This isn't the best thing I've ever written, but I just wanted to prove to you guys that I'm still breathing! I promise I will upload the last chapter of TRK as soon as I figure out how I want to end it. It's coming, I promise!

I'm thinking that this fic will have four chapters, each one centered on a different Robin. Jason will be next (I've already started it so it shouldn't be long) then Tim and Damian. I've really missed this but it's hard to write for enjoyment when I'm constantly writing papers I hate. I'm gonna try my best to write faster (and better quality hopefully) and get everything out to all of you guys as soon as possible. Much love for all the encouragement! Again, you guys are why I write. Feedback is always welcome.

Thwack!

Dick hit the ground for the 10th time in 15 minutes.

"Bruuce…" he groaned from his familiar place on the floor, "I'm an acrobat, not a ninja! Why do we have to spar all the freaking time? You're so much better than all those stupid criminals anyway. I think I'm perfectly capable of kicking their asses already."

Bruce moved out of his fighting stance and started unwrap the white medical tape that protected his knuckles. "And that is exactly why you aren't ready."

"But-"

"I'm doubling your regimen tomorrow. You're my partner and I need to be able to trust your physical abilities." Tossing the tape aside and lifting a clean towel from a rack that Alfred kept fully stocked, Bruce strode towards the changing area to prepare for patrol. "And," he added without turning around, "I want 10 miles in under one hour. Now."

Dick opened his mouth to argue again.

"Would you like to add 10 more?"

"Slave driver," Dick muttered, as he trudged to the track.

Exactly fifty-nine minutes and twenty-six seconds later, Dick collapsed in a sweaty heap on the blessedly cold rubber track. His face was smushed on the cool ground that smelled like dirty socks and pencil erasers, but he didn't care.

"Master Dick?" Alfred's voice echoed in the gym. "I have dinner served upstairs. Do hurry before your meal gets cold."

Dick groaned and rolled over. "I can't, Alfie."

"And why not?"

"I think I'm dead."

"You are not dead, Master Dick. Please come eat your dinner."

Dick groaned even louder, but made an attempt to rise. He struggled onto his knees, and then Alfred was there, and with strength that belied his age, pulled his charge up to his feet.

"No, you're right," Dick said with a grimace," "I hurt too much to be dead. Please tell me there's an ice bath in my near future." He shook out his legs and arms to release some lactic acid and walked under his own power to the bottom of the staircase that led out of the cave and away from the physical torture that was Bruce's training.

In that moment, the big man himself emerged in costume with the cowl loose around his neck. He glanced at his foster son and butler in passing as he prepped for the Batman's nightly patrol. "Dick, have you finished your French homework? I saw your last test grade let much to be desired. You are better than that."

"I literally just finished your hellish run, Bruce! Can I have like two seconds to myself? Et j'ai reçu un quatre-vignt seize sur mon examen. That's a good score."*

"You missed four points Dick. You know we have higher standards in this house. I expect more of you."

And just like that, Dick lost it.

"Goddamn it Bruce, I'm not perfect! I never will be, no matter how hard I try! I'm not you, I never will be you, and if you keep expecting me to keep up with your unrealistic standards you're going to keep being disappointed."

"I am not the enemy," Bruce replied calmly. "I'm trying to keep you alive."

"But what about keeping me happy?" Red-faced and breathing heavily, Dick ended the argument by whirling around and scaling the batcave stairs two at a time, ignoring the burning feeling in his legs. He left an annoyed Bruce and scowling Alfred behind him. The latter glared at the former, but said nothing.

Bruce broke the silence and sighed. "What is it Alfred? It's not my fault the boy is unreasonable."

"No, sir, it is not. He is a teenager, and his emotions run rampant like every other pubescent boy in the world. He is performing admirably, in school and otherwise for a boy his age, and yet all he receives as reward is to be told he must do better. If you don't mind my saying so, that is not his fault, it is yours."

Bruce huffed and pulled on his cowl. "This is ridiculous. I'm going on patrol. I'll see you in the morning." Batman jumped in the Batmobile and sped out of the cave.

"Now who is acting unreasonably?" Alfred muttered to himself as he began to scale the steps to the manor, his next job to attempt to console hurt feelings of the youngest member of his family.

There was a faint roaring in the distance as the Batmobile and its occupant returned home. Dick sat curled up in a chair in front of the computer, wrapped tightly in a blanket. A dark figured hopped out of the car and moved towards the smaller figure that occupied his chair.

"Dick? What are you still doing up? You have school tomorrow."

His head turned towards Bruce and looked at him with tired eyes. "I'm really sorry about earlier, I got a little touchy. I don't wanna fight, Bruce."

"It is alright Dick. I may have been a little…extreme in my actions as well."

"That was almost an apology! Alfie yelled at you, huh?

"…Possibly."

"I love you too big man."

*And I got a ninety-six on my test.

Thanks for reading, I love you all!