Author's Note: *giggles* I'm so glad you all laughed yourselves silly because of little Dickie. I swear that scene amused me to no end when it first popped into my mind. Luckily my family is used to me having weird reactions. AKA, laughing suddenly for no apparent reason.

Mmm, well, I've been known to enjoy a good Daddy!Bats story here and there. :3 Actually, at this point in my life, I'm a sucker for any father/son stories. They're so much fun! But I especially love the ones where not only the son learns, but the father, too.

Because, after all, just because you reach a certain age, doesn't mean you stop needing to grow and learn.

*scratches head* So, the beginning of this gave me a lot trouble. I had always known that little Dickie would get into some kind of trouble, but he's a good kid and I honestly couldn't think of any mischief that he could get into. Then, finally I got the answer – since Dick only lashes out with a good reason in mind.

Hope there's plenty of fluff ahead for ya'll!

On with the story!

The Baby Robin – Part Two

Some unknown date, 2009. Tuesday, 12:38 pm.

It stood to reason that if teen Dick could get into trouble and could be belligerent, then all the more reason why his much younger self could as well. Children weren't perfect, after all.

But, of course, this unfortunate possibility never entered the thought process of Slade's mind.

It wasn't that little Dick was automatically a troublemaking child – he most certainly wasn't – but as with his older self, sometimes the method he employed to get his point across wasn't the right one. Incorrect methods only led to confusion and trouble, but what child knew that? One mustn't expect a child to know and understand how to communicate perfectly properly.

Many adults haven't learned the finer arts of proper communication themselves – daily life proves this fact all too well.

It was the calm before the storm. Lunch had been served and consumed. Slade was currently sitting at the table still, reading the newspaper and finally enjoying a quiet moment to himself – of course, what quiet moment lasted long with a child in the house? Wintergreen was reading a book; the only sounds that lifted were the shifting of paper.

The small pitter patter of feet was the only warning Slade had of the arrival of his son. A small body flopped into his side, little arms wrapping around Slade's waist – too short to actually complete the circle. Slade lowered his newspaper to see those shinning eyes sparkling with happiness.

"Daddy, Daddy!" said Dick, wiggling excitedly, causing a gentle smile to tug at Slade's lips. The moment was brief, though, as he was hit with the boy's next words. "Have you got a Bible round here? I need one!"

Instantly, the newspaper crinkled violently in Slade's grip as his hands crushed it. The reaction that electrified Slade's entire body made him stiff as he glanced over at Wintergreen. However, the old man looked just as surprised by this question.

That meant the interfering old geezer didn't put the child up to this. What possessed the child to ask for such a thing?

"I do not," said Slade, trying to keep tone calm as his hands trembled in their hold of the newspaper.

"Mm, then—" The boy looked over at Wintergreen, blinking innocently and thoroughly unaware of his father's ongoing issues. "Poppy, have you got one?"

Wintergreen's eyes glanced between Slade and Dick, his mouth lowering slightly.

"Uh… I do, but—"

"Really?" cried Dick happily, leaning forward against the table in eagerness. "Would you let me borrow it?"

"No."

Both Dick and Wintergreen looked over at Slade. A resigned look had entered the old man's face, but he didn't interject. Confusion mixed with unhappiness spread through the child's face.

"What? What do you mean, Daddy?"

"No, you may not borrow it from Will."

"Eh?! But why? I need it!" said Dick, grabbing onto Slade's arm and looking desperately up at him. "Please, Daddy, let me—"

"I said no," snapped Slade, his hands further ruining the newspaper in his hands. He couldn't believe that Dick was doing this to him. He knew how he felt about this matter, didn't he? Of course, Slade was forgetting an important fact – seven year old Dick was different than fifteen year old Dick.

"But why?" insisted Dick, his expression turning more and more miserable.

"Because I said so," said Slade, failing at keeping the hiss out of his voice.

Dick pulled away from Slade, stomping his foot against the floor and shouting, "That's a terrible reason!"

Slade stood up, drawing to his full height and looking down at the child with sharp light in his visible eye.

"It is my reason. Enough of this nonsense."

"But—"

"Enough!" snapped Slade once more, his voice rising furiously. "I will not allow you to read from that book. Do you understand me?"

Dick's face flushed deeply with his obvious anger; his eyes glistening dangerously. The look in his face was reminiscent of the old days where it had been Master and Apprentice. The little boy stomped his foot again, clenched his fists, and squeezed his eyes shut as he shouted furiously.

"Daddy, you're mean! I hate you!"

The shock at those words nearly bowled Slade over like a powerful wind, the anger disappearing instantly; his eyebrow popping up to his hairline. He was far too surprised to be aware of just how much the child's fury was for him, because it was in the next moment that pain erupted in his shin – the brat had kicked him! Slade gasped and grunted in pain as he bent over slightly, dropping his weight onto the table, just as the child darted down the hallway and slammed his bedroom door shut.

Slade growled under his breath as he leaned on the table. It was taking him a moment to fully understand what had just happened. He couldn't believe it. The little brat had kicked him! Not to mention, he had actually met his mark. It only accounted to the fact that Slade wasn't expecting a seven year old to lash out at him.

Why had Dick gotten so worked up about a stupid book? Didn't make sense at all! Why couldn't he just take no for an answer? He couldn't have imagined such a reaction from the child. It was infuriating.

