Chapter Text
Perhaps galas were cursed. Not cursed cursed but doomed by its very nature, for they attract corruption like moths to flame.
It began like all galas did - obnoxiously bright flashes of paparazzi camera lights, people screeching and screaming his name like he was a celebrity when he was really just a rich white guy, the media hounding for answers to questions that really weren’t any of their business.
It was the same dull, mind-numbing gala until the security abruptly flipped around and pointed their guns at them. Bruce was never going to one of Erikson’s galas again. The man had terrible decor and a god awful voice. Bruce was pretty sure he was embezzling all the donations too. He didn’t even try very hard to hide it. Seriously. It was one thing if one person on the security team was a plant but all of them? That was just criminal negligence. For shame, Erikson, for shame. At least when Bruce’s security were career criminals, it was intentional.
It didn’t take too long for his kids to come save the day (night?) because of course they were monitoring the gala. The overprotective prats.
Bruce sat back from where he was crouched behind a pillar and watched the Bats and Birds of Gotham absolutely destroy these subpar robbers. Nightwing was doing too many flashy and unnecessary flips but they served well to distract the bad guys while his siblings took them down. Black Bat may have jumped from a chandelier, causing it to fall and shatter but it was an eyesore so Bruce didn’t fault her for that.
“Brucie,” Mrs Henderson gasped and grabbed at his jacket sleeve.
A thug had snuck up on them while Bruce was distracted and - shit, was that an alien gun? Why did low level gala crashers have an alien gun?
“Make- make them stop,” she stammered an order.
“What?” Bruce blinked stupidly and it wasn’t Brucie’s airheadedness that prompted it. No, it was genuine bafflement, not at all helped by his three all nighters. He knew he should have taken a nap like Alfred told him to but the ordered nap made him feel like a toddler so he stubbornly refused…like a toddler. There was just no winning.
“I said make them stop! You’re Brucie, they’ll listen to you.”
“You think I control the vigilantes?” Bruce asked slowly. This was slander. His children never listened to him.
“Not control,” - she scoffed and wow, rude - “but they’ll listen if Gotham’s son is in danger.”
“They’re a bit busy right now.” Bruce flashed her a rueful grin, hoping to disarm her. Not that she needed disarming in the first place. The robber seemed to entirely dismiss Bruce as a threat, only pointing a gun at him to make up for her slight figure. “I don’t think they’ll be able to hear me.”
“Perhaps you should just leave while you still can,” Mrs Henderson suggested.
It was not a very good idea to speak up when the person with the gun has forgotten your existence, Bruce thought. He wondered how she had managed to survive swimming with the Gotham sharks for over fifty years if she was like this. Though Bruce did remember her allowing him to hide under her table and play games when galas got too boring for his seven year old self. Mrs Henderson might have gotten by simply by being likeable. A high society pet just like Brucie.
“My brother is getting his snot beat and you want me to run?!” The thug seethed angrily and pointed her gun at Mrs Henderson and - oh no, this was not good - pulled the trigger.
Bruce jumped in front of Mrs Henderson in a panic and – crap, he just made eye contact with Tim.
Red Robin threw his bo-staff at the lady but it was too late.
“Brucie!” Mrs Henderson screeched in horror.
Bruce collapsed to the ground and whimpered. A cold numbing sensation was spreading throughout his body and as he fought to maintain consciousness, he could see Tim watching him with abject terror. Fuck.
Tim felt the blood drain from his face. Bruce was down on the ground, clutching his chest where he was shot, and making quiet keening sounds like a kicked puppy. He couldn’t see any blood but Bruce was visibly growing paler, his lips gaining a blue tinge.
He should have done something sooner. Tim had seen the masked lady with the strange gun standing in front of Bruce and Mrs Henderson but he mistakenly thought that Bruce would be fine. He was Batman after all. But Tim had forgotten. Bruce wasn’t Batman right now. He was Brucie and Brucie didn’t have Batman’s kevlar armour or his endless arsenal of tools.
He was Brucie and he had just been shot by an alien gun.
Tim ran up to where Bruce collapsed, arriving just in time to knock out his assailant once more and confiscated the alien gun responsible for this mess.
He looked around and, fuck, Nightwing and Black Bat had finished off the rest of the thugs and were watching them with unrelenting stares. Tim was glad that at least Damian was not here - he was patrolling downtown with Jason and Steph, while also giving Duke a lesson on night time patrols that he didn’t need. If Damian were here, Tim feared he would not be able to remain professional and expose their relationship with Bruce.
He heard Mrs Henderson gasp again.
“Brucie,” Mrs Henderson whispered and tenderly pillowed Bruce’s head on her lap.
Bruce was…small. His tailored suit draped over his diminished stature like a blanket and made him look so terribly tiny and fragile, like the slightest wind could blow him over.
For a moment, Tim stood stockstill, unsure what to do because his father - his larger than life father - had turned into a child.
Bright blue eyes fluttered open.
“Mrs Henderson…?” Bruce questioned, staring at the aged woman above him.
She was looking down on him with a combination of concern and relief and she looked like the Mrs Henderson that let him hide under the table during boring galas but that Mrs Henderson was in her thirties, unlike the grandma whose lap he was sleeping on. But this Mrs Henderson lookalike brushed at his cheek just like the younger Mrs Henderson did when he was crying because he had gotten separated from his parents and– his parents, oh god, his parents!
Bruce let out a sob, “Mrs Henderson, my parents– Mother and Father are gone. They’re dead.”
He heard a strangled sound behind him but Mrs Henderson’s face collapsed and she held him to his chest and gently rocked him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Brucie.”
“They’re gone,” Bruce cried. “I’ll never see them again.”
Mrs Henderson apologised over and over again but her words fell upon deaf ears because Bruce’s parents were dead. Shot in front of him like cattle. Bruce could still feel their cold sticky blood on his skin and under his nails.
Bruce clawed at Mrs Henderson’s dress through the oversized jacket he was wearing - it was not the cheap coat he remembered being draped over his shoulders by the only officer that spoke to him, who cared about him. “I want Alfred,” he sobbed. “Officer Gordon said Alfred would be here soon.”
Here as in the side of the road filled with patrol cars, not the tackily decorated ballroom Bruce now found himself in. It was odd to have changed locations without him realising it but it didn’t matter. Bruce just wanted Alfred.
While Bruce cried in Mrs Henderson’s arms, Tim looked back at Dick desperately for support. Dick looked heartbroken for Bruce but stayed hidden in the shadows with Cass. “I don’t want to overwhelm him,” he explained on the comms. “I called Alfred and he’ll be arriving soon. Could you tell him that for me? I’ll tell the others what’s going on.”
Tim nodded. Thank fuck Alfred insisted on driving Bruce to the gala tonight or they’ll be stuck with having to hear Bruce mournfully cry out for Alfred for the twenty minutes it would have taken him to drive to the gala.
“Bruce,” Tim said as he knelt down in front of the boy. “Alfred will arrive any moment now.”
Bruce was looking at Tim through tearful eyes, big droplets still clinging onto his long lashes. He looked positively miserable as he nodded in response to Tim’s reassurances.
A spike of panic shot through Tim as the tearworks restarted and Bruce ran out of Mrs Henderson’s arms but Bruce let out a choked “Alfred!” and jumped into their frenzied butler’s arms.
“They’re gone. They’re gone. They’re gone,” Tim could hear Bruce cry.
Alfred simply hugged Bruce tightly against his chest and rubbed his back up and down. “Oh, my boy. I’m here. I’m here now.”
Bruce was taken to the hospital after he cried himself to sleep. They would have preferred to take him back to the cave but unfortunately, Bruce was very publicly shot as Brucie so they couldn’t keep it on the downlow like they would have preferred. By the time Alfred returned home with the sleeping Bruce, the internet had already exploded with news of the de-aged Brucie.
The Waynes and Wayne adjacents quietly seethed at the buzz.
It had somehow gotten out that Bruce had regressed to the night of his parents’ murder and people were digging up articles from back then, gossiping about poor Brucie, experiencing the worst night of his life again. To make matters worse, the infamous photo of Bruce sitting on the curb resurfaced and was attached to every article speaking of Bruce’s current situation.
It was no secret that Bruce hated the photo. He despised that it was his legacy; to have been marked down in history as The Tragic Orphan Boy was an insult to his parents and the man he grew to become. Even at eighteen, twenty, whenever people spoke of him, it was the boy in the photo that they envisioned. Every article had the damn thing attached to it as if the world was staunchly refusing to let Bruce forget what he looked like at his most vulnerable.
When Brucie became more popular than the poor orphaned Wayne heir, the photo gradually faded from the public eye and finally, Bruce didn’t have to see the accursed thing every time he searched up his own name. Now though, with its resurgence, a new generation of people were introduced to the boy Bruce no longer was.
The only silver lining was that no one managed to snap a photo of the current eight year old Bruce. Knowing the media, they would have put the photos of the crying child side by side in a cruel game of spot the difference.
Dick put his phone down solemnly. Alfred was beside Bruce’s bed keeping watch so it was up to him to take the lead. He would have to be the one to attempt to channel his siblings’ anxious energy into something productive.
“Jason and Duke, you two take the gun Tim brought back to a green lantern to get it examined. Tim, call the PR department and see if they could do anything about the photo. Cass and Damian, help me clear the manor of anything dangerous that Bruce could potentially hurt himself on. Steph, ask Alfred for Bruce’s clothing size and buy him a set or two. You’re the least likely of us to get recognised.”
They all nodded in assent, grateful for something to do rather than wait for Bruce to wake up. They scattered to do their respective jobs and Dick quietly let out a breath to steady himself.
“Oracle, can you check where the gun originated from? Find out how such shitty thugs managed to just stumble upon a gun like that.”
“I’m looking into it,” Barbara replied.
“Alright.” Dick hung up and went to help Cass and Damian hide all the easily accessible knives lying around.
Richie Grayson-Wayne @flyinggrayson ✓
Thank you everyone for the kind words. Bruce is resting at the moment but he will be fine. We will not be answering any questions and I ask for your patience and to please respect our need for privacy during this moment of great distress 1/4
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Richie Grayson-Wayne @flyinggrayson ✓
I will also like to ask everyone to refrain from using Bruce’s photo from the incident. It was taken and published without Bruce’s permission when he was at his most vulnerable and for decades, when people spoke of him, it was that photo that they saw. He is not just that boy on the curb. He is more than that. 2/4
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Richie Grayson-Wayne @flyinggrayson ✓
I was lucky to have Bruce shield me from the same fate but I saw how much it bothered him to see that photo continue to haunt him even as an adult. It was a constant reminder of everything that happened that night and Bruce deserves to move on with his life. He is the man Gotham loves to laugh with. Don’t reduce him to one tragic photo 3/4
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Richie Grayson-Wayne @flyinggrayson ✓
If you really must use a photo of when Bruce was 8, please use a less triggering one. Perhaps one he consented to taking. Try using this instead :) [Photo of 8YO Bruce Wayne smiling shyly at the camera] 4/4
Chapter 2
Summary:
Bruce talks with Alfred and meets the family
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Bruce opened his eyes and found Alfred sitting by his bed. He looked much older than Bruce remembered him being; his already sparse head of hair almost entirely gone, wrinkles more pronounced and a weary depth to his eyes. Alfred looked worried and it was taking a toll on him, making him seem older than his sixty years. Sixty years? Alfred is in his mid thirties at most…
“Alfred.”
“Master Bruce.” Alfred snapped out of the daze he was in and his aged hand brushed aside the stray locks of hair on Bruce’s forehead. “How are you feeling, my boy?”
“Tired,” Bruce replied honestly. “Alfred, am I in the future?”
Alfred momentarily paused in his ministrations of Bruce’s hair but resumed his careful brushing. “Not exactly but you’re thirty some years younger than you should be.”
Bruce nodded almost absentmindedly. He had guessed as much. “Father was only thirty six.”
His tears were leaking again and Bruce swiped at them with vehemence but they kept dripping, hot and salty against his face. “How did he do it? How did I keep on living without them?”
Bruce was supposed to be at least thirty eight. His father only lived to thirty six. His mother was thirty seven. He was older than both his parents would ever be.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.
They were supposed to be old and grey and wrinkly like Alfred. Not young and dead and buried, mere skeletons in coffins of mahogany lined with silk.
“Oh, Bruce.” Alfred cradled him to his chest and rubbed his back in a soothing motion. “It was difficult, and it still is sometimes, but you’re your parents’ son. You carry them with you in your heart and you never forget their love. You laugh like Thomas did. You get the same glint in your eyes as Martha when you’re about to tell a clever joke. They live in you, Bruce, in those little moments.”
“...Is that how you carry on too?” Bruce whispered when his sobbing finally subsided.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m not blind, Alfred. I’ve seen the way they looked at you and the way you looked at them…Losing the people you love hurts, I can’t imagine how you managed.”
Alfred smiled painfully and cupped Bruce’s cheek. “Yes, well, I had you. I wasn’t alone.”
They fell into a comfortable silence and Bruce was almost lulled back to sleep by the gentle rubbing on his back.
“Have you,” Alfred began hesitantly. “Have you always known?”
“Hm? Oh, I think so. You act like Father does with Mother and Mother does with Father. But I only knew for certain when I found the three of you kissing on the lips out in the gazebo.”
There was a faint blush on Alfred’s cheeks and Bruce was fascinated.
“You, older you I mean, never spoke of it.”
Bruce shrugged. “I’m guessing that it just never came up but you’ll have to ask him. As for me, you’re family, Alfred. It didn’t matter what the three of you did behind closed doors.”
“Master Bruce-!” Alfred gasped, scandalised
Bruce snickered at the way Alfred’s blush spread beyond his cheeks. He’d seen it happen once before when both his parents kissed Alfred’s cheeks at the same time. Honestly, they did that in front of him and they thought Bruce wouldn’t know. Yeah, they tried to play it off as a joke by doing it to him too but Bruce was eight, not dumb.
“...I miss them.” Bruce buried his face in Alfred’s chest and his stupid tears were wetting Alfred’s shirt. He was so sick and tired of crying but he just couldn’t stop!
“I miss them too, but it gets easier, I promise you.”
Bruce nodded weakly and licked his chapped lips. “I’m thirsty, Alfred.”
“Right. I’ll grab you a glass of water.”
Bruce shook his head desperately and clung on to Alfred. “Don’t leave!”
Alfred hesitated for a split second but nodded. “Would you like to come with me to the kitchen?”
“Can you carry me?”
Alfred huffed. “Of course. I may be old but I am not weak.”
Alfred stood up with Bruce still in his lap in one smooth motion. He shifted Bruce to his hip, one hand supporting his bottom and the other placed reassuringly at his back.
“I saw Mother doing this to you once,” Bruce revealed, because Alfred was sad again and the grief lines on his face were growing deeper. He knew that Alfred had over thirty years to deal with his grief but the idea that old wounds were reopening because of Bruce was deeply upsetting. Perhaps it wasn’t so wise to bring up his mother but it was what lifted Alfred’s mood earlier so Bruce made do with what he had.
Bruce felt a rumble in Alfred’s chest and giggled as the butler floundered for something to say.
“Let’s go back to not speaking of this, shall we?” he ended up settling on.
“If you make me dino nuggies, then we have a deal.”
“Master Bruce, those are highly unhealthy and altogether bad for you. Honestly, if you just want to eat something dinosaur shaped, I am more than happy to cut some vegetables into dinosaurs for you.”
Bruce lifted his head up so Alfred could see his face and jut his lower lip out. His eyes were red and still watery from his bout of crying, which added to the overall effect he was going for. Bruce was not above using manipulation to get what he wanted. “Alfred, please? I really want dino nuggies.”
Alfred sighed. “Alright, but later tonight. I’ll have to ask Miss Stephanie or Miss Barbara to purchase some.”
“Stephanie? Barbara?”
Alfred hummed. “Your family has grown rather large over the years, Master Bruce. You have a tendency of adopting strays and not all of them have been officially added to the family but they’re family nonetheless.”
Bruce hid his face in Alfred’s neck. “I’m not– it’s not just the two of us?”
“No, Master Bruce.”
Bruce was silent for a while before he finally nodded. “Okay.” He clenched Alfred’s shirt. “Could we get that water now, please?”
“Of course, young sir.”
Alfred finally carried Bruce out of his bedroom (a bedroom that he now realised was the master bedroom redecorated and he tried very hard not to think about that) and brought him to the kitchen.
Eight pairs of eyes blinked at them.
“Oh. We were just talking about delivering you breakfast,” a young man with a bright smile said.
He felt familiar. They all did.
Still, Bruce tensed and he knew that Alfred had felt it. Everyone else saw it too, from the constipated looks on their faces. They hid it well but Bruce still saw it. He looked away, suddenly ashamed that he had been the cause of it.
“Good morning, children. You’re all up early,” Alfred greeted as he rubbed soothing circles into Bruce’s back. The magic worked in a flash and Bruce relaxed enough to look back at the eight other people in the room.
“We, uh, we haven’t been able to sleep much so we decided to start the day early,” the man sheepishly said.
Alfred tutted in disapproval. “I know you were all worried but rest is important.”
“You haven’t slept either, Alfred,” another man interjected.
“Yes, but I slept the night before. I’m afraid the rest of you cannot say the same.”
The guy grumbled something about not needing to sleep much but when Alfred raised an imperious eyebrow, he quickly backtracked and promised to take a nap, a sentiment echoed by everyone else.
It was a very familiar exchange. In fact, Bruce had heard his father and Alfred go through the same conversation beats, down to the grumbling and quick surrender. It should have been weird to see Alfred play that role again for someone else - someone that breathed echoes of his father’s mannerisms - but it felt rather right. Like it was only natural.
And it was. Because he and the seven others were the family that Alfred mentioned.
Bruce tapped on Alfred’s shoulder and looked back at the children (they were all older than him and most of them could hardly be called children but the title fit so he stuck to it.)
Alfred easily understood him and addressed the room. “Since you are all here now, would you like to reintroduce yourselves to Master Bruce?”
A flicker of resigned sorrow flitted past all their faces, fast enough that if you weren’t familiar with them, you wouldn’t be able to notice it.
“I’m Dick Grayson-Wayne,” the man with the bright smile introduced himself.
Bruce tentatively smiled. “You have a funny name,” he giggled.
Shock turned to laughter and soon all the kids were giggling childishly at Dick’s name. Dick especially. He looked delighted and oddly proud.
“Barbara Gordon.” She pushed up her glasses and smiled.
“Gordon? Like Officer Gordon?”
“He is Miss Barbara’s father,” Alfred told him. “He is Commissioner Gordon now, Master Bruce.”
“Oh. Good for him.” Bruce hummed. “He was really nice to me. He gave me his coat. Alfred, did you give it back to him?”
“Yes, Master Bruce. Older you has taken to purchasing him a new coat every few years as well, despite the commissioner’s protests,” Alfred informed him.
Bruce frowned. He thought that older him’s presents were actually rather thoughtful. Mr Gordon’s coat was cheap and ineffective and obviously needed replacing and everyone knew you had to replace your clothes every few years.
Alfred saw Bruce’s confusion and clarified, “He takes care of coats remarkably well and has enough coats to wear a new one every day of the week. The commissioner really doesn’t need any more coats.”
“Oh.” Bruce pursed his lips. “Then I’ll buy him coffee instead. His coat smelled a lot like coffee and cigarettes. Do you think he’ll like some coffee beans?”
Barbara’s lips twitched and she let out a chuckle. “Thank you for not buying cigarettes for my dad but Dad wouldn’t be able to appreciate high quality coffee beans either. I think some good instant coffee would suffice.”
Bruce nodded. “Okay. Alfred, can you buy instant coffee for the commissioner for me? I want to thank him again.”
“Very well, sir.”
“I’m Steph. Stephanie Brown,” The young woman waved at Bruce enthusiastically. “I bought those clothes for you. Do you like them?”
Bruce glanced down at the hoodie he was wearing. It was decorated with various logos. A bat, a bird, a stylised R and other variations of the three. He gave Steph a small smile. He liked it a lot.
“You should put the hood on too. It’d, like, totally make my day.”
Bruce wriggled in Alfred’s arms and obediently pulled the hood on. There were bat ears attached to them. Steph and a few others cooed while some snorted and laughed. It didn’t feel malicious though so Bruce just shyly grinned.
“Can I take a photo? Please?” Steph asked, phone already out and at the ready. Dick also took his phone out, muttering Dami never wears the cute clothes I buy him.
He tensed. He could remember feeling so terribly cold under Mr Gordon’s coat, waiting for the man to return with a cup of hot cocoa when he was suddenly barraged with bright flashes, cameras pointed at him, their robotic gazes peering past his soul and capturing an empty shell. He was an animal at the zoo. A tree in a forest. The focus of the photo but simply another part of the scenery. They see him but they don’t.
But Steph was family and so was Dick.
“Maybe later,” Bruce settled on saying.
They winced and then smiled reassuringly as if they understood and Bruce didn’t know how he felt about that so he changed the topic.
