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Billionaire playboy Brucie Wayne has enough friends and acquaintances to fill ballrooms. The nearly endless list included politicians, philanthropists, doctors, lawyers, and movie stars.
But when Bruce realized he needed a babysitter for his eight-year-old ward—none of these ‘friends’ could possibly fit the bill.
The first thing Bruce had learned as Dick’s guardian was that no one was truly capable of containing him. The whole reason Batman had Robin was that Bruce couldn’t stop Dick once the boy decided he was going to be chasing down Zucco himself. Taking his ward on as his partner in crime-fighting was the only compromise possible to prevent the boy from running the rooftops alone.
So, with Alfred out of the country on family business, and an inescapable Wayne Industry negotiation across the country, on the same day as Dick’s tryouts for the competitive mathlete’s team, he had a dilemma. He couldn’t take Dick with him on the trip or he would miss the tryouts and lose the opportunity to compete with the team this year. It was Dick’s first year in school at Gotham Academy, and Bruce didn’t want him to miss the opportunity to make new friends and build a life for himself outside of their vigilantism. But if he left Dick in anyone’s care...
“Batman patrols without Robin.” Dick huffed, picking morosely at his pancakes before school the day before the looming trip.
“No, Dick.”
“Yes, he does. He patrols by himself when you make me stay home and do schoolwork.”
Bruce continued to sip on his coffee, but couldn’t help the fond eye roll at the pedantic response to his denial. “You know what I’m saying ‘no’ to.”
Dick dropped his head pathetically to the table, just missing his plate, and turned big blue eyes up at him with a pout. “We’re partners, B. Anything Batman can do, Robin can—”
“No, Dick.”
“I’d be extra careful.”
“No.”
Bruce didn’t delude himself—if Dick was left in anyone else’s care, he’d be out a window or breaking through an air duct to escape and patrol without permission.
The only hypothetical person capable of handling his young acrobat would have to be someone willing and able to keep Dick off the rooftops of Gotham. And of course, none of Bruce’s ‘friends’ could. High society gala attendees or their nannies wouldn’t have any idea what to do with a kid who wanted to flip across the skyline—
Well...
Except for Selina Kyle.
If she could be considered a friend.
(What do you call a woman whom you sometimes try to arrest, sometimes work with, sometimes socialize with as your public personas, sometimes chase across the rooftops at night and sometimes, on occasion (twice), sleep with?)
A well-known socialite and an occasional date on the arm of Brucie Wayne from various charity galas.
A woman already aware of their secret identity.
And with the skills and talent to actually best his acrobat.
And so, after a rather desperate ask, and a surprisingly easy acceptance, the next morning Bruce arrived at Selina’s elegant high-rise penthouse with Dick, a heavily-packed duffel bag, and a binder of agendas, contact numbers, and suggestions. (And with the Robin uniform left safely back in the Batcave).
Dick was literally bouncing on his toes, clutching Zitka excitedly to his chest as Selina opened the door. "HI!"
“Come on in kitten.” Selina smiled and Dick eagerly rushed in to explore the spacious penthouse and greet the cats lounging around. Her smile took a teasing edge as she turned her attention to Bruce and his baggage, raising an eyebrow at the sight.
Accordingly, Bruce promptly handed over the binder. “I’ve provided agendas for Dick’s schedule today, as well as directions to the school, and a map of the building layout so you can visualize the drop-off and pick-up points.” Selina’s eyebrow inched higher, and Bruce plowed on. “I’ve also outlined several possible evening activities to entertain him after the try-outs. I know he will want to be out on the rooftops, but that is absolutely out of the question, so alternative means of physical exercise will be important to wear him out. He’d love to spar with you. I’m sure with your expertise in Tae Kwon Do and—” Bruce cut himself off, noticing Selina’s eyebrows were hitting her hairline. He shuffled the duffel bag forward, clearing his throat awkwardly, “I’ve also packed a variety of other activities and several of his favorite Disney movies, he was particularly insistent on watching The Aristocats with you, and—”
“I should have figured the Big Bad Mama Bat would be a helicopter parent.” Selina cut him off with a roll of her eyes, smile sharp as ever as she tossed the binder haphazardly over her shoulder. “Just as controlling at home as you are at ‘work.’”
“Selina—”
She snatched the strap of the duffel, tugging Bruce forward until they were nose to nose (a rather familiar position). “Don’t you worry, dear. I’ll take good care of the baby bird.”
He reluctantly released the bag, letting it slide to the floor just inside her doorway as Dick ran back to them both with an orange tabby tangling passively in his arms.
Bruce knelt down to the child’s eye level, ready to begin his goodbye speech. “I’ll be back to pick you up tomorrow morning—”
“See ya, B!” Dick chirped, barely paying his guardian more than a brief glance as the cat began to wiggle out of his grasp.
“And you remember my cell phone number—”
Dick huffed as the tabby escaped to the floor and darted off to the kitchen. “I know Selina has it—”
“But you need to have it memorized in case you’re ever separated—”
Dick rolled his eyes but recited the familiar numbers.