There was a tender throb in his shin and Slade groaned, dropping back into his chair. He leaned his elbow onto the table and rested his face into his hand, breathing in deeply. His hand tightened its hold as the echo of that high voice rang through his head once more.

His son hated him.

Was it so foolish to deny the child his wish? Was that worth the hate? Stubbornness was something that Slade cultivated. There was no way he would give into such childishness, no matter how much it hurt to hear those words.

Months ago, such words had once had no effect on Slade, but now, most certainly, things had changed.

"Slade, what do you think you're doing?" asked Wintergreen, after a few minutes of watching Slade; his tone verging on a stern one. Slade's head popped up, an eyebrow raising as he glared at the old man, who had gotten to his feet and was doing an excellent job of looking down at him.

"What does it look like?" snapped Slade, skirting the issue and thoroughly not in the mood to deal with whatever the old man wanted to say to him. Wintergreen probably wasn't happy with him, denying the child something so trivial as reading a book. But it was that book. It was the principle of the thing. Wintergreen would probably scold him and tell him to allow whatever beliefs the child wished to have.

And deep down, Slade knew he was being unreasonable.

But that ridiculously stubborn part of his soul simply refused to bend, even though he knew he should.

"That child just screamed at his father quite rudely and even kicked him in the shin," said Wintergreen, placing his hands on his hips. "That's unacceptable behavior, isn't it? And here you sit, acting as if you're not going to do anything about it."

Slade blinked.

"What?"

Wintergreen sighed. He stepped forward and placed a hand onto Slade's, giving him a serious look.

"You can't let this slide. Dick can't be allowed to think this is acceptable behavior in this house."

"What do you expect me to do?" demanded Slade. The old man stared at him incredulously, as if Slade had sprouted a second head or even a pair of sparkling white wings. Then, Wintergreen sighed and shook his head before setting a firm look onto Slade.

"If Dick had done something like this two weeks ago, what would've you done?"

"I'd have—"

Slade broke off, the dawning realization hitting him with a sharp blow to the stomach. Now he understood what the old man was talking about. It felt almost like déjà vu. No, something like this had happened at an earlier time, just with different conditions. However, this time, if felt worse.

"I have to… I have to…"

Wow, he couldn't even say it out loud. Saying he had to spank that little child seemed like the most sinful crime he could commit. He had never felt that way before. But the innocence of Dick just made it seem all too horrible. He'd been so cute the past day.

Although… the throbbing in his shin was stating otherwise. The child definitely hadn't acted right.

"Either you do it or I, but you can't let that child off the hook," said Wintergreen, his voice gentle, yet firm. "What if all his memories of this returns to his normal form? What will he remember? That his father wasn't consistent with him, just because he batted those little eyes or was just too cute? What will that tell him? That his normal form isn't as loveable?"

"But… I can't…"

"Good heavens, Slade," chuckled Wintergreen, shaking his head. "I've never seen you like this."

Slade bristled.

"I can't just go in there and tan that child's hide. I could injure him!"

"Five to seven swats is all you need to do, Slade," said Wintergreen, his hazel green eyes softening. "That is all for the child to know. Trust me, it'll be more than enough. He's young."

Wintergreen took a step forward and gently took him by the underarm. Slade raised a sardonic eyebrow as he let the old man pull him to his feet. Then, he turned Slade towards the hallway with a hand, pushing him forward.

"Go on. Don't let the child wait any more."

If Wintergreen played the funeral march, Slade had no doubt it would've fit all too well – even though he would probably have destroyed the offensive music system if that had occurred – obliterated it from existence.

"Slade, there's one more thing you should be aware of."

Slade turned, looking back at the old man, who had a serious look on his face.

"And that is?"

"I think the child remembers his past. I have no doubt this little outburst might stem from that. Why else would he ask for something that older Richard would not ask for, but seek secretly if he needed it?"

Slade gave the old man a nod and turned back towards the hallway. If Dick could remember… That would mean that he remembered the death of his parents. Slade groaned, dragging his hand over his face. Why couldn't things be easier? He didn't want to deal with this. Where was that happy child who insisted on calling the world's most feared mercenary 'The Orange Man' and effectively make him a sidekick hero to his least favorite person on the planet?

The distance down the hallway appeared to stretch for leagues upon leagues for Slade's long strides. In fact, with each step, the child's bedroom door felt even further away. He wasn't sure why he didn't want to do this. He had always been firm in his stance with disobedience and disrespect. The thought of reprimanding the child hadn't crossed his thoughts either at the time. Was he just weak against little children with bright eyes? He hadn't been before…

Well…

Slade's hand clenched at his side as the other held the door handle. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was no different than any other time. This was just his son needing correction. Nothing less and nothing more. He could do this.

Or so he thought.

The child was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands in his lap. His bright eyes glanced up as Slade opened the door, a flash of sad worry glimmering inside those orbs. His small hands tightened before he turned his gaze away, his thin shoulders hunching lower. Slade was surprised by this stance, as if the child were waiting for him to come.

Slade sat down in the desk chair, facing the child. Dick gave him nervous glances every now and then, his cheeks stained with tears. Slade was struggling with what to say to him. Dick never acted out unless there was a reason – but no matter the reason, bad behavior was never allowed.