“Alfred said either you or Barbara can buy dino nuggies for me.”
The two women blinked. “Dino nuggies?”
Bruce nodded. “He said he’ll make them for me tonight.”
“But Alfred never lets us eat processed foods,” the tall guy manning the stove said in awe. At Bruce’s look, he introduced himself. “Jason Todd-Wayne. How did you get Alfred to let you have dino nuggets?”
Bruce smirked. “Blackmail.”
Alfred cleared his throat in clear warning. “Master Bruce, you said you were thirsty earlier.”
Jason snickered and filled a glass with water for Bruce, placing it down at the head of the table. (That’s where his father used to sit.) Bruce stifled his reaction and Alfred put him down on the chair. He removed Bruce’s hood so that he could run his hand through Bruce’s hair.
Alfred was being touchy today. Bruce sort of liked it. It was comforting.
“Would you like some breakfast too?” Alfred asked.
“Yeah.” Bruce nodded tersely. “Yes, please.”
Everyone was looking at him so Bruce was grateful when someone else spoke up. “I’m Cass. Cassandra Wayne. I like dancing. I'm the second oldest.”
“I’m the second oldest!” Jason protested.
Cass puffed out her chest and pointed at Jason. “Little brother.”
“I’ll fight you for it.”
Cass smirked. “I’ll win.”
Jason seemed to struggle with it for a moment before he huffed and gave up. He instead placed a plate of bacon and eggs in front of Bruce. “Eat,” he commanded.
The boy next to Cass snorted and spoke next. “I am Damian Wayne.”
Jason scoffed. “What, no blood son comment?”
Damian just rolled his eyes. “Must you be so childish, Todd? Must be the middle child in you speaking.”
The teenager sitting opposite from Damian grinned. “I personally think it was cool how you said it like a title. You know what? I’m Duke Thomas, Guardian of Daylight, The Exception.”
“The exception? Like, to the no-meta rule?” laughed the guy sitting next to Duke. He was the one that argued with Alfred about sleeping earlier. “You know that’s not a thing!”
Duke smirked. “Yeah, but it’s funny how the original JL thought Batman was metaphobic when he just didn’t want any of them interfering with Gotham.”
Dick laughed. “Gosh, I remember those days. Flash was all like ‘wait, if you hate metas so much, why are you fine with Robin?!’”
“He thought you were a meta?” Duke chortled.
“‘Cause I’m so bendy and apparently gravity doesn’t affect me.” Dick’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Eventually, when GA came around, they realised that Batman just didn’t want any Outsider messing around in Gotham.”
They were throwing around all these names but somehow, Bruce knew them all. The details were fuzzy but he understood them to some extent.
“You’re the guy in red and black at the gala,” Bruce noted, looking at the barely adult in question.
The guy blinked. “Oh, yeah, that was me. Tim Drake-Wayne – I mean Red Robin. How did you recognise me?”
Bruce shrugged. “You all feel familiar, like I should know you but don’t.”
They felt like family but two thirds of Bruce’s family were shot in front of him last night over thirty years ago. His mind was going back and forth between the wound feeling fresh or like an old scab that never healed because he kept picking at it. It didn’t matter which one it was. It was still a bleeding wound.
But these ‘strangers’ made him feel safe, their very presence a cooling balm to the festering ache in his soul. They fit like a strange patchwork of bandages wrapped snugly around his heart.
“What do you remember?” Tim asked.
Bruce snapped out of whatever daze he found himself in and drank some water as he thought about the question. To say that he remembered anything from the ‘future’ would be inaccurate but to say he didn’t was also wrong. It felt as though his ‘future’ memories were hidden behind lock and key and only the barest hints of something were slipping through the cracks.
He told them as much and everyone had fallen into pensive silence as they mulled over what they heard.
“Right. The situation is being handled by Green Lantern so let us focus on breakfast for now. You may come back to it after you’ve eaten and rested,” Alfred said. He hadn’t even bothered to disguise the order as a request.
Bruce obediently took a bite of his eggs and Alfred watched on approvingly.
It was hard to eat at first. Bruce’s mouth was still cloyed with the phantom taste of blood and gunpowder. It stuck to the roof of his mouth and coated his tongue with its unforgiving stench. He never got blood in his mouth - on his hands and face and everywhere in between yes, but not his mouth - but its iron tang still lingered along with the bitter smoke of a weapon too powerful to have been in the hands of an everyday thief.
He swallowed and the eggs sat heavily in his stomach like lead.
“Do not give the bacon to Titus, Richard!” Damian yelled. He held a butter knife in his hand threateningly and glared at Dick.
Dick smiled sheepishly. “But how can I say no to him when he looks at me like that?”
Damian scoffed. “Resist or suffer the consequences.”
Dick pouted and scratched behind the dog’s ear. “Sorry, buddy, Little D said no.”
The Great Dane whined and walked over to where Bruce was seated. He placed his head on Bruce’s thigh and looked up at him with hopeful eyes. Bruce put his fork down and gave Titus a tentative pat, getting braver when the dog nuzzled into Bruce’s hand.
“I’m sorry Titus but you can’t have my bacon. It is not good for you.”
“Titus. Don’t bother Fa-, Way-, him and go play with Alfred.”
Bruce ignored Damian’s stammering and looked back to Alfred. The corner of his butler’s mouth twitched. “He means Alfred the cat.”
“You have a cat named Alfred?” Bruce asked, a grin forming on his face.
Damian crossed his arms defensively. “Alfred is a tuxedo cat. Of course I named him Alfred.”
Bruce snickered. “Because Alfred is always wearing a suit? Then do you call Alfred, Alfred the butler, or Alfred the human?”
“Pennyworth is Pennyworth.”
Damian was funny, Bruce decided as he ate another bite of his eggs. It went down a lot easier this time. He could actually taste the butter in the scrambled eggs.
“Damian says that but everyone knows he named Alfred the cat after Alfred because he looooves him,” Steph teased.
“I will not hesitate to throw out all your waffle mix, Brown,” Damian warned with narrowed eyes.
Steph stuck her tongue out of him. “You don’t have to be shy. Everyone knows you love your pop pop. You’re a daddy’s boy and a poppy’s boy. Oh, and let’s not forget a big brother’s boy. My, Dami, aren’t you full of love? Come and give your big sister a hug so I don’t feel left out.”
Damian blushed deeply and scowled. “If you’re my big sister, that makes Drake your brother. Do you want to have dated your brother, Brown?”
Steph scrunched her nose. “Ew. Never say that again. I can be your sister and not Tim’s at the same time. Family is fluid like that.” She shook her head in false dismay. “All that nonsensical nuclear family stuff they show you on TV must be corrupting your brain.”
“Hey, Damian, did you realise that you just acknowledged that I’m your brother?” Tim grinned and asked.
Beside him, Duke snickered. “He’s admitted it before. Remember when you destroyed him in Smash Brothers? ‘I am your baby brother!’ He screamed that before he rage-quit.”
Everyone joined in with anecdotes to tease Damian as the latter fought back by retelling embarrassing stories of everyone.
Bruce listened to them quietly and was able to finish his meal with a smile on his face.
Notes:
Let me know in the comments who's POV you want to read next :)
Chapter Text
There was a battle waging inside Damian.
Father.
Bruce.
Thomas.
Wayne.
He couldn’t use any of the names.
Father was for Damian’s baba. His father was a big man. He was tall, muscular and strong. Even when he was injured and out of commission, Damian would never use the word ‘fragile’ or anything like it to describe him.
The boy sitting across from Damian was weak.
He looked like he couldn’t fight someone his own size, let alone an adult or six. He was doe-eyed, frail and tiny, like Alfred when he was a kitten, but even Alfred had claws to protect himself. The boy had nothing.
Damian had considered the possibility that perhaps the weapon responsible for his father’s current ailment was not in fact an age regression gun but instead an alternate dimension swapping tool that stranded Damian’s father (tall, strong, indomitable) into an alternate dimension where he would not grow up to become Batman. This boy (kitten, duckling, puppy) must surely be one that grows to be a more authentic Brucie, rather than the duty-bound man Damian admires and respects.
But then the boy looked at Damian and smiled (kind, warm, soft) and Damian recognised it to be a wider, more unfettered version of Father’s smile. He had dimples framing his right cheek that Damian only saw on quiet nights reserved for family and cuddles. Father was more relaxed on those nights and quicker to smile and he liked to brush his hand (big, gentle, warm) through Damian’s hair and give him a little kiss on the forehead.
Damian’s father was a symbol of hope and protection. He was big, intimidating and strong but he was also kind, compassionate and gentle.
So, the boy was not Damian’s father but he was still the man that would become his father.
He was Bruce.
But Damian could never disrespect his father by calling him by his given name. He knows his siblings commonly refer to his father by his first name but it was different for Damian. They knew him as Bruce before he became dad or old man or pops, whatever his infernal siblings like to refer to their father as. Damian had always called him Father or baba when the occasion called for it. To switch to Bruce now would be…uncomfortable. So, calling the boy Bruce was not an option.
Obviously, he couldn’t use his father’s middle name either. Thomas was his grandfather’s name and it was also his brother’s surname. It would cause too much confusion. Tommy would not be an option either due to its association with Father’s childhood friend and now rogue.
As for Wayne…well, it would be normal for Damian to call people by their surnames but Damian didn’t want to refer to his father by his surname. It just didn’t feel right.
So, that left Damian with nothing. The boy was not Father. Not Bruce. Not Thomas. Not Wayne. He was The Boy.
“I finished eating, Alfred. It was delicious.” The Boy set his cutlery down neatly on his plate and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. It seemed that even with his years stolen from him, his impeccable table manners have not disappeared.
“It was Master Jason that prepared your meal, Master Bruce,” Pennyworth informed The Boy.
The Boy looked at Todd and shot him a bright smile. “You cook really well, Jason. I liked it a lot.”
Todd, despite all his issues with Father, craved his attention (they all did, really. Father’s attention was a precious commodity worth more than gold yet bafflingly, it was freely given). At the same time, Todd was utterly incapable of handling any positive attention that Father gave him, no matter how frequently it occurred (sometimes, it felt like Father was content to simply watch Todd or any of his children breathe. Damian somewhat understood. Sometimes, Damian liked to watch Father breathe too).
“T-thanks,” Todd stammered in reply. His cheeks flushed with heat and he avoided eye contact with The Boy but a pleased smile made its way to his face. It was graceless but still better than his usual choice of screaming ‘screw you, old man!’ and escaping.
“I helped too!” Richard interjected. “I cracked the eggs!”
“And me! I beat the eggs!” Brown put her hand up eagerly and reported.
“I set table,” Cassandra added.
“I made the coffee!” Drake chimed in.
“I collected the milk that Todd used in the eggs from Batcow,” Damian sniffed and said.
“Uhh, I wiped the table.” Thomas looked at the rest of the table, shrugged and then reported his contribution.
“Well, I supervised,” Gordon added.
The Boy covered his mouth with his hand and laughed. It was brief but for a moment, the dining room was filled with warmth like notes glided across violin strings, dancing and weaving through all their hearts, holding them all captive. “Sounds like everyone did a good job in making today’s breakfast. Thank you. It was delicious.” The Boy smiled widely at everyone at the table, making eye contact with them all individually. Damian felt like this was what people meant when they spoke of smiles like sunshine, too bright but you couldn’t look away.
Pennyworth clapped and snapped everyone out of their stupor (not Damian, of course. Damian was not mesmerised by The Boy that was his father’s praise and smile. Of course not, he was not Todd. Damian accepted his father’s love and attention with perfect poise and grace).
“Now that we’ve all eaten, it is time to rest. Sirs and Misses, please go up to your bedrooms and get some sleep.”
There were disappointed faces all around. No one wanted to sleep yet. Everyone wanted to stay with The Boy for as long as they could.
“I’ll help wash the dishes and then sleep, Alfred,” Todd offered. Damian’s siblings perked up and looked at the dishes eagerly, desperate for an excuse to remain with their deaged father longer.
“No, thank you, Sir. I will handle the dishes. Please get some rest.”
Again, disappointment all around.
“Pennyworth, unlike my siblings, I slept for seven hours last night. I do not need to go to bed.” Damian had felt betrayed last night when Richard forced him to sleep but now, he only felt smug as he gazed upon the envious faces of those he called his brothers and sisters.
“Very well, young sir. You may remain as you are.”
Damian nodded and smirked at all his siblings. They had no one to blame but themselves.
“The rest of you, please get some sleep. Now.”
Brown put her hand up and valiantly tried to protest the mandated sleep. “I need to go buy Bruce’s dino nuggies!”
“It’s not urgent–!” The Boy quickly interjected. “If you’re tired, then you should go to sleep. It’s not good to stay awake for too long. My father said that rest was the most important part of a job. So, um, please sleep properly.”
Incredulous looks were directed towards The Boy.
Damian’s father was great at everything except resting, yet here he was, younger and preaching the importance of sleep to the same people he spread his bad habits to. It was kind of ironic but then again, Father had always been a hypocrite when it came to things like taking care of yourself. He wouldn’t do it but he wanted all his children to.
‘Do as I say, not as I do,’ he liked to say.
“I am so not letting you forget that,” Richard whispered.
“Pardon?”
“I said you’re right! I’ll see you after my nap, Bruce.” Richard got up and stood in front of The Boy with his arms open wide in a silent question. The Boy answered it by opening his own arms and Richard caught him in a tight hug.
“I want a hug too!” Brown declared.
Richard let The Boy go and Brown excitedly skipped in front of him. Again, The Boy opened his arms wide and let himself be hugged as he sat there in his seat. Cassandra was waiting behind Brown so when Brown was finished with her hug, she was ready.
It had somehow turned into a fan meeting, with everyone eager to hug their little father before they went to bed. The Boy had looked baffled by all the attention but accepted it with grace and a small smile.
“Why don’t you play with Master Damian while I wash the dishes, Master Bruce?” Pennyworth suggested.
“May I stay here with you?” The Boy asked anxiously.
Pennyworth ran his fingers through The Boy’s hair. “I won’t be long, lad. In the meantime, you can get to know Master Damian again.”
Damian ignored the small twinge in his heart. It seemed like their relationship was all about getting to know each other. The first time being when Damian just arrived in Gotham. The second being after Father returned from his trip across time (when they all believed him to be dead) and Damian had changed in the meanwhile so they had to get to know each other all over again. Damian thought he was done with his father learning who he was but as always, fate had other ideas.
“Let’s go sketch in the garden.” Damian shot up from his seat and left the kitchen without even checking to see if The Boy was following him. He was confident that The Boy would follow and the quiet footsteps behind him confirmed that for him.
They stepped out into the garden with some art supplies and sat in front of an old tree.
“You know, I planted those bushes with my mother.” There was a small hitch in The Boy’s breath but he powered through.” They were tiny just last week but now they’re so big. Everything is so much bigger now.” He whispered that final bit and the blase attitude he had been showing all morning finally faltered to show the anxiety that thrummed just beneath the surface.
Damian grunted and didn’t call attention to his…emotions. “It’s not that they’re bigger. It is that you are smaller.”
The Boy was basically an infant, he was that small.
“Have you planted anything here?”
“Yes. I planted the catnip in that pot over there.” Damian pointed at the big bush of catnip in the corner.
“Why is it in a pot?”
“Catnip is part of the mint family and they can grow very aggressively. If we plant it in a pot, we can prevent it from taking over the entire garden.”
The Boy hummed and opened his sketchbook. “You’re really smart, Damian.”
Damian flushed and opened his own sketchbook. “Thank you, Fa-. Ahem. Thank you.”
The Boy did not comment on Damian’s slip up and began drawing something. Damian followed suit. He began to lightly sketch the younger version of his father. The Boy and Damian looked a lot alike, he realised. He had the same black hair as Damian, soft and wavy at the ends. Damian had his mother’s ears and eyes but he shared with his father Grandfather Thomas’ square jaws and Grandmother Martha’s nose.
“You can call me Father if that’s what you’re used to,” The Boy said apropos of nothing.
Damian looked at him in mild surprise.
The Boy did not look back at Damian and stared intently at his sketchbook. He held a tight grip on his pencil and drew with more strength than necessary.
“It might be a little weird because I’m younger than you right now but um, I’m your dad and you shouldn’t have to change what you call me just because of this. If it’s too weird and it makes you uncomfortable then you can call me Bee? Mother likes- liked to call me names that start with B, like bumble bee or bat or bear or badger or beaver. You can call me any of those if you’d like to.”
Damian blinked. “My siblings often call you by the letter B.”
He finally looked up and there was something unreadable in his features. “Oh, really? Did I tell them about the nicknames?”
“No, I believe Richard first started calling you B because your name in both identities start with B and the nickname caught on.”
The Boy tilted his head to the side. (It was cute, though Damian would never say it aloud.) “What a coincidence.”
“Hmm.”
They both looked down at their sketchbooks and started drawing again. Damian shaded the hair of his father’s younger self while The Boy drew a creature that was more spikes than man. He scrunched his nose adorably and inclined his head to the side to admire his strange creation.
“Bunny.”
“Pardon?”
“I shall call you Bunny.”
The Boy, henceforth Bunny, blinked but nodded in acceptance. “Okay.”
Then he went back to adding spikes on his spikes, not even commenting on his new moniker.
“There you are, young sirs. I’ve brought you some refreshments.” Pennyworth stepped out into the garden with a tray of cookies and lemonade in his hand. His eyes appraised them and his shoulders lost their tension.
“Alfred!” Bunny greeted cheerfully.
“Did you have fun with Master Damian?”
“Yeah. Damian told me why mints have to be planted in separate pots instead of the ground. He’s really smart, Alfred.”
“That he is, Master Bruce.”
Damian blushed and looked down at his sketch.
“And he draws really well too. Look, he drew me!” Bunny pointed at Damian’s sketchbook, looking oddly proud, as if he drew the sketch himself. “My son is suuuuuper talented, Alfred!”
“Indeed. Master Damian is a man of multi-talents.”
Damian will most likely combust and die if Bunny and Pennyworth kept praising him so he quickly diverted the conversation, “That’s enough talk about me, Bunny. What did you draw?”
Pennyworth raised an eyebrow at the name but made no comment. The family was very good at not commenting. A side effect of constantly telling the press ‘no comment’ no doubt.
“I drew a flower fairy. It lives in the rose bush and protects it from people that want to steal the roses.”
“Why does it have so many spikes? Aren’t fairies typically depicted as more peaceful looking?”
“The thorns are there to protect it. And it has replacement thorns like sharks have replacement teeth because if all its thorns are gone, it will be defenceless and people will steal all its flowers and it will die.”
“It’s a good thing it has so many thorns then.”
“Yep!”
Pennyworth stood to the side and watched the two of them interacting with a soft smile on his face.
“Thank you,” Pennyworth quietly told him when they headed back inside. Bunny was chasing after Titus ahead of them so he didn’t hear Pennyworth’s gratitude. “I was worried because Master Bruce used to be deathly afraid of even the suggestion that I leave his side. It was as if he believed I would keel over and die if I ever left his sight. Even this morning, he didn’t leave my side until you basically ordered him to follow you.”
Damian remained silent.
“The first time he was this age, he was desolate and inconsolable. He wouldn’t speak for days at a time and when he did, it was only to ask – or scream, really – about why it was his parents that were dead.”
Pennyworth paused with a far off look in his eyes.
“The manor was stuck in perpetual winter for years until the frigid frost of Master Bruce’s grief finally melted and he found a direction. That being The Bat, of course, but before then, Master Bruce was forever haunted by the memory of his parents and so very scarcely smiled or laughed that I was afraid I would never see him happy ever again.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because the fact that Master Bruce is able to be so relaxed and happy around you is evidence that your father is still here. Your father is not lost. His heart knows you and when I asked you to get to know each other again, I was simply suggesting you reacquaint yourself with a side of your father that he typically doesn’t show.”
“He speaks Father’s quiet love aloud,” Damian whispered. “It’s as if he had shrunk so much that his body could not contain his love any longer and let it all spill out.”
Damian flushed a deep red when he realised what he just said but Pennyworth smiled and gently ruffled Damian’s hair. “That’s an excellent way of phrasing it.”
Bunny ran back towards them and wrapped his arms around Pennyworth’s waist. His arms were too short to reach all the way around – and that was a marvel in and of itself, the idea that Father whose hugs were all encompassing, was once too small to hold Pennyworth.
“What are you two talking about?”
“I was telling Master Damian about what a troublemaker you used to be. Good grief, I remember the days when I couldn’t walk around the manor without stepping on a toy car or train.”
Bunny puffed his cheeks. “I was six!”
“And old enough to pick up after yourself.” Pennyworth tweaked Bunny’s nose playfully and he squawked and laughed as he escaped Pennyworth’s devilish grasp.
“Alfie~!” Bunny whined. He ran behind Damian and hugged him from behind as if to use him as a shield. “C’mon, Damian. Let’s escape before Alfred starts pinching our cheeks.”
