Dick Grayson one shots

The ballet

"That was such a good show!" Dick said excitedly, smiling over at Bruce.

Bruce chuckled at Dick's excitement. He never got to spend much time with his eldest... Dick had grown up faster than he'd thought and had built himself a life away from Gotham.

"Did you like it?" Dick asked nervously when Bruce was silent.

Bruce managed a smile and a nod back. He originally hadn't wanted to go to the theater, but the younger had somehow convinced him to come see the ballet with him while he was in town.

"The whole experience was almost magical," Dick added. "The way they used the smoke and everything was crazy!"

Bruce's smile grew slightly, Dick's enthusiasm rubbing off on him.

"I wonder if I'd have gotten into ballet if I'd been born in Russia or something," Dick mused.

"You still could," Bruce replied. "You have enough of the physical aspect, you'd just need to train for all of the different positions and steps and all that stuff."

Dick laughed. "Nah," he said. "I much prefer the trapeze."

Bruce smiled again, wrapping an arm around the acrobat. "Thanks Dick," he said, "for getting me out of the manor for something... different."

Dick smiled up at him. "Of course B," he said. "Isn't that what children are for?"

Bruce ruffled Dick's hair, letting out a chuckle. "I guess so."

"Hey," Dick whined, dodging Bruce's hand with a lighthearted chuckle. "Where did we even park anyway?" He asked after a minute or so of walking.

Bruce paused. "That's a very good question," he mumbled, looking around at the streets lined with cars.

"I feel like it was more that way," Dick mused, pointing back toward the way they'd came.

"We might've left through the wrong exit," Bruce said. "Our car was close to the front."

Dick nodded, starting to head in the other direction.

The pair walked between two towering apartment buildings, stopping in their tracks when they heard the sound of a gun cocking.

Bruce looked to where the sound had come from, his chest tightening when he saw a gun pressed to Dick's head, the man's finger tight on the trigger.

In that moment he was a scared little eight year old boy again, his parents being pressed for their valuables at gunpoint.

"Sir, I am a police officer. I will ask you one time to put the gun down," Dick said, his voice even and calm.

"Not until Mr. Brucey Wayne forks over his wallet," the man said, pressing the gun harder against Dick's skull.

Bruce was still frozen, his eyes wide and his breath coming in gasps.

"Not gonna happen," Dick growled, flipping the man over his shoulder.

The man landed on his back, the gun going off, eliciting a choked whimper from Bruce.

Dick was on the man before he had a chance to get up, wrenching the gun from his hands, and pinning them behind his back.

A second gunshot went off and Dick tensed, the man's hands slipping from his grasp as he stumbled back, clutching at his chest. His eyes flickered over to Bruce as he fell to his knees.

"No," Bruce mumbled, rushing to catch Dick as he fell to the side. "No," he sobbed, paying no attention as the attempted robber and his accomplice ran off together.

Dick tried to speak, to tell Bruce that he was fine... but all that came out was a mouthful of blood.

Tears fell from Bruce's eyes as he tried to apply pressure to the wound, desperately calling for help.

Dick's eyes had a far away look to them, his consciousness slowly drifting away.

Bruce felt like he was 8 years old again, watching his parents bleed out in crime alley, his world crumbling to pieces around him.

For all his training, all his knowledge... he hadn't been able to save the one person he'd promised to always watch out for...