-I made Bruce a bit younger in this, for optimum young parent vibes-

Bruce had become absent lately, even more than normal. He could stare dead into the wall for hours, and go days without uttering a single word.

 The therapist Alfred made him see said that seeing two people being murdered, while their eight year old son cried over their bodies 'was horrific' and 'ignited old trauma', or something.

Bruce assumed that was bullshit at the time, I mean, he was Batman, he'd seen plenty of people die; usually it would upset him a bit, but not this much. Now, he was starting to think this might be a trauma thing: he could not stop thinking about the little boy from the circus. 

That kid was in the same situation he was in, except this boy didn't have a miracle worker like Alfred, or money, or a home, or school, or (Bruce suspected) Legal ID.

In hindsight,  abysmal as it was to admit, Bruce had it pretty good, even when mourning his Parents as a child. He began imagining what it must be to be this child right now; having every ounce of his old life torn away from him.

He went on his laptop, vaguely remembering where Dick was being held. Apon further research, it was.... not the best place. Actually, it was downright illegal in some aspects (Mostly human rights violations). 

He went through the website without aim, sent a few emails, thoughtlessly filled out some personal information... He thoughtlessly signed forms, and gazed over contracts. He wasn't planning to anything, he was just toying with the idea...

Finally the webpage informed him that the rest had to be done in person. Luckily, it was still office hours.

He thought the one-on-one character interview went well, Bruce was good at playing someone who had his shit together. He still hadn't even acknowledged what he was doing, just that he was doing something.

So, with paper work signed, and a meeting scheduled, Bruce went home, and went back to staring at the wall in his office. As if nothing had happened.

On auto pilot, he walked to the dining room for dinner. He sat at the head or the table, staring dead ahead. He took one sip of water, and turned casually to the elderly butler beside him.

"I'm getting a child."

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As the legal supervisor and social worker brought him into the room, Bruce got a good look at Richard. The boy looked smaller than he was a couple weeks ago: Not only thinner, but deflated, and devoid of all energy and happiness. he had some scratches and bruises, some which looked days old, or even slightly infected, but had just had band aids put on to cover them during the meeting. It ground the man's heart to see.

"Richard Grayson?" He asked. The kid nodded a little, not looking at him. "My name is Bruce Wayne, I'm here to ask if you a want to come live with me, and let be take care of you." He tried to be direct, unsure of how to address the kid. "Would you like that?"

The kid stared at the table. The social workers clapped his hands right by Dick's face, startling him a lot. "Hey, are you going to answer Mr. Wayne's question?" Dick raised his eyes a little, and shrugged at Bruce's offer, very slightly. "Words, Richard." He ordered.

"Okay." He murmured.

"You want to come live with me?"

"Okay."

"Well, great." Bruce gave a half-hearted thumbs-up at the kid; that was a lot easier than he expected.

Next, Dick was taken out of the room while they discussed the remaining legal matters with adopting the boy. Bruce had to sign a contract saying that he wouldn't sue if it was discovered that Dick had some illness, trauma, or injury that had gone unnoticed by the care home staff. That was EXTREMELY sketchy and illegal, but Bruce didn't argue, he needed to get that poor boy out of here. He'd expose the establishment later, as Batman.

They still needed a few hours before Richard would be let out into his care, So Bruce went to the Starbucks across the street, ordered a black coffee, forgot about it until it was cold, and then chugged it and ran back in time to pick the kid up.

Dick only had one bag, it was on the larger sider, forcing the boy to drag it. The backpack must have belonged to one of his parents, and only looked about half-full.

Glancing over and signing the last two pages, which had been stapled onto a leaflet of useless legal stuff, Bruce could officially take Dick home. On the way out to the car, Bruce addressed Dick personally for the first time.

"Do you want me to carry your bag?"

"No."

They weren't much for conversation. Bruce opened the back door of the car, invitingly, the boy just looked at him, confused.

"Go ahead, get in."

"Me?"

"Yeah, of course." Nervously, Dick crawled into the backseat, still dragging his backpack after him. He was trying not to get the car dirty. Bruce took a look at the kid, fiddling with the seatbelt. "Do you know how to do that?" Dick shook his head, shyly. "Here." He leaned forwards and snapped the belt into place, the kid shied away the closer he got. "Does that fit right?"

Dick shrugged. "Yes."

Bruce looked at the kid. He was definitely going to need a booster seat. Hopefully, they'd be able to get back to the manor without one just this once. Bruce got into the driver's seat, and began pulling away, onto the main road.

