealing with sick kids, and something Dick had said…

"He… he called me 'Dad'."

The cup overflowed and his wet hand snapped him back to the present. Quickly, he dumped some of the water out and grabbed a dishrag to dry off the outside of the cup.

"Master Bruce?"

Bruce didn't know what the right reaction was, but he found himself staring incredulously at the water. He'd always told himself that being Dick's guardian was enough. He'd had a father, and that father wasn't Bruce.

He'd known that. He'd never considered…

His chest swelled as he tried to wrap his head around the overwhelming feelings that had just hit him like a truck.

"He called me 'Dad.'" Bruce whispered again.

He smiled, only just realizing that the cup in his hands was blurry.

Alfred simply smiled with him and drew the man into a tight hug.