“And Alfred’s—”
“Yeah, yeah I remember them!” Dick insisted, darting off after the tabby. “Bye B!”
Bruce nearly followed after, leaning forward from his position kneeling in the doorway, but a long leg in a stilettoed heel cut him off. Eyes trailing upwards Bruce was greeted by the familiar sight of Selina’s sharply amused grin. “I believe you have a flight to catch?”
He lingered in the doorway a moment longer as he rose. “Periodic updates would be... appreciated.” Bruce eventually grumbled.
“Hmmmm.” Selina hummed, tapping a perfectly manicured black nail against her lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.” And the door slammed.
Upon touching down in Los Angeles Bruce was met by a Wayne Industries Assistant ready to escort him to a scheduled lunch meeting, and Bruce pressed to hurry them along. The sooner these negotiations were concluded, the sooner he could be back in Gotham.
The lunch ‘meeting’ really only amounted to several other obnoxious millionaires and Executives attempting to out-brag each other rather than any sort of actual introduction to the negotiations they would be conducting. Wayne Industries were here to negotiate the acquisition of a new start-up tech company that was supposed to be developing new sources of renewable energy. In reality, its board of directors were simply using their investor's money and bank loans to fund their yacht parties. But their researchers actually had some compelling ideas, and with proper funding, Wayne Industries hoped to support the genuine work that was currently being neglected.
The growing frustration behind Bruce’s forced smile as he was forced to endure their hollow conversation was finally relieved when his phone chimed with a message from Selina. It was only about 1 pm for Bruce, but for Gotham, it was well past the end of school and the end of tryouts.
It was a simple picture of Dick still dressed in his Academy uniform and beaming from ear to ear proudly holding up a double scoop ice cream cone of brightly clashing colors at the uptown Gotham mall, and the text: “Celebrating Gotham Academy’s newest Mathlete.”
That image alone gave him the power to make it through the rest of the torturous meal.
After the hellish lunch, they finally transitioned to Wayne Industries LA office conference rooms and began the actual acquisition discussions in earnest. But on their first break, Bruce suddenly found himself cornered by the other companies' CFO, a weasel-faced man named Charles (technically Charles Willoughby the Third). “Are you and that Selina woman together?”
Before waiting for a response, the man was shoving a phone in Bruce’s face, displaying a celebrity gossip Twitter account with a surprisingly high-quality candid photo of Selina and Dick, strutting through the uptown Gotham mall, in completely new outfits and arms full of high-end shopping bags. Selina was striding confidently in elegant and intimidatingly high stilettos, and somehow Dick exuded the exact same confidence with a childish grin in his black high tops as they walked hand in hand in matching designer sunglasses and matching leather jackets. They really looked like an untouchable pair, decked in classy matching outfits and commanding the very space they occupied with their sheer authority. For Selina, it was stunning and seductive. And for Dick, it was positively adorable. Truly like a proud, aloof mother cat and her kitten trotting dutifully along. The bold-faced click-bait title blared “THE NEW MRS. WAYNE? HAS BRUCIE’S NEW KID PICKED A WIFE FOR GOTHAM’S FAVORITE PLAYBOY?”
The ’play boy’ in question couldn’t help the warm smile that blossomed on his face at the image. The duo certainly made quite the duo; he’d have to get a copy of the picture. After a moment, he remembered to answer Charles with a ‘Brucie’ Wayne signature dismissive laugh. “Nothing serious,” He could hardly claim otherwise. Whatever their relationship was, Selina wasn’t a woman to be pinned down. “She just gets on well with Richard, so she’s the babysitter for the day.”
“Good.” Charles laughed smugly, turning the screen back towards himself. “I’m known as quite the heartbreaker myself out here on the West Coast,” He bragged, clearly trying to advertise himself as a ‘playboy’ comparable to Brucie Wayne’s image. “A woman like that? Next time I’m in Gotham I’m planning on showing her a good time, if you know what I mean.”
That prompted a genuine bark of laughter to escape Bruce’s lips. Clapping a hand on the man’s back he sculpted his expression back into a ‘Brucie’ Wayne smile. “Word of advice: you couldn’t handle her.” The CFO laughed along as well, taking it as banter, and Bruce couldn’t bring himself to feel terribly sympathetic already imagining how Charles would surely be robbed blind if he ever so much as smiled Selina’s way.
After another hour or so Bruce’s phone chimed again, and he surreptitiously glanced down under the table, seeing the notification of a video message from Selina. After waiting for the opportune moment, Bruce offered a hollow excuse and slipped away from the negotiation table to find his private office. It was a largely symbolic room, since he rarely came to the L.A. Wayne Industries building, but he was grateful for it as he sat down to watch the short clip in private.
The video captured Dick nestled on Selina’s couch with Zitka and a half-eaten slice of pizza in hand as he beamed transfixed at the television screen displaying the vivid colors of the Aristocats “Everybody Wants to Be a Cat” musical scene and playing the soft melody of Duchess and O’Malley sang their slower duet at the harp.
“Watch! Watch!” He demanded waving in the direction of Selina, who was holding the camera, without looking away from the screen.