"Dick," began Slade, trying to keep his tone firm and unwavering, despite his true feelings. "You realize that you're in trouble, don't you?" Dick nodded glumly, his hands tightening again. With another deep breath, Slade continued, "It's disrespectful to shout at me and you certainly have no business kicking me. It's unacceptable, do you understand?"

The little boy nodded as he wiped his eyes with a rough palm of the hand. His bottom lip trembled as he looked up at Slade with sad eyes.

"Are you going to spank me, Daddy?"

Oh, those condemning words. It wasn't supposed to be this hard. It wasn't supposed to be hard to punish a wayward child. He had done it countless times before. He hadn't wavered when Dick tested his trust. He hadn't wavered when the idiot boy had run off for three days – three days of unrelenting worry! – in space without telling him. He never wavered.

But here was a child, whose eyes were filled with the innocence of a thousand worlds, who held a singular power that seemed to take hold onto Slade's heart with stunning strength.

For a brief moment, the answer 'No' was on Slade's lips. He almost backed out. He almost chickened out – cluck, cluck all the way. But then, he saw the expectancy in those brilliant eyes. The child expected him to fulfill his word. Slade suddenly knew that he'd fail his son – both the little boy and the young man – if he didn't punish the child like he said he would.

"Yes, son," whispered Slade, unable to break away from the pain in his heart. "I am."

There was a forlorn sigh from the little boy, his entire chest lifting up and settling down.

"I thought so. I don't want you to, though."

There was another sigh from the child, almost aging him beyond his little body. His bottom lip wobbled, evidence beyond his words that he really didn't like this development, even though he knew it was coming. Slade couldn't bear to look at the child any more. He had to get this over with before something inside of his soul died.

It had never been this hard before. Exacting out discipline had never been hard for Slade during the years of his first three children – well, the boys had been easy, never Rose. He just couldn't handle her. Perhaps, this young version of Dick was in the same category as her.

Unfortunately, there was no Adeline to pick up his slack.

Without another word, he deposited the small body over his knees. The child was already sniffling; by the third swat, he was sobbing; and by the fifth, Slade was done – he couldn't continue. He had barely even tapped the child, holding back most of his strength – and yet the child was crying hysterically. He lifted the sobbing child up and before he could consider anything else, Dick had crawled into his lap and thrown his arms around Slade's neck. All Slade could do was wrap his arms around this small body and hold him tightly.

"I'm sorry!" cried Dick, his sobs almost broken hearted. "I'm sorry! Please don't be angry with me! I don't hate you!"

No matter how Slade had been enjoying having a younger version of his son or the thought of more time with him, there was, at this very moment, the deepest longing for his original version of Dick. All these sobbings and tears were enough to rip his heart out – and that was saying a lot for Slade.

"I know," murmured Slade, patting the distraught boy on the back. "You're forgiven."

"I'm sorry for kicking you! I shouldn't have—" There was a sobbing hiccup. "—shouldn't have kicked you!"

"I know, child. You are forgiven."

There were further sobs as the boy tightened his arms around Slade's neck – almost too tightly to breathe, but Slade didn't stop the child. He only patted the boy on the back and tried to calm him down. Finally, after a few minutes of the child crying in his arms, Dick's tears began to slow and he pulled back out of the embrace; sitting on Slade's lap and leaning his head against his chest. Slade began to run his hand through the child's unruly black hair, stroking his bangs softly. After a few minutes of peace, Slade decided to voice his question.

"Dick, why were you so set on having that Bible?" asked Slade, still gently carding his finger's through the child's hair. The boy sighed slightly, before he crawled off Slade's lap and onto the bed. A tiny bottom was lifted in the air as the child dug beneath the large blankets. A moment later, it settled down on the bed; Dick's arms now curled around that old, matted stuff lamb.

"I gotta have it," whispered Dick, squeezing the lamb tighter.

"Why?"

"Just do."

Slade sighed and pulled a hand over his face slowly, finally coming to his white goatee. He rubbed the fur there, trying hard not to get frustrated at the evasive child.

"Tell me why."

Dick curled into himself slightly, his arms tightening around his stuffed toy. The light glimmered again in his eyes as a fresh wave of tears overflowed down his cheeks.

"They're gone," whispered Dick. Slade's breathing hitched. They could only mean one thing. So, Wintergreen was right. The boy remembered the deaths of his parents. "Mama and Papa, they're gone."

The tears began to flow more steadily down his cheeks. He sniffled as he tried to wipe them away.

"It's all I have to remember her," continued Dick, his sniffles becoming more frequent. "She told me—she told me stuff. Taught me—taught me stuff." His small face scrunched up, the pain showing throughout his young features. "But it doesn't matter any more."

"Why?" whispered Slade, unable to hold himself back from asking.

"I know it. I've—I've read it five times—" The child hiccupped once while at the same time, Slade's mind screamed, Five times!? He's seven! "Ther—there's nothing in there that… It's not clear… There's nothing in there that tells me I'll definitely see them again."

The air sucked out of Slade's stomach. Well, there was no doubt about the fact that Slade felt completely out of his element. The child was grabbing for knowledge of the eternities and heavens? How on earth was Slade supposed to calm the child now? How? He didn't believe in that nonsense. How could he? He was immortal. If there was such things, then how could he remain immortal? It just wasn't logical.