He offered his hand out to Damian and Damian grabbed it. The hand was smaller and softer than Father’s (large, calloused, bruised) and Damian’s own rough hands swallowed it whole. Still, it was Bunny that pulled him along into the manor (towards home), laughing as they ran away from the half-heartedly jogging Pennyworth.
Was this what having a little brother was like?
Hmm.
Notes:
The chapter's unedited so if there are glaring mistakes, please don't hesitate to tell me. I'll be looking through it at a later time either way, but I just wanted it out now before I forget to post (again).
Chapter Text
Duke walked down the halls of Wayne Manor, following the sound of Damian and little Bruce’s voices. They sounded kind of excited which was a foreign and rare emotion from either of them. Not to say that they didn’t get excited but the things they got openly excited about tended to make them sound more bloodthirsty than anything.
Hearing the father and son pair discuss the most efficient plan to dispatch fifty men with thrill laced in their otherwise dry-toned voices was memorable, to say the least.
“A T-rex? And it moves?” Duke heard Bruce ask.
“Yes,” Damian answered. “It’s down in the Cave. I can show it to you if you’d like to see it.”
“The cave under the house? But aren’t there a lot of bats living there?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Bats are scary. One time, I fell into an old well and a swarm of bats screeched at me. They were flying everywhere and some of them scratched me. I think I was there for half a day. I had a broken leg and my parents were angry at me because they were worried. Alfred didn’t let me go outside by myself until my leg got better! Not even to the garden!” Bruce complained.
Duke could almost see him with puffed-up cheeks and a little furrow between his brows. He shuddered just imagining Batman or Bruce doing the same but… Brucie and that little cherub he met this morning? Yeah, Duke could picture it.
“I suppose that does sound quite frightening. However, there is no need to be concerned, Bunny. The bats in the Cave are rather accustomed to our presence and won’t bother you. We can go see the T-rex quickly and be back without seeing a single bat.”
Bunny?
Duke turned the corner and entered the den where he was met with the peculiar sight of young Bruce sitting atop Damian’s shoulders, both of them wrapped in Bruce’s black trench coat. Kid Bruce had a wide-brimmed hat on, a scarf wrapped around his face and sunglasses hiding his eyes.
“Alfred won’t get mad, right? He was really worried last time.” Bruce wobbled but Damian stabilised him as he turned to face the TV. The black screen reflected their strange appearance but Duke doubted that Bruce could even see right now.
“Well, the two of you sure are close.”
Damian spun around and Bruce wrapped his arms around Damian’s head in a panic. Thankfully, Damian was holding onto Bruce tightly so he didn’t fall.
Bruce shook off his extra accessories and waved at Duke with a cheerful grin. “Good afternoon, Duke! Did you have a nice nap?”
Wow. Duke never expected to use cheerful and Bruce in the same sentence but here he was, using it.
“Good afternoon, Bruce. I had a great nap. Thanks for asking.” He waved back. “So, what are you two doing?”
“We’re pretending to be me when I’m older,” Bruce told him.
“O-kayyy,” Duke drawled. Kids were weird, especially those of the Wayne variety. He ignored it and moved on. “I heard you were talking about the cave. I don’t think Alfred’s going to let you down there. Too much dangerous material laying around.”
Damian clicked his tongue. “Naturally, I will be supervising. Nothing dangerous will happen.”
“Yeah, nah. A kid can’t supervise another kid.”
“I am not a kid, Thomas.”
(Bruce perked up and instinctively looked for his dad but realised at the last moment and put on a blank mask. Only eight and he already had one.)
Duke snorted. “Instead of risking Alfred’s wrath, why don’t we have a little fun?”
Damian raised a sceptical eyebrow but Bruce’s eyes lit up with excitement. He pat Damian’s head, “Dami, Dami, please let me down.”
Damian grumbled but still walked over to the couch to gently set Bruce down. He then took a seat beside Bruce and let him lean against him.
Wow. Kid Bruce really had Damian wrapped around his little fingers. Perhaps even more than adult Bruce.
“I will not help you start a prank war, Thomas.”
(This time, Bruce was prepared and did not react.)
Duke sat down on the armrest beside Bruce. “I’m not Steph.”
“No. You’re only more stealthy with your chaos.”
Duke rolled his eyes. Younger brothers. They were somehow always there when you were doing something you weren’t supposed to. Like changing your brother’s room into a Shrek-themed bedroom (which backfired on Duke because Jason actually really loved it and spoke exclusively in Shrek quotes for the next week.) or swapping out all of your foster father’s clothes with dresses.
(Bruce wore the dresses and he was as beautiful as he was stunning. Duke didn’t regret the prank but hated the reaction to it. The press went wild and all they did was talk about how hot Bruce was. He was so sexy that even the bigots were falling over themselves trying to find one negative thing to say about B that wasn’t ‘he’s a man in a dress’. Urgh. Fathers were supposed to be sexless creatures. Not nymphs descended upon the mortal plane or whatever the fuck those old creeps called Bruce those few days, or weeks, or months, possibly even now.)
“Anyway,” Duke said, ignoring Damian’s snide comment. Duke was a perfectly well-behaved and normal child. Ask anyone. They’ll tell you the same. Anyone who didn’t was a lying liar who lies. “Do you want to try and steal from the cookie jar?”
Bruce’s eyes sparkled and he whispered, as if the words themselves were sacred, “The cookie jar?”
Duke nodded with solemnity. “Yes, the cookie jar.”
Damian clicked his tongue and ruined the moment. “You want Bunny to steal from Father’s hidden stash of cookies. His own stash of cookies.”
Duke shrugged. “If they’re hidden, they’re free game. Besides, the real cookie jar is too high a level for us to attempt right now.”
They needed at least the combined forces of Jason, Tim and Steph working in unison, creating levels of chaos rivalled only by world-ending calamities. Only then will Alfred be sufficiently distracted. Seriously, the man must have a sixth sense for when his cookie jar was being breached or something.
“Anyway, why are you calling Bruce Bunny?”
Damian just gestured at kid Bruce and the little guy blinked up at Duke and—yeah, Duke could kind of see it. He nodded sagely and Bruce tilted his head in confusion.
Ah. Of course Bruce’s chronic lack of self-awareness existed from birth. Duke expected nothing less from the World’s Greatest Detective. He put all his points into deducing other people and left a black hole devoid of deductive reasoning surrounding himself. It was as endearing as it was frustrating.
(Yes, Bruce, I want to go see the Gotham Knights with you and it isn’t because no one else was available.)
It was also incredibly entertaining seeing Bruce get hard-core flirted with yet remain completely oblivious.
‘We’re just really good friends.’
Yeah, my friends totally blush when I talk to them too.
“So, Bunny,” Duke tried to say but Damian’s eyes narrowed and his fingers twitched by his side where he usually hung his katana.
Okay. So, Bunny was an exclusive nickname for Damian and Damian alone. Alright. Sure.
“Big Bruce is only allowed to hide his cookies in the manor so that’s our playing field. The Cave and the kitchen are off-limits, as are the bedrooms. That leaves the five-hundred other rooms as potential hiding spots. So, Bruce, if you were to hide a cookie jar, where would you put it?”
Bruce scrunched his face in deep thought and Duke couldn’t get the image of a bunny doing the same out of his mind. Say what you want about Damian but he chose a really good nickname for little Bruce.
“I’ll hide it in the walls,” Bruce finally said.
Duke blinked in bafflement. “The walls?” he repeated.
“Yeah.”
“What do you mean by the walls, Bunny? Do you think Father installed a new hiding spot in the walls just so he could keep his cookies to himself?”
Bruce frowned. “No, he doesn’t need to do that.”
Alright. So, obliviousness was not the only trait that Bruce never grew out of. His frustrating inability to properly answer simple questions with a straight answer seemed to be a life-long trait. Wait, that tied in with his obliviousness too. The only reason Bruce didn’t answer questions properly was that he never realised that some things weren’t as obvious to other people as they were to him.
“I’m going to need you to elaborate on that, Bruce.”
“You don’t know? But the secret pathway to the Batcave is hidden behind the grandfather clock!”
“Are you saying there are more secret pathways?”
“I mean, yeah? The manor is as old as Gotham. It was trendy to have hidden paths back in the day. The original purpose of the one behind the grandfather clock was to be an escape path.”
“I thought Bruce built it so he could be Batman,” Duke admitted. “Bruce should have told us. Our Hide and Seek games could have been so much more fun!”
Lil’ Bruce grinned. “You’re supposed to stumble into them yourself. It’s more fun that way.”
“Cheeky,” Duke laughed. He roughly ruffled Bruce’s hair (and wow, it was so soft.) and pulled him closer for a noogie. Before he could do anything, Damian grabbed Bruce by the arm and hugged him to his chest.
Wow. Possessive much?
Duke rolled his eyes and grabbed the two of them under his arms. He spun around in circles and Bruce squealed with joy. Duke dumped them back on the couch only after they were panting and giggling breathlessly. (Duke had a feeling that the only reason Damian didn’t stab him was that Bruce was having fun.)
“So, about the cookies, I don’t think they’re in the walls anymore. Where does big me usually hide them?”
“Last month, he hid them in a fake vase. The month before that, he sealed them in a hollowed-out book,” Damian reported.
Bruce chuckled. “How does he even eat them secretly?”
“He doesn’t,” Duke smirked. “As soon as he opens the jar, we descend upon him and steal the rest of the cookies.”
“Like a pack of hyenas,” Bruce gleefully said. He was much too happy considering this was about the plight and suffering of his future self. Cookie deprivation was a very real and serious condition.
“Bunny, tell me where the secret pathways are once Thomas leaves,” Damian whispered into Bruce’s ear but Duke still heard.
The kid rubbed his ears at the ticklish feeling and just smirked.
Ah. The Smirk™ was also a persisting trait. Good to know.
Duke clapped to distract Damian from his annoying little brother schemes and grinned. “Let’s go hunting for some cookies. The first to find it gets the bigger share.”
At the mere hint of competition, Damian’s eyes hardened with determination and all protectiveness of kid Bruce went out of the window in favour of being the victor. He dashed out of the room in search of Bruce’s cookie jar with nary a word.
“He’s so fast,” Bruce praised.
Duke snorted and ruffled Bruce’s hair. “Let’s go cookie hunting.”
Bruce saluted. Like, an actual proper salute. Not the sloppy mock salutes that Dick and the others liked to do but a genuine salute with the stance and everything.
“That’s a really good salute,” he commented.
Bruce beamed. “Alfie taught me.”
“What else did Alfred teach you?”
“I know how to sword fight!”
“Dami loves sword fighting. You should ask him to show you his katanas later.”
“Really? That’s so cool.”
“I’m not as good with swords but I've got powers. They really brighten up my life,” Duke said. He made a peace sign and activated his meta abilities so that his hand lit up like a lamp. He took care not to make it too bright so as to protect Bruce’s eyes.
“Wow. Can you do different colours? Or lights outside of your body parts? Can you make fireworks?” Bruce enthusiastically asked.
Duke grinned. “If you find the cookie jar first, I’ll do a fireworks show for you.”
“Okay!” Bruce dashed off, not unlike Damian earlier and Duke laughed. Kids… he was such a good brother. Wait. Did it count if one of the kids was your deaged foster father?
Man, Duke’s life was weird.
“Ah, Master Duke, you’re awake,” Alfred said as he walked in with a tray of tea. He looked around the room and tutted at the sight of the discarded clothing and accessories. “May I ask where Master Bruce and Damian went off to?”
Duke scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “I may or may not have started a game of finding Bruce’s cookies.”
Alfred’s moustache twitched and he set down the tray as he busied himself tidying the room. “You know Master Bruce will sulk when he founds his cookies missing.”
Duke grinned. “He’s still eating them.”
Alfred shook his head. “Well, off you go then. I believe you have some cookies to find.”
Duke saluted, a poor mimicry of Bruce’s perfect one from earlier but something in Alfred’s face changed and fondness came crashing through like a tsunami. Duke felt an echo of that reflected on his face and he went bounding off in search of hidden treasure.
Duke followed the crunch, crunch sounds he could hear in the study and opened the door by an inch. It was dark inside but thanks to his meta abilities, he could still see. Sitting there with his back against the sofa was Bruce. He was happily snacking on a chocolate chip cookie, melted chocolate smeared across his cheeks and fingers. When Duke turned the light on, he froze like a kid caught with a hand in the cookie jar. Quite literally.
“I believe we were meant to share those,” Duke copied Alfred’s famous impassivity and Bruce’s eyes widened.
“I was, ahem, I was just checking to see if they had gone stale. I am happy to announce that they’ve passed quality control and are safe to consume,” Bruce stammered before steadying and releasing his PR statement. It sounded rehearsed like Bruce had used the excuse one too many times.
A wave of amusement washed through Duke and he sat down beside Bruce. “I’m glad to hear it. Now, I believe quality checks need a second opinion to confirm the validity of the statement. Let me check if they’re really as good as advertised.”
Bruce beamed at Duke for playing along and scooted closer to him. He proffered the jar in goodwill and took another cookie out of it. “I found the cookie jar now so can you make some fireworks, please?”
“Of course.”
Duke conjured up a few multi-coloured balls of lights and shot them up at the ceiling, letting them gently explode into beautiful flowers. By his side, Bruce quietly made sound effects for the fireworks, whispering, “Foooosh, boom, boom, cackle, cackle.” It was as adorable as it was amusing.
“Bunny! Thomas! You were meant to share!” Damian screeched at the study door.
Duke and Bruce exchanged glances and burst into laughter.
“Dami, Dami! I found the cookies!” Bruce exclaimed as a way of damage control. He patted the spot on the floor next to him. “Come sit and watch fireworks with me.”
Damian made some disgruntled sounds but sat down next to Bruce grumpily. Bruce just grinned and fed Damian a cookie and then gestured for Duke to continue to show.
Notes:
This was supposed to be a short one-shot. Why are there already 4 chapters? And I have so many ideas for it??? Why??? Goddammit, I want Bruce to meet the Sirens and the JL. It will be so adorable.
Chapter 5
Summary:
POV Tim
Chapter Text
Tim watched as the thug snuck behind Bruce and Mrs Henderson. He ignored it. Bruce could take care of himself. There were other more vulnerable people being targeted by thieves with guns and Tim needed to prioritise. There was a part of him screaming at himself to turn around and protect Bruce but Tim needed to save the civilians. Civilains over Batman. Bruce didn’t want or need to be protected.
Tim tripped up another two crooks and spun around as he heard a shrill voice behind him.
He made eye contact with Bruce and he could see Bruce’s eyes widen with panic.
The gun went off.
All the sound in the ballroom vanished and all Tim could hear was the small half-bitten groan Bruce let out as a bullet lodged itself into his chest. Red bloomed on the starched white canvas of Bruce’s dress shirt and his dad fell to the ground with a loud thump.
He whimpered.
Bruce was still staring into Tim’s eyes.
Tim stood there, frozen and useless. His dad was on the floor. There was a puddle of blood forming under him. His chest fell up and down rapidly. Bruce’s shirt didn’t look white anymore. Tim couldn’t breathe. Bruce wasn’t breathing at all.
Tim gasped awake, chest heaving up and down, dripping with cold sweat. He dragged himself into the shower and stood under the cold spray of water until it heated up and turned his skin as red as his moniker. The image of Bruce, red on a background of white, still and lifeless, still haunted his mind. Tim turned the heat up as if to burn its final visages from his memory.
Bruce didn’t die, he reminded himself.
He only just regressed to one of the worse points in his life, he scoffed
But it beats the alternative, he argued.
Bruce could so easily have died. If the thugs hadn’t been stupid enough to use a weapon they did not understand– if they stuck to using the true and tried method of ordinary guns–, Bruce would have died without Tim being able to do a single thing!
All because Tim didn’t protect him even when he had the means to.
He was lucky this time. So goddamn lucky. Next time… there won’t be a next time. Red Robin may not be able to stop Batman from getting himself into trouble but Tim would be there for his dad. No harm will ever befall Bruce again. Tim will suffer ten thousand boring galas if that meant being able to protect his dad. Tim was sure his siblings would agree. No one was hurting their dad under their watch.
The Bruce he was looking at now was much more alive than the one he saw in his nightmare. He sat demurely in Damian’s lap like a pampered kitty and held Damian’s phone in two hands. Damian had wrapped his arms around Bruce’s waist and pointed at his phone a few times, whispering advice into Bruce’s ear. From the phone, a nice cafe soundtrack played, disrupted every few seconds by a ‘meow’ and various sound effects like the clacking of dishes, bubbles popping and the cha-ching of coins.
Duke sat by their side, scrolling on his phone but he didn’t look quite as intensely focused.
“Uh, ‘afternoon guys,” Tim said.
Duke lifted his head up and gave Tim a little wave. “‘Sup, Tim.”
Bruce lifted his head up from where it was glued to Damian’s phone. His look of concentration faded as Bruce beamed brightly, dimples framing the right corner of his mouth. He waved as if that radiant display wasn’t already enough to dazzle Tim. “Good afternoon, Tim!”
(He looked so alive.)
Damian immediately grabbed hold of his phone when Bruce’s grip had slackened and helped Bruce collect coins in his stead. Tim was not aware that cat cafe simulation games (or at least, it sounded like they were playing one) required that much attention to play, so much so that Damian felt the need to tag team with Bruce.
“Dami.” Bruce patted Damian’s arm. The tone was distinctly similar to Alfred’s when he said ‘Master Bruce’.
Damian rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue for the added effect of preteen petulance. “‘Afternoon, Drake,” he said without looking up.
Self-satisfied, Bruce leaned back against Damian. It was a very Bruce way of showing affection, like how a cat would bump their head against you or rub their sides against your legs. “Did you have a nice nap?” Bruce politely asked.
“Yeah, I did,” Tim replied.
“That’s great,” Bruce smiled and said. He then turned his focus back on Damian’s phone, poking at the screen and doing whatever you did on those kinds of apps.
(The sound of Tim’s feet padding across the hardwood floors echoed through the empty halls as he made his way into the kitchen. Bruce and Damian were already inside. They were both dressed for the day. Bruce was rapidly drinking his coffee with no visible reaction to the scorching heat and reading the news on his tablet with the same focus he afforded cases. Meanwhile, Damian munched on his granola and watched some cat videos on his phone.
“‘Morning,” Tim grumbled as he made his way to the coffee machine.
Bruce looked up from his tablet and nodded at Tim. “Good morning, Tim.”
Bruce patted Damian on the shoulder and the moody preteen rolled his eyes. “‘Morning, Drake.”
Satisfied, Bruce grunted and squeezed Damian’s shoulder once before he turned back to Tim. “Did you sleep well?”
“Mm, got a solid five hours,” Tim grunted.
Bruce grunted in return and went back to reading the news.)
Tim looked to Duke for an explanation and Duke shrugged. “Damian was trying to buy Bruce’s affections after I gave them a fireworks show but Alfred forbade him from demonstrating his katanas. He decided that this was the next best thing.”
Tim blinked owlishly. “How long have they been like this?”
“‘Bout forty minutes.”
“Wow. We’re really turning him into a tablet kid aren’t we?”
Duke snorted. “Alfred imposed a time limit. He’s only got twenty minutes left on the phone. They’re making the most of it.”
“Poor Bruce. I could never survive a tech ban.”
“I think it’s a different story if you use it for work. Oh yeah, aren’t you going to stream soon? I saw some Tweets asking about it.”
Tim scrolled through his phone, checking the Tweets himself. He hummed and flopped down on the couch beside Duke. Tim sighed and leaned his head against Duke’s shoulder. “I’m not sure. I think I’ll just skip this week’s stream. They’ll just be asking about Bruce anyway. It’ll be too annoying.”
“Yeah, people keep @ing me and begging for updates. Can’t imagine what an entire stream of that would be like.” Duke gave him a commiserating pat on the shoulder and went back to scrolling on his phone.
“Where’s Alfred?”
“He’s making sandwiches for lunch.”
“And the others? Are they not awake yet?”
“Uhh, Jason and Dick are awake but they left after a quick goodbye to go to the Watchtower.”
“What about the girls?”
“The girls are here and awake!” announced Steph.
Cass glided in after her, graceful as a swan, and took a seat on the armrest beside the new creature that was the combined form of young Bruce and Damian. Barbara followed soon after, raising her eyebrows at the newly inducted tablet kid.
Bruce finally looked up from the game again and glanced around the room. “Good afternoon, Cass, Steph and Barbara. Did you all sleep well?”
“Good afternoon, Bruce. I had a great nap, thanks for asking,” Babs replied. She ruffled Bruce’s hair and grinned when the boy leaned into the touch.
Damian was still subbing in for Bruce in the game. Seriously, what kind of cafe game needed constant attention?
“I had a good nap too!” Steph reported. “I’m refreshed and ready for combat, Boss!”
Cass tapped Bruce’s shoulder and signed to him. “Had a good nap. Did you have fun with Damian and Duke?”
“Yes!” Bruce replied, much to Tim’s surprise. He didn’t think Bruce knew ASL at this age. It might’ve been the influence of his older self though because Bruce had recognised Duke and Damian’s name sign. “We played a lot and then we watched fireworks that Duke made.”
