#switch!bruce wayne

Bruce could only not think anything of it for so long until he had to intervene. “It” being the fact that Dick decided he was feeling playful in the middle of a debrief with the commissioner. A debrief about potential signs of activity from Victor Zsaz. Serial murderer, criminally insane, all around bad news.

The moment a little gloved hand snuck around into his peripheral vision, he carefully stopped its path. Only for Dick’s other hand to shoot around and attempt to wiggle its way under his cowl.

Bruce’s shoulder twitched up towards his ear. Jim was never going to let him live this down.

“Robin—“

An entirely unapologetic snicker came from overhead, where he was carrying his son on his shoulders.

“Alright, alright… you just lost shoulder privileges.” He set Dick back on his feet. He didn’t look too distraught about it, at least.

It was astonishing how much of a dad he had become in the, objectively, small amount of time he’d had the acrobat under his care. He regularly pulled out all the stops. Now, he was kneeling down to meet Dick’s eyes. He was only restless, Bruce could tell. He must have wanted to go home. There were significantly more safeguards set in place for Robin than usual because of the climate in the city’s criminal underbelly.

It was understandable that a kid would get bored, and Dick was high energy by kid standards.

“The night’s almost over, hang in there.” He stood to his full height.

That little frown… pulling back his cape, Dick appeared happier to scuttle into the offered place of sanctuary.

Bruce exhaled a long, suffering sigh, slowly lifting his head to meet the commissioner’s eyes. He was sure he hadn’t experienced this much dread since the last time Arkham Asylum security breach rumors began to circulate.

Jim’s expression gave nothing away. Bruce attempted to mirror that.

“…I—“

“You know that I have a little girl. Just keep talking.” He more than understood. Chances were, he knew understood than Bruce did, and was a much more respectable father.

“Right…”

* * *

Bruce was tired. Both Batman and Robin were out of any armor, having changed into something more comfortable. When he realized that Dick always seemed to get a second wind after patrol, he’d started keeping more practical activewear in the training deck. Tonight was no different.

Did his aching muscles want to play chase? No, not exactly, but he wasn’t going to be as spry as he was now forever. Those aches would one day sink into his bones, and he hardly ever afforded himself any time to waste.

So, around and around they went, vaulting over and ducking under scattered equipment. Dick’s talent really shined in moments like this.

“You know I’m gonna catch you.” Eventually.

“No!” He squeaked.

Ironically, after taking a second to peer over his shoulder, Dick didn’t see the gym mat he was rapidly approaching. It came up to about his calves, he’d been running so fast that when they collided, he went head over heels.

The fact that it was a big rectangle of soft foam with the express purpose of cushioning falls marginally soothed Bruce’s spiking blood pressure.

He crashed down onto the mat next to Dick, setting a hand on the squirmy boy’s shoulder to roll him over onto his back.

“Well… I caught you. Now what should I do with you?”

The only response he got was frantic, boyish laughter.

“That’s not an answer.” Bruce was trying to keep his tone flat, but a smile was creeping onto his face.

“Okay, okahay, umm…”

“You should let me stay home from school next week— no, forever. You should let me stay home from school forever.”

Dick was starting to giggle in the following silence, but didn’t break eye contact as Bruce stared him down, who eventually huffed and let his smile take over.

“Nice try.” Prodding lightly into Dick’s tummy already had him squealing.

Taking notice of this, Bruce solemnly hummed. “Oh, Dickie, you’re in trouble.”

He hovered overhead, his little Robin free to wriggle around, though he never strayed far. He’d rolled onto his side, arms outstretched, pawing at the mat below. Bruce spidered a hand up his side to sneak under his arm. The fallout was instant.

“gEHIT out of there!” Dick squeaked. He was surprised when, shortly after, Bruce listened.

He was then caught by the calf, legs pulled into his father’s lap where he sat cross legged.

“We’ll go under your knees instead.” He spoke like he was being charitable, the facade cracking with a chuff when Dick, as he’d predicted, began to babble incoherently. His following shriek had Bruce worrying about the potential for falling stalactites.