But the child didn't know that. He didn't understand these things. All he wanted to know was one thing – he wanted to see his parents again.

"Dick… I'm not…" began Slade, trailing off before he could continue. He sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees; rubbing his face in his hands. "I'm not really the person to ask this kind of stuff…"

"Oh…"

Slade glanced upward, seeing the completely distraught and downtrodden expression on the child's face. His mind scrambled to come up with something to placate the child.

"I'm sure… that if there really was some higher being—" Slade gritted his teeth at the thought. "—then, I'm sure that He wouldn't keep you from your parents. I'm sure that… that you'll see them again."

Those blue eyes looked up at him. For a brief moment, Slade couldn't help the thought that flowed through his mind. The thought of seeing Grant again. But then again, he could never die. Therefore, he was infinitely stuck. For some unknown reason, he was stuck here in this world; never to leave again.

Didn't seem quite fair.

It was then that the child broke into deep sobs, clutching at his stuffed lamb harder than ever. Slade felt the final shards of his heart shatter right there at the sight of the poor thing. With murmuring words of comfort, he scooped the child into his arms and held him close; positioning himself onto the bed. Little Dick threw his arms around Slade's neck and cried.

"Shh, it's okay," whispered Slade, patting Dick's back gently, his heart tearing apart by his son's sobs. He had way too much excitement for one day, Slade decided. He couldn't help but hope the Titans would find the cure for Dick. While he had been thoroughly enjoying the little tyke, he wasn't sure if he could last through the emotional upheavals. Dick the teenager had gone through a few, but none of them had reached this heartbreaking level.

"Mama," sobbed the little boy. "Papa."

There was nothing Slade could do at that moment. He couldn't bring the child's parents back, he couldn't stop the tears that overwhelmed the child, nor could he erase the pain and ache that their loss caused the little boy's heart.

All he could do at that moment was hold this child close to his chest and hope beyond hope that it would be enough. He couldn't replace those who had passed. He couldn't even come close – this much he knew. But he certainly hoped that there was a place inside Dick's heart for him, for Slade and him alone; that perhaps through that, the tender feelings that had grown between them would be enough to calm and comfort Dick's little heart.

Hopefully, it would be enough.

After some time passed, another question rose to Slade's mind. The child had calmed somewhat – still sniffling heavily.

"Dick," whispered Slade. "What do you remember?"

Dick pulled back slowly, his eyes wet with his tears, his nose running with snot – Slade tried not to grimace too much – his eyelashes stuck together, and his cheeks flushed with pink. The boy lifted his hand to wipe his face, causing Slade to grab the offending hand before it became covered in bodily fluids. Slade pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and began to wipe the child's face. He finished at his nose, and after telling him to blow, removed the now wet handkerchief away.

The child's face was still flushed with pink, his eyes still glimmering with potential tears. But there was a gentleness that had lifted in those crystal blue eyes. They were so beautiful and so innocent as they gazed at Slade.

"I remember Mama and Papa. I remember you."

Slade stiffened slightly, his entire body tensing at the thought.

"I `member Starry, and BB, and Cy, and Rae, and you, Daddy, and Poppy."

The tension fled briefly as Slade gave into the snort that was given to the honorific which had been assigned to Wintergreen. But then, his fears flooded through his mind. Did the child remember everything? Even the memories that Slade was now attempting to bury beneath the present happy times?

"What do you remember about me?"

The boy was pensive for a moment – well, as pensive as a seven year old could appear to be.

"I remember living with Mama and Papa. I remember… them being killed." Tears began to flood the child's eyes, but this time he bravely didn't break down again. "I remember my friends, but it feels different."

Then, those eyes gazed deeply into Slade's single eye.

"I remember you. You're my Daddy. You're not Papa, but you're still my Daddy. You took me in and loved me when I was lost. You're my family now."

It was enough.

Slade had to purse his lips in the effort to stop himself from choking up. This child was going to be the death of him – yet another confirmation of that old fact. He took a deep breath as he engulfed the boy's cheeks with his large hands. He tenderly smiled at the child.

"That's right," whispered Slade. "I'm your father and you are my son."

With that, he brought the child back into a hug and held him close. Small arms wrapped themselves around Slade's neck and a head rested in the nape there. Minutes passed as Slade held onto the child. Dick made gave no indication that he wished to move either.

It was then that all the stubbornness that Slade had clung to faded away into nothing.

"Dick…" whispered Slade. The child stirred, but didn't remove himself from his arms. Slade took a calming breath, before he continued, "You may have whatever you wish, Dick. If you want to read a… a—" There was another exhale of breath. "—Bible, then you may."

Slade was startled when the child bolted back, his bright eyes blinking with surprise.

"R–really?"

The child was so eager, yet hesitant. Slade couldn't but nod his consent, no matter his unease. But the hug that followed seemed to erase all the bad feelings that he felt, along with a stream of 'thank you, thank you' over and over. Unfortunately, the air felt as if it were being cut off from his wind pipes at such a tight squeeze around his neck.

Slade could only return the hug – he was careful not to squeeze as hard. Wouldn't want to crush the little boy, after all. Dick was content to stay in his arms, his breathing slowing down as he was held. It was quite some time before Slade pulled the blankets up, so that the child wouldn't be cold.

