Chapter Text
After a long, long day of fighting aliens, absolutely none of the Justice League was happy to hear a loud sound that reminded them of a ring of sparklers, a heavy thud, and an “oof!”
They were even less happy to hear a shout of “TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE I AM GOING TO WRING YOUR SKINNY NECK!”
Batman sighed, wondering what in the world his children had gotten into and how they’d managed to portal to the watchtower.
Only to stop and realize that was very much not his children.
That is, Jason, last time he checked, was not fifteen years old and still wearing his Robin uniform. He also wasn’t chasing what looked like an eleven-year-old Tim, who was in the arms of a sixteen-year-old Cass, who had stood on a chair to kick at Jason who was yelling incoherently about murdering Tim.
A twenty-year-old Dick and a thirteen-year-old Steph, both in their hero suits (that actually looked like the ones they wore at that age, unlike Tim and Cass), looked like they were watching and enjoying the chaos.
“Who are you?” Diana spoke up, voice steady and strong and capable of making even the most unruly of heroes freeze in their tracks like toddlers caught stealing cookies.
The five not-batkids stared at them, eyes wide, trying (and failing) to look innocent.
“It was Tim’s fault!” All of them chirped at once, pointing at Tim. Tim, strangely enough, pointed at himself and echoed them, before realizing what he’d done and yelping out a “Hey!”
“That doesn’t answer her question,” Clark said, floating up beside her, crossing his arms to look more intimidating.
Tim raised his hand like he was in school, “I was practicing portal magic but then I thought what if I chugged zombie pond water and tried to do a spell cause I wanted authentic Chinese food but Billy was refusing to fly me there. I tried to do it but Jason was calling Alfred and Dick was filming cause he said he needed to send my epic fail to Babs, so I definitely did not do it correctly because I’m pretty sure even the pond water wouldn’t land me on the watchtower when I was trying to go the opposite way plus you guys have no idea who we are.”
Bruce resisted the urge to rub at his temples, “That still does not explain who you are and how you got here.”
“Yeah, it does?” Tim said, confused.
“Lemme translate,” Steph said. “Tim was being an idiot and practicing his powers without adult supervision like Batman told him to, and then he decided to be an extra idiot by drinking Lazarus Pit water to see if it would help him make his powers more concentrated. It didn’t, he got distracted, and now we’re definitely in a different universe. I’m Steph, the idiot is Tim, the angry worrier is Jason, the chaotic adult is Dick, and the enabler is Cass. We’re Batman’s kids in our universe, no idea what the situation is on this one.” She looked at Dick, “What’s the contingency code for multiversal travel?”
“We live in the same house as Tim and you don’t have that one memorized?” He gave her a judging look.
“Well, I didn’t think he’d just yeet us, did I?” She crossed her arms, a picture-perfect mirror of this universe’s Stephanie Brown when she was about to snap.
“It’s Mu-Upsilon-Tau-Alpha, 42 Sigma.”
At that, Bruce visibly let down his guard a little, making the rest of the League stand down.
Batmen, across multiverses, tend to be more good than evil, and none of the evil world’s Batmen had children, so these guys were more likely to be the real deal.
“Your codenames?”
“Starling.”
“Nightwing.”
“Robin.”
“Black Bird.”
“Crow.”
Hal Jordon snorted, “Well, at least the bird theme is consistent.”
“Get fucked, glowstick,” Jason shot back.
“Robin,” Bruce warned reflexively.
“He started it!” Jason pointed a finger, indignant.
“And I’m finishing it.”
Dick is nodding, “Yeah, this is definitely a BatDad. Is there other versions of us here? Can we meet them?”
“Fight for alpha.”
“Cass, no!” Jason scolded.
“Cass, yes!” She said, looking delighted at the concept.
“Does this me use magic?” Tim kept sticking his hand in the air like a school kid whenever he talked, really demonstrating his age. “Cause from what I can tell it’s a no, but also I had radioactive squid for dinner yesterday so my senses might be off.”
Immediately, there were several shouts from the children, who apparently had no idea about this development, and Jason was now talking about radiation sickness treatment again .
Bruce had never felt lucky about the fact that his children could be worse, yet here he was.
“You have radiation poisoning?” Bruce addressed the biggest problem.
“It won’t kill me any faster than the heavy metal poisoning I got last week.”
“Not what I asked,” He sighed, dropping his Batman voice for a tired dad one. “We’re looking at that too now.”
“But–!”
“No buts! Medbay, all of you, now.”
“I’m not injured,” Dick protested.
Bruce crossed his arms, “Did I ask? No. Go, now.”
Dick gaped at him, “You’re not our dad!”
Bruce felt his patience thinning, “1.”
“Are you seriously counting?”
“2.”
“This is bullshit!”
“3. Don’t make me get to 5.”
“I’m a grown adult! I pay my own rent! I’m not going to cower just because some ass who thinks he’s my dad started to count!”
“4.”
A flash of fear appeared on Dick’s face. “Okay, fine! Asshole.”
Bruce raised an eyebrow, and when he didn’t move, went to open his mouth again. Instantly, all the children ran for the door, not wanting to find out what happens when he reaches 5.
“Holy shit, B,” Oliver said. “I can’t believe that worked.”
Bruce looked at him, “How are you a father?”
“Hey!”
The other Tim suddenly wandered right back into the room. “I can’t go to the medbay.”
“Why not?” He sighed, bending slightly to get closer to his level. The boy had an uncertain look on his face, not dissimilar to the nervous-sheepish one he gets when he feels embarrassed about something.
“There’s a Jimpy in there,” He near whispered.
“What’s a Jimpy?” Bruce asked, resigned.
Tim grabbed his cape, balling it up in his fist. “Little pixie creatures. They bite. Mr. Constantine told me that if I get bitten by one it’ll make me so confused I’ll forget my own name. I don’t want to forget my name.”
Diana was audibly cooing. Clark sounded like he was doing the Kryptonian equivalent of cooing, the sound from him sounding a bit too much like a purr to be human.
“Okay,” Bruce bent down and plucked the boy up, setting him on his hip. “How about I go in there with you? I promise I won't let it touch you.”
He hid his face, gently, in Bruce’s fractured collarbone. Bruce barely resisted wincing. “Steph called me a wimp.”
“You’re not a wimp, and Constantine isn’t allowed to tell you any more stories.”
“Okay. I want a green band-aid for my IV.”
Bruce started walking towards the dearly needed medbay, “Sure thing.”
"And a snack."