Whenever I had nightmares as a child, I would sneak into my parentsâ room, crawl on the very edge of the corner of the bed, and fall back asleep on top of the covers so as to not disturb them.
All to say, how many times did Bruce find Dick curled up in an impossibly tiny ball on the very far edge of his California king sized bed? Maybe covered with the corner of that Spanish toscana sheep fur throw blanket a former flame gave him.
At first, Bruce thinks thereâs something wrong with Dickâs room. He checks it for leaks, loud pipes, inadequate bedding, unfortunate furniture. He cleans the baseboards and replaces the pillows. He takes Dick out for new accent pieces, and rugs, and duvets, but Dick wonât pick out his own decor, and so Bruce tries to match his Halyâs Circus poster to Dickâs seeming satisfaction. Still, not two early afternoons later, Bruce wakes up to Dick. Still at the very edge of the mattress, still fetal as he sleeps.
Alfred suggests that perhaps itâs not the room itself, so Bruce builds Dick a complicated nightlight with far too many settings and installs it while Dick is at school. He assures Dick that monsters canât even enter the Manor because they know heâs Batman. Dick just cocks his head in mild confusion, and Bruce wonders if heâs afraid of monsters at all (he isnât, Batman finds this out on patrol rather quickly.)
Finally, one night, Bruce feigns sleep, but really heâs awake and listening. He hears the almost silent patter of tiny feet (theyâll work on stealth, when Bruce isnât afraid of Dick disappearing and getting lost on patrol like he did once at the grocery store), and sure enough, his door opens just enough for Dick to slip through. He doesnât feel or hear Dick climb onto the mattress, but heâd purposefully draped that throw over his feet so that he feels the gentle tug when Dick pulls the corner over himself.
Bruce waits, to give Dick time to relax so that he wonât start, and then he quietly murmurs, without opening his eyes, âWhy donât you get under the covers? Itâs warmer.â
Dick freezes and then begins to scramble off the bed, so Bruce sits up, turns on his bedside lamp, and takes in his wardâs wide eyes and parted mouth. His gut twists and he feels an unwelcome guilt as Dick starts to apologize.
Bruce shakes his head and pats the space next to himself. âMy pillows have feathers in them,â he offers, sounding silly even to himself.
Dick pauses, and then he closes his mouth. He tilts his head again, in that curious way that he does. Bruce finds himself holding his breath, and he feels silly for that too.
Finally, Dick posits, âWhydja put a bird in your pillow?â and Bruce laughs so hard that it startles Dick into small jump. Bruce keeps chuckling, more out of relief than anything. He pats the mattress.
âLay down and Iâll tell you,â Bruce promises. Dick gingerly places his hands on the mattress and begins to scramble up. âAnd if you like the feathers, weâll get you some too.â
Dick once again stills, a thin leg still dangling off the bed. âIâm okay,â he says, looking down at the duvet. His shoulders shift, like heâs going to leave again, and Bruce grapples with why. What did he say?
âI know youâre okay, but I want you to have nice things,â Bruce assures him. âIf you donât want feathers, we can always get you something else, just tell me what you want, Iâll make it happen, I just need to knââ
âI donât want to be too much trouble to keep anymore,â Dick blurts. Then he claps a hand over his mouth and slides off the bed, backing away as if he too is shocked by what heâs said.
Bruceâs gut hurts again, and his chest feels tight.
âDick,â he begins. âDick, get up here.â
Dick hesitates, as if weighing his options, but like the dutiful sidekick he his, he heeds Bruceâs order and crawls back onto the bed, shuffling towards Bruce just enough to sit back, cross his legs, and look up at Bruce as if heâs in the Cave, watching Bruce demonstrate a kick or block.
Bruce runs his hand through his hair before dropping it and sighing. âYouâre not trouble. Youâre my ward, and I took responsibility over you. I donât take my responsibilities lightly.â He tries not to, anyway. Maybe claiming legal guardianship over a child at 24 wasnât the most wrought decision. But itâs the decision Bruce made, and he wonât recant it. He loves Dick more than he thought he would, or even could. Maybe heâll tell Dick that. Some day.
Instead, he says, âBesides, I have more money than God, we have to spend it somehow. If you wonât let me spend it on you, Iâll have to do something inane, like buy a franchise.â
Dick furrows his eyebrows, so Bruce clarifies, âLike a McDonaldâs.â Bruce didnât anticipate the sheer delight that shivers through Dick. Dickâs eyes light brighter than the Batsignal, and he scrambles to his knees.
âYou can do that?â He asks, voice hush in awe. Bruce blinks.
âUh, I mean, I couldâ do you want a McDonaldâs?â Bruce asks lamely, because heâs not sure what to do with Dickâs apparent affection for what Bruce finds to be subpar fare, even among fast food chains.
âIâve never had it,â Dick confesses. âI saw them around a lot, when we toured, but Iâve never been to one. Mama always said no, and no one at Halyâs would take me because I think they were kinda afraid of Mama, even Daddy, and not even Samson would take me, even though he always snuck me taffy even when Mama said no to that.â
Bruce blinks again. He wasnât expecting Dickâs enthusiasm, but he knows how to wrangle momentum.
âHow about we go tomorrow then?â Bruce asks, leaning back on his hands. Dick beams, but Bruce tilts his head and adds, âBut only if you get under the blanket. Properly.â
Dick nearly trips over himself to crawl under the blanket beside Bruce. Bruce lays back down and turns off the lamp. He doesnât presume to crowd Dick, leaving a few feet between them to ensure Dick has plenty of space. Dick nestles into the sheets and even claims a pillow to curl around.
Satisfied, Bruce rolls over and closes his own eyes.
Just as Bruce begins to drift, Dick murmurs. âThe feathers are kinda stabby. I donât think I want any in my room. If you want, you can borrow some of my pillows until you get better ones.â
Bruce snorts. âThanks, Chum.â