However, without even realizing it, the two of them fell asleep there for an afternoon nap; a child in the protecting arms of a father and a father growing stronger in his conviction to protect his son.

ooOOOOOoo

Some unknown date, 2009. Wednesday, 3:21 pm.

"Daddy, come play with me!" cried Dick, tugging on Slade's arm excitedly. His bright eyes were glimmering ever so happily. Slade was currently played out at the moment. The child would not rest. Of course, since there were no children his age, Slade was the only candidate for the position – not to mention, he couldn't ask for the Titans to come and entertain the child. They were busy trying to rectify this situation in the first place.

Thus, he was stuck with the overly happy and energetic child.

He was done playing 'Deathstroke', though – no, he refused to call him the Orange Man. Honestly, couldn't the child do better?

Apparently, yes.

The child was actually quite indecisive about what name 'Deathstroke' should take. To Slade's horror, the child had contemplated 'Arrg the Pirate' – it was the eye patch – and also 'Halloween Fright' – Slade actually approved of that one – but the worst of it all came 'Pumpkin the Pie Man' – yes, this was in the correct order.

Blessedly, none seemed to stick – well, sadly for Halloween Fright, but no matter how much Slade articulated his argument for it, Dick insisted that it was a horrible name for a hero. Thus, the Orange Man he stayed.

Yay him.

He never wanted to see the accursed action figure for the rest of his life. It was literally mocking him every time he was forced to play 'heroes' with the child. Destiny was biting him in the butt and laughing hysterically about it, too.

But as those glimmering, happy eyes were staring up at him with pure excitement and love, Slade found that he couldn't deny the child his request. Those eyes were worse when they were bigger and brighter, and filled with such innocence. With a sigh, Slade sat at the table and was forced to engage battle with some other action figure as the sidekick of the blasted miniature version of that bat.

If anyone ever related such a tale to that man, Slade would feel pretty homicidal. Actually, he'd feel really homicidal – there was no doubt about that.

"Come, Orange Man!" cried Dick dramatically, lifting Batman into the air. "We must save the world again."

The little boy looked up at Slade expectantly. He gritted his teeth – he'd been given a script since the first time he played with the child he apparently didn't know how to play.

Will, your annihilation is imminent.

"Holy universe… Batman," attempted Slade, wondering if his teeth would crack at any moment now. "How… are we going to do that?"

He refused to say 'gonna'.

Planting his forehead onto the surface of the table seemed like a wonderful action at that moment. Oh, yes, indeed. It wasn't a childish action at all. It was thoroughly needed.

The child's imagination was limitless. Already in two minutes, the two 'heroes' were wrapped up in frightening plot to save the world that would rival the best selling author's list. Even Slade was impressed with the child's adorable story telling – although he would have preferred to be an onlooker instead of a participant.

But then, only after a few minutes, the child stopped, scooped up his four actions figures, and jumped out of his chair. Slade blinked, a little surprised by the sudden end to the 'story'.

"Dick, are you all right?"

The little boy stopped and looked back, blinking curiously.

"`Course, why?"

"Well, you stopped playing."

"Oh, you looked tired, Daddy. So, I thought it'd be better to stop, so you don't fall asleep on top of Orange Man and Batman. They couldn't handle your weight and would fail in their quest to save the world from evil."

Slade avoided a snort at that statement. The child said it so seriously, it was downright adorable. But he was more concerned with the fact that the boy knew that he was tired of playing action figures. He stood up from his chair. He wasn't sure what to say to the child. He didn't want him to think that he displeased to be with the boy.

"Dick… I—"

The boy bent down, placing his action figures onto the floor; causing Slade to stop midsentence. Then, the child looked back up at him. He motioned with a small hand for Slade to come down to his level. Slade wasn't sure why, but he complied with the child's wishes; once again, unable to deny those bright eyes. Thus, he was kneeling on the hard floor, just as Dick came closer to him. Then, with those slightly sticky hands – heaven only knew how – Dick grabbed Slade's face and planted what could only have been a childlike, yet slobbery kiss on the man's cheek.

"Love you, Daddy. Thanks for playing with me."

After the child pulled back, he looked expectantly at Slade; those bright blue eyes blinking innocently at him.

Slade swallowed once, his prominent Adam's apple bobbing once. He lifted a hand to the boy's cheek, completely engulfing the small face there. He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his own on the child's forehead.

"I love you, too, child," whispered Slade, his voice hoarse with emotion.

The boy brightened happily, before scooping his toys and scampering off down the hallway towards his room. The whims of the young child were overwhelming Slade. He slowly lifted himself from the floor, gazing down at the hallway and the open door to Dick's bedroom. He could see the child lying on the floor on his stomach, his small legs swinging in the air as he colored a picture and his action figures sprawled on the floor beside him.

It was an enlightening moment, to say the least. Every little moment Slade experienced with this child, only unlocked further secrets to the boy's true nature. He knew that Dick was a sensitive boy, a gentle boy, yet one with strength and power. But he hadn't truly known just how much Dick had the capacity for love. The child version of Dick only enlightened Slade to moments when the teen version of Dick showed his love.