“What game are you playing right now?” Babs asked.
“A cafe run by cats for cats,” Bruce answered. He finally realised he was neglecting his game but beamed when he realised that Damian had been playing for him. Bruce leaned back against Damian again and even nudged the side of his head against Damian’s cheek.
He played for a few seconds before sighing. “If I stop playing now, do you think Alfie would let me play for the remaining time later?”
“Probably.”
“Okay! Thank you for letting me use your phone, Dami.” Bruce gave Damian his phone back but made no move to remove himself from the preteen’s lap.
Damian pocketed his phone and pulled Bruce back against him, glaring at Tim as if daring him to say something.
Tim wasn’t Steph (and Steph was right there and not saying anything) so he wasn’t going to mention it but since Damian was giving him attitude (as usual), Tim decided to fight back. “Hey, B, do you want to see photos of us dressed up for Halloween? Damian went all out on his Zoro cosplay.”
Bruce leapt out of Damian’s lap with zero hesitation and climbed into Tim’s.
(He was so tiny but warm and when Tim wrapped his arms around his waist to secure him, Bruce had felt so fragile. It felt like a crime to think of Bruce as fragile but that was their current reality. Batman was now just a boy and it was Tim’s fault.)
Tim took a moment to sneer at Damian and his little brother almost growled but Cass slapped her hand over his mouth. He looked like a muzzled puppy. It was a good look on him.
Babs gave him a disappointed look but Steph was 100% amused so Tim took that as a win.
“That’s not Zorro,” Bruce deflated and said with confusion laced in his voice.
What?
Oh!
“Sorry, Bruce. I wasn’t talking about the vigilante Zorro.” Tim pulled up a photo of Zoro and showed it to Bruce. ”This is Zoro. He’s a bounty hunter turned pirate.”
“Oh,” Bruce softly said. “Dami did a really good job with the costume. Did he keep his eye shut the entire time?”
Tim snickered and Steph chimed in, “He was committed the entire night! He forgot which eye had the scar on it for a bit so he had the wrong eye shut for about an hour though. I think Tim has some photos.”
“I did not!” Damian protested. He had scooted closer to Duke and was almost leaning over him to get into Steph’s face. Steph stuck her tongue out from where she was sitting on the armrest beside Tim.
“We literally have photos of it, Demon Brat.” Tim pulled up the photos in question and showed them to Bruce.
“I didn’t forget which eye the scar was on. Todd said keeping just one eye shut will make the other one lazy so I was making sure it wasn’t getting reliant,” Damian huffed.
“Little brother. Cute.” Cass patted Damian on the head and Damian tolerated it for a second before he knocked it off indignantly.
“I am not cute!”
“Jay was trolling you, Damian,” Babs told him. “That only happens if you do it only a long period of time and make a habit of it.”
“Todd,” Damian ground out venomously.
Tim ignored him and kept showing photos on his phone to Bruce. “Here’s all of us dressed up. We even got older you and Alfred to dress up.”
Bruce peered curiously at the family photo. They hadn’t organised their costumes with each other so no one had matching costumes but it was chaotic in a way that was typical of the Batclan.
Damian was dressed as the aforementioned Zoro. Duke embraced their family tradition and donned a Mothman costume. Tim dressed up as Tony Hawk. Steph turned her inner Regina George into an outer Regina George. Cass cosplayed Howl. Jason dressed as Frankenstein’s monster and made everyone groan with his death jokes. Dick surprisingly didn’t go the manwhore route and wore a Snow White costume. Babs rocked up as Medusa. Bruce copped out and put on a lame vampire costume that was his usual clothes plus some fangs and fake blood. Alfred was a much more regal ghost butler and cold mist followed him everywhere he walked.
“Can I look at more photos?” Bruce asked.
“Of course.”
Bruce swiped through the photos Tim took that night, leaning back against Tim’s chest as he asked a few questions about what they did.
“It looks like everyone had fun,” he commented.
Not to be left out, Damian shoved his phone in front of Bruce. “Bunny, I have a photo of Drake asleep on his toast.”
Lo, and behold, a photo of Tim using a slice of toast as a pillow was on the screen. Bruce giggled and Damian swiped to the next photo, which was incidentally a photo of Tim with crumbs on his cheek, struggling to stay awake.
“When did you even take that, Demon?”
Damian clicked his tongue at him and refused to answer.
“Wait. Bunny?”
“That’s me!” Bruce answered.
“Did Dami come up with that? That’s so cute,” Steph cooed.
Cass stared at Bruce and nodded approvingly. “Look like bunny.”
“What? No, I don’t,” Bruce protested.
Tim compared this Bruce with a bunny rabbit in his mind and nodded emphatically. “You do.”
“Yeah, you do,” Duke laughed. “Especially when you were munching on those cookies.”
Bruce scrunched his nose. It did not help his case at all.
“Oh my gosh. B, can I take a photo of you?” Steph asked before she remembered why this particular Bruce would be averse to cameras.
But Bruce thought about it for a moment before he nodded. “Do you want me to put the hood on?”
Steph grinned. “Nah, keep it off for now.”
Tim tilted slightly to the side to see Steph’s screen, an awkward manoeuvre considering Bruce was still sitting in his lap. He bit back a laugh at what he saw and sat back against the couch.
“Okay. 3, 2, 1.” Steph snapped the photo and spun it around to show Bruce.
Bruce blinked owlishly at the screen and covered his head with his hands. Tim burst out laughing along with Duke and Cass. Even Damian was amused, the corner of his lips lifted slightly.
The photo Steph took showed Bruce sitting on Tim’s lap, a perfect smile on his lips and cute bunny ears on top of his head.
Bruce pouted at them and got off Tim’s lap. He stood in front of Babs and tilted his head slightly. Barbara laughed and pulled Bruce onto her lap. Bruce then playfully stuck his tongue out at them.
“I don’t look like a bunny,” Bruce said again. He flipped his hood on and made a scary face but he just looked adorable. “I’m a bat!”
“But you said you’re scared of bats,” Damian said.
“Exactly. I’m scary.”
“Make your best scary face, Bruce!” Steph hollered. Her phone was pointed at him, recording Bruce’s mini sulk but Bruce didn’t seem to mind.
Bruce pulled his face into a scowl and bared his teeth.
“Super scary, Bruce!” Duke laughed.
“I think there’s a vampire filter. Hang on, let me show you.”
“Wait, use the dog filter. It will be so cute,” Tim interjected. He couldn’t stand seeing Bruce covered in blood right now. It was too soon.
“You’re right. All my girlies love the dog filter,” Steph said, easily accepting Tim’s diversion. She flipped her phone around and flopped down on the armchair beside Barbara. “Open your mouth, B.”
Bruce obediently opened his mouth and the filter animated a tongue sticking out of it alongside the dog ears on his head. Bruce giggled and open and shut his mouth a few times to watch the filter play out.
“Are there other filters?” he asked, leaning towards Steph.
“Of course!” Steph replied.
After a few more filters (cat, horse, unicorn), Bruce gave into the allure of ease of access and hopped off Barbara’s lap. He then climbed into Steph’s and played around with more filters.
Barbara sighed.
“Join the club of abandoned laps,” Tim laughed.
Damian clicked his tongue and crossed his arms. “You were the first to lure him away, Drake.”
“Hey,” Duke interjected. “You did that to me first so you don’t get to say a thing.”
“He was leaning against you. It does not count.”
“You didn’t even let me noogie him!”
“You tried to noogie Bruce?” Tim laughed.
“He’s been an only child all his life. I figured he should experience it at least once.”
“Nah, I’ve seen photos of him and Harvey. He had that brotherly humbling covered.”
Alfred materialised in the room and spoke up. Soft-spoken but still heard through the chatter. “Sirs and madams, lunch is ready.”
“Alfred!” Bruce jumped out of Steph’s lap and hugged Alfred’s waist. “We took a lot of photos. Do you want to see me as a bunny, or a doggy?”
Alfred bent down and picked Bruce up into his arms. “I’m sure you can show them to me over lunch.”
“Alfred, do you think I look like a bunny too?” Bruce asked.
Their butler walked out of the room, carrying Bruce with him but his answer could still be heard in the distance. “Though you do share qualities with bunnies, you’re more adorable than them, sir.”
Duke laughed and Steph huffed, crossing her legs now that they were bereft of a certain de-aged Bat.
“In the end, we all lost against Alfred.”
Chapter 6
Summary:
Bruce is very cute and causes heart attacks
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Dick and Jason stepped into the Watchtower meeting room. They were both decked out in their gear, which was highly unnecessary given that all the members on the Watchtower today knew their identities but as Bruce would say ‘you could never be too careful’.
A few of the founding Justice League members looked up when they walked in, all showing varying degrees of curiosity and concern on their faces.
“So, what have you got for us?” Jason asked.
“It’s a rare gun from a faraway galaxy. It’s only supposed to physically de-age you but I guess it works differently on humans. His mind might just be confused too and made his mental age regress alongside his body,” Hal told them.
Dick nodded. “That checks out. Bruce said he doesn’t remember anything past his current age but some stuff slips through and he sort of knows things.”
Hal hummed. “Well, this stuff lasts about a month and then it wears off on its own. That’s on aliens though, so it might take longer. There’s also a cure that I can find in some intergalaxy markets or on the planet itself. If I go today, I’ll be back in about two weeks.”
“I think Bruce would prefer the cure,” Dick said.
Hal laughed, “He would, wouldn’t he? Alright. I have to return the gun – some idiots smuggled it in and lost it – so I would have been gone anyway.”
“Thanks, Lantern.”
“Don’t mention it. Wait, actually do, I need to rub it into Bruce’s face that I helped him when he gets back to normal.”
Jason snickered and put on a deep voice, imitating Bruce, “You were actually useful for once in your life. You did adequate, Lantern.”
Hal laughed good-naturedly. “I can never get over how good you kids are at imitating Spooky.”
“So, Batman’s only going to be off-duty for two weeks?” Barry asked. “I can take over monitor duty for him.”
“I was planning on taking over as Batman for him but that would be great, thanks.”
“No worries. Say hi to Bruce for me.”
“Will do.”
With that, their little meeting was over. Hal and Barry left first to make arrangements for Hal’s trip and then for Barry shifting his schedule to fit in Batman’s monitor duty. Wonder Woman and Superman stayed behind, looking at Dick and Jason expectantly.
“How is Bruce doing?” Superman asked. Or rather, Clark asked.
“He’s doing okay. He finds us familiar enough to relax around us. He’s a really sweet kid.”
“Demon Brat’s got him sitting in his lap right now. They were playing some game on his phone when we left.”
The tension in Clark’s shoulders release all at once and he broke out into a snicker. “Bruce is sitting in Damian’s lap?”
Beside him, Diana grinned. “He was already so indignant when we spooned him to force him to take a nap. I can’t imagine how he would react when he remembers this.”
Dick’s smile widened at the mention of gossip. “You both spooned him? At the same time? How did that even work?”
He tried to picture it. He went by height; Bruce as the little spoon, Diana spooning him and then Clark spooning them both. Bruce did use to complain about the fact that he looked short standing next to the both of them. Said it was unfair that his best friends were giants and dwarfed him. Lately though, he’d been saying that they were the perfect height to lean on if he wanted a quick nap while standing up. And they were good for hiding behind. The perfect shields, he’d been calling them.
“He refused to be trapped in the middle so I spooned him and then Clark spooned us both. He argued that it wasn’t much better but then he fell asleep while trying to escape.”
Jason guffawed, imagining Bruce struggling like a slippery little snake one second and then asleep the next. He was like that with them too. It was like a game, though Dick would call it family cuddle pile time. Jason would trap Bruce in bed with his bulk and Damian and Tim would trap his arms. Then, Steph and Duke would grab a leg each. Dick was in charge of covering everyone with blankets and reading a book of their choice. If Babs was there, she would do the reading instead but most of the time, she was busy with her actual job because she was a Real Adult.
Dick’s phone buzzed. It was his civilian phone but they weren’t discussing official business right now so he checked it.
He gasped. “Jay! Jason, check the group chat!”
“What? What is it?” Jason asked, even as he checked his phone. “Oh. Oh, this is gold. We have to make at least a hundred copies of these.”
Clark and Diana made a curious noise. The two former Robins exchanged glances.
“What’s in the group chat stays in the group chat,” Dick murmured. “But this is Aunt Di and Uncle Clark…”
“Then again, ain’t no way these photos are staying in the group chat. I was already planning on blowing them up and plastering them over all the photos of Bruce in the manor.”
“What? OMG, Little Wing!” Dick scolded, amusement apparent in his tone.
“Bruce deserves to remember them.”
“You’re horrible.”
“I know,” Jason proudly agreed.
“Well, in that case, Aunt Diana, Uncle Clark, prepare to see the cutest sight you’ll ever see in your entire lives!” Dick dramatically said, only half-joking.
He flipped his phone over and–
Well.
Hmm.
Maybe the things Duke had been saying have some nugget of truth to them. His aunt and uncle weren’t just ‘really good friends’ with his dad.
Was there more to the spooning than Dick previously thought?
But Dick and Wally spoon all the time. That was regular, smegular, friend activities. Dick knew that Roy and Kory take naps with Jason all the time too and they were also just friends.
“Hey, Jay?”
“Hm?” Jason hummed, fascinated by the display in front of them. Diana and Clark had taken Dick’s phone from him and were scrolling through the photos Steph had sent. Dick hadn’t even gotten the opportunity to see them yet.
“Are you and Roy and Kory just friends or is there something more?”
Jason turned to Dick, surprised. “No, we’re just friends.”
“Ok.”
“Why you asking?”
“Just wondering if spooning was something you do with friends.”
Jason made a thoughtful sound.
“You talking about them?” he asked, gesturing at Diana and Clark whose faces had adopted the look of absolute adoration. Which, yeah, Bruce was cute but he was not ‘I will conquer the world for you if you wanted me to’ level of cute. Okay, Dick would do that for Bruce but that’s because Bruce was his dad and he saved Dick’s world and he was a good man who deserved everything good in the world.
Still.
Something to think about.
“The boundary between friendship and romance is a nebulous one. The only people that can define it are the ones involved in it. If they say it's platonic then it's platonic. If they say it's romantic then it's romantic.”
“Damn, Jay. Where did you read that? Tumblr?”
“Shut up,” he groused, playfully shoving at Dick. “You and Wally cuddle all the time. Is what you have just friendship?”
“Is what you have with Roy and Kory just friendship?” Dick deflected.
“That’s for me to know and you to not know.”
“Right. Because I’m not involved in the relationship.”
“Yep. Just like I’m not involved in yours and Wally’s. And whatever the Trinity have.”
“Urgh. When did you get so wise, Little Wing?”
“I’ve always been wise, dumbass.”
Clark and Diana were still enraptured by the photos in the group chat so Dick kept talking. “I wonder if B knows what polyamory is.”
“There’s no way he thinks the Sirens are just really good friends.”
“He’s B. He’s kind of a dumbass.”
Jason hummed. “Might be fun to see Timbo give B a presentation on it. Do you think he’ll put graphs in it?”
Dick laughed. “It’s not a good presentation if there aren’t any graphs.”
Jason shivered. “Math nerds.”
“Just because I was in the mathlete, doesn’t mean I’m a math nerd.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Goldie.”
Clark and Diana finally finished looking through all the photos so Dick grabbed his phone back.
“Wait, Dick,” Diana said, grabbing Dick’s wrist. “Can you send us those photos?”
“Uhhhh, I think little Bruce doesn’t like having his photos taken without permission so he might not want us to spread it. You’ll have to ask older Bruce.”
“He’ll never agree even if he didn’t mind,” Clark complained. “He’ll say no just to be contrary.”
Dick snickered. That was exactly what Bruce would do. Unless you were one of his kids and unleashed your puppy eyes on him. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll ask little Bruce if we can send you one photo of your choosing. Do you have one in particular that you want?”
Clark and Diana immediately answered, “The video of him in the hood.”
Dick and Jason raised an eyebrow because they hadn’t had the opportunity to go through the photos yet and didn’t know what video they were talking about.
Jason pulled it up on his phone. In the video, they could hear Steph and Duke teasing Bruce and the sulking Bruce scowled, baring his teeth just like his older self, except he was much, much, much, much, much cuter. Like he was the personification of rainbows and sunshine and fairy dust.
Jason made an approving sound. “Good choice.”
High praise, coming from Jason.
“Well then, Bruce is still adjusting so he’s not really up to company right now, but we’ll keep you updated.”
“Thank you, Dick. If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask. Even if it’s just a grocery trip.”
Dick grinned, “We’ve got Steph for that but thanks for the offer.”
“See ya, Aunt Di, Uncle Clark. We’ll be sure to send you the video once we got permission.”
They got back in the middle of lunch so Dick and Jason quickly got changed to join the rest of the family in the dining room.
“Hi, Dick. Hi, Jason,” Bruce greeted.
“Hey, Bruce. Quick question, do you mind if we sent this video to your future best friends?” Dick asked, showing Bruce the video in question.
Bruce watched the video of himself being absolutely adorable and nodded. “Yeah, I look scary in the video,” he proudly said.
Everyone bit back their laughter, successfully of course. Bat-training came in handy sometimes.
“Okay, thanks. They’ll love it.”
“May I see photos of them too? Since they’re getting one of me.”
“Of course. Just a sec.” Dick opened the folder in his phone labelled ‘B and besties’ (since the Trinity was too identity-revealing) and clicked on a candid photo of the three of them together. Clark and Diana had swung an arm over Bruce’s shoulder and Bruce was trying to evade them, unsuccessfully but clearly not upset about it since he was laughing in the photo.
Bruce scrunched his nose unhappily. “I look short. Father said I’ll grow up to become tall because Mother and Father are both very tall people.”
Dick was unable to suppress his laughter this time. Little Bruce and Big Bruce had the same complaints about Clark and Diana!
Bruce pouted and Alfred was quick to comfort him by running his fingers through his hair. “I assure you that your future self is tall. You grow to become as tall as your father.”
It worked like magic and Bruce was back to beaming as if he wasn’t sulking just a second earlier.
“So, I’m taller than you, Alfred?”
“Yes, Master Bruce.”
“So, I can carry you like–”
“Master Bruce,” Alfred interrupted.
Bruce snickered. Alfred’s mouth twitched, reluctantly charmed by the cheeky behaviour his ward was displaying.
Dick decided not to ask about it. Contrary to popular opinion, Bats do have a survival instinct and upsetting Alfred was definitely not the actions of someone that wanted to live. Bruce could only get away with it because he was Bruce and Bruce could do anything.
He saw Tim glance at Bruce before looking back at Dick and asking, “So, what did you two talk to Lantern about?”
Dick glanced at Bruce too and saw that he had straightened up, ready to listen. “He said it’ll take a month to wear off on its own or two weeks for him to get the cure. He’s preparing to leave right now.”
Bruce just grinned impishly, “That means I have a two-week vacation then.”
Dick took a moment to marvel at this Bruce who got excited over the idea of a vacation. Bruce always did love vacations but he was always too busy, too bogged down by responsibility and duty to a city that never rested, to really do more than dream of one.
After this is over, Dick thought to himself, we’ll go on a real vacation. All of us. We’ll go even if means asking for help.
They deserved it. All of them. Bruce especially.
“Excuse me, Dick,” Bruce very politely called out to him after lunch.
“What’s up, Bruce?”
“I want to swing from the chandelier. How did you use to get up there?” Bruce sincerely asked, complete with big blue eyes that stared up at him with child-like innocence.
Dick’s heart skipped a beat. “What…?”
Bruce frowned. “Did I remember wrong? I was rather certain that you used to swing from the chandeliers when you were my age.”
“You remember that?” Dick asked, shoving away the panic in favour of literally anything else. Behind him, Jason was snickering and Dick vowed to get revenge. He’ll probably sit on him or something. That never failed to annoy Jason.
“It left a strong impression on me.”
Strong impression. Dick wondered what other strong impressions Bruce had. He tried not to think about it too hard. The life of a vigilante wasn’t pretty. Especially in Gotham.
“Why do you want to swing on the chandelier, Bruce?”
Bruce shrugged. “You always looked like you had fun.”
Yeah, because it was fun.
Not so fun now that their roles had reversed and Dick was Bruce in this situation, trying to persuade a small child that swinging from a ceiling affixture not made to be swung from wasn’t a good idea. Actually, it was worse for Dick because this Bruce had zero training and was more soft and fragile than Dick who had trained all his life and knew how to fall properly.
This was karma, Dick decided. For all the heart attacks he gave Bruce in the past.
Bruce must have read something on his face because he pouted and turned away. “I’m going to ask Damian.”
Oh no. Damian was 100% going to be an enabler and Alfred would blame Dick when Bruce inevitably fell and broke his arm because Dick was the responsible one now.
“Damian’s not tall enough to reach the chandelier,” Jason said, stopping Bruce from going any further. Dick was about to let out a sigh of relief because Jason was being responsible for once when Jason continued, “Why don’t you get on my shoulders and we get on it together?”
