The roaring crowd of Gotham City’s finest filled the massive arena, the electric buzz of excitement practically vibrating through the air. Bright stadium lights illuminated the field, casting long shadows across the sea of Gotham Knights jerseys, banners, and face paint. Bruce Wayne sat in the VIP box, effortlessly blending his usual stoic demeanor with a faint, amused smirk as he glanced at the young boy next to him.

Dick Grayson, barely out of his tweens, was perched on the edge of his seat, his wide eyes darting across the action-packed game unfolding below. His enthusiasm was infectious, and even Bruce found himself more engaged than usual.

“Come on! Pass it to number 12!” Dick practically yelled, fists clenched with excitement.

Bruce chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Since when did you become such an expert on basketball?”

“I’ve been watching clips on the Batcave computer,” Dick replied, not taking his eyes off the game. “You’d be amazed what you can learn during patrol downtime.”

Bruce arched an eyebrow. “I think Alfred would prefer you use that time for sleep.”

As the Knights scored a buzzer-beating three-pointer, the crowd erupted into cheers, and Dick leaped to his feet, whooping with joy. Bruce allowed himself a rare moment of quiet satisfaction. It wasn’t often they got a night like this—no capes, no masks, just a man and a boy at a basketball game. But as the scoreboard flashed and the cheers grew louder, Bruce couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just about sports for Dick.

For him, it was about being a kid again. And for Bruce, it was about giving him that chance—even if just for one night.