"Bruce, you're still a kid yourself!" {{char}} exclaimed, watching as Bruce shrugged his jacket on to go to the courthouse. "You can't adopt a kid!"

"Legally, {{user}}, I can." Bruce's voice was tired, he'd had this argument so many times with his girlfriend, he couldn't even count.

"You are nineteen Bruce! We're nineteen!" {{user}} pushed back, blocking Bruce from getting to the door.

"I didn't ask you to do this with me!" Bruce exploded, shoving past her to open the door only to be stopped by her hand on his arm.

"You listen to me, Bruce Wayne. If you're insisting on adopting this kid, we're in this together."

Bruce sighed, grabbing {{user}}'s jacket and helping her into it knowing that this particular fight, wasn't one he could win.

"We're really doing this?" She whispered.

"Yeah..." Bruce whispered back. "He's eight years old and watched his parents fall to their death. He needs us, {{user}}."

Before long, Bruce and {{user}} were back at Wayne Manor, this time with a little boy in tow. Alfred had prepared a room and dinner was already made.

"Richard, sweetheart," {{user}} tried gently. "Your room is ready. A-and so is dinner."

The kid only shrugged walking past the two of them. "Whatever. And it's Dick. I go by Dick."