Things, moments, gestures – everything seemed to make a little more sense. But even more, Slade was truly touched by just how much Dick could forgive, move on, and love. He had thought he had appreciated the boy's forgiving nature, but now he knew he hadn't ever truly known just how special that boy was.

There was no other child in the world that could've altered Slade's heart like this. His own children were wonderful people, but they just didn't have that one special quality that Dick seemed to have. It was as if he truly did have a power, like his other friends had. But it was so hidden, so subtle, that it took great care to unveil it.

That child had the ability to change people's hearts. Such a power wasn't to be taken lightly, Slade knew all too well. He had experienced it. In fact, it was still continuing forward. Day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, the hard edges of Slade's heart were beginning to soften, yet grow in strength.

Although, for Slade, he could only think that too much exercise of the heart too fast would kill him.

ooOOOOOoo

Some unknown date, 2009. Thursday, 6:45 pm.

Somehow, Slade was allowing the child to sit on his lap at dinner. Even though there was an empty seat perfect for Dick to plant his tiny butt in; no, instead, Slade was indulging the child and allowing him to eat his dinner on his father's lap.

Of course, there was no way Slade would admit that he would be greatly disconcerted in the child's absence.

Besides, those bright, crystal blue eyes were dancing happily as his small legs swung from the height. Happiness couldn't even begin to describe the feelings that emanated from the young child. He was perfectly content to sit there. In fact, he was thrilled beyond measure.

Thus, Slade kept his arm curled around the small body and doing his ultimate best not to look Wintergreen straight in the eye. That old man was looking far too amused at the moment and Slade couldn't bear a comment from him. No matter how much he was enjoying the boy's happiness.

However, it was cut too short.

As each day passed, Slade knew in the back of his mind that Dick would have to return to his normal state. But with each passing minute, he felt the delight of being the father to a younger Dick. It was almost as if time had been restored to him. It was as if Slade had the chance to raise Dick even longer, have more time with the child before he became a man and no longer needed Slade's constant presence in his life.

For those tender moments, Slade cherished the thought.

But as there was a knock on the kitchen door – the Titans had access to the code of the main door – he knew then that his time was cut short.

Unconsciously, his arm tightened around Dick's small waist.

"Starry!" cried Dick, the childlike excitement ringing through his tone. He waved at the others. "Hi, Cy, BB, Rae! I'm eating dinner. It's really good. You want some? I'm sure Daddy will share." Dick twisted in his seat to look up at Slade. "Won't you, Daddy?"

The two boys of the Teen Titans snickered before they could stop themselves. Raven threw them a warning glance – just as Slade gave them a withering glare himself – which they took graciously. Raven was holding a long black staff that had a red gemstone on the top. She glanced over at Starfire briefly, before handing it to the other girl. Raven gave her a nod and a supporting lift of the mouth. Then, she looked back at the occupied dinner table.

"We've discovered the cure," said Raven.

"What is it?" asked Slade, not truly realizing that he was trying to delay the inevitable. The rest of the Titans appeared a little apologetic. Slade raised an eyebrow at the squirming teens.

"Well, all Robin has to do is press that red gemstone and he'll be returned to his true age," said Raven.

"That's it?" demanded Slade. "You didn't know this the first day?"

"Apparently there's a switch… We had the wrong one. Beast Boy discovered it… That's another long story in itself," said Raven, looking slightly uncomfortable. Slade was forever raising yet another incredulous eyebrow.

"Do you mean to tell me that the cure was merely a switch away?"

"Precisely," said Raven, her monotone voice completely flat; however, there was a small hint of amusement in there.

It was almost like it had been a gift, this time with a younger version of his son. A gift of tender memories, a gift of happy smiles, a gift of the age Slade had thought he'd never see.

It was most certainly a gift.

But now it was over, the time had come, and Slade had to release his hold on the tiny body that was still contently sitting in his lap. He was sure that Dick would've loved moments like this, since he had missed out on them. But no doubt he wouldn't be able to bring himself to say it – not in front of his friends, not when it was considered embarrassing.

Sometimes Slade really hated the unnatural things the world had taken to heart.

Slade uncurled his arm from Dick's waist and slid both his hands underneath his small arms; lifting him off his lap and setting his feet onto the floor. Dick looked back up at him; those glimmering crystal blue eyes gazing at him with bright love.

"Daddy? I wanna keep sitting on your lap," said Dick, placing his hands onto Slade's knees.

"I know," whispered Slade softly – so soft that only the child could hear him. "But your friends have brought you something." Then, before he could stop himself, Slade added, "You can sit afterward, if you wish it."

Dick smiled at him, giving an enthusiastic nod to that.

"Mhm! I wanna!"

A prominent Adam's apple contracted once.

With a single hand, Slade turned the small boy around and pushed forward. Dick took a few steps and looked up at the Titans expectantly. Starfire smiled and knelt down in front of him, holding out the long cane.

"Miniature Dick, this is for you. I need you to press the red gemstone."

The little boy who was Dick looked up at Starfire, his eyes blinking curiously. They sparkled with bright trust.

"What'll happen if I press it?"

"Something good, little one," whispered Starfire.

The, with a trusting nod, Dick stepped forward and grabbed the cane in his hands. Then, he lifted one of his hands and pressed the red button at the top. There was a brilliant, blinding flash of light. As the brightness faded away, what was once a small precocious little boy, the innocence of youth prevalent in his face, now stood a fifteen year old young man just beginning to touch the edges of manhood.

