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They had gone shopping and Tim had things now, but there is something else he still wants to do.
After dinner, he latches onto Bruce's arm before he can escape off to do Bruce things--or Batman things, though it's probably a bit early still for that.
Bruce responds by lifting his arm (and Tim) in the air and eyeballing him.
"Did you need something, sweetheart?"
He can't answer since he's hanging onto Bruce's arm, but he does smile brightly at the man, relishing in the knowledge that Bruce won't accidentally drop him.
Safe, safe, safe, his brain chants happily.
"Here," Bruce laughs, and swings him onto his hip. "Now, did you need something?"
"I want a haircut."
"Hm. Any reason in particular?"
Bruce is walking them down the hall and up the stairs.
"I hate combs. Hate wet hair. My dad . . ." he stops and frowns. Jack's not his dad anymore. "Jack and . . . Janet said I had to look a certain way to be their heir. They said my hair had to be long enough for certain styles."
Bruce grunts and turns into his bedroom and then into his ridiculously large bathroom. He sets Tim on the countertop and then takes a seat beside him. Tim's legs are dangling off, but Bruce's feet are flat on the floor.
"How short do you want to go?"
"Can I just be kinda fuzzy on top? Short, but not bald?" He asks, running a hand through his hair and making it stand up.
"We could take it down to a 2 or 3. A 2 is a quarter of an inch, if I'm remembering correctly."
"It is indeed, sir," Alfred says, appearing at the door with a razor in hand and an old towel.
Bruce twitches beside him and Tim can't help but giggle behind his hands.
"That would keep the skin on your head from being quite as exposed. Or we could go longer, Master Tim," Alfred suggests.
Tim shakes his head in the negative. He likes the idea of a quarter of an inch.
"Can you do it, B?" Tim asks.
He likes Alfred. He likes him a lot, but Bruce is Batman.
Alfred and Bruce exchange looks over his head, and he decides not to notice.
"You'll need to shower afterward. I don't want the cut hair to irritate your skin," Bruce says, standing up and taking the razor from Alfred.
"Where should I sit?"
"You should be fine right there. Alfred can put the towel down under you."
"Okay."
He watches Bruce put the razor down and then reach for him. Bruce's hands slide under his armpits and he is lifted as Alfred slides the towel under him, and then he is set carefully back on the countertop.
"Ready, Tim?" Bruce asks, smiling.
"Yes!"
"How about you take your shirt off?" Bruce asks, eyeing him thoughtfully.
"You too?"
"Eh, why not," Bruce shrugs.
They both strip down to their pants, and Tim has an interesting few minutes staring at the damage that Bruce has inflicted on himself through his life as Batman.
"Where did you get that scar?" He asks, pointing at one that runs just under Bruce's left nipple. It's deep and looks like it had probably hurt a lot.
"Hm? Oh, that was from Clayface. He was aiming for my head," Bruce murmurs, reaching for the razor.
"I'm glad he missed!"
"As am I," Alfred adds, still watching them carefully from the doorway.
The razor is kind of loud, but he bears with it. The sensation of Bruce cutting off his hair is actually really nice, and it makes a warm tingly feeling start at the back of his head and spread down his neck. He instinctively closes his eyes as Bruce cuts the front, and then sneezes a few times from the hair that drops on his face.
"All right there, sweetheart?"
He nods, smiling again.
After a few minutes, he hears the razor turn off, and then hears the sound of the water running.
"Eyes still closed?" Bruce asks.
He nods.
"I'm just going to wipe your face."
He feels a slightly damp washcloth wipe down his face. Bruce is gentle with him, far more than any hair stylist he's ever gone to with his parents. After a moment, Bruce stops and he tentatively opens his eyes.
Bruce wipes the washcloth over his head and shoulders, steady and efficient with his movements. Tim finds himself swaying with the motions, and he misses it for a moment when it stops.
"There. What do you think?"
He turns and looks in the mirror. He smiles and runs a hand over his head, his scalp remembering the feel of Bruce's hand there just seconds before.
"It's so soft! I love it!" He says excitedly.
He turns back toward Bruce and wraps his arms around the man's waist as far as he can reach. Bruce returns the hug with a laugh.
"Now we both need a shower," Bruce says, still smiling.
"I think you look very smart," Alfred adds approvingly.
Tim doesn't respond, but grins into Bruce's chest.