bought_the_bank | Beneath A Full Moon

"Last of the great trouble makers," Bruce finishes for him. There's a hint of pride there as well.

He settles the mug on a thigh. The patio side table where he'd normally place it has been repurposed as an ottoman, his left foot up and resting. The ankle has finally stopped throbbing. He's glad it wasn't the right or it would have made the drive up here miserable.

"Yea," Dick agrees, and his smile is fond - He's pretty proud of what Tim can do himself, and he'd always wanted to be a big brother. Having a brother who had started out with such a hero worship of him had been nice too, admittedly, but he genuinely cared for Tim.

"How's it feeling?" He asks, nodding at the ankle. Privately he's grateful for it, he thinks it might be the only reason they actually managed to make it out here, although he feels guilty for that, it's not like he actually wants to see his father hurt.

"Fine."

It's his standard abbreviated response to any injury or wound related inquiry. He could be in a world of hurt and still answer with that same single word. It's his way of aborting a conversation before it has a chance to begin. Showing pain is showing weakness. That's what he's always believed, regardless of the irritation it seems to cause those closest to him.

He refused the x-ray two days previous. In retrospect, it wasn't the wisest choice.

Ah yes, fine, the only word in Bruce Wayne's injury vocabulary - at least, when it came to his own injuries, he could be quite vocal when any of his children got hurt in the line of duty, Dick was pretty sure his last sprained ankle had resulted in a lecture lasting at least half an hour. Tim had tried to time it but he couldn't do it without Bruce noticing.

"The bruising is still pretty bad..."

Bruce expresses his worry for their wellbeing in odd ways. Most of the time it manifests itself as anger. He may have elongated that particular lecture though on purpose out of irritation. Tim isn't as surreptitious as he thinks he is and Bruce takes their health very seriously. Unlike his own.

"It's fine," he flatly insists, taking another sip of hot chocolate.

"I'm just saying it looks a lot like the bruising that time my ankle turned out to be broken..." and it's with some reluctance that he brings that time up, given that it didn't happen in a fight or even during a particularly dangerous stunt, he'd just been flipping around in his usually nonchalant way and he'd messed up the landing. It's probably his most embarrassing injury to date.

"... After you missed the landing on that back flip you did in the kitchen?" That slight twinkle in his eye is back as he redirects the conversation away from himself. He didn't find it very amusing back then. There was only so long he allowed Dick to limp along on it before insisting they check it out. Alfred handled the x-ray but Leslie ended up doing the cast.

Dick scowls, he should have known that bringing it up would give Bruce an out - not that he intends to allow him one - and he'd rather not dwell on the incident any longer than necessary. It was the reason for Alfred's "no gymnastics in the kitchen" rule and he'd been grumpy about it ever since.

"Yes, that time," he says a little testily "and remember how you forced me to get it looked at? Properly looked at?"

The emphasis Dick purposefully places warps his amusement into mild irritation. He's never responded well to having the double standard pointed out, either directly or indirectly. If Dick was willing to bring up the kitchen incident though, Bruce knows he's definitely concerned. Given the state of the ankle, legitimately concerned. The scenery isn't the only thing that's kept him in the patio chair but he'll never admit it.

"If it's not marginally better by tomorrow, I'll have it looked at when we get back." All told after driving, that's three days away. If he's looking to appease Dick, it's a poor attempt.

Dick's expression is unimpressed, it's close to agreeing to actually do something about the injury, but it's not exactly the option he was looking for, and while getting any headway at all with Bruce was practically a victory, it wasn't one he was going to be satisfied with today.

"I was thinking Leslie could take a look at it. A proper look, I mean. And if she says it needs X-rays or a cast or anything, you have to do what she says." he says sternly - it's not that impressive a tone coming from him, he doesn't quite have Bruce's gravitas, but it's obvious he's serious "which is why I asked her to come down here for the day tomorrow."