Dick was going to do more than just sit on Jason. He was going to fill his shampoo with red hair dye so he’ll be matching with Roy and Kory and they won’t be the Outlaws anymore; they’ll be the Red Heads and Bizzaro.
Jason crouched down for Bruce and Dick swooped in, grabbing Bruce under his armpits and gathering him in his arms.
“The chandelier is fun but not as fun as a trapeze!” Dick said cheerfully. “There’s actually a whole gym we can use. Don’t you think it’ll be more fun swinging from the ropes?”
Bruce blinked. “But I want to go on the chandelier.”
God help Dick before Alfred murdered him. “The chandelier can only handle one person at a time but the trapeze can handle all of us. It’ll be more fun to swing together.”
Bruce pursed his lips but nodded reluctantly. “Will you teach me how to do a flip?”
Dick let out a sigh of relief and Jason cackled in the background. Dick was so gonna make him regret all this. “Yeah. Yeah, of course, Bruce.”
The smile Bruce gave him was beautiful and it almost made the panic worth it.
“I want to backflip off the dinosaur.”
“Bruce–!”
“I’m just kidding,” Bruce laughed. “Alfred said I’m not allowed down in the cave.”
“Bruce~! You done getting Dick and Jason yet?” Steph called out from the direction of the gym.
“Yeah!” Bruce yelled back. “We’re coming now!”
Jason bent over in laughter. “Oh god, you planned all this. You never wanted to play on the chandeliers at all.”
Bruce grinned. “That’s not true. I was telling the truth when I said it looked fun but I don’t think Alfred would let me.”
“God, the look on your face, Dick!” Jason guffawed.
“Let’s go to the gym, Dick. The others are waiting.”
God bless Alfred; his child was a hellspawn with the face of an angel.
Dick stared at the boy in his arms and sighed. “This is revenge, isn’t it?”
Bruce smirked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dick.”
Notes:
I actually showed a lot of restraint in this chapter. You don't understand what I have deleted.
Chapter 7
Summary:
Alfred! Alfred! Alfred!
Notes:
A few people asked me about what I deleted in the last chapter but I overthought my replies too much so I didn’t end up replying to anyone 😅. Basically, the original ending scene had Bruce actually climbing the chandelier and then falling. Dick does end up catching him but the curtains close on the two of them breaking down on the floor. Dick cries because he almost watched another parent fall to his death. Bruce cries because he almost died and he realised that he didn’t want to join his parents yet. I felt like it was too mean so I deleted it. Maybe I should’ve left it and let everyone suffer ✌️😜 Considering the contents of this chapter, it doesn’t seem too mean in hindsight.
CW: Death, child death
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
When Dick had informed Alfred of Bruce’s… ailment, Alfred was concerned, to say the least. He had been through the winter that was Bruce’s grief once before and the idea of reliving that horrified him. To see Bruce tear himself apart over something too big, too devastating for him to comprehend (just 8 and still needed help with his shoelaces) was a nightmare and a half. Alfred had lived through the days when the manor felt colder than the Arctic, more haunted than grave sites and tenser than battlefields. He dreaded their return and shuddered at the thought of Bruce being put through that pain once more.
But when Alfred had rushed into the ballroom and caught a little ball of love into his arms, sobbing and wailing, he knew he’d do it again and again however many times necessary.
“They’re gone. They’re gone. They’re gone,” his ward (son) mournfully cried.
And Alfred pulled him to his chest like he had done that dreadful night over three decades ago and held him tight. Meaningless words of platitude held no value for Bruce so Alfred murmured only truth to him. “I’m here. I’m here now.”
This time, Alfred wasn’t caught unaware. He wasn’t bogged down by his own soul-crushing grief for his departed lovers (too young, too loved, gone too soon) and in part the boy Bruce used to be and could have been. He could be here for his boy and as he sat by Bruce’s bedside, he swore he would do just that.
“Alfred,” Bruce had whispered when he woke up.
And his clever, clever boy had known that his time was distorted and he grieved but this time, Alfred knew how to comfort him. He held him to his chest and spoke of a love that would never die and Bruce knew; he understood and whispered it back in his own endearingly awkward roundabout way.
Alfred wished that Bruce, the older version, had shared with Alfred what he had known but there was something heartwarming about the fact that his boy had known but thought it so natural that he simply neglected to mention it for so long.
Tommy and Martha would have been overjoyed, Alfred thought to himself.
They had originally kept it to themselves because the relationship was relatively new (they had pined for each other before Bruce was even born but only dared to make a move when Bruce was six) but Bruce saw the love they held for each other anyway and had simply accepted that he had another father in Alfred.
Father.
Perhaps one day, when Bruce was returned to his proper age, they would discuss that unspoken bond between them.
For now, Alfred carried Bruce (it had been so long since he could completely wrap his arms around him, let alone carry Bruce in his arms) to the kitchen and reintroduced him to his family. Bruce was understandably nervous but it seems he wasn’t completely regressed and still retained his deep love for his family.
Alfred was glad for it because Bruce was eating and even smiling and laughing at times.
Perhaps the dreaded winter would not be so bad this time around.
Alfred put a bookmark between the pages and set the book down. Bruce’s eyes were drooping and he didn’t fight them, letting his eyes fall shut. It was a stark difference from the first time Bruce was eight and mourning. The boy had refused to sleep after that first night, fearing his sleeping hours more than he did his waking. This Bruce had gone to bed without much whining and even went to sleep after they read only five chapters. It felt like a small miracle.
Alfred brushed Bruce’s hair out of his face and pressed a kiss against his son’s forehead. “Sweet dreams, my dear boy.”
“Night night, Alfred.”
Hopelessly endeared, Alfred allowed himself to indulge in another kiss. “Call out if you need anything.”
Bruce didn’t reply. He was already asleep.
Alfred smiled and closed the door to Bruce’s bedroom. His other charges were preparing for patrol and he needed to man the comms tonight.
Bruce was walking in between his mama and papa. No. Correction. He was walking in between his mother and father. Because Bruce was a big boy and big boys didn’t call their parents Mama and Papa. Only babies did that and Bruce wasn’t a baby. And no, Mother, Mum and Ma weren't acceptable alternatives.
He skipped ahead of them, still excited about the movie they just watched because Grey Ghost was so cool, Mother. I want to be just like him when I grow up! Mother suggested Bruce hold her hand so he didn’t get lost but only babies get lost and Bruce wasn’t a baby so he didn’t hold her hand.
Father suggested they take a shortcut so they could get home faster and tell Alfred all about the movie they watched. Bruce knew the truth though. Father just wanted to kiss and cuddle with Alfred which was gross because Father’s kisses were always too wet. Mother and Alfred kissed better. Just a peck on the cheek. Perfect. Father should learn from them. But no, Father always insisted on making smacking noises and leaving slob on Bruce’s cheek. Gross! And he wondered why Bruce always avoided his kisses.
“This is a robbery! Give me all your stuff!”
And everything slowed down and happened too fast all at once. Father was removing his watch and Mother was shaking as she tried to take off her pearl necklace. Bruce was frozen in place because he knew exactly how dangerous guns were. Alfred had demonstrated it for Bruce on a watermelon after Bruce got a little too zealous about guns last summer. The watermelon had exploded from the inside out. Bruce had never asked for a gun again after that.
“Hurry it up!”
“T-Tommy,” Mother stammered.
“Here, let me help you.” Father sounded calm because he was a surgeon and he knew how to handle high-stress situations. But not everyone was perfectly rational like Bruce’s Father. When Father stepped closer to help Mother, the mugger panicked and his finger on the trigger slipped.
Bang.
Mother’s head looked like the watermelon.
Father let out a sound unlike any Bruce had ever heard before and he would never forget it for as long as he lived. He lunged for the gun but the mugger was faster.
Bang.
Father had joined Mother on the floor.
Bruce was still frozen.
The mugger stared at Bruce, gun aimed at his chest. Bruce stared back.
Bruce remembered that the mugger let out a sob and whispered “I’m sorry” as he pushed past him. He remembered kneeling by his parents’ bodies and begging for his Mama and Papa to wake up. He remembered wondering why the mugger said “sorry” if the damage couldn’t be undone. He remembered a lifeless manor and sleepless nights. He remembered wishing that he had died with his parents.
That’s not what happened this time. This time, the mugger stared Bruce in the eye and shot a bullet through his chest. This time, he pushed past not a living boy but a dying one, collapsed onto his dead Mother and Father. This time Bruce died with his parents and their family didn’t have to be separated, parted much too soon. This time, they were together.
And the dead boy smiled because he was happy.
The boy became a ghost and Bruce watched as the same officer patrolling the area stumbled upon their bodies. They hauled them away in body bags, ready to be buried together in the family plot.
A tragedy, they called it. A blessing in disguise, Bruce thought. He didn’t have to be alone this time.
But then Bruce saw Alfred. The officer told him the Waynes were gone, all three of them, and Alfred collapsed because his entire family was gone and he didn’t have a little boy to keep him going this time. Ghost Bruce watched as Alfred deteriorated in his grief. Still alive but a ghost of his former self. He took care of the manor but never left it, living in a mausoleum for his dead family.
No. This wasn’t what I wanted, the dead boy cried. But ghosts didn’t have voices so he went unheard.
The circus rolled into town. Two acrobats died and their lovely son followed months after, found dead on the streets in a strange costume.
A compassionate girl on the run from her biological father and never able to settle her roots.
A passionate boy beaten to death by thugs because he stole from the wrong person.
A vibrant girl killed by her own father for daring to defy his criminal ways.
A dedicated boy left at home alone, never daring to be anything less than perfect.
A resolute boy killed when he tried to get revenge for his parents.
A caring boy that was never born because his Father didn’t survive in this timeline.
A beloved city in shambles and left for the criminals because no one loved it enough to save it.
“Alfred!” Duke ran down into the cave. He was wide-eyed, panicked filled and it was easy enough to identify the source of his panic, especially considering it was in his arms, screaming at the top of his lungs.
Alfred judged too soon. Bruce had fooled even Alfred. He wasn’t fine at all.
“Oh, my poor son.” Alfred grabbed the howling Bruce from Duke and bounced him in his arms. The crying didn’t subside. Bruce was inconsolable.
“Master Duke, if you would be so kind as to take over comm duties for me please.”
“Oh. Yes. Totally. You take care of Bruce, Alfred.”
He heard Duke explaining the situation to his siblings even as he left the cave. Bruce didn’t get any quieter and kept vigorously crying. Too accustomed to long nights dedicated to grief-stricken children, Alfred settled into the rocking chair located in the sitting room. He rocked back and forth, hands rubbing Bruce’s back up and down and sang a soothing lullaby.
“Somewhere over the rainbow—” he sang because Martha and Bruce loved The Wizard of Oz and even her death hadn’t diminished his love of it. On the contrary, Bruce loved it even more because it was one of the few things connecting him to his mother.
A good two hours later, Alfred stopped singing. The cries had softened to quiet sobbing and then sniffling and finally steady breathing. Also because former theatre actor though he may be, Alfred’s throat did not appreciate being subjected to such extended use, especially since he did not warm it up beforehand.
He glanced at the clock. It was one in the morning. Master Duke should have been in bed by now.
Alfred set his son down to relieve his grandchild of his duties but the not-so-asleep boy gripped onto his shirt and let out a pitiful whine.
“Master Bruce, I’m afraid I must return to my duties. Your children need me and Master Duke needs to be back in bed.”
Bruce sobbed and shook his head. His tears started anew and wracked his little body with grief too sharp for a boy to contain. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was wrong. It wasn’t better. I was so wrong. I thought I would be happy, Alfred. I was. But I was wrong to be. Everything was horrible, Alfred. It was so horrible,” he cried cryptically.
“Master Bruce?” Alfred gathered his son in his arms again. “Can you explain to me what you are talking about?”
“I dreamed about that night. But in it, I died with Mama and Papa,” Bruce sobbed. Alfred’s breath hitched and he had to bounce Bruce to disguise it. “We were together and I was happy because it meant we never had to say goodbye. But we left you, Alfred! We left you! It’s not happiness if we left you alone. And– and the kids. They were either dead or miserable because we weren’t there to help them. Alfred, it was horrible!”
Alfred squeezed Bruce tight and rushed to reassure him. “It was just a dream, Master Bruce. You’re still alive and the children are here with us. We’re all happy together.”
“Big me always thought everyone would be happier if he died with Mama and Papa but he’s wrong, Alfred. We’re happier with everyone here.”
“Yes, Bruce,” Alfred sobbed. “We’re all happier because you’re alive and well. We’ll be lost without you, Bruce.”
“Alfie. Dad, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry!”
Alfred’s heart jumped in his chest but he powered through. “Nonsense, son. You have nothing to apologise for. You’re here, aren’t you? You’re here.”
Bruce hugged Alfred and poured the remainder of his tears into his chest.
Alfred ran a soothing hand through Bruce’s hair. On the one hand, he needed to comfort Bruce until he fell asleep again. On the other, Duke had an early morning patrol and needed to be properly rested.
“Bruce, would you like to sit with me in the cave?” he compromised.
Alfred was afraid Bruce would say no. His boy hadn’t gotten over his fear of bats until he was in his mid-twenties.
Thankfully, Bruce gave him a weak nod.
They both headed down to the cave and bid Duke goodnight. The boy was hesitant to hand comms duty to Alfred and the sullen boy in his arms but acquiesced once Alfred insisted.
“This is Penny-One. Agent Bunny will be temporarily joining us on the comms tonight.”
“Bunny!” the children repeated.
“Hi,” Bruce meekly greeted.
“Hi, Bunny.” They wisely didn’t ask if he was okay.
Barbara was smart and moderated any content being shown on the screen. Bruce was instead treated to a relatively peaceful Gotham filled with pretty lights and happy faces of drunk partygoers. Most importantly, the children kept a steady stream of light-hearted commentary and bickered back and forth on irrelevant topics.
“No, you don’t have any tastebuds if you think mint ice cream tastes like toothpaste. Just because something is cold and minty, doesn’t mean it's toothpaste!” Jason argued.
“Mint ice cream doesn’t have a taste other than being fresh,” Tim clapped back. “Back me up, Spoils.”
“No, I’m with Hood on this one. You are vile, Red. I think all those Red Bull coffees destroyed your tastebuds.”
“Oh, come on! You eat anything as long as it’s waffle shaped and you’re lecturing me on taste?”
“Mint ice cream is ice cream, Red. It tastes creamy and minty. It’s delicious.”
“No one eats mint ice cream on its own. It’s always paired with chocolate. Do you want to know why? Because it doesn’t taste good otherwise! Not that it tastes good even with the chocolate.”
“Urgh, you have the singular worse comebacks, Red. Just admit it. You have no taste.”
“Bunny. What do you think?” Tim asked in a last-minute bid for support when it was clear none of his siblings shared his controversial opinion.
“Agent Bunny is rather fond of mint,” Alfred replied because Bruce was finally snoozing on his chest again.
“Hah! Beat that, Red!”
“Urgh. None of you have any tastes! You’re all heathens!”
“I don't understand why you are against mint ice cream when you like peppermint tea, Baby Bird,” Dick commented.
“Because it’s double cold. Peppermint tea isn’t cold. The hot tea cancels out the cold.”
“...That weirdly makes a lot of sense. You’re still wrong about mint ice cream though.”
“Boys. Continue this discussion another day. Patrol is over.”
“Yes, Penny-One.”
Alfred switched the comms off and carried Bruce back into the manor. He brought him to his own quarters and settled into bed with him.
Alfred pressed another kiss against his son’s temple. He was beyond happy that Bruce didn’t die with his parents.
Notes:
And that's day 1 of Bruce's age regression!
Wow. I seriously don't know how to write time skips huh
Chapter Text
Cass wandered out of her bedroom, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, and saw Alfred standing in the middle of the hallway with a bundle of sleepy Bruce in his arms. The young boy was barely awake, groggily nuzzling against Alfred’s face. Cass’ grandpa pat Bruce’s back with exasperated fondness.
“Ah, Miss Cassandra. Excellent timing. Would you mind looking after Master Bruce for me? I’m afraid we’ve run out of fresh groceries and I need to head to the market soon.”
Cass nodded happily and held out her arms for Bruce. Alfred transferred the sleepy package into Cass’ arm. Bruce’s only response to this was to nuzzle Cass’ face instead.
She giggled and waved Alfred goodbye.
“I will be back in two hours,” Alfred promised.
Two hours to have Bruce all to herself while the rest of her siblings slept. Nice.
Cass hummed a little tune to herself and skipped to the den. She put some morning cartoons on and settled down with Bruce resting against her. Once Bruce woke up properly, they could do all sorts of things together. Maybe they’ll dance or play music or read books together. Cass liked it when Big Bruce read to her but maybe she could read to Little Bruce instead. Or they could read to each other. That would be nice.
Bruce made a cute little sound like a kitty and blinked at Cass. “Good morning?”
“Good morning, B.”
Bruce yawned and Cass resisted the urge to stick her finger in his open mouth like she saw Damian do a few times to his cat. “Alfred?”
Cass giggled. Little Bruce was as taciturn as his older self when just waking up. “Went to the market.”
“Oh, yeah. I think he told me.” Bruce turned the other way to look at the TV. “What are we watching?”
“Capybara and friends.”
“I like capybaras.”
“Me too.”
Bruce snuggled closer to Cass and dosed off again. She giggled and played with his hair, making him fall deeper into slumber. Bonding would have to wait. Bruce didn’t get near enough sleep anyway.
As Bruce slept, Cass found herself cataloguing the differences between young Bruce and normal Bruce. The little one was more open and easier to read whereas the bigger one was less expressive and more closed off. This Bruce was less guarded and didn’t hold himself like a soldier. But he held the same sorrow in his heart, healed yet still painful, a bruise that never went away. But they both loved with all their hearts and were so, so kind. And warm. And gentle.
Cass loved both Bruces. They were just different facets of her dad. Like Brucie and Bruce and Batman. Now Bunny. She couldn’t wait to get to know Bunny more.
When Bruce woke up again, he was much more alert. The first thing he did was hug Cass tight and give her a big bright smile. “I love you, Cass. You know I love you, right? Big or small.”
Cass beamed back at him. “I know. I love you too. Big or small.”
“I’m really glad I’m your dad.”
“Me too.”
They separated from the hug.
“Want to dance with me?” Cass suggested.
Bruce gave her an enthusiastic nod.
They moved to her dance studio and Cass played pop music on the speakers. Loud, catchy music that Big Bruce refused to admit he liked. Little Bruce didn’t have the same compunctions about liking them so he jumped up and down on the spot, dancing as he liked.
Cass laughed and held Bruce’s hands, twirling with him as they danced.
Little Bruce had a terrible sense of rhythm but he more than made up for it with enthusiasm. The only dance move he knew may have been jumping up and down and spinning but he sure did jump. Up and down like the animal Damian named him after. He was never going to beat the allegations.
Cass briefly wondered how Bruce went from this to being able to flawlessly ballroom dance. It must have taken many, many years of practice.
After five songs, Bruce plopped down on the ground, huffing and puffing. He giggled, “I’m terrible at dancing!”
(At least he’s self-aware, Cass could hear her sassier siblings snarking.)
“But you had fun.”
“Uhuh,” Bruce agreed. He nuzzled his head against her stomach like a cat and looked up at her with big wide eyes. “Can you dance for me, Cass? Properly?”
Nnnnnnnnnn~!
Cass could see why no one told Bruce to stop nuzzling them. It was too adorable to break the habit. And when he did it to ask for something? Gah. Absolutely lethal. There was no way anyone could deny Bruce anything.
She agreed and he gave her a happy smile before hugging her waist and then sitting at the far end of the room.
Cass put on the song she’d been practising and got into position. She shot Bruce a small smile before putting on a ‘cool’ face.
Slow, stuttering movements. Deep-cutting sorrow.
Small but smooth gestures. Empowering hope.
Powerful, large motions. Jubilant celebration.
The song came to an end and Bruce gave her a standing ovation.
“That was amazing!” Bruce expressed his admiration with his entire body, jumping up and down and flapping his hands like they could help him fly. Maybe watching Cass dance made him feel like flying. “My heart’s beating so fast. Feel it!”
He pulled her hand and placed it on his chest. It was beating tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump, quick as if he ran a marathon.
Bruce hugged her again and looked into her eyes, big round eyes staring up at her. “You’re so cool, Cass.”
She giggled happily and lifted him up by the armpits, twirling him around in the air. Bruce let out delighted squeals and demanded she do it “Again! Again!” when she stopped. And who was she to deny him anything? Cass twirled him around again, laughing with infectious joy.
They collapsed onto the ground when Cass was too dizzy to keep going, giggling as they waited for the world to stop spinning.
Unfortunately, Cass’ siblings started waking up after their dance session so her solo session with Bruce came to an end. Everyone immediately tried hogging Bruce’s attention and Bruce revelled in it.