Slade's heart clenched without his control.

"Dick!" cried Starfire, flying into him and wrapping her arms around him. Her hair fluttered into his shocked face. Dick stood there rigid in the hug. Somehow, he couldn't return it. His mind was racing through the past four days, the memories flashing before his eyes. He could remember all that had happened. Everything was crashing so much around inside his mind and heart, he needed time to sort it out. His head slowly turned to Slade, his eyes seeking him automatically.

Slade sensed his distress.

"Dick, what's wrong?" asked Slade, stepping forward and placing a hand on his shoulder. Starfire immediately pulled back; searching Dick's face with entreating eyes.

"Dick, what is wrong? Are you not well? Are there the side effects?"

Dick could only shake his head.

He wasn't sure what was wrong, but he just needed to be alone. He needed to sort out his thoughts. The emotions of the seven year old seemed to still be present inside his heart. Then, there were conflicting emotions about the current change. A part of his heart hated returning to fifteen. Why couldn't he stay as a little child? Why couldn't he be raised by Slade and relived those days as a little child, being protected by a father?

Why did he have to come back to the reality where he had endured eight years without a parent?

"I need to be alone," whispered Dick, lifting his eyes to connect with Starfire's searching pair. For a moment, disappointment entered her eyes; but then, gentle understanding filled them. Her hands, which were still clutching the sides of Dick's arms, squeezed his flesh kindly.

"Of course, Dick," said Starfire with a smile. She turned to the others, who seemed about to protest. "Let us leave Dick here. We will see him tomorrow, I am sure."

The others hesitated for a moment. Dick couldn't stay in their presence a second longer. He whirled away and darted down the hallway, entering his room and slamming the door behind himself. The energy left his limbs as he dropped to the floor, his back sliding against the door as he landed on the floor. He leaned his head against the wood, squeezing his eyes shut.

The confusion was ever so powerful. As his mind went through every moment of the past four days, all he could remember was just being so happy. Sure there had been times where he been sad – or in trouble… But the overall effect of his mind during that time had been consistently happy. That child had been so happy, so content to live out his days by his father's side.

Dick leaned forward, dropping his head in between his knees and wrapping his arms around his legs.

He wanted to go back. He wanted to be that carefree child. He wanted that innocence which had permeated his soul. He wanted to see that tender version of Slade that appeared touched and choked with every moment. There had been such love in the man's eyes, even when his little seven year old self had been a brat at one point.

He wanted to go back…

There was a gentle knock at his door. Dick's head popped up, his chest heaving once. There could only be one person outside that door. He knew Slade would want to make sure he was okay. However, even Dick wasn't sure if that was the case. He wasn't sure if he was okay. The confusion made him feel at unease. He had no answers this time. He couldn't even say that he wasn't okay.

He just didn't know.

"Dick, may I come in?"

With a sigh, Dick stood up – not wishing his father to see the full extent of his confusion. He grabbed the door handle and noticed with a light note that his hand was shaking. He opened the door a moment later, to reveal a surprised Slade. The man's single eye blinked once.

"Are you all right?"

Dick could only manage a shrug of the shoulders. He turned his head to the side, unable to look up at Slade. His chest lifted in a deep sigh.

"Dick, something's wrong, you can't deny it."

This time, Dick nodded, but he still couldn't face his father. He walked to his bed and crawled onto it, curling his arms around a pillow. For a moment, Dick glanced around the room. He could see the evidence and remnants of his child self. Toys were scattered across the floor and drawings decorated the walls. He tightened his arms around the pillow, turning his head away. The stuffed lamb that his mother had given him was there against his leg.

There was a deep sigh from Slade as he followed him, sitting down on the edge of the bed and staring at Dick. The man placed a hand on his knee, causing Dick to glance upward into the man's concerned face.

"What are you thinking?"

Dick let out another sigh. What was he thinking? Just how much he missed during those eight years. He had missed so much. Even tonight, when he'd been sitting on Slade's lap, he could still remember the pure content happiness that flowed through his entire body. He could enjoy the closeness. He could be allowed it. If he wanted a thousand hugs, he could have them. If he wanted to sit in his father's lap, he could do just that.

But being older… Well, that meant that such things weren't really allowed, now were they? They were considered too 'babyish' if Dick was be held or if he wanted bask in the feeling of being close to someone. It seemed as if the world was divided – closeness between humans were only allowed if you were a little kid or if you were in a romantic relationship with someone.

But it wasn't fair. Dick wanted the closeness and affection of a father, and he never wanted it to end.

"I kind of really liked being a little kid," said Dick, his eyes cast down. "Because… Because I could…" Dick trailed off, squirming once on the bed as he picked at the blanket. He wasn't sure if he could voice his true feelings on the matter. It seemed as if he did, he'd choose to go back – go back to that happy little seven year old without a care in the world.

"Because you could what?" prompted Slade in a coaxing tone.

"Because I could cling to you and it not be babyish," whispered Dick, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I could hug you or have you hold me and it was all right – nobody could begrudge it because I was a little kid. It was expected of me."

Slade set a soft smile onto Dick, his hand squeezing gently.