“I am. I am.” Selina assured, and even without seeing her, Bruce could practically hear her teasing grin.
“This is the best part!” Dick was bouncing in his seat as the trumpet came in and the beat picked up into the crescendo of the song. “EVERYBODY! EVERYBODY! EVERYBODY! WANTS TO BE A CAT!” He sang a long enthusiastically, before turning towards Selina and the camera with eyes sparkling in excitement and pride. “Do you like it?”
“Yes, kitten. I love it.”
With her affirmation, he bounced even more enthusiastically as he continued to sing-along until the video ended.
As Bruce smiled at the screen an additional text came through: “Sorry Bruce. You little Bird might not be flying back to you. He wants to be a Cat.”
A couple hours later Bruce’s phone lit up once again, again with the notification of a video from Selina. This time he left the negotiation table instantly without bothering with an excuse. He hurried to his personal office and eagerly pressed play.
Selina‘s laughter came through from off-screen as she held the camera pointed towards an empty view of her living room, well empty except for the shopping bags scattered on the couch in the background and a high-backed dining room chair with a precariously balanced empty water bottle teetering on top.
Until Dick cartwheeled into the frame in a pair of low-heeled Mary Janes.
“Tada!” He cheered. “Check this out B!” With that introduction Dick whirled around in a perfect spinning hook kick, sending the water bottle flying with his heel. “BAM!”
“The kitten is doing very well in his kitten heels.” Selina praised and Dick turned straight to the camera, speaking directly to Bruce.
“I told Selina I wanted to try higher ones but—”
Her amused laughter cut off his complaint. “They don’t make heels any higher for your little feet, kitten. You can try when you’re older.”
“But I can do it in higher ones! If my feet get tired,” he bent over backwards, kicking his feet up into a hand stand, “I can just walk on my hands!”
“You’ll have to ask the Big Bad Bat to order you something custom then, baby.”
“OOOoo! In green for Robin!”
Bruce groaned in anticipation of that conversation when the video cut out. He’d lost the initial battle over Dick’s costume. Bruce had wanted full-body armor, preferably several layers under a Kevlar plated suit—but Dick insisted he need the flexibility and freedom to move with his acrobatic style. And in the end he couldn’t even get Dick to wear pants!
All that Bruce was asking for was basic protection and functionality. And he was already battling Dick again to agree to at least wear insulated leggings for the coming winter. And now he’d have to add on convincing his acrobat it was too dangerous to flip across the rooftops in heels (even if Selina managed it perfectly). The risk of rolled ankles or fractures were just too high!
Then his phone chimed once more and he looked down to the message: “He’s a natural 🐈 ”
He was really going to need to put his foot down and dictate only athletic footwear for vigilante work.
By the end of the day negotiations were nearly finalized, but the other executives insisted on a dinner before signing. And so, Bruce was dragged back out to some rooftop restaurant and bar to suffer through another meal full of false smiles and blustering. Feeling so close to the end, knowing he could jump on straight on his private jet after the papers were signed, only made it more painful.
When his phone lit up once again, this time with an photo rather than a video. He didn’t hesitate to open the image.
And immediately choked on his drink.
A selfie. Dick and Selina were matching again—but now it was with Selina in her full suit and Dick in his own all black outfit (still with shorts—truly no one could get that child to wear pants), his heels, and his own pair of googles and cat ears. And they were perched on an all too familiar window-sill.
“1st B&E ❤️”
“You o.k. there Brucie?” Charles chimed, leaning over in his direction and Bruce hurriedly tucked his phone away and rose from the table amid confused glances.
“Sorry all, it looks like I’ll need to excuse myself early.” He forced a smile and waved a hand for their waiter, “A round of shots for the table. To our acquisition and relations moving forward!”
The promise of shots successfully distracted the group from asking any further questions and Bruce used the opportunity to slip out—heading straight for his private jet.
He needed to get back immediately
What on earth had he been thinking leaving his child with one of the trickiest and treacherous burglars in the world! Of course she would be a dangerous influence! He'd been gone for twelve hours and she was leading down the path of crime!
As his chauffeured car pulled up to the small runway his phone chimed again
This time they were inside the Manor.
The two posed in front of the floor length mirror in Dicks’ walk-in closet. Dick was decked in his Robin uniform, posing proudly, and Selina had switched her Catwoman headgear for a cheap party costume version of the Bat cowl.
“A new dynamic duo in town.”
He paused for a moment, once again caught-off guard, but this time with a soft smile as the urgency bled out of him—just a bit. Maybe he was overreacting. The breaking and entering was just teasing—and Selina loved to tease. After all it was an important skill in their line of work. And they had only broken into his own home. And Dick would surely appreciate being able to sleep in the bed he’d grown used to in the manor and—
Another photo came through with a chime: Dick in his full Robin uniform, but with the cat ears back on, sitting criss-cross in front of the safe in Bruce’s bedroom with an array of lock-picking tools in front of him.
“Lockpicking 101”
Nope. He had to get home immediately.
And Selina would not be babysitting again!