“Good morning. I love you.” He greeted everyone with a hug and a sweet smile and kind words and everyone melted, even the siblings that liked to pretend they didn’t care.
“Aw, Bruce, you little gremlin, I love you too,” Dick replied back.
“Ah, I, uh, I love you too, B—unny,” Jason stammered, changing from saying B to Bunny from embarrassment because he didn’t want to admit he was a daddy’s boy. Jason never grew out of being the youngest child even though he was the third oldest. Bruce would happily spoil him if only he admitted he wanted that.
“I love you too, Bruce,” Tim shyly responded.
(Duke was out on patrol but when he returned home to a flying hug and a sweet confession, he responded by hugging back. “Love you too, B.”)
“I love you too, Bunny,” Damian had solemnly answered, though his red ears were a giveaway.
“Love you too, Bruce,” Babs cooly replied with a hug.
“You’re just the cutest! Love ya too, Brucie!” Steph squealed and spun Bruce in the air, just like Cass did in the dance studio.
Bruce was a lovable little guy and he loved just as much if not more than he was loved. It was a rather high hurdle considering how much he was loved but Bruce did live to excel.
They decided to watch a movie and Bruce sat in between Damian and Cass. They were sure not to look too smug (lie) but the looks on their jealous siblings’ faces made it too good.
They watched Wall-E and Alfred had come back home at some point during the movie but only interrupted to give them some snacks. Bruce dug into the snacks like he was starving. Cass forgot to feed them breakfast. Oops.
Bruce was carried into the kitchen by a disapproving Alfred after the movie. (Cass gave them an apologetic smile but Bruce just beamed back at her, not upset in the slightest.) He was served a beautiful stack of pancakes but his mind was still occupied by the film they just saw.
“Wall-E,” Bruce mimicked, laughing as he attempted the robotic tones of the characters.
“Eve~” Cass parroted back.
“Wall-E? Wall-E!”
“Eve~ Eve~!”
“Wow, you guys could not sound any more like Pokemons if you tried,” Jason commented.
Bruce and Cass shared glances.
“”Ja~~~son~~~”” they sang in unison.
“Stop that.” He scowled and made an exaggerated effort to shake the sounds from his head.
“Eat your breakfast, Master Bruce,” Alfred ordered. But he ruffled Bruce’s hair as he did so and looked more fond than anything.
After breakfast, Tim suggested they played some video games. Alfred tried to refuse, citing Bruce’s infatuation with Damian’s phone games yesterday, but Bruce flashed him his big round eyes and Alfred deflated.
“You may play your party games but only for a maximum of two hours,” he conceded.
Their family was too big for everyone to be able to play but Cass preferred to watch and Damian was temporarily banned because he got too competitive last time. Barbara and Steph preferred to laugh at the players and Duke was mildly traumatised by Damian’s reaction to losing.
That left Dick, Jason, Tim and Bruce as the players.
Naturally, everyone was cheering for Bruce.
They all taught him how to play and then didn’t stop with the advising.
There was a lot of backseat driving.
Bruce still lost. Horribly.
The three oldest sons held no shame as they flaunted their victory over the young child. They may have been the reason why Damian got stabby last time.
Bruce looked a lot like Damian when he was angry. His fists clenched at his side, frame shaking slightly, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed like a predator’s. He was cute like Cass’ little brother too. But instead of throwing daggers like Damian, Bruce threw his controller on the ground and stamped his little feet. He couldn’t look less threatening if he tried.
“‘M not playing anymore!”
“Aww, Bruce. Just because you lost, doesn’t mean you have to quit,” Jason cooed, but his voice was distinctly gloating.
The Wayne family was composed of sore losers and terrible victors.
Bruce stomped on the ground again and picked up the controller. He marched over to Barbara and thrust the controller into her hand. “Avenge me!” he commanded.
Barbara, the chosen warrior, grinned happily and pulled Bruce into her lap. “We’ll destroy the stupid boys together.”
“Eat dirt, former Robins!” Steph cheered.
“You were a Robin too!” Tim shouted.
“Don’t care!” Steph grinned and stuck her tongue out at Tim. Bruce copied her and gave him a thumbs down.
“Gah!” Tim dramatically clutched his chest and shakingly held up his controller. “I’ll destroy your warrior for that, Bruce!”
Bruce giggles at the theatrics and blew a raspberry at the boys.
Everyone crowded around Barbara, showing their staunch support, and mocked the older boys for the fun of it.
“Boo, what kind of technique was that? Even a toddler could do better,” Duke taunted.
“Tt. How could you miss the item like that? Only you, Drake.”
“Get wrecked!” Cass cheered.
Babs had an overwhelming lead.
“How are you so good at this, Babs?!” Dick shrieked.
“Barbara!” Jason cursed as he fell for a trap Babs set up.
“No!!!” Tim cried.
Three new sore losers were born and sitting on his golden throne was Bruce, staring down upon his new subjects of Loserdom.
“Who’s the loser now?” he mocked.
“You didn’t even do anything!” Tim pointed out.
Babs grinned and her entire body projected ‘satisfaction’ and ‘vicious delight’. “Look, he’s been helping me.”
She lifted the controller and Bruce’s arms rose with it. He’d also been holding the controller.
“I was playing too!” Bruce revealed. He cackled joyfully and everyone was too enamored by the sight to burst his bubble.
They played a dancing game next and Bruce still had a terrible sense of rhythm but he was very earnest in following directions and eventually got a hang of actually copying the movements in time with the model on the screen. Most importantly, his look of concentration was so adorable that most of them weren’t even looking at the screen and were instead watching Bruce and recording him dancing.
Horrible as he was at dancing the moves in time, Bruce still scored more points than Tim and Steph because Tim was stiffer than stiff and just kept getting the moves wrong and Steph was too distracted with teasing everyone else to actually dance.
So, Dick was number one, Bruce was second, Steph third and Tim last.
“Yay!” Bruce cheered. “I’m terrible at dancing but you’re worse than me!”
“Excuse me, I’m a dancing goddess,” Steph cackled. “People see me and get mesmerised.
“More like blinded,” Tim snorted.
“What was that, boy wonder?”
“You’re terrible at dancing!”
“You can’t even do the macarena!”
Steph pounced on Tim and they both rolled on the ground, pulling each other’s hair.
Cass snuck a glance at Bruce in case he was overwhelmed by the chaos but he just looked vaguely amused. Just like his older self. Except Big Bruce always tried to pretend he wasn’t. As if he was responsible or something. Cass knew he secretly betted on their fights with Aunt Kate. She caught them placing bets once when they didn’t realise she was there.
(If she purposely started a fight just so they would both lose and collected her winnings, that was neither here nor there.)
Speaking of which, Aunt Kate owed Bruce a cookie now.
After last night, Bruce didn’t want to sleep alone so it was decided Duke would sleep in Bruce’s room with him. Everyone sulked and complained until Duke made a truly ingenious suggestion.
“Why don’t you just sneak in to cuddle after patrol? You’re all ninjas. You can be silent.”
Cass ignored the judgemental tone and gave her little brother a slap on the back for the good idea.
“Will you read me a story too?” Bruce asked, having snuck behind them who knows when.
Cass’ siblings pretended not to be surprised by his presence and clamoured to “volunteer as tribute”.
They played rock, paper, scissors for the right. Naturally, Cass won.
Cass read slowly, especially when she was reading aloud. She not only had to recognise the letters and words but also had to know what they sounded like too. It was still difficult and Cass often forgot what sounds were ‘open’ or ‘closed’. She had to say it aloud and then correct herself when it didn’t sound right.
But Bruce was patient with her. He didn’t tell her to hurry up or read ahead by himself. Bruce remained where he was, slumped against her side, and quietly listened, only correcting Cass when she asked him for clarification.
“I like your voice. It’s husky. Sounds good,” Bruce praised as he yawned.
“Thank you. Good night, Bruce.” Cass pressed a kiss against Bruce’s forehead and tucked him in like she’d seen Alfred doing.
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
“I love you guys too,” Duke chimed in. “Do I also get a goodnight kiss?”
Cass and Bruce snorted. They both pressed a kiss against Duke’s cheeks (Cass made sure it sounded extra loud.)
“Good night, Duke! We love you!” Bruce exclaimed.
“Love you, little brother.”
Notes:
I'm not an artist but I tried drawing Bunny! These were already pushing my artistic abilities to the limits so ignore anything weird about them. Cheers <3
Chapter 9
Summary:
Jason's POV.
Featuring the Bat's love of drama and theatrics.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jason clapped his hands and drew the attention of the two brats he was supposed to be babysitting. Well, Alfred was still home but he was cleaning and apparently decided that he’d had enough of Bruce following him around like a lost duckling for a lifetime. If you asked Jason, he’d say that Bruce never lost that habit and still followed Alfred around whenever he was bored (which was rare because the man was too busy to be bored but it’s been known to happen). Jason wouldn’t call himself responsible by any definition of the word but the people higher up than he was in the adult hierarchy of the Wayne household had actual jobs that they needed to get to and so he was the next best option.
He had been given strict instructions to not cause trouble (which was Jason’s favourite pastime so that was regrettable) and to act like a proper role model (ew) for those younger than him. Thus, here he was, standing in the sitting room in front of two almost identical brats and engaging his second favourite pastime.
“Alright, kids. Let me tell you a beautiful story greater than anything Dickens has ever written.”
Bruce blinked and then nodded. Beside him, Damian crossed his arms and clicked his tongue. Jason ignored it. That was typical Damian behaviour. It wasn’t even worth noting.
“Do not disrespect Dickens with your drivel, Todd. No story you tell will ever approach anywhere near the level of Dickens.”
Jason scoffed. “You don’t even like Charles Dickens. I vividly recall you calling The Christmas Carol ‘a waste of paper and ink that has forever poisoned literature with its nonsense’.”
“And you’re below even that, Todd.”
“Ha ha, brat. I really value your opinion and am now devastated. I shall never recover from this slight. Woe is me. How am I supposed to show my face now?” Jason deadpanned.
Bruce snickered and Jason pretended that he wasn’t preening. He thought he was done trying to impress Bruce years ago. Oh, who was he kidding? Jason never stopped trying. He was always vying for Bruce’s attention, begging for scraps of his approval. But Jason was a starving man with an abundance of food. He always reached his capacity too soon, wanting to take in more yet unable to. It did not help that Bruce was always so goddamn proud of him— Jason had no choice but to run from Bruce and thus his affections once he’d reached his daily limit. (Running was always him screaming at Bruce and then coming back the next day to repeat it all again. Honestly, the bemused look on Bruce’s face whenever it happened was almost worth the teasing he got from his stupid siblings.)
“Anyway, allow me to set the scene.” Jason cleared his throat and watched as the two kids straightened up in their seats. “It’s the dead of night. There’s no one out except idiots, people with jobs and criminals with nothing better to do. This particular street is empty save for the sewer rat the size of a cat running across with a slice of pizza in its mouth and one handsome, genius boy—”
Damian threw a couch cushion at Jason. He caught it and threw it right back. Jason was honestly excepting a dagger, like the last three times Damian had thrown something at him (before that, he threw a grenade he found on the ground), but – surprise, surprise – the demon brat actually knew how to restrain himself out of consideration for others.
“Stop flattering yourself, Todd.”
He threw the cushion at Jason again.
“Aww, you think I’m a handsome, genius boy?” Jason cooed as he threw the cushion back.
“No!” Damian went red in the face and he scowled, hissing irritably.
“Why’d you think I was talking about myself then?”
“You’ve told this story hundreds of times already!”
Jason crossed his arms and cocked his hips. “And?”
Damian scoffed. “You spoke of it as if it were a masterpiece. It’s worse than Grayson’s story about rock candy monsters.”
“Rude. Nothing will ever be as bad as that. Besides, Bruce loves the story.”
“That’s because Father is blinded by nostalgia.”
“Well, he doesn’t have nostalgia right now, does he? We should let him judge for himself. What do you think, Bruce?”
“I want to hear the story,” Bruce said with a wide smile. God, Jason will never get used to how much this Bruce smiled. How freely he smiled. He had no doubt the rest of the family shared his sentiments. The security feed from this period of time was 100% going to be archived and copied so much that not even Oracle would be able to find and delete them all because there was no way the family was letting any second of footage of this Bruce get erased. Tim would probably edit it into a home movie or some shit and pretend it was for blackmail purposes.
“Well then, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, the handsome, genius boy was innocently walking by when he stumbled upon the most expensive car he’d ever lay his eyes upon. He instantly knew it was the batmobile due to the obnoxious bat symbols littered all over the vehicle. But the boy did not care. He saw the car, unattended and just sitting there and saw a challenge. It was daring him to touch it, to steal from it, to take. And so, the boy with all his infinite wisdom got his tire iron and got to work.”
Damian rolled his eyes with entirely too much sass. “You instantly tripped the silent alarm system and you know it.”
“Spoilers,” Jason hissed.
“I actually remember this story,” Bruce confessed.
“What?”
“I remember how I met most of you.”
Jason crossed his arms petulantly. This was his favourite story to tell and the brats were ruining it! “Oh, yeah? Prove it.”
Bruce happily hopped off the couch and pushed Jason into the seat he just vacated. He put his hands on his hips and looked at something that wasn’t there. “And that’s the third tire. I’m going to get the last one too. Surely, Batman’s too busy to mind his car. Oh no, Batman’s back,” he monotonously recited. Bruce then held his hands behind his back and flashed his audience a pair of innocent eyes. “No, sir, I don’t know what happened to your tires. They were gone before I got here. Uhuh. I can prove it. Sike!” Bruce pretended to swing at the audience. “Ya big boob! Hah! You can’t catch me! Argh, I’ve been caught. Yes, sir. I’ll put the tires back on. You’re going to buy me food? Sweet! Wait. Is this a kidnapping? Is adoption just legal kidnapping? Batman’s a child snatcher!”
Damian actually chuckled, “That’s the best version of this story I’ve ever heard.”
Bruce grinned.
“That’s not how it went at all!” Jason protested.
Bruce blinked innocently at him. “That’s how I remember it.” He shrugged.
“You have flawed memories,” Jason hissed.
There was a small nagging part of him that wondered if Bruce remembered his death and subsequent return. Probably. After all, if Bruce could remember how he met them all and the fact that Dickface liked to swing from the chandeliers, then Jason dying and coming back was likely something he recalled. But Bruce wasn’t mentioning it and the other memories were tinged with fondness so there was a chance that he didn’t remember. Jason wasn’t sure. The only way to know would be to ask Bruce but there was no way Jason would be the one to breach the topic. That can of worms could stay unopened, thank you very much. It was already a sore topic with the older Bruce. Jason didn’t need to see this Bruce, small and innocent, flash those sorrow-filled eyes at him. Urgh. He was shuddering just thinking about it. Curse Bruce and his Bambi-looking eyes.
“What was the purpose of telling this story again, Todd?”
“Uh, because it’s the single best story of our generation and Bruce deserves to hear it?”
Damian snorted. “Sure, Todd.”
Jason was going to strangle Tim for teaching the Demon Brat sarcasm. He didn’t. Only because little Bruce was here. Jason restrained himself and settled for rolling his eyes. “What do you want to do instead?”
There was a sparkle in Damian’s eyes that told Jason the brat thought he was about to win something. “We can watch a movie again. Father secretly loved it and I think Bunny would enjoy it too.”
“What movie?” Bruce asked.
“It’s the second instalment of the series but can be watched as a standalone. The protagonist is a sword-fighting cat living in a fairy tale world and he can talk.”
“Puss in Boots? Didn’t you watch that months ago?” Jason asked. He reached over and pulled Bruce into his lap. Bruce went willing and held onto Jason’s arms where they were wrapped around his waist.
“Yes, you were busy that night but Father was the one that suggested we watch it. He tried to pretend it was for me but Richard said it’s because Puss is voiced by Antonio Banderas.”
“Zorro?” Bruce interrupted. He was excitedly leaning towards Damian as if doing so would get the brat to speak faster.
“He’s the same actor, yes.” Damina looked smug. Like the cat that got the canary. “Drake called Puss Zorro if he were a Spanish cat.”
“Cool,” Bruce breathed out. “Are we watching it at home like yesterday or going out?”
He sounded a little uncomfortable at the prospect of going outside to watch a movie. Jason suddenly was way too aware of what the Waynes were doing before they were in that alley that night. He was surprised that Bruce was comfortable watching movies with them yesterday.
“We’ll watch it here.” Damian snatched the TV remote and opened it up to play the newest Puss in Boots movie. “Are you interested?”
Bruce’s mood was back to his cheery default (wow, Jason was still in awe about that) and he nodded enthusiastically. “I like movies but I don’t think I like cinemas,” he whispered, quietly, as if it were a mortal sin.
“I don’t like cinemas either. People get too annoyed at me for chatting during the film.” Jason hugged Bruce tighter and the little guy leaned back against him.
“That’s because you keep comparing everything to the book, Todd,” Damian groused.
“Every book to movie adaptation is a fu-uhhh-fudging travesty! They cut out things that are crucial to character development and add in things that ruin everything! Soulless cash grabs are what they are. They've no respect for the source material. No love!”
“So you’ve said,” Damian dryly intoned.
“Oh, don’t give me that attitude, Demon Brat. I’ve seen how you get about those anime adaptations of manga you like.”
“They skipped an entire arc and completely ruined the flow of the story!” Damian clapped back.
“Is Puss in Boots an adaptation too?” Bruce asked.
“It’s set in a fairy tale world but the storyline is original,” Jason replied.
“The character Puss in Boots is very loosely based on an Italian fairy tale which makes the character’s Spanish heritage strange but then again his voice actor is Spanish and it is a homage to Zorro,” Damian added.
“You’re very knowledgeable,” Bruce praised.
Damian flushed and looked away.
“Bruce told you, didn’t he?” Jason guessed.
Little Bruce looked up at him at the mention of his name.
“Big Bruce,” Jason clarified. It was moments like this that made Jason grateful for the nickname Damian came up for him. Even if Damian hated it whenever anyone other than him used it. But Alfred officialised it so really, he should take it up with him.
“Father may have mentioned a few details,” Damian begrudgingly admitted. “In any case, we’ve spoken long enough. Let’s watch the movie.”
The movie was actually pretty good. The animation was fan-fucking-tastic and just absolutely gorgeous. Jason didn’t expect a kids’ movie to centre around death and mortality as a theme but it was well handled and really, a lesson that their family needed to be reminded of over and over again. Death as a character was absolutely terrifying upon first introduction (Bunny had tensed in Jason’s arms when the fight scene unfolded but he gradually relaxed as Jason rubbed circles on his arm) and the way he exited was also befitting of the personification of Death.
All that to say, Jason enjoyed the movie and the brats did too.
“Oy, Spawn, the real reason you wanted to watch it is because you’re basically Puss, right?” Jason teased.
“What?” Damian squawked.
“Stabby sword. Short. Arrogant. C’mon, Fearless Hero is basically your theme song.”
“That is ridiculous!” Damian protested. “If anything, I would say Father is most like Puss.”
“Hn. Yeah, you’re right. Damn, he even adopted a kid in the movie. How did I not see it earlier?”
Jason grabbed Bruce under his pits and held him in front of him. “Bunny, are you interested in some cosplay?”
Bruce blinked.
Bruce was dressed in Puss’ sick ass hat with the beautiful feather, a nice black cape, the crucial boots, a thick belt, and of course, there was a rapier (courtesy of Damian) hanging by his side. Puss didn’t exactly wear any other clothes but they couldn’t make Bruce go commando so Jason got him a loose white shirt and some black slacks to complete the fit. The result was absolutely adorable.
“Give it a twirl, Puss!”
Bruce grinned and twirled, his cape dramatically flowing behind him. Batman’s innate instinct to make his cape look cool wasn’t lost on Bunny, it seemed.
“Let’s film an MV. We’ll film dramatic shots of you in your costume and you can ‘defeat’ Damian with your sword. Doesn’t it sound fun, Bunny?”
“Yeah! Dami, can I choose your outfit?” he asked, eyes big and round, lashes fluttering in the gremlin’s direction. Bunny knew he was cute and wasn’t above taking advantage of it.
“Tt. You may.” As expected, Damian gave his permission.
“Great! We need to get you horns and a cool jacket and claws and fangs!”
Damian reviewed the list in his head and nodded. “We have props in the Batcave.”
“Cool.” Bruce grinned.
“Kick him! Kick him, Bunny!”
Bruce listened to Jason’s instructions and gave a surprisingly good kick to Damian’s side. The Demon Brat obviously saw it coming and dodged just enough so that it wouldn’t land but would look like it did. Then he made it look like the kick sent him tumbling back and dramatically bared his fangs at Bruce.
“Draw your sword!”
Bruce drew his sword with flare and pointed it at Damian with a cocky smirk. Then he advanced with surprisingly good footwork and stabbed at Damian. The Spawn parried it with his ‘claws’ and hissed.
“Stab him!” Jason cheered.
“What are you doing?” Dick questioned. He grabbed Jason’s shoulder and made his phone shake.