“Inside voices, chum.” He coaxed, a quiet chuckle lacing his tone.

He shouted like this meant life or death. “sUPERMAN! SUPERMAN! Clark! Rescue meeEHEHE!”

Bruce slowly pulled back, releasing Dick’s leg as the words registered. As sweet as the bond between the two most upstanding, pure of heart individuals he knew was, it was late.

“I told you to only use that for emergencies.”

“Maybe this is an emergency…” The boy looked petulant. He probably knew that may not have been the best call, but he was stubborn, and wasn’t changing his mind now. “Clark said I can call for him whenever I want.”

That’s because he’s Clark. He would give up his life for you in a heartbeat.

“Yeah, because he sees your little face and melts.” The teasing smile on Bruce’s lips was a rare sighting. He reached out a hand to pinch at his son’s cheek, earning a wrinkled nose and a snort.

“Well that’s not my fault—“ The strong gust of wind that swept Dick away would have knocked Bruce into his back, had he not braced the ground with his hands.

“You came!” Dick rejoiced. With Clark already holding him, he couldn’t run up and glomp him to blow off steam. He instead looked to be squeezing as tight as he could manage.

“I— Y… Yeah… yeah. Of course I did.”

Bruce didn’t know if Kryptonians actually got winded, but Clark was ruffled, scanning the cave for any signs of imminent danger. He began to slowly collect himself. He did tell Dick that there wasn’t ever a bad time, whatever he needed, Clark would get there as soon as he could.

He hadn’t been in another galaxy on a suicide mission. Making himself look slightly more presentable and flying to Gotham wasn’t a big deal. He would rather be called upon for something mundane than so much as imagine Dick in Bruce’s definition of an “emergency.”

Seeing how excitable the boy was, Clark was able to come down from most of his panic.

“So, what am I rescuing you from, buddy?” He asked with a quiet smile. Dick pointed, and it had him raising an eyebrow.

“Oh really?” He cocked his head.

Bruce had stood up by now. He was eyeing them from a few feet away, arms crossed, probably brooding.

“Hey, Bruce, uh… late night, huh?”

Clark was too nice. It gave him the jitters. “I— yes, crime doesn’t sleep. I’m sorry about… he—“

“He has nothing to apologize for.” Clark hiked Dick up in his arms. Jitters.

“I’m glad you think so, I guess.” Bruce’s voice softened in a variety of ways, his gaze averting.

“Dickie said I’m rescuing him from you. What do you think about that?”

This was so stupid.

“I was teasing him.” Bruce’s frown was slowly starting to look less frown-like.

“He was tickling me! On purpose!” Dick was set back down on the ground to take his stance, once again pointing in accusation.

“Because you were pushing my buttons on patrol.” Bruce bent at the waist to better meet his son’s eyes, unable to keep himself from smiling for any longer.

“Yeah, well… I’m a kid. It’s okay when I do it.” The aforementioned kid overruled.

The adults in the room exchanged delighted glances. Cute.

Dick wasn’t going to be a kid forever. That was the next best talking point, but Bruce wasn’t sure he was any more ready to face that than his little Robin.

He quietly sighed. “You really couldn’t have called for Alfred?”

“Alfred needs his sleep, B.” Dick almost sounded chiding.

“What abou—“

Clark chimed in. “I don’t need sleep in the same way a human does, let alone a man his age who hasn’t retired.” He sounded very pleased with the fact that he was invulnerable to insomnia just like nearly everything else.

Alfred couldn’t simply retire from being a father figure. He wouldn’t know how. “Butler” was nothing but a formality, he acted like a mother hen because that’s what he was.

But that was personal. Bruce rubbed his hands over his face. “Okay, I’ve learned my lesson, Superman. You can go home now.”

“That’s not justice and you know it.”

He did not like that smile on Clark’s face, and that was saying something.

“Say what you mean.” He said it with more intensity than he would normally allow to rear its ugly head around Dick.

