Bruce awoke to the sound of quiet crying which kicked him right into gear, making his eyes snap open to find Dick had at some point snuck into his room and was now struggling with waking up to a whole world of pain. The billionaire frowned as he felt that parental pang of seeing his kid in pain and he quickly sat up before running his hand through Dick's hair to comfort him, silently letting him know he was okay.
"B?" the boy whimpered, opening one of his eyes to confirm. It looked like it took a hell of a lot of effort in order to do so.
"Hey, when did you get here?" he questioned. He didn't get a reply further than a whine so he decided to put that question on the back burner. For now, he had to get some painkillers in hopes of soothing the boy. He went to get up only for Dick to shriek as though he'd seen a massive spider on the bed. "Dick?"
"Stay," Dick pleaded. Both of his eyes were open now, bright blue and glossy with tears. His arms were outstretched and his hands were reaching out attempting to grab onto his mentor but failing to do so since he was just out of reach. There'd been a few mornings like this when Dick was truly nine years old. He'd cry and whine and be overall cranky until well into midday. Up until then it was a chore to get him dressed and ready for the day, even more so when school was on the agenda. Bruce supposed it was only a matter of time before he dealt with one of these mornings and with the injuries, his distress was well understood.
"I've got to get your medicine so you feel better," he explained, trying his best to sound soothing rather than scathing. He'd always struggled with that. Dick said it was how he said things but sometimes it didn't how well-intentioned he'd been, it still came out wrong.
"I'll come," was the reply with more intense grabby hands.
"You're better off in bed." He got a glare followed by an intense pair of puppy eyes. He really needed his eldest to stop being his youngest, he didn't have the power to say no anymore. He'd only been able to say no in recent years when there were less adorable features surrounding those pleading eyes. With a loud sigh, Bruce scooped the boy up into his arms and held him on his hip. "Better?" Dick hummed and hid his face. He seemed quite content to close his eyes again and it wouldn't surprise the billionaire if by the time they got downstairs he'd returned to his slumber. Poor kid could do with a lie in anyway, even if he wasn't technically lying in. "Let's get you your painkillers, kid."
It seemed it was just going to be one of those mornings as Dick fought about having his painkillers, absolutely refusing to take them in pill form which then forced Bruce to venture into the kitchen to figure out what he could possibly hide them in when the boy was attached to his hip. He was admittedly a little worried at the lack of maturity he was being faced with but then he had a moment of mentally slapping himself in the face when he thought about it for more than two minutes. No wonder there was no maturity, he was dealing with a hurt nine-year-old who was having a hard time that morning. He'd be grouchy if he was in the same position and he was getting on for fifty as much as he liked to think he was still just approaching his thirties. Maybe yesterday Dick still had the leftover adrenaline of coming home or maybe the acrobat had been desperate to impress after being rescued. Either way, it shouldn't have been that surprising to find that this morning it was getting to be too much. Luckily, Bruce caught Alfred in the kitchen chatting to Jason who he didn't remember being that much of an early riser but brushed off the presence. It was more likely an attempt to be the first to get Alfred's mishap pancakes or a ploy to insure that night's dinner was some spin on pizza. He made an attempt to drop the boy off at the breakfast bar only to get a panicked cry and immediately abandon the plan.
"What's up with Goldie?" Jason inquired, placing a sceptical gaze on his mentor as though he'd be the cause of it. It wasn't too far a leap in logic to be considered offensive and neither could really be bothered with an argument this early.
"Rough morning. He's struggling to wake up and he doesn't want to take his medicine," he explained. He jostled the acrobat in hopes of getting him to notice his brother, and hopefully find sitting with him more interesting so he could sneak him medicine successfully, but only got a whine in return. "He also appears to be glued to my side. Found him in my bed this morning but I don't remember him coming in."
"Sounds like he had a rough night as well," Alfred commented. He shot the boy an empathetic look and swiftly took the pills from Bruce's hand, taking over the job to hide them. In all fairness, he was better. Bruce could recall many a time that he'd been handed food after vehemently denying to have any type of medicine as a child and never tasting it to question the habit. He wondered sometimes if the butler snuck sleeping pills into his food sometimes when sudden drowsiness ever took over him in his study.