“Dick!” Jason groaned. “You ruined the video!”
“What?”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Use your brain, detective.”
“You’re filming a video about Damian and Bruce fake fighting?”
“No, genius. We’re filming an MV for Fearless Hero. Bruce is so obviously dressed as Puss in Boots.”
Tim’s voice sounded behind them. “Dick, we can use this!”
“I still don’t think it’s very wise, Tim,” Dick replied.
“C’mon, Dick. We all know that people are only going to get more and more curious. At least this way, we can have some control over it.”
“What are you two talking about?” Jason asked.
Damian and Bruce stopped playfighting and were both paying attention to the conversation.
“People are overly curious about Bruce and his current situation. There are paparazzi surrounding the manor gates and Wayne Tower. Not to mention, people keep thinking that he’s— y’know. Bruce worked so hard to escape that image and we all know that it’s going to follow him for months after he’s back to normal. He’ll pretend that it doesn’t bother him but we know better,” Tim explained. “That’s why I was thinking of sharing pictures and videos of this Bruce online so that we could alter the public’s perception of what a kid Bruce is like. Without making it obvious, of course. They’ll think we’re faking it otherwise.”
Jason pursed his lips. He had to admit, it was annoying going online and seeing people calling his dad a poor sad child when it was so clear that Bunny was the brightest little bugger he’s ever met. Jason was annoyed about it. How would Bruce feel once he was back to normal?
“What do you think, Bunny? Are you fine with us sharing your photos and videos?” he asked.
Bruce paused, thinking it over. He eventually nodded. “Okay. I trust you.”
I trust you.
The words echoed in Jason’s mind and overlapped with the older, more mature voice of his dad, “I trust you, Jaylad.”
Jason leaned down and ruffled Bruce’s hair. He grinned. “Then we better make this the best, coolest, greatest MV ever.”
“Great,” Tim said. “First things first, I’m taking over as cameraman. No offence, Jay, but I saw how you were filming earlier and you used a single camera angle and didn’t even bother to centre the subjects. It was horrible.”
Damian snorted.
“Whatever. Go grab your fancy equipment, Timberlina. I’ll coach Bruce on the fight choreography.”
“And I’ll add to the costumes,” Dick gleefully said. “You need cat ears, Bruce!”
Oh, this was going to be great. Jason could already imagine all the comments (and Bruce’s embarrassment when he was back to normal).
Notes:
Yeah... I recently rewatched Puss in Boots: The Last Wish and the fic got derailed. Oops.
Chapter 10
Summary:
internet and dad lore
Notes:
Ignore the increasing chapter count of shame. It doesn't exist. If you saw a 12 before, it's because you mistook the 5 for a 2.
Chapter Text
“I’m still not sure this is a good idea. Have you asked the PR team?”
“Yes, Dick, I have. They said it’s fine,” Tim sighed, repeating himself for the fifth time that day. “Gosh, Dick. We’re literally on the final step of this process. You were so excited to film everything, why are you hesitating now? Why are you even so against it? Bruce gave us his permission.”
Dick ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “It’s just— So much of Bruce’s life is already so public and everyone keeps picking him apart and examining him as if they have any right to do so. Seeing them do it to Brucie is annoying enough, but this is Bruce. A younger version but still Bruce. Bruce is ours. He’s not theirs to see, to analyse and then forget about as if he was another character in a show.”
Tim fell silent as he processed what Dick just said. He understood what Dick was saying. The few of them that got the privilege and honour of knowing Bruce — not Brucie or Batman but Bruce — guarded it like a dragon would protect its hoard. The man already gave so much of himself away to Gotham and the world, he didn’t need to give them his real self too.
Bruce wasn’t for the masses. They didn’t get to have him. Bruce belonged to the family; in the confines of the manor, in quiet nights, and in affectionate company.
Bruce was theirs.
“Listen, Dick, I get what you’re saying but if we don’t do something about this, the real Bruce would be affected. You saw how they're talking about Bruce. Even after you posted that picture, they're still talking about him like he's some kind of Greek tragedy.”
“Greek tragedies are about hubris, actually,” Jason interjected.
Tim elected to ignore the nerd and Dick did the same. “Hell, they're using that photo like they do in fucking documentaries. All, he was a happy child until he wasn't. They fucking pity him, Dick. They talk about him like he's inconsolable. Forever broken. Fuck. That's not him at all. Bruce- he's broody and emo as fuck but he's not a fucking tragedy. He's happy and content even and they're talking about him like he'll never be happy ever again. And they don't even know how Bruce acts in private. All they know is Brucie and they still- they're still acting as if that kid will never smile again. Never laugh. Never know joy."
“‘Sides, it’s not like they’re getting everything. We’re posting small snapshots of Bunny. We’re not giving them Bruce. Not really,” Jason added.
Dick chewed on his lower lip. "I guess the internet is already out of control so it can't really do any further harm..."
"Exactly! I'm just sick of people throwing a pity party for Bruce. He'll hate it when he comes back and sees everything. All the fucking reporters asking him about what it was like— Fuck, I can't even begin to imagine how irritating that will be. If we show him being a happy child, at least all those questions would take a more positive turn. Not 'was the grieving easier this time around?' or 'was it confusing when you realised your parents died three decades ago when it was just yesterday for you?' I'd rather they ask him dumb stuff like 'what was it like to explore Minecraft as a child again?', y'know?”
“Okay.” Dick took in a deep breath and nodded. “Post it.”
We’re the Waynes @WayneFamilyOfficial ✓
We’ve been watching Puss in Boots: The Last Wish and got a little carried away 😅
[Video]
The opening notes of Fearless Hero play and the camera pans down from a boundless blue sky to Puss in Boot’s signature hat. A small hand reaches up and readjusts the hat to reveal a pair of bright eyes. The camera zooms out and Baby Bruce’s face lights up with Puss’ smug exuberance. He winks and mouths along with the lyrics.
Following this is a montage of Baby Bruce in various situations. He stands on Jason’s shoulders with a sword in his hand pointed at the ceiling and orders Jason to charge forward. Baby Bruce flips from a platform and lands in Richard’s arms. Timothy serves him a tall glass of water and Baby Bruce chugs it as fast as he can, which admittedly, isn’t all that fast, but he looks very proud of himself. Cassandra holds him up by his midriff as if he were a ballerino and she twirls him in the air to the beat of the music. Duke places him on the base of the water fountain and Baby Bruce uses his sword to redirect the flow of the water to splash on Duke instead.
The music comes to an abrupt end the same way it does in the movie but instead of the governor, it is the Wayne family butler, Alfred Pennyworth, who walks in. Baby Bruce blinks and hides his rapier behind his back. Alfred raises an eyebrow at him.
“Hey, Alfie,” Baby Bruce greets and smiles beautifully at his butler.
Alfred is unwavering despite the equivalent of a small sun being focused on him. “You may be an outlaw, Puss in Boots, but that does not give you the right to wear shoes on the couch.”
Baby Bruce looks down at his feet and the camera follows his eyeline. His boots are standing very firmly on the beautiful leather couch.
The camera zooms out and Baby Bruce takes off his hat, showing off his kitty ears. He peers through his eyelashes at his butler, eyes wide and innocent while his mouth forms a small pout. “I promise they’ve never been worn outside before, Alfie.”
Baby Bruce stares with his big round eyes and Alfred breaks eye contact.
“You are forgiven if you defeat the intruder,” he finally says.
The song picks up again and Baby Bruce is back in the garden, boots planted firmly on lush green grass. He draws his sword with a cocky grin and points it at Damian who is dressed as a demon. Baby Bruce and Damian enact a well-choreographed fight scene which eventually ends with Damian’s defeat and the crowds cheer and applaud the fearless hero as he bows and drinks in the praise.
Richie Grayson-Wayne @flyinggrayson ✓
The video was actually @Jasonrises ’s idea because he’s a huge nerd
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Jason Todd-Wayne @Jasonrises ✓
I give you this blessing and you call me a nerd. I see how it is
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Richie Grayson-Wayne @flyinggrayson ✓
Just calling it what it is, Jay
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Jason Todd-Wayne @Jasonrises ✓
@TimTime is the one that filmed it and @babsbabsbabs edited it so they’re the real nerds
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Tim Drake-Wayne @TimTime ✓
You wanted to film this whole thing on a phone. It was a travesty.
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Jason Todd-Wayne @Jasonrises ✓
Big words for a little man
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Tim Drake-Wayne @TimTime ✓
I would sleep with one eye open if I were you
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Jason Todd-Wayne @Jasonrises ✓
Jokes on you, I’m sleeping with Baby Bruce tonight
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Tim Drake-Wayne @TimTime ✓
Baby Bruce is susceptible to cookie bribes
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Jason Todd-Wayne @Jasonrises ✓
[ID: Ralph in danger meme. Subtitled, (Chuckles) I’m in danger]
“Okay, that was casual enough, right?” Tim threw his phone on the table and ignored the way it immediately began buzzing with notifications. “Why was this so stressful? It’s literally just a video. I blame you, Dick. Your worrywart disease rubbed off on me”
“They were valid concerns!” Dick protested. He stood up and pulled Tim up by the arm. “C’mon, let's find Bunny and heal our souls. Jay, you too.”
“No,” Jason said as he stood up with a stretch. “They’re hanging out in the barn with Batcow. If shovelling cow shit is therapeutic to you, then be my guest.”
“Don’t be silly, Jay.” Dick rolled his eyes and threw his arm around Jason’s shoulder. “Dami does all his chores in the morning. There won’t be any shit.”
“Right. Just the smell of cow shit then. Joy.”
They walked out and made the trek to the barn when a wicked grin formed on Jason’s face. “How’d you know Bunny was susceptible to cookie bribes, Timbit? Have you been giving him more cookies even though Alfred expressly forbade us from doing so?”
Jason saw Tim tense up. “I was just saying it as a joke,” he lied.
“What’d you bribe him to do? Do you have photos?” Jason asked with glee.
Tim thought over it for a moment before grabbing his phone. “I thought it would be funny to make Bruce wear Green Lantern merch but it turns out he has an instinctual dislike of Green Lantern so I had to bribe him to wear it. He only accepted after I promised him six cookies.”
Replying to @WayneFamilyOfficial
Wayne Family Fan Account @wayneposting
We have been blessed. Gotham be with us, I am about to ascend to a higher plane of existence by the sheer power of this cuteness. How did Alfred Pennyworth survive the full blast of those puppy eyes (or shall I say kitty eyes?) I am a weaker man. I would have perished on the spot
||
Wayne Family Fan Account @wayneposting
If Baby Bruce was Helen of Troy, I would start a war for him
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Wayne Simp @nowaynenoentry
Sign me up, sis
||
Our Prince ❤️🔥@Brucewaynestan
At the front lines protecting our prince!
Andrea @AndreaWilliams
They call him Baby Bruce 😭😭😭 This is too precious
Winston @Windyhalls
He embodies this image way too good
[ID: Puss in Boots with big round eyes and his paws holding his hat looking adorably into your soul]
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Our Prince ❤️🔥@Brucewaynestan
He’s literally perfect
Our Prince ❤️🔥@Brucewaynestan
That wink!!! 😭😍🥰 Brucie really has been stealing hearts from day 1 #babybruce
BearBareBear @bearwithme
ngl, i want to see adult brucie do a puss in boots cosplay too
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BearBareBear @bearwithme
He’ll look so good. I just know it. AND he’ll do the Puss in Boots cute eyes just as well
Carl @HRcarl
This is disgusting. I can’t believe the Waynes would force a grieving kid to film a music video and pretend to be happy. I thought they were better than this
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Andrew @foresttheseguns
Are you dumb or dumb? The Waynes love their dad and would never force him to do anything he didn’t want to. And his young self is so obviously enjoying himself in the video. Why are you trying to make drama where there isn’t any?
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Andrew @foresttheseguns
Lmao, they blocked me
Bbg Brucie 😍@bbgbrucie
I know I call him babygirl a lot but he’s literally baby rn. He’s too adorable. I can’t even #babybruce
Heather @isthishell
Everyone was all like ‘poor Brucie, he must be so sad’ and spreading that image around even though the Waynes explicitly asked us not to when all along, he’s been the happiest baby angel there ever was. He’s literally a bundle of joy. A ray of sunshine. Sunflowers turn to him because they think he’s the sun
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Heather @isthishell
If you spam my inbox with that photo, im going to block you. Dont test me.
Patrick @skyhighrent
Is there more #babybruce content? Please. I’m begging on my hands and knees. I need more!
Natalie @weareweirdhere
I’m glad Bruce looks happy here. I was so worried because of what everyone was saying
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Natalie @weareweirdhere
Thank god the Waynes posted this video
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Natalie @weareweirdhere
They all look like they’re having so much fun filming the video ♥️♥️♥️ I’m happy for them
Spare me @foulhellion
@WayneFamilyOfficial has anyone introduced #babybruce to baby shark yet and where’s the video?
“Looks like most of the responses have been positive,” Dick commented as he scrolled through his phone.
“Told you there was nothing to worry about,” Tim smugly responded.
“Master Bruce has always been one to captivate the crowd,” Alfred proudly told them.
The kids could only smile in response to that. It was heartwarming to see Alfred allow himself to act like the proud soccer mum he’s always been.
“Honestly though, people are going crazy over him online. I’m surprised no one’s tried to break into the manor to snatch him up,” Jason said.
“Oh, trust me, they have,” Alfred said darkly. He gathered all their empty cups and began to head to the kitchen.
“Wait, Alfred, what did you mean by that?!” Dick stood in front of Alfred and blocked his path of retreat.
“Well, let’s just say there’s a reason Master Bruce was homeschooled for as long as he was.” Alfred gave them all a little nod and walked out with his tray of cups balanced perfectly, not making a single rattle as he moved forward.
“I feel like I just learnt some dad lore that makes so much sense but also why did Alfred have to drop it on us like that? All casual as if that wasn’t the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” Tim groaned, breaking the stunned silence.
“That’s part of dad lore, Timbo. The one sentence mentions and refusal to elaborate in a way that makes sense,” Jason commiserated. “One time Bruce mentioned that he and Talia were still technically married in Nanda Parbat and he asked me if I thought he should get it annulled but then answered himself and went: Never mind, it’s not legally binding anywhere else. It’s not like Ra’s is authorised to officiate a wedding.”
“He’s married to Talia?” Dick asked incredulously. He sat back down next to Tim and leaned in close to Jason. “How come I never heard that?”
Jason pushed Dick’s head away. “How am I supposed to know, Dickolas? I asked him and all he said was: I was young and awkward once. As if that answered anything. The man acts like he’s seventy. He’s forty.”
Tim held his head in his hands. “All this dad lore is killing me.”
“What’s dad lore?” Bruce’s soft voice asked.
The three eldest Wayne boys snapped their heads to the door. Bruce stood there with a curious look on his face and smiled at them when they all looked at him.
“Hey Bruce, how long have you been standing there?”
“Just as Timmy talked about dad lore.” Bruce walked in and sat himself on Jason’s lap. Jason looked smugly at the other two and ignored the fact that he was sitting closest to the door. “What does dad lore mean?”
“It’s stories about your dad that you’ve never known before,” Dick answered. He ruffled Bruce’s hair with a grin. “Do you have some stories to share so we can add them to the dad lore?”
Bruce hummed. “Um, I was in a movie once?”
“You were in a movie?!” the three asked in unison.
Bruce nodded. He hopped off Jason’s lap and waved them all goodbye. “I just remembered that Dami wanted to paint together. Bye bye.”
“Wait, Bruce! What did you mean you were in a movie?”
Bruce did not answer.
“Damn cryptid bastard.”
“Jason!”
“What?”
“He’s a kid!”
“And he’s still as cryptic as ever! Someone, look up Bruce Wayne child actor. How the hell did we not know this before?”
“There won’t be any results,” Tim tiredly told them. “If there was any news about it, I’d have already known this. He must’ve acted under an alias.”
“How does Bruce have so much lore that I don’t know? I’ve known him since he was in his early twenties!” Dick dispaired.
“I’m going to text Babs, she’ll unearth this movie,” Jason told them.
“Why not just ask Alfred?”
“Since when has Alfred ever given us a straight answer when we asked about Bruce’s past, let alone his own?”
They all let out a collective groan.
Dads, they were all insufferable.
Chapter Text
“We! Are! Here!!!” Harley’s cheerful voice announced over the intercom that was placed at the hidden gate of the manor. She had leaned out of the window and spoken directly into the microphone, consequently obscuring the camera such that her beaming face was the only thing visible on the screen.
“Dr Quinnzel, it is a pleasure to see you, however, I must inform you that we are not currently accepting any visitors,” Alfred told her in his bland British voice.
“Boooo, not even us, Alfred?”
“No, Ma’am.”
“But we have intel!” Harley protested. She leaned back and finally, Alfred could see Harley’s lovely rainbow-coloured car within the frame. (It was also visible on a different hidden camera) Harley pulled something out of the car and shoved it at the intercom. “And presents!”
“You may leave your gifts at the entrance and inform me of this intel separately.”
Selina leaned over Harley and spoke into the microphone. “Harvey’s the one that shared this information with us. I think it would be best to share this with the family as a whole.”
“...Very well then. You may come in. Do keep in mind that Master Bruce has not retained his memories. He has always been shy and does not do well with strangers.”
“Yayyyyy~!” Harley cheered. “Brucie’s gonna love his new toys.”
Alfred allowed the trio entrance into the manor and headed towards the door to greet them. “Miss Kyle, Dr Isley, Dr Quinnzel. I trust you have all been well.”
“Hiya, Alfie! We’ve been super!” Harley grinned and skipped into the manor. The two paper bags in her arms swung along with her wide movement. “Brucie, oh, Brucie~ where are you?”
Selina pulled Harley back and prevented her from wandering into the manor alone.
“Alfred, I’ve brought some of the tea you like. I grew it myself.” Ivy gave Alfred a small paper bag and the butler received it with a small smile.
“Thank you, I will savour it.”
“How have you been, Alfred? Handling the little tyke better the second time around?” Selina asked with a teasing smile. “I saw the video yesterday. He seems like a handful in a different way from usual.”
“No matter the age, Master Bruce is Master Bruce.”
Selina laughed. “Is that so?”
Alfred smiled and led the trio into the sitting room where Duke was… flipping the cushions frantically?
“Master Duke?” Alfred questioned.
“Alfred!” Duke straightened up and hid his hands behind his back. He peered behind Alfred and smiled sheepishly. “And the Sirens. Hi, what are you all doing here?”
“We’re here to see Bruce and pass on some intel,” Ivy answered. She smiled sharkishly. “What are you doing?”
“I was straightening the cushions,” Duke replied with an innocent smile.
“Master Duke.”
The single address contained so little yet so much.
“I swear I was watching him properly! I only left for a minute to go to the bathroom but when I got back, Bunny wasn’t here anymore. I thought that he might’ve been hiding to scare me but I couldn’t find him,” Duke explained.
Alfred sighed. “Was this before or after the doorbell rang?”
“Um, it rang while I was in the bathroom. Why?”
Alfred clapped. “Young Master, come greet our guests. They are good friends of your older self.”
There was a pause.
Everyone looked at Alfred strangely but he was Alfred so they waited.
Bruce came out from behind the couch, dragging his feet behind him. He was covered in dust from head to toe; there was even a cobweb stuck to his hair! Bruce looked just like a chimney sweeper.
“But I checked behind the couch!” Duke exclaimed.
Bruce giggled but the laughter petered out when he glanced in Alfred’s direction. The boy had an ‘uh oh’ expression on his face and he quickly straightened up. Bruce marched over to Alfred and stopped right in front of him.
The butler sighed and removed the cobweb from Bruce’s hair with his gloved hand. “Young Master, what did I say about using those pathways?”
Bruce kicked at the ground and twisted his body from side to side. “Not to.”
“And what did you do?”
“Used the pathways,” Bruce replied sullenly. “I’m sorry, I was startled and they were the first place I thought to hide.”
“As long as you know.” Alfred nodded firmly and placed a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Wash up after you greet our guests.”
Bruce turned to the Gotham Sirens while hugging Alfred’s arm. His eyes lingered on Ivy’s green skin for a while before returning to Harley who stood at the centre of the trio. “Hello,” he greeted politely. “My name is Bruce. May I know your names?”
Harley gasped and pressed her cheeks with two hands. “Awwwwww, you’re a cutie! The absolute cutest! I’m Harley and I’m your bestie when you’re older! This is also your bestie, Selina! She calls you Bat and you call her Cat. Your other bestie is Pamela. I call her Pammy or Red. Sometimes Ivy. Short for Poison Ivy. Because she has plant powers. Ooh, ooh! Red, you should make him a flower crown! It would be so adorable!”
Ivy chuckled fondly and patted Harley on the head. “Maybe after he showers.”
“You have plant powers?” Bruce asked with awe on his face. “Can you control plants? Do you know what they’re saying? Can you mutate them? Can you make them different colours from normal plants?”
“Master Bruce,” Alfred interrupted. “You can save your questions for after you wash up.”