Half way home, Bruce nearly crashed the car. 
HE HAS A CHILD. HE WAS FOSTERING A CHILD! HE DIDN'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT KIDS! WHAT WAS HE THINKING?

In the course of two days, he'd legally taken in a child. Why The Hell Did He Do That??? Bruce shakily adjusted the rear-view mirror to see the backseat. He started in terror to see that there was, in fact, a child in there. Dick gripping his bag against his chest in fear from the sudden stop of the car.

Bruce forced himself to calm down. There was a child now, and he had to protect it, like Batman. He could have his mental breakdown once he got home. 

He eased up on the break, and said, in the most casual voice he could. "Sorry about that, we'll be there soon."

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It was hard to introduce Dick to Alfred, not because the butler wasn't being friendly and inviting towards the terrified boy, who was inching through the double doors with wide eyes. No, the issue was that Bruce could feel the 'what were you thinking' and 'Bruce, what did you do' vibes coming off him from a mile away. Except Bruce completely agreed, he had NO CLUE WHAT HE WAS DOING.

"Richard, this is Alfred Pennyworth. He'll be helping me take care of you." 

Alfred could tell from the way he phrased it, that Bruce was starting the immediate-regret crisis he'd expected.

Alfred took the boys bag, and Dick didn't resist like he did before. How did Alfred not even have to do anything to work well with children? "Come with me, Master Richard, I have a bedroom prepared for you upstairs."

Dick looked up at Bruce, eyes still like saucers. Bruce looked away, a slight feeling of panic coming over him. "Go with Alfred. I have some work to do."

Bruce rushed into the nearest place where he could have some privacy, which happened to be the nearest downstairs washroom, and locked the door. He stared at himself in the mirror. He'd waded out of his depth and just remembered that didn't know how to swim. He didn't like children. Even as a child he didn't like children. So why did he want to take in a child? He graduated from university three damn years ago! He was WAY too young for this. Whatever this was.

Bruce hadn't had a proper relationship as an adult. He didn't really have friends, either. He didn't communicate with people, and knew nothing about children.

Alfred was right, he hadn't the slightest clue what he was doing.

Part of him wished he could wake up again that morning, and choose not to sign the papers, and not show up to the meeting. Then thought of the Richard, mourning and starving, with all his injuries unbandaged and  infected. It was a horrific sight to imagine. 

Bruce would do anything to keep Dick from going back there. But if that meant he had to keep the boy himself, Bruce knew he needed to get cool with a lot of things, very quickly. The easiest place to start was with some of the immediate adjustments needed to be made. 

First thing he did was go around the manor, ensuring that every door he wanted locked, was locked. He just assumed the worst, ad locked all the windows too. unsure of where to go from there, he turned to the internet for desperate help.

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Dick had been told to take a shower while Alfred ran his clothing through the wash (Most of it had gone at least two weeks since last being washed, plus the facility he'd been at was known for bedbugs). The hear of the shower aggravated Dick's scratches and scrapes, he got some of them the night his parents fell, and they still hadn't healed.

All his clothes were in the wash, but he was given a towel. He dried himself, wrapped the towel around him, sitting on the floor. Everything was so big here. Big and Fancy. His mother would love this place.

That made Dick feel sad. He looked out into the hallway, and saw no one. He staggered across the hallway to his new bedroom. It was enormous; probably twice as big as their trailer at the circus. Dick clambered onto the bed, clasping the towel around him for warmth, and reached into his almost-empty bag, pulling peanut out. He hugged the elephant against his chest, it was the only thing he had left from the circus.

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Bruce hurried upstairs, noticing that Dick's new bedroom door was open. He squinted in, a tiny form was on the bed. He walked in to the boys bedroom. "Richard? is everything okay?" Bruce stiffened, NO BRUCE, HE'S CLEARLY NOT OKAY, HIS PARENTS JUST DIED, he thought angrily. He didn't know what he was doing. "Is Alfred washing your clothes?" Dick nodded, clutching at a smell stuffed toy. "What's that?"

"Peanut." Dick muttered, showing the creature to be a stuffed elephant toy.

Bruce nodded a little, unsure of what to do. "Let me get you something to wear." He went to his bedroom and sorted through one of his old drawers, pulling out an old teeshirt. It was older, and a bit worn, and would certainly be too big for Dick. Still, to took it to the boy. "You can wear this for now." He said uncomfortably, setting it down next to the boy. There were several seconds of silence. "Okay, well, I'll come up and let you know when dinner is ready." He stated.

Bruce paused in the doorway, glancing back at the boy. He hoped he could make this work.