"I can take him. You're probably itching to get back to work," Jason offered.
"I've worked with him like this before," he replied, ignoring the dig. "Unless you want to go with Jason?" he asked.
"Later."
"Well, I don't know. I'd have to check my busy schedule." That got a little giggle out of the lad which on mornings like these felt like drawing blood from a stone. "I'll pencil you in for after lunch, alright? Got some business to take care of first."
"Heading back to the safe house?"
"Just for a few things. Besides, you'll be working on the biological stuff and you know I'm more of a literature analyst," he explained. "I'll be back though. Kid will need someone who can keep up with him."
"Are you insinuating I'm too old to take care of a child?" Alfred asked although he did so with a small smile to show he was teasing.
"Somehow I don't think there's a correct way to answer that so I'll be waiting at the dinner table."
Breakfast was fairly normal aside from the fact that Dick was like an overgrown leach who wouldn't leave his mentor's lap and refused to eat in favour of remaining in a state between snoozing and napping. His sluggish behaviour brought up concerns about his head injury but Bruce was quick to reassure them that this was typical nine-year-old acrobat behaviour. Sometimes it was typical twenty-something-year-old behaviour depending on how little sleep Dick was running on and how comfy the bed was. Enough of Dick's partners mentioned it in passing and he wasn't entirely surprised the habit was had to shake.
"You've got to eat something," Damian insisted, sounding more concerned than he would have liked to.
"Alfred did make you your own special pancakes," Bruce added. This would've had any other person in the Wayne household gain an appetite and abandon whatever they were doing but the encouragement to eat only brought the boy to tears.
"They're different," he hiccuped, evidently distraught that something had been made especially for him. For a moment, the billionaire wondered if he knew there was medicine in there but he pushed away that thought because Dick still didn't know this was a habit the butler had when dealing with uncooperative patients. "No more different," he pleaded. Alfred had come in at this point to see if anyone needed top-ups of coffee and, more preferably for his conscience, orange juice and frowned at the adverse reaction to the effort he'd put into the food. Only, he didn't exactly blame Dick for not appreciating the extra care put in today. Although only hearing the latter sentence, Alfred wasn't stupid. There had been so much change going on recently that it was only natural the acrobat was begging for comforting familiarity in a world so different from the one he remembered. He'd taken most of it on the chin but, again, this was a rough morning.
"Alright, Master Dick, we'll have no more tears at the breakfast table. I'll make you the ones using the exact same recipe you used to have," Alfred assured him.
"M sorry," the little boy muttered. "Wasting food."
"And you'll remember I'd rather you have an enjoyable experience. Besides, don't you remember our compost heap?" The thought of something still being there even now had significantly brightened the boy's spirits despite it being over a compost heap. "It'll be eaten one way or another."
"See, Dickie, it's not the end of the world," Bruce added to show his support. He didn't really know why he felt the need to tack on when things felt sufficiently wrapped up but he felt like it was something a father was supposed to say. The acrobat nodded and returned to leaning his full body weight onto his mentor as he fought off heavy blinks.
"What's got you so upset about change?" Steph asked. "You were quite happy meeting everyone before."
"Coz it's everywhere!" he pouted. "If I'm gonna be old again then I'm gonna be different and if I stay it's still different. Too much."
"What do you mean you'll be different when you're older? We've already told you we've got that sorted," Tim reminded him.
"Dick said so," he mumbled, wanting to go back to snoozing but he'd decidedly said too much for that to be an option. Bruce gently shook his shoulder to keep him awake and mouthed an apology when he got a glare.
"What did Grayson say?" Damian pressed.
"M'ganns DNA...have remnants of her. Change our physiology." Fuck.
"I didn't even think," Tim began. "Yeah, you'd take on some of her shapeshifting abilities."
"So change. Don't want it." To be honest, neither did they.