-it is currently 3:58 am. what am I doing?-

"Dickie, I'm going to need you to stay close to me, okay?" Bruce had to go into the office briefly to pick up some papers, but couldn't find a babysitter. The whole thing shouldn't take more then twenty-five minutes. 

"I Will!" The nine year old exclaimed. 

"Okay, just don't wander off, you could get hurt."

"I Know." Dick pouted. He thought he was old enough to be left home alone, and didn't like being dragged around to Wayne Enterprises buildings.

"Okay, let's make this quick, and then we'll go home and have some lunch." Bruce reached over and unbuckled Dick's seatbelt.

"I can do it." He protested. Dick was going through an independence phase, getting deeply annoyed when Bruce did things for him, which was rough because Bruce tried to do everything for him. 

He pried the door open and hopped out. He slammed the door and started across the street.

"DICK!" He felt something grab his sweatshirt hood, jerking him back. his legs kicked out in front of him from the sudden stop. A truck raced by at surely illegal speeds. If Dick had been six inches closer, he'd have been hit. "Dickie, are you okay?"

He put his hand by his throat, his neck hurt from Bruce grabbing his hood. "ow."

"You could've been killed." Bruce pulled him off the asphalt, dusting him off.

Dick shoved Bruce off him. "I've got it!"

"ALWAYS look both ways!" His foster father said, grabbing his wrist and pulling him across the (Now clear) street.

"I know! Let go! I can do it!" He tried to pull away, but Bruce had a grip of iron.

Bruce didn't let go until he'd buzzed them both into the building, and pulled him into the crowded elevator.

Now, Dick was annoyed, shaken, and angsty that foster dad was anchoring him in place in his public office. It's not like he was a baby, he could follow Bruce around for twenty minutes! 

Bruce grabbed the papers and they were nearly out the door, when they were cut off; two of his business friends, who'd been mid-conversation when they say him.

"Bruce! I hoped we'd see you. Can we talk about our collaboration this week...?"

Bruce sighed, trying to suppress his frustration. He was hungry and frustrated, as was his kid, and he just wanted to make this quick. "Sure." He briefly introduced them to Dick an vis-versa.

Dick could tell these men were important- or, at least, their relationship with Bruce was, and judging by the looks his foster father was giving him, he knew not to intrude. 

Dick meandered around Bruce' legs, occasionally going to the desk and asking the receptionist to let him have some of the caramels on her desk. She gave them to him, not wanting to stir up drama with the big boss' kid.

Dick. Was. So. BORED. He couldn't stay still, he just wanted to go home and eat the food that Alfred left for them in the fridge. 

Dick leaned backwards, there was this little, half-open door down the hallway. It looked interesting. Dick knew he shouldn't say anything, Bruce made it VERY clear to be quiet.  Surely they wouldn't notice if he was gone for five minutes...

Casually, he wandered away from the trio, creeping along the wall, and slipping through the door. It looked like a goods lift, and a side-stairwell. He decided to take the stairs, he'd just sneak down a  little and see what it was like.

Quietly, he crept down to what looked like storage basement. he didn't know how long he'd been gone, but he just HAD to look around down there.

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Bruce was exhausted, just preying for an excuse to escape out the main door.  Suddenly, he saw one of his security officers approaching out of the corner of his eye.

"Mr. Wayne?"

"Daryl? What is it?"

"Did you lose something?"

Bruce's first instinct was to check his pockets, then he glanced around him. "Dick!"

The man pulled the sheepish little boy from behind him. "We found in the loading bay downstairs."

"I thought those doors were kept locked?" Bruce whispered frantically, grabbing the boy, and pulling him closer. "Dick! What were you thinking?" He looked up at is companions, externally a bit embarrassed by his kid's actions. "I'm so sorry, we've got to go. Just cc me in the messaged later, and I'll get back to you."

Bruce grabbed his shoulder and marched him out of the building. When they got to the car, Dick felt compelled to speak.

"I'm sorry, Bruce."

"Well, that's another reason that I like to hold on to you when we go out." His foster father said, stiffly, getting in the front seat. "You could've gotten hurt again down there."

"Sorry."

Dick stayed quiet, trying to plug in the seat belt. it wasn't working. He was scared to bother Bruce again. 

"Are you buckled up?" In the rear view mirror, he watched Dick nod a little, though he didn't have his belt on. "Are you sure?" He turned in his seat.

Dick stared at his sketchers, quietly. "Help me?" He asked.

Bruce exhaled, he turned in his seat and leaned forwards. he buckled Dick up. "Ready to go?"

"Uh huh."

"I guess we both found that a bit boring." he pulled out of the parking space. "But, don't do that again.