Dick Grayson one shots

Don't these things usually come knowing English?

Aiight... originally like 25% of this I wrote in Russian, but I decided to change it to English for the sake of everyone reading :))

Being the absolute genius detective he was, Bruce attributed Dick's month of near complete silence to mourning.

Every blank look and awkward silence after he was asked a question was overlooked, brushed off with the reassurance that he'd talk when he was ready.

Dick, however, just seemed to get more and more detached, curling up in his room to cry for hours on the daily.

Bruce was in the car with Dick one day when the thought occurred to him that the boy might not know English. He had come from a mostly European based international circus after all.

He'd been trying to get the little boy to tell him what type of ice cream he'd like for the past 5 or so minutes, with little to no success.

'But if he doesn't speak English then what language would he know?' Bruce thought to himself. There was a chance he'd know German or French... both languages Bruce himself wasn't very comfortable with. Perhaps Russian... Russian circus performers were a stereotypical thing right?

«Would you like some ice cream?» Bruce asked hesitantly.

Dick perked up immediately, offering a tentative «Yes please.»

Bruce was in awe. «What flavor would you like?» He asked.

«Chocolate please,» Dick said excitedly, leaning out of his seatbelt to peer into the ice cream shop's window.

Bruce paid and handed Dick the sweet treat.

«Thank you Mr. Bruce,» The little acrobat said, smiling widely.

Dick chattered incessantly in Russian, completely opposite to the way he'd been for the past month.

Bruce on the other hand, spent the ride home mentally chastising himself for being so clueless about the whole thing.

—

Dick felt bad about sneaking out again, he really did. Bruce had been nice enough to take him in after all, and after the man had finally started talking to him in something that wasn't gibberish to his ears, he'd grown rather attached.

He had to do this however. He had to get justice for his parents' murder.

Bruce, undoubtedly would've told him the police would handle it if asked... Dick, however, knew better.

No progress on the case had been reported since the night they died. He knew. He'd looked for any sign of his parents on each page of the daily newspaper from the day he'd come to the manor.

Of course, he knew there was a chance he'd missed something. The papers were filled with unfamiliar symbols he couldn't make any sense of after all.

That's why he'd borrowed Bruce's computer and hacked into the GCPD database. Numbers, he'd found were a universal language.

The fact that Bruce had multiple reasons to be angry with him pushed Dick to follow the same route he'd taken the past few nights, out of his window and through the manor gates, a picture of Tony Zucco clutched in his fist.

—

Bruce nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt someone tugging on his cape in the middle of his stakeout. He turned to see wide blue eyes staring at him, a tiny finger pointing at a picture of Tony Zucco.

Dick stood, pointing at the picture and hoping the Batman would understand... the same thing he'd been doing all night.

Bruce's eyes narrowed slightly as he recognized his ward. "What..." he started before remembering the language barrier he'd discovered before. «Dick what are you doing here?» he asked instead.