(Not So) Sweet Sixteen

by seby

(Batman/Robin slash, PG-13)

Lessons are learned. Special thanks to the World's Best Beta, nw's chick.

Disclaimer: I don't own the boys. I just play with them.



^.^ Chapter 5 ^.^

It was still dark as Dick became aware of someone shaking his arm. He lay still, trying to remember where he was and why. He realized he was still fully clothed, lying on top of his bed and he was cold. He must have collapsed, face down, and fallen asleep. He contemplated his stiff muscles as he heard Alfred's voice.

"Wake up, Master Richard. I've brought you some hot chocolate."

"What time is it?" he groaned.

"Six a.m."

Dick rolled over sleepily. He stared at the man's concerned face and yesterday's full day of events rushed back into his mind. He remembered pacing in his room for hours, alternately swearing to himself and devising all sorts of wicked plans of revenge against Bruce. Then his anguish reached a new level as he realized the house was empty - Alfred had gone down into the cave and Batman was patrolling, without him, except this time it wasn't by his choice. Embarrassment washed over him then, as he knew that Barbara had probably grilled Alfred during dinner about his whereabouts until she learned about his "childish" behavior and that he had been banished to his room like a five-year-old. Which had caused him to return to alternately swearing and devising wicked revenge.

But now, looking at Alfred's warm, yet sad _expression, Dick felt ashamed.

"I'm sorry, Alfred. I didn't even think about the school contacting you. I didn't mean to worry you. I was just feeling sorry for myself and being selfish. I hope you can forgive me," he mumbled.

Alfred smiled and offered the mug of cocoa. "Of course, young sir. You are, after all, 16 years old today." Dick sat up and took the cocoa. Suddenly he felt sad.

"Yeah. What a way to start the day. I was worried this day was going to suck. Now I know it will." And I've got no one to blame but myself, he though silently.

"Language, Master Dick. Now, I've prepared your favorite breakfast and then you may begin your, shall we say, studies." He patted Dick's knee.

Anger with Bruce bubbled back up. "Are you sure I'm allowed to eat today?" he snarked.

"It was at Master Bruce's insistence that this meal was prepared. He also asked me to wake you now so that you would be done in time to keep our reservations for dinner this evening."

"I thought there weren't supposed to be any plans anymore, since I interrupted all his precious duties."

Indeed, certain plans have been canceled," Alfred sighed. "You must understand, Master Dick. Master Bruce has much reason to be concerned for your whereabouts."

"Yeah, right. So he can control my every action."

"Master Dick, you of all people should know there are certain characters in this city who hope to make large portions of money in very undesirable ways. Many times these characters have considered kidnapping you as a simple means to quickly acquire much of the Wayne fortunes. Master Bruce has gone to great measures to protect you upon receipt of these threats, but yesterday he feared he had failed."

Dick felt about two inches tall. "So why didn't he tell me? You mean people have threatened him over me?! When? How? Why? And why didn't he say something? What's this "protect me" crap? I can take care of myself - why doesn't he realize that? Why does he keep treating me like some little kid?" Again, his anger battled with his compassion. And, as was usually the case in manners concerning Bruce Wayne, his anger won out. "If I'm such a pain, why does he even keep me around? Obviously he doesn't even need Robin." Dick had jumped out of bed and paced toward the window during his rant. Now he waited, his words hanging in the silence, gnawing at him.

Alfred waited for Dick to vent his anger. He remained silent until Dick turned around and looked at him. Then, softly, he said, "He would be lost without you, young sir. He cares for you more deeply than you know."

Dick snorted. "He's got a funny way of showing it."

Alfred looked sadly back at Dick. "You are quite correct, young sir. Master Bruce shows it in the only way he knows how. I'm afraid, unfortunately, life has not been very kind to him. Emotions are - were - not to be discussed in my day, and I'm afraid that when it came to feelings, I did not know how to teach Master Bruce how to express them. I thought it best to avoid such matters all together. While I provided care for him, as I do you, we never discussed that I "care" for him. It seems, therefore, that what he learned was to avoid revealing emotions, all together. He has feelings, he simply attempts to ignore them."

"Except for anger," Dick said sullenly. "He doesn't have any trouble gettin' mad."

"Alas, that is true. And neither do you, Master Dick," Alfred said gently. Dick inhaled sharply. Casting his eyes down to his lap, he answered softly "Touché, Al."

"Shall we see if the griddle is hot enough for the blueberry pancakes?" Alfred asked, rising from where he had been sitting at the foot of the bed. "Of course, the hash brown potatoes, bacon, ham and eggs are best served fresh, as well."

"Man, Alfred, my favorite! The Heart Attack Platter. I'm starving." Dick suddenly felt just a little better. Had Bruce really told Alfred to make "the works" for him? Dick shook his head. The man is certifiably psycho. Starves me last night and stuffs me this morning. And he thinks I drive him crazy!

Alfred briefed Dick on the day's "plans" while he waded through plate after plate of the breakfast smorgasbord. It was evident that Bruce's control freak side had been in full gear, estimating how much time it should take Dick to shower and change after breakfast, do his usual morning stretches and warm ups, and then laying out the "physical detention" regimen. Time frames were dictated for the full gamut of weight and fitness training, starting with the rowing machine, leg press and Nautilus. He was to use the wall mounted pulley weights, though, and was forbidden to use any free weights, which made it clear there would be no spotter today.

Fine! I don't want to talk to you, either! he thought, pushing away memories of the lively conversations they had had while spotting each other on the curl and incline benches. Now he saw that Bruce had scheduled time on the incline bench, but limited Dick to the "old-fashioned" exercises - sit ups, crunches, all the "boring" stuff.

Next, he was to move directly into a plethora of martial arts routines; ranging from Aikido to Capoeira, Hapkido to Karate, and Tae Kwon Do to Tai Chi Chuan.

Jeez, he's so anal he's organized the workouts alphabetically, Dick noted cynically. Of course, he also noticed that Bruce picked the forms that most emphasized a mind-body harmony.

"I see he's making me do all his self-defense disciplines that I hate, instead of any time on the gymnastics equipment," Dick grumbled out loud.

"I believe you deduced Master Bruce's exact intention," Alfred answered. Dick looked up at Alfred, surprised at his candor. "Self defense, I believe you noted," Alfred emphasized.

"Oh! Duh. I guess I really worried him, huh?" Dick felt another pang of guilt and stab of shame. Followed by a flash of impatience. So why didn't he just say so? God! He makes me crazy!

He realized Alfred was continuing the litany. ... a cool down after the self-defense workouts, and be sure to drink plenty of water. There was a cooler filled with cold bottles placed strategically near the padded floor. "You mustn't get dehydrated." After the cooldown, a half-hour was set aside for yoga breathing and stretches, followed by a full 45 minutes of Thai kickboxing at the suspended punching bag.

The one that I'm going to pretend is you, Bruce, Dick thought grimly. If that wasn't enough, his final workout was the biggest insult. Bruce seriously expected Dick to spend time on Alfred's treadmill! No doubt Bruce intended to be sure Dick's mind was free for nothing but "thinking."

And just in case there was any confusion, the entire schedule had been carefully charted on a dry-erase board in the gym, color-coded with time frames included. Dick silently seethed through the fresh fruit compote Alfred had prepared for the final course. You think you're gonna whip me with this? Screw you, Bruce. I'm gonna have a freakin' blast today. This is more fun than shoveling elephant shit, you prick. Dick groaned as he pushed away from the table. Today sucks.



To be continued