His irritation ramps right up into anger, which he turns on Dick in the form of a hardened glare. Only he can roll a name, a curse, and a warning all into one utterance. "Dick."

He doesn't appreciate being outmaneuvered, especially by his own son. Alfred and Leslie fall into a truly unique group of two, able to direct Bruce as long suffering parents would an uncooperative child. They always have his best interests at heart and without fail, get their way. To call Leslie now and tell her not to come would be rude. He wouldn't do that to her.

Dick can see the anger in the glare, but while it made criminals flee in terror, it crashed around him harmlessly and he tried his very best not to look as smug as he felt - it wasn't often he got one over on Bruce after all. He didn't want Bruce to be angry at him, but he'd gladly take it if it meant his father would get the medical attention he obviously needed.

Although he knew he didn't have enough influence to make him do too much, that was why he'd called in the big guns.

"You can wipe that look off your face."

"What look? I don't know what look you're talking about..." Dick protests, trying to sound as innocent as possible despite the urge to laugh "how could you say such things to your eldest son, when he was just trying to help..."

It's enough to take the edge off his anger. When he replies with a friendly threat of revenge, his expression is still serious. "You won't know when... You won't know where... But you'll know why."

"Hmm, I'm not sure I will," Dick says, slouching down in his chair a little and taking a satisfied sip of his hot chocolate "I mean, let's face it, at this point there's a list of possible motives..."

There's some truth to that.

"I'm still bitter about the last time you drugged my coffee." Although it's clear from his tone, he's not really as bitter as he says he is.

"You don't sleep in four days, you get drugged coffee, that's just how it goes, I don't make the rules." although he had made that one. Or at least the solution to it, nobody liked any of the assorted bat brigade when they'd had too little sleep, but the lot of them were too stubborn to listen to anybody telling them to get some rest, especially Bruce, so drugs it was.

"The hallucinations were manageable."

To say nothing of the wild irritable mood swings above and beyond his normal cheerful self and the micronap he experienced behind the wheel of the batmobile on the third day. He must have been hell to live with.

"There is no such thing as a manageable hallucination," Dick shook his head disapprovingly

"You know, you look after an awful lot of people, you really should look after yourself more." it wasn't the first time he'd said something similar, and he knew it wasn't likely to be the last.

Bruce's reaction isn't perhaps what Dick might expect based on his previous responses. The smile starts off small on his face and gradually works its way up into a self-satisfied and knowing grin, like he's enjoying a private joke. Some day Dick is going to become a parent himself and all of this will come full circle. Grandchildren are a grandparents' best revenge. Assuming he lives long enough to see it.

"What time did Leslie say she'd be here?"

If Dick didn't know for certain that Bruce hadn't hit his head recently, he'd worry that the smile meant he had concussion, instead it just made him worry that the older man was planning something, or had realised something that Dick hadn't yet - whatever it was it would bite Dick in the ass at some point, he just knew it.

"You have a couple more hours, and you know I'll just track you if you try and make a run for it, so don't even try." he paused for a moment before chuckling "or a hop for it, anyway."

"That sounds like a challenge," he comments casually. Dick may have just inadvertently committed himself to keeping both eyes on Bruce until Leslie arrives. If Dick turns his back, he might very well find that once occupied chair vacant.

"Oh no." Dick would facepalm but that would give Bruce just the opening he's looking for. Instead he twists his chair round and drags his gaze away from the beautiful sky to fix it on his father with a stubborn expression.

"Congratulations, you have now earned yourself a staring contest until she gets here."

Dick doesn't actually have to follow through on the gesture for Bruce to envision it. His reaction to the implication was well worth the innocently dropped comment. In this instance however, he really has no intention of following through. The only place he might hop to is the living room. The temperature outside continues to fall.

"I'm not going anywhere, Dick." His tone of voice says it all.

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Sorry for the delay! Also the mental image of grandpa Bruce is perfect and precious

No worries! lol. He's going to be such a grumpy old man.

Re: No worries! lol. He's going to be such a grumpy old man.

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