“Well… I’m pretty sure the game goes, you tickle, you get tickled back.” Clark’s body language painted a vivid picture. He was this close to getting one of his closest friends to let down one of the many walls he kept up. You would think Clark had toppled more of them by now. He hadn’t.

“Is that what you think?” Bruce had donned his punchable billionaire smile.

“Why would I be ticklish?”

Dick squinted at him. Even the little one could see that he’s bluffing.

“You’re human, Bruce.” The phrase rolled off Clark’s tongue with a sarcastic smile, like it was just so obvious.

He would never, ever get to know how that momentarily touched Bruce’s heart. But it did. It often didn’t occur to Bruce that trying to be near superhuman was supposed to be out of his reach. It stripped him of his humanity.

Depressing, honestly. He shouldn’t have to be reminded.

“Most people are at least a little ticklish.”

He had to come down from cloud nine. “I’m not like most people…” a pathetic, mumbly excuse of a counterpoint.

“You’re stalling.” Another thing that Clark saw as a very normal observation, another thing that rocked Bruce’s world.

“I’ve got a job to do, can’t leave justice waiting all night.”

Absolutely awed, Dick trotted along behind him like a fawn following a big buck. It took a moment for Bruce to conduct a thorough enough analysis of just what he’d gotten himself into.

Even if he were to have been honest, he couldn’t have given Clark a concrete answer. People didn’t tickle him. That was an insane, alien concept to most. Although, Clark did technically fall into a gray area on that front. More well adjusted than most of the human population, not necessarily human.

Bruce stood his ground as they crept closer. “You’re not invincible, Clark.”

“You’re going to resort to kryptonite because I threatened to tickle you?” That was a little too good of a point. The dark knight’s stomach turned.

“You’re being ridiculous…” He muttered, turning tail to approach the Batcomputer. Because what did Bruce always do when he was faced with something he didn’t want to have to deal with? He threw himself into work.

Even if he was ticklish, if he somehow wouldn’t be able to keep a hold of himself, then he’d clearly failed as an individual and needed to go for another round of global apprenticeship under the best of the best.

Bruce didn’t foresee that happening. Sitting himself down, he began to boot up the various monitors looming over him.

“Are you hiding?” He could hear the smile in Clark’s voice, who came up from behind to lean rest his arms over the back of the rolling chair.

Bruce was, if anything, entirely too visible for his liking. He momentarily tensed when fingertips tapped ever so gently against his side. As he’d suspected, he was able to gather himself with little trouble.

“We can do this all night, you’re wasting your time.” A bold claim.

One that Clark took as an offer. “Maybe we will.” He hummed.

“Yeah, Bruce, maybe we will.” Dick puffed up. So big and strong.

Bruce shook his head, remaining stone faced. It was, admittedly, difficult to focus on work. He couldn’t so much as remember what it was that took priority. A very low bar.

He exhaled as the nagging feeling against his waist crawled upwards. Bruce was sure this would be a lot easier if he felt he could so much as move, but that was showing a sign of weakness.

“Somebody’s getting a little tense.” Clark remarked with a smile.

He just couldn’t win. Paralyzed wasn’t the way to go, but that was how he stayed as a hand cupped his bicep, and lifted his arm.

“Down here, maybe?” It was mind boggling how a man with strength that neared godhood could be so gentle. Bruce was helpless to stop how he twitched at the fingers fluttering under his arm.

“Yeah? Maybe?”

“I’ll kill you—“ His threat broke off into a soft, mirthful gasp, a quiver running through his body. He didn’t have a contingency for this.

“St— ugh…” He bit his tongue, twisting uncomfortably in his chair.

A second hand began to cautiously pinch at his waist. Bruce didn’t know what to do with himself, not a single part. His arm wasn’t stuck, Clark wouldn’t do that unless he wanted Bruce to wake up with bruised knuckles— men of steel didn’t get bloody noses.

He couldn’t commit to any sudden movements regardless. Seeing stars, he just stayed there, shuffling about in his seat like an idiot. The sharp huffs he’d been letting out through his nose were getting dangerously close to resembling laughter.