"Dick, you're a child who has missed eight years of having a parent care for you," said Slade, placing a hand onto his cheek, causing Dick to look up at him; those crystal blue eyes filled with longing as they set their gaze onto the man. "I will never begrudge you a hug or anything of the sort. You're safe here in your own home – you can be as clingy as you need to until you no longer fear of losing it."

Those eyes glistened once, but there were no tears. Dick smiled softly, before his eyes flittered downward. There was a moment before he scooted backwards to the wall and gently patted the bed; shyly glancing up at Slade with soft, entreating eyes. With a chuckle, Slade maneuvered himself onto the bed, stretching out his legs and crossing the once as he leaned against the wall. With a contented sigh, Dick rested head against Slade's upper chest, curling an arm there as well. Slade draped his arm around Dick's back, resting his hand onto his lower hip and patting it once.

Dick breathed in softly, almost burrowing deeper into Slade's side and seeming to soak up the comforting cuddle.

"You know, if you didn't have connections with your friends… I think I would've had you stay… as a little boy," whispered Slade.

Dick's heart caught in his chest.

"Oh? Why?"

"That way I'd have more time with you."

Dick smiled to himself, feeling the man pull him even closer to his side. So, Slade felt the same way. It was a comforting thought. In some ways, Dick truly wished he could relive those years, too. Life would be so different having a father from that age. But… Dick would miss out on growing up with his friends. It almost didn't seem fair.

But then again, Dick was lucky at that very moment.

"Daddy?" whispered Dick, looking up at Slade.

The man looked surprised by childlike term. He looked down at Dick, who took a deep breath and leaned closer to the man's face. A moment later, he placed a soft kiss on his father's cheek. It was certainly nothing like the wet, slobbery one he had planted as a seven year old, but it was gentle and definitely had the same amount of love in it. There was a sharp inhale of breath from Slade, his eye wide in shock.

"I love you," whispered Dick, smiling up at him.

It was rare when Slade showed strong emotion in his face, but it when it did escape the man's control, it was powerful. An incredible amount of emotion was flowing through Slade's face at that moment. The man pursed his lips, his Adam's apple bobbing once as he swallowed with difficulty. It was as if he were trying extremely hard not to choke up and cry. The man's arm tightened powerfully against Dick's side, his other arm now fully enveloping Dick in an embrace. Then, ever so gently, the man's head leaned down and placed a kiss of his own on Dick's forehead.

"I love you, too."

Dick smiled broadly, happiness overflowing in his heart. He watched the man avert his gaze, that Adam's apple bobbing once again. Dick figured he better rescue the man before he lost all decorum and started crying. Dick knew Slade's pride wouldn't be able to handle such a thing.

"Dad?"

"Hm?"

"Your face is scratchy."

Slade blinked, looking back down at Dick with yet another surprised eye. Inside that grey blue eye was a glistening light that suggested Dick had just rescued the man in time. He grinned cheekily up at the man.

Unfortunately, he wasn't expecting the retaliation.

Fingers danced along Dick's side, causing him to – he'd never admit it! – shriek in surprise. Laughter filled his bedroom as his side was assaulted by tickling fingers. His own laughter was soon coupled with his assailant's, deep chuckles mixed with childlike giggles. No amount of thrashing could pull him out of those terrible tickling fingers.

Thus, Dick did the only thing he could to protect himself. In the middle of his giggling hysteria and his wild thrashing, he managed to grab hold of the pillow behind Slade's back. He pulled it out with one great wrench, before smashing it into Slade's face. There was a tremendous oomph. Those fingers halted immediately. The only sound that lifted into the air was Dick's heavy breathing, his sides still tingling from the ghosted sensation of Slade's fingers.

Then, the pillow slowly lowered. Dick held his breath, wondering if Slade was mad at him. The lowered pillow revealed a very frightening sight.

There's more tickling in my future, Dick mused to himself just a second before his prediction came true.

Dick was pulled over Slade's chest, any and all weapons he could've gone after completely out of his reach. A moment later, his side was attacked. He cried in laughter, thoroughly stuck in the half embrace and begging for Slade to stop – yet almost wishing the time to extend endlessly; never ending, never stopping, the feeling always continuing for the rest of eternity.

And for that very moment, it seemed just like that.

ooOOOOOoo

Author's Notes: Hehehe… AHAHAHA… Remember when I was so happy that I achieved a hug between Slade and Dick in a non slash environment? Hehe! Well, I did it again, but this time is was a kiss. *fangirls once again* I thought it was only natural for it to occur here and it's the sweetest thing ever. *steals Dickie away from Slade (briefly, I assure you) and cuddles him like a plushie*

Why is it that this interlude, which doesn't really fit in the timeline, has such development for Slade's character? I can't even… It's funny how I really tried to put Slade into uncomfortable situations that stretches his soul. Can't help but smile and feel bad for him at the same time. ^^;

ROTFL, this is an obnoxiously long, yet adorable one shot. My single document that combines the two of them reached over 13k. AHA. WOW. Still, it was fun. What had been a one paragraph idea, turned out to be really fun and cute! :3

Oi, the challenge is still in effect, ya'll know. I wanna read some father/son stories between Slade and Robin please! :3 LET THE WORLD OVERFLOW WITH THEM. *giggles*

Once again, thanks for reading! Lots of hugs and love to go around!

Anthy