Chapter Text
Bruce could barely breathe. He’d heard that it was illegal to move when a cat was sleeping on you, but that caution had nothing on the care he took to stay as still as possible so that his son—he had a son now, as of this morning—would stay like this just a bit longer.
Dick’s breath was soft and even against Bruce’s neck, his little head cradled easily by Bruce’s shoulder, and the only sign that his son—because the six-year-old was his now, and no one could ever take him away—was still awake was the jerky, half-asleep tugs on Bruce’s tie.
Dick—who was Bruce's son, which was Bruce's new favorite thing aside from Dick himself—yawned massively, or as massively as a tiny child could when his entire face was the size of Bruce's palm.
Bruce smiled and rubbed Dick's back, drawing a comical and appreciative groan from the little boy who was now Bruce's son, which was still the best.
"Are you tired?" Bruce teased.
Dick, being too exhausted for humor, nodded sincerely, and Bruce smiled. A quick glance around the ballroom showed that the gala was still in full swing, despite the fact that the guest of honor was fading fast. That was fine, though. Bruce wouldn't mind a break from the socialites and the media, especially if it meant putting his son to bed. Bruce had to be gone for most the day during the week, but he always got to be the one to guide Dick through his nightly routine and tuck him in. That meant that Bruce, not Alfred, was the recipient of those precious little goodnight kisses from sleepy lips.
Bruce looked across the room to Alfred, who somehow managed to sigh with his eyebrows but nodded his permission anyway. Admittedly, being twenty-five and the alleged master of the house, Bruce did not technically need Alfred's permission, he still would do anything to avoid his butler's lectures.
Pleased to have his hall pass, Bruce made his way to and out the door, leaving the quiet roar of the music and conversation to dull into the background as Bruce carried Dick...as Bruce carried his precious little son...up the grand staircase to the family wing.
"Time to get ready for bed, chum," Bruce hummed as he opened the door to Dick's bedroom.
Dick whined in displeasure, but he was eventually coaxed to sit on the edge of his bed and let Bruce help him take off his stiff party clothes—the jacket, the shirt, the slacks, the shiny shoes, and the little tie Dick had very nearly strangled himself with earlier that morning. Bruce left them in a semi-neat pile at the foot of Dick's bed and went to get Dick's pajamas out of his dresser.
When Bruce came back a few seconds later, Dick was curled up on his comforter in nothing but his little briefs, looking effortlessly peaceful and already asleep. Bruce loathed to disturb Dick, but he did need to get Dick dressed so he wouldn't catch a cold in the drafty old mansion. Still, Bruce gave himself a few more moments to marvel at how lucky he'd been that a little boy as perfect and wonderful as Dick had ever come to be his. His son.
Bruce sighed contentedly and gave Dick's shoulder a little shake. "Dick. Dick, you've got to wake up for a second."
"Ehhhhhhhhh," Dick whined, batting at Bruce's hand without really waking up.
"Dick. You're going to get cold," Bruce said, giving Dick's shoulder another shake.
That was even more ineffectual than the first shake had been, and Bruce sighed a bit less contentedly. Instead, he carefully bunched up Dick's pajama shirt, then lifted Dick’s head with one hand and slipped the shirt over with the other. Dick grimaced in his sleep, but didn’t otherwise stir.
Bruce guided little hands through little sleeves, then pulled the hem down to Dick’s hips. The smiling elephant printed on the front of the shirt made Bruce smile in return. Dick—who was Bruce’s son now—had seen the pajamas when he accompanied Bruce on a quick run to Walmart a few months ago. It wasn’t a place he normally went, primarily because Alfred didn’t usually trust Bruce to do shopping of any sort, but Alfred had been sick, and he’d given Dick a shopping list and made Bruce drive him to the store. Dick’s expression at the circus themed pajamas…well, it was a well spent ten dollars, as much for the memories as for Dick’s smile.
Bruce put the patterned pants around both Dick’s legs, then pulled the waistband up to where it was meant to sit. Then, bracing himself for sleepy grumbling and flailing, Bruce slipped his arms underneath Dick and lifted him effortlessly into the air.
Dick made groggy protests, but it only took a few seconds for Bruce to hook the edge of the blankets with his shoe and kick them back, leaving an open place for Dick.
Bruce laid Dick gently on the bed. Dick whined and held onto Bruce’s tie like it was a lifeline. Bruce chuckled and pulled the blankets up over Dick. There were worse things than delaying his return to the adoption gala.
He reached past the boy for the stuffed elephant prominently placed in the middle of the pillow arrangement and pulled Zitka over. Dick accepted her unconsciously, but he didn’t ease up his grip on Bruce’s tie.
Bruce…could live with that.
He pressed a small kiss to Dick’s forehead and knelt beside the bed to get a bit more comfortable.
Dick—Bruce’s son, who was very small and loved elephants and Paw Patrol and crawling into Bruce’s bed whenever he had an excuse and splashing in puddles and doing backflips off any surface he could manage to climb—rolled onto his side, facing Bruce. He blinked his eyes half open once, twice, before he squinted at Bruce like he suspected that Bruce was guilty of something sinister.
Dick leaned forward and kissed Bruce’s nose, then nodded in self-satisfaction and closed his eyes again, falling asleep for real that time with Bruce’s tie still clenched tight in his fist.
Eventually, Bruce was going to have to take off tie and surrender it to Dick’s sleepy grasp. He was going to have to find a new tie and rejoin the party.
But he’d do that later.