“You’re not used to this.” Clark was sympathetic. Endeared, in a way.

No, of course he wasn’t. Before Dick came into Bruce’s life, the extent of physicality he engaged in was a hand on the shoulder from Alfred, and Brucie Wayne sleeping with bachelorettes who he didn’t care about. That wasn’t counting the combat Batman engaged in most nights.

“I… I dohon’t—“ You laughed, is what you did. He turned down to face his lap. He was sure he was burning up. A neuron finally decided it wanted to fire, and one arm came down to wrap around his torso.

That did little to stop “justice.” The rush Bruce got trying to protect himself from something that wouldn’t hurt momentarily might have put some of the light back into his eyes. He breathed out something resembling “oh my god,” posture hunching further.

Clark was the only thing keeping their fugitive from rolling away when Dick suddenly bounced up onto Bruce’s lap. A collective oof came with the impact.

When little fingers wriggled into the crook of his neck, Bruce’s nervous system flared in a way he could only remember from his early childhood. His shoulder jerked up with much more force than he would have liked. It was less a matter of sparing his pride by this point and more about not crushing Dick’s hand like a bug.

A surprised laugh followed, one that he was grateful was significantly louder and more boisterous than his own. He’d lost their game a while ago now, he felt it in the hitch (and warmth) of his chest.

“Is that the spot, Robin?”

The goofy grin Dick directed towards Clark told him everything he needed to know.

He wasn’t sure what he should expect. He scratched a pointer finger against the nape of Bruce’s neck, the quiet “tickle, tickle” that he gave was mostly ironic. He too wasn’t sure he could have prepared himself for the way his friend, the hardass who still occasionally tried to insist they were only coworkers, responded.

Bruce tossed his head back, his smile was wide, but simultaneously timid. His eyes were squeezed shut, and the sound of what would have been a laugh muffled through his teeth.

Clark never had that conversation with Ma or Pa Kent, he didn’t think he had to, all things considered, but he knew a beautiful man when he saw one. He didn’t see much of Bruce without his cowl, and Batman rarely smiles. He couldn’t imagine why, it was so charming. He was starting to think that needed to change.

“I… hah, um…” Bruce’s voice was lacking its usual sternness.

“I think you’ve humiliated me enough for one night.” He settled for sarcasm.

Dick squealed when he was swept up and draped over his broad shoulders like some kind of scarf.

“And I think you’ve caused plenty of trouble.” He murmured in a voice that let the boy know he was off the hook because it was bedtime. All of that yipping and yowling settled into quieter, content titters.

Clark eyed them, wearing the small smile that he didn’t think had left him since he started this. Dynamic duo.

“Get out of my cave.”

He blinked. “Well… alright. Are you gonna be nice while I’m gone?”

Bruce flushed, his lips twitching. “Out.”

Clark grinned. He left with a kiss to Dick’s forehead and a “sleep tight.”

* * *

Bruce had been tucking Dick in for about half an hour now. It wasn’t meant to be this long of a process, but Dick wouldn’t stop raving about the night’s events.

“Chum. Enough.” He smoothed back his son’s hair, whose wide eyes made him resemble a cat whose forehead got pet a little too hard.

“But B…” Dick whined, shaking his hair back into place. “I like when you laugh.”

Bruce’s mind went quiet for a moment. Such an outlandish concept.

“Now you tell me ‘thank you.’” A sidekick always had a smart remark.

“Oh, where are my manners?” That drew a giggle from the boy. He let a smile cross his face, as real as he knew how.

“Thank you… you’re very sweet.” He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve a second chance at a family after the path of vengeance he’d gone down. Bruce needed Dick just as badly as Dick needed him.

“You’re such a good kid, you know that?” He didn’t say it nearly as much as he should.

Dick preened, his dimples deep in his cheeks. He was happy.

“You want me to stay with you for a bit?” They didn’t do it every night. It was normally Dick seeking Bruce out if he couldn’t fall asleep. They would end up back in his bedroom, Bruce would sit with him and stroke his hair until he knew Dick was off in dreamland.