I do not own Batman or it's characters because if I did, the story would be all about the family.

"So Dick, what's your favorite kind of bird?" Bruce Wayne asked hesitantly. Inwardly he was grimacing at the childish question but he supposed he could be excused as he was talking to an actual child. His new ward didn't say anything and instead walked silently behind Bruce in a manner that was eerie even for the Batman. He'd found in his meager experience with children that they tended to be loud, but seven year old Dick Grayson had hardly made a sound since he came to Wayne Manor a week before. Of course he didn't expect the child to be completely well after getting a front row seat to his parents' murder but his behavior was becoming worrisome. Bruce frowned as he took in Dick's blank face and wondered if everyone was right. Alfred, Leslie, Lucius, even the damned tabloids, all questioned his sanity when he decided to take in the traumatized orphan. He thought he could offer some kind of help to the boy, or least offer him something better than the local boy's detention center. But watching Dick's sallow face now, Bruce couldn't help but wonder if Dick would've been better off in a more open home.

"We get all kinds of birds out here. We're pretty far away from the city so there are plenty of big trees for birds to nest in. We get cardinals, blackbirds, jays, bluebirds and it seems like we're always overflowing with robins." He continued on awkwardly, trying to fill up the empty silence with something, anything. He knew he wasn't very good with kids and had assumed that Dick could work things out for himself. Alfred had strenuously objected to that proposal and had practically pushed him and the kid outside for a walk along the grounds surrounding the Manor. Gotham had just been subject to a few days of heavy storms and the greenery was glistening while the dirt path was entirely covered in mud. Wasn't that what little boys liked to do? Bruce thought, play in the mud? So far Dick's rubber rain boots and coat were practically spotless. Even the socially awkward billionaire could tell that Dick wasn't as fine as he claimed to be. He resisted the urge to sigh, this was hopeless. Where on Earth did he get the idea that he could help the boy when his own tragedies still haunted him?

"We could set up a birdfeeder and draw even more to the grounds. There's a large tree right near your window. We could hang it from one of the branches, that way you can look outside and see all the birds. I can get you a book to identify them, birdwatching is an admirable hobby." They were almost back to the Manor after their long walk and thus far Dick hadn't done much more than trudge quietly after him. Bruce knew Alfred would be disappointed to see them so quiet and clean but he didn't know what he was expected to do. Play with the boy? He wasn't Dick's father and he wasn't trying to be. The only thing he could hope for was that Dick would open up on his own.

They were currently passing by a row of trees which had lined the family estate for a century. Bruce recalled one grainy, well-loved memory of sitting under one of the trees with his father listening to him tell stories about the trees that had seen four generations of Waynes. He shook his head to dispel the thought, now wasn't the time for such ruminations. Turning to Dick to disseminate some other meaningless fact about the Manor's history, he was startled by a bird from a low lying branch flying at him. His training had prepared him for many things but still Gotham's Dark Knight found himself caught off guard by the sudden attack. His attempts to dodge the bird ended with him losing his footing and slipping rather painfully on the muddy trail. A second yelp behind him told him that he must have thrown Dick off balance for soon the both of them were flat on the ground covered in mud. Bruce groaned in disgust as he got to his knees and looked over at Dick who had a wide-eyed expression on his face.

"Did you see that? That was crazy," Dick exclaimed with a hint of excited awe leaking into his voice.

Bruce was about to comment when that damnable bird came back swooping in low causing him to once again fall backwards into the mud as he overbalanced. He was moaning at the squelching feeling of mud seeping down his shirt when he first heard it. It started out quiet, not much louder than a breath, but as Bruce once again sat up there was a bright smile on Dick's face as he was overtaken by giggles. He brought his dirty hands up to his face in an attempt to stop it, but seeing Bruce's mud covered face caused him to lose what little control he had. For the first time since the murder, Dick Grayson looked completely and utterly happy sitting in the mud laughing. Bruce paused for a moment before something warm burned in his chest. He ignored it to look at the giggling child and decided he needed teach this young child a lesson.

"What's so funny bird boy?" He asked dryly as he flicked some of the mud on his hands onto Dick's rain jacket. The child let out a happy little squeal as he grabbed a small fistful of mud and lobbed it at his guardian. His eyebrow twitched as the mud ball dribbled down his shoulder and Dick's delicate chortles settled down. That is, until Bruce reached out to grab the squirming child and drag him further into the dirt. Soon he and Dick were completely coated in mud and, surprisingly enough, he found he didn't mind as much. As they finished their friendly squabble and awkwardly got to their feet, Bruce decided that maybe kids weren't as bad as he'd previously thought. Maybe, just maybe, he could be of some help to the boy.

Dick was a whole new person on the way back to the house. This time, he was always three or four steps ahead of Bruce, periodically stopping and turning to face the amused adult as he reenacted the impromptu mud bath several times. He chattered and jumped playfully in the mud puddles and he was smiling so brightly Bruce though for sure the clouds overhead would part for his sake. By the time they made it to back door of the Manor, Bruce didn't even notice how wet and cold he was. Alfred stepped outside with the towels and his eyebrows flew into his hairline.

"Goodness gracious, what on Earth happened?" Alfred asked taking in their disastrous appearance. Dick jumped up and down, throwing out his arms.

"We got attacked by this bird and Bruce fell down into the mud and then we got into a mud war and it was really fun and now we're really dirty and we probably need a bath sorry about that but it was so cool." His small face beamed and Alfred's face lit up with joy as he lovingly draped a towel over the boy's dirt streaked head.

"My word, it sounds like the two of you have had quite the adventure today. Do you by chance know why that avian adversary decided to attack?" Alfred asked, handing Bruce his own towels as he pulled himself out of his slime filled boots.

"I think it's because you got too close to her nest," Dick chimed in, his hair now resembling a porcupine as he ruffled it with the towel. "You're so tall I think she thought you were going after her eggs. Mom says that parents are always very protective of their babies." He said as he shrugged his shoulders out of his coat and into Alfred's waiting arms. Bruce smiled at the uncharacteristically domestic scene before him. Maybe he wasn't the most affectionate person out there, but he understood what grief could do to a person and he didn't want Dick to suffer like that. So maybe he wasn't Dick's father, but he thinks he just might be able to handle this. Despite his tragedy, Bruce decided that he wanted his ward to always smile like that.

"Yes, I can see why."

Okay I've been obsessing over these long enough. This will be a short story showing the evolving relationship between Dick and Bruce pre-Robin. As much as I love reading stories about Bruce snuggling Dick and calling him 'baby' and 'son', it's more than a bit out of character. So I decided to show the progression of Dick breaking down Bruce's rather sturdy walls and boundaries. I'll probably update weekly since the whole story is done aside from my last-minute 37th edits.