Dick hopped off the last step and shuffled into the cave wearing his favorite pajamas. They were dark blue and decorated with the various constellations in white. He'd picked them out during his big starting-a-new-life shopping trip with Alfred a few weeks earlier. Bruce, having just arrived from patrol, looked up from the utility belt in his hands. He said nothing but gave a questioning tilt of his head.
"Alfred's kitchen alarm was beeping." I was rifling through the freezer when you pulled in. "He's asleep." I didn't want to be alone.
"You couldn't sleep?" Bruce asked, pulling off his cowl.
Dick shrugged. Bruce eyed him not unkindly then turned away and went to sit a in front of computer bank. "You can tell me." He said with a subtle warmth in his voice that Dick was learning most other people never got to hear.
Thud! Thud! Dick's eyes squeezed shut. When he opened them again he wrapped his arms around himself and just stood there silently. Bruce didn't press him and began clacking away at the keyboard, working on his current case. After a minute or so of standing uncomfortably and watching the detective work, Dick approached the desk. Bruce glanced over, giving him a quick smile as he continued typing, clicking and reading. Dick took that as an invitation and climbed up on the desk. He settled in cross legged, hands folded in his lap, and followed the words and images as they appeared and disappeared on the glowing screens. All the while he listened to Bruce muttering hypotheses and questions to himself on and off as he worked.
After a quarter hour of staring at those screens, Bruce sat back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. He looked up and was surprised to find his companion out cold on the desk. Dick was snoring softly, shoulders hunched forward, head drooping down with his chin propped on his chest. Bruce let out a quiet chuckle at the sight of him. He quickly got up to go change. In sweats and a tee shirt he returned to collect the sleeping child. Bruce took hold of him under the arms and lifted him so that he was situated comfortably against his chest. Dick mumbled something but didn't wake up. Instead he nestled his head into Bruce's shoulder and went right on snoring. He sat supported by one forearm while Bruce held a gentle pressure on his back with his other hand. As he carried Dick upstairs he unconsciously let his cheek rest against the disheveled head on his shoulder. Upstairs he moved silently through the moonlit manor until reaching his childhood bedroom. The side table light was still on and a book had been left open, abandoned on the rumpled bed. Carefully Bruce placed Dick back in his bed and pulled the blanket over him. He mumbled something unintelligible again and tucked himself up on his side. A smile tugged at Bruce's mouth before he switched off the lamp and went to leave. Something stopped him at the door. He turned and looked back at the faint lump on the bed. He thought of Alfred and that same bedroom. He thought of himself, years ago and nights like this one. Seconds later Bruce found himself lying, fingers clasped across his chest, on the floor beside the bed. After a minute or two spent matching his breathing with Dick's, he fell into a deep sleep.
Four hours later with sunshine in his eyes Bruce reconsidered his decisions as two feet landed hard on his stomach.