“Yeeesss, Alfred,” Bruce sang. To the Sirens he said, “I’ll be back really quick. See you soon, um, besties?”
Harley swooned dramatically into Selina’s arms. “Brucie called me his bestie. Oh Gotham, I never thought I’d live to see the day. Those days spent suffering in med school as his study buddy were totally worth it now.”
Bruce laughed at the dramatics but quickly made his exit.
“Master Duke, could you please gather all your siblings if they are home? Our guests have some news to share with us.”
“Oh, yeah, totally.” Duke waved to the Sirens and then walked out.
“Please make yourselves comfortable. I’ll prepare some tea. I believe you’ll enjoy this new blend I’ve been experimenting with, Dr Isely.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
When all the Bats (except Bruce) were gathered, the Sirens revealed what they came here for.
“Harvey broke out of Arkham just a few hours ago,” Selina told them. “He overheard some inmates making plans to kidnap Bruce and decided to warn us. Apparently, they made a bet on who could take him first.”
“What?!” Damian yelled. “Who dares?” His hand opened and clenched, clearly itching to cut the culprits with his blade.
“I knew we shouldn’t have released that video. Bruce is so cute, anyone who saw it would want to kidnap him. I bet all the kidnappers started preparing their vans full of candy after they watched the video.” Dick slapped his knee and started nervously running his hand through his hair.
“Oh come on, Dick!” Tim groaned. “Bruce is prime kidnapping material even without the video.”
“But it put him on their radar!”
“He’s been on the news for the whole week!”
“Boys,” Alfred warned.
The two settled back against the couch and waited for Selina to keep talking.
“Harvey was still planning his escape when that video came out,” she said. “By the way, loved the cat ears.”
Dick brightened up. “They were my idea!”
Tim kicked Dick’s shin and dodged when his brother tried to retaliate. Dick’s foot ended up kicking Duke instead and he got another heel to the shin for his troubles.
“Anyway, he said that most were curious and just wanted to get a good look at the de-aged Brucie. The ransom and all that were just an afterthought but there were also a few that had nefarious intents and so he decided to warn you all in advance about it.”
“Why didn’t he just tell us?” Steph questioned.
Ivy smirked. “Well, technically, he wasn’t giving a warning, he was just sharing gossip.”
Harley laughed like a hyena. “He— he was all, like, ‘I have gossip to share. A bunch of the guys are trying to kidnap Bruce. This is totally not a warning. Don’t tell the Waynes to be careful or anything.’ Like, that was even worse than that one time Brucie had a very loud phone call with me and Pam within earshot and leaked the fact that all the employees of a certain environmentally unsafe building were going on break for a week.”
Tim snorted, remembering that exact phone call. It was an interesting call, to say the least.
Babs shook her head sadly. “Middle-aged men can never be honest.” She failed to keep a straight face and giggled into her hand.
“Do you think he flipped his coin and one side said he was going to warn us and the other side said he wouldn’t but it landed on the negative side and he wanted to warn us anyway so he came up with a loophole?” Steph asked.
“This– this is what he went to law school for. To find loopholes in his own shtick!” Duke joked.
“So, who’s planning on taking the kiddo?” Jason asked, bringing them back on track.
“Ozzy, Crane, Hush, Tetch and—”
“Mistah J,” Harley finished. “They’re officially beginning the bet at the end of the week, which is tomorrow.”
A heavy silence fell over the room.
“Thank you for informing us of this,” Alfred finally said. He placed his cup down and topped everyone’s cups with more tea. “We will be taking additional measures to ensure Master Bruce’s safety.”
Harley brightened up. “No problem, Alfie! Afta’ all, we’re Brucie’s besties!!!”
“Indeed you are.”
After some discussion, it was decided that Bruce would be informed of this after the Sirens left. Alfred had wanted Bruce to have some fun with friends without any worries and everyone else agreed. They scattered again to make preparations for the defensive measures with only a few kids staying in the sitting room.
“I’m back!” Bruce cheerfully announced. He was dressed in a Robin hoodie, hair dripping water onto his hood.
“Master Bruce, how many times must I tell you to dry your hair after washing it?” Alfred admonished.
“I have a towel right here!” Bruce brandished the towel like a trophy. He then threw it over his head and skipped over to the couch the Sirens were sitting on. “Can I see your plant powers, please, Miss Ivy?”
“Maybe after you dry your hair,” Ivy said with amusement laced in her voice.
Bruce pouted. “I hate drying my hair.”
(“No wonder he’s always letting it air dry,” one of the kids whispered. “I thought he just didn’t want heat damage and was too stupid to figure out the cold setting.”)
Selina grinned. “Come here, Bat, I’ll help you.”
“Really? Yay! Thank you, Miss Cat.”
Bruce climbed into Selina’s lap and hummed happily as she began to help him dry his hair.
“Miss Kyle, if you continue to indulge Master Bruce, he will never learn,” Alfred huffed.
Selina grinned. “If I help him dry his hair, Bruce lets me paint his nails.”
(“This explains so much.”)
“One day, I will make his leaving on patrol contingent on him properly drying his hair on his own,” Alfred vowed.
(“I just realised that I’ve been drying Bruce’s hair for him the past week too. I can’t believe I’ve never noticed this before.”)
“There, mostly dry now.” Selina ran her fingers through Bruce’s damp hair and nodded proudly to herself.
Bruce did the same and beamed. “Thank you, Miss Cat. You’re really good at this!”
Selina flicked the little bugger’s nose lightly. “Older you owes me a manicure.”
Bruce covered his nose with both hands and escaped Selina’s lap with a giggle.
“Miss Ivy, Miss Ivy,” he called, bouncing on his toes. “Could I please see your plant powers now?”
“Only because you asked so nicely.” Ivy created a crown made of colourful flowers and placed it on Bruce’s head.
Bruce patted his head and stared at Ivy with awe. “That’s so cool! Thank you, Miss Ivy!”
“You look like a fae prince, Brucie!” Harley cooed.
Bruce grinned and knelt before Harley. “I know your name is Harley but I would love to know your last name too… bestie.”
Harley cackled and squeezed Bruce’s cheeks between two hands. “Nice try but you’re not stealing my name, bestie.”
“Aww.”
“Instead, I got you some gifts.” Harley reached over and grabbed the two paper bags behind her. “Tada! Open it, open it!”
Bruce glanced between Alfred and the gifts. When he received a nod from Alfred, he opened the bag. Inside was a soft plush of a cutesy cartoon bat. Bruce lifted it out of the bag and turned the toy around, examining it from all angles. Once he looked over it twice, he hugged it testingly and then again. Bruce flapped the bat’s wings experimentally and then beamed up at Harley. “Thank you, I like it very much.”
“Hehe, you’ll like it even more when you open the second bag.”
Bruce blinked and eagerly opened the second bag. The contents spilled out and an array of colourful birds and bats fell before Bruce’s feet. “This is…”
“That’s right! It’s your little bats and birds,” Harley announced proudly.
Bruce held up the small rotund black and blue bird and burst into giggles. “They’re perfect! Thank you, Bestie!”
“Ah, you’re too adorable!” Harley pulled Bruce in for a hug and jumped up and down. “Promise me you’ll call me bestie even when you grow up.”
“Ah~ Alfie said it’s not good to make false promises.”
“What?! Bestie, how could you?” Harley cried with faux dismay. She put Bruce down and swooned into Ivy and Selina’s arms. “Betrayed by my bestie. How can I live on now?”
Bruce hopped over to the couch his kids were sitting on with his new toys. He gave Duke the yellow bird, Steph the purple one, and Dick the black and blue one. The rest, he gave to Alfred for safekeeping while he kept the big bat for himself.
“Oh, right, Bestie,” Harley said. She got up from her position slouched against Selina and Ivy. “I came here to gossip.”
Alfred raised his eyebrow at Harley in silent warning.
“Did you know Agatha - yes, that Agatha, from school - she’s married now, by the way.”
“No way–!” Bruce gasped. He dropped his bat and clasped his hand over his mouth in scandalisation. “That witch? She swore she’d never get married or she’d turn her husband into a toad!”
“Master Bruce!” Alfred admonished.
“Alfred, she told me herself that she was descended from a long line of witches! And she threatened to turn me into a toad five times! Five! All I did was point out that she couldn’t fly on a broomstick. Especially not during class time!”
(“Who’s Agatha?”
“A witch, apparently.”
“Shhh, I’m trying to listen!”)
“She’s actually threatened you with that curse two hundred and fifteen times now,” Harley informed Bruce.
“Witch,” Bruce emphatically said. “I still associate with her?”
Selina chuckled. “She’s at pretty much every party you attend.”
“Wow.”
“Anyway, Agatha caught her husband in bed with another man and now she’s trying to hire someone to turn him into a toad.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Selina smirked. “I overheard her asking the Johnsons for a magician’s contact. Problem is, the Johnsons thought she wanted a party magician and gave her the number to the one they hired last summer. I imagine they had a very fun conversation.”
Bruce giggled happily. “You should pose as a magician and offer your services.”
“I love the way you think, Bestie!”
“You could offer her a fake potion and punish the cheating husband and then give Agatha a toad from the roadside and tell her that it's her husband.”
Harley gasped. “You’re a little genius! Where was all this devious prank energy when we were in med school?”
“Probably being crushed under all the workload.”
Ivy snorted. “How do you know? You haven’t lived it yet.”
“Father always complained about how difficult med school was. He said it was worse than being an actual doctor.”
“It really was.” Harvey shivered with med-school trauma. It was no wonder so many professors turned into rogues.
They gossiped and planned their prank on Agatha for a long while, the kids coming in and out, until the Sirens had to leave.
“Bye bye, Bestie!”
“Bye Bat.”
“Bye Bruce.”
“Bye bye, besties~!”
Alfred bid his time but as more information about this bet was uncovered, he knew he couldn’t hide this from Bruce any longer. It was time to make a move.
“Master Bruce.” Alfred placed his hands on Bruce’s shoulders and knelt before him. “Your friends earlier came by with a message. I’m afraid you’ll be in great danger if you remain in the manor. Master Duke and Miss Cass will take you to the Watchtower where you will remain until it is safe for you to return home. The others will also be there with you when they can.”
“I have to leave again?” Bruce asked quietly.
“Only temporarily, my dear,” Alfred said sadly.
Bruce’s eyes welled up with tears. “And you, Alfred?”
Alfred wiped Bruce’s tears away with his thumb. “I will visit when I can.”
Bruce clung to Alfred. “I don’t want to leave,” he cried.
“I’m sorry, Master Bruce, but you must.” Alfred hugged Bruce back but the boy dissolved into mournful sobs.
“How long do I have to go?”
“I will bring you home as soon as it is safe.”
“It’s never safe.” Bruce pushed Alfred away and swiped at his eyes with his sleeve.
“Bruce–”
“I was supposed to go back to school once it was safe too! I lost all my friends, Alfred, and I’m going to lose my family too. I’m only here for two weeks. Will the manor be ‘safe’ before I’m back to normal?”
“We will take care of the matter as soon as we can.”
“But will I still be here?”
“...”
“Answer me, Alfred!”
“...I cannot say for certain.”
“I thought so.”
Bruce sniffed and turned away from Alfred. “Do I have to pack my belongings or should I just find Duke and Cass?”
“I will send your bag up in a while. Master Duke and Miss Cass are waiting for you down in the cave.”
“Thank you, Alfred. Goodbye, Alfred.”
“Goodbye, Bruce.”
Bruce marched down to the cave with a teary face and put his arms up when he was in front of Cass. She recognised the action for the silent request it was and brought him into her arms. Cass hummed a quiet tune and ran her hand up and down Bruce’s back.
“Everything will be alright, Bruce,” Duke tried to reassure him.
Bruce buried his face in Cass’ clavicle and continued to sob.
Notes:
The mentioned loud phone call is based on a Tumblr post!
EDIT: I found the post
Chapter 12
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Di!” Clark excitedly threw his arms around his dear friend and twirled her around midair.
Diana laughed with joy, “What’s got you so worked up?”
“Bruce is coming!”
“Bruce is?”
“Yes! Dick sent an email. He’ll be arriving any minute now! Oh, I should get him some of Ma’s pie!” Clark placed Diana back on the floor and supersped to the kitchen. He came back with a slice of Ma Kent’s famous pie and hovered above the floor nervously. “Do you think he’ll like it?”
“Of course he would! Bruce loves Lady Kent’s pies.”
“Yeah but that’s older Bruce. The little one might have different taste buds.”
“Have some faith in your mother’s pies, Kal.”
Clark beamed at Diana. “You’re right. There’s no pie in the world better than Ma’s. I’m sure he’ll love it.”
“Come, Kal.” Diana grabbed Clark by the hand and dragged him like a balloon to the Zeta Tubes. “Let’s wait for him here.”
“Do you think he’ll be as cute as he is in the videos or even cuter?”
“Bruce is always cuter in person. No camera could fully encapture his charms.”
“You’re right,” Clark agreed. “Did you know that the Sirens got to see him before we did?”
“What? That’s not fair. We’re his best friends.” Diana pursed her lips and jokingly put her hands on her hips.
Clark joined in on the dramatics and let out a huff of air. “Selina texted me to brag about it. They cheated by going to the manor. Do you know what Selina told me? She said that Bruce climbed into her lap voluntarily! Without being coerced or prompted into it!”
“Bruce? The same Bruce that grumbles about hugs?”
“Yes!” Then, quietly, he added, “Do you think he’ll sit in our laps?”
There was a glint in Diana’s eyes when she answered, “I hope so.”
The Zeta Tube lit up, signalling that someone was going to arrive soon. Diana and Clark immediately paused their conversation and waited by the side.
“Recognised: Batman 02, Black Bat B06, Signal B08,” the Zeta Tube announced.
“Wel-”
Sobbing filled the teleportation room.
“-come…”
Signal shook his head sadly at the two-thirds of the Trinity while Bruce continued to sob in the arms of Black Bat. He signed something at BB and they exchanged nods before she walked away with Bruce.
Duke’s eyes landed on the pie in Clark’s hands. “Ah, was that for Bruce?”
Clark numbly nodded.
Duke rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks. I’ll give it to him when he’s feeling better.”
He grabbed the plate with a strained smile and walked away.
“I think it will be best if we read that email again, Kal.”
“Right…”
After reading the email in its entirety – Clark got overexcited after reading that Bruce was staying in the Watchtower and neglected to read the rest of it – Clark put in head in his hands while Diana pat his back in consolation.
“I should have guessed. There’s no way that the Bats would voluntarily send Bruce away from home.”
“You missed your friend and the thought of seeing him again took over your mind. I was the same,” Diana reassured him. “There is no point in dwelling on that. What we can do is help make the Watchtower more comforting for Bruce while his family takes care of the situation back home.”
Clark nodded and enveloped Diana in a big hug. “Thanks, Di.”
Diana chuckled. “Now, shall we get started?”
Bruce stared at the white ceiling groggily. He blinked to clear his vision and then blinked again to shake off the sleepiness. The ceiling didn’t look like the ceiling at home.
Then he remembered what happened. After crying for a while, Bruce let Duke and Cass explain to him in greater detail what was going on. Some dangerous criminals made a bet on who could kidnap him so it was decided that Bruce would be safer elsewhere. That being the home base of the superheroes that protected the world. At least one member of his family would be accompanying him at all times and the rest would visit whenever they could. They would resolve the situation as soon as possible, they promised.
It was the same as what Alfred told him.
Bruce was still upset but he understood why he had to leave. Bruce would only get in the way if he insisted on staying.
He sighed and spread his limbs across the bed like a starfish. There was no one else in bed with him. Bruce was rather certain that he fell asleep with Cass and Duke beside him.
He sat up and found a note on the bedside table.
Good morning, Bruce. Cass had gone back to Gotham to help out with the situation. I’m making breakfast for us. You can either wait for me to come back or come find me in the kitchen. There is a map so you won’t get lost.
- Duke, the light of your eye ☀️
P.S. the room you are in right now is the private quarters of Batman, AKA, your adult self. There’s a lot of wacky stuff hidden in here! I’m pretty sure you kept a photo album of us in masks here too.
Bruce smiled at the note and put it back down on the table.
He mulled over his options for a bit, kicking his feet back and forth as he did so. Bruce wanted to see the photo album but he didn’t know how long it would take Duke to come back. Finding Duke by himself also seemed like a daunting task despite the map he could see mounted on the wall. Bruce stared at the map and tried to determine the best route to the kitchen. There were a lot of twists and turns. The base was probably intentionally difficult to navigate to throw off intruders.
Being alone vs being lost. Which was worse?
Bruce hopped off the bed and got changed into the clothes set aside for him. The hoodie was bright yellow with little duck prints. The pants were a comfortable blue with wave patterns and small lilypads along the hem. Even his sneakers matched the rest of the clothing. The brightest of the clothing – especially the yellow – matched Duke’s preferred style so Bruce guessed that Duke was the one who chose the outfit for him.
Bruce bounced on the spot and stood before the door. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
As expected being alone was worse than the possibility of getting lost. Bruce couldn’t wait to show Duke his clothes.
The corridor was very industrial and brightly lit. It reminded Bruce of hospital hallways with their harsh fluorescent lights and easy-to-clean linoleum floors. Which made sense. Gray Ghost got hurt a lot; real-life superheroes probably got hurt just as often. Their home base being reminiscent of a hospital environment was logical.
Bruce recalled the route he memorised and sang a joyful tune to himself as he went to find Duke.
“~so the little ducky said quack, quack, quack~”
A firm hand landed on Bruce’s shoulder and pressed down on him.
Bruce turned back.
A hooded masked man stared down at him.
Bruce opened his mouth–
“AHHHHHHHHHHH—!” he screamed.
Clark and Diana found Duke in the kitchen staring intently at his phone with ingredients scattered on the table in front of him. He wasn’t in uniform. Instead, he wore a Batman hoodie with a yellow bat symbol and a matching apron.
“Hey, good morning, Duke. What’re you doing?”
“Oh. Hey, Uncle Clark, Aunt Diana.” Duke placed his phone down and smiled brightly at them. “I was planning on making some pancakes for Bruce but I fell into a rabbit hole and now I’m somehow reading about the differences between French and Dutch crepes.”
“I can’t help with crepes but I can make a mean pancake,” Clark offered.
“I can also help,” Diana added. “Is Bruce feeling better now?”
Duke nodded. “He fell asleep after we spoke to him last night but it seemed like he understood what we were talking about. Bunny looked pretty excited about staying in a superhero home base too.”
“Bunny?” they questioned.
Duke beamed. “That’s what we—”
Clark snapped his head up. “Bruce is screaming,” he announced.
With a gust of wind, he was gone.
“Aunt Di-”
“I’ve got you.”
Diana held Duke in a bridal carry and rushed off. Judging by the fact that she could also hear the scream and the general direction Clark was staring at, Diana could make an educated guess that Bruce was still in the vicinity of the private quarters.
She found Clark hovering in the middle of the hallway.
“Ow ow ow ow ow—! Shi— sizzle. Kid. Bruce. I’m pretty sure you’re Bruce. Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to startle you like that. So, please, please, calm down and let go of my arm. I won’t get within six feet of you if you don’t want me to.”
Diana set Duke down and stood beside Clark to watch the show observe the situation.
Ollie, dressed in his hood and mask, but missing his usual armour (judging by the bandages around his arm, they were getting repaired), was trying to gently pry Bruce off of him but the young child was determined. He clenched his teeth and growled as his mouth filled with Ollie’s blood.
“I just got those stitches done!” Ollie complained.
Duke sprung into action and pinched Bruce’s jaw. The boy was forced to release poor Ollie’s arm but his aggression could not be quelled. Blood-filled saliva splattered across Ollie’s chest.
“What did we say about biting people? It’s unsanitary, Damian! You don’t know where they’ve been!” Duke scolded.
The flailing boy in Duke’s arms stilled.
“Ah. I mean, Bruce. Sorry. I’m so used to doing that to Dami that I—”
Bruce’s frame trembled minutely.
“B?” Duke turned Bruce around to face him and hefted him higher up in his arms.
“Pfft— ahahahahaha! You– you’re so used to telling Dami not to bite that you accidentally called me Dami!” Bruce laughed.
“Oh my god, he’s a demon,” Ollie muttered, clenching his bloodied arm.
Diana had to admit, a small child laughing with blood-stained teeth wasn’t exactly a pleasant sight. Though, Bruce was still very cute. A glance at Clark told her that he was also charmed by the sight. It was so very rare to see Bruce openly laugh outside his home that they were enamoured even by the ghoulish scene.
“He’s possessed a warrior’s spirit since a young age,” Diana chuckled.
“Yeah,” Clark agreed fondly. “Now we have proof that Damian gets it from him.”
Diana laughed. “That we do.”
“Bruce, stop laughing. You bit someone. You have to apologise even if it's just Ollie,” Duke reprimanded.
“Just? What do you mean just?!”
“I thought he was going to kidnap me!” Bruce defended himself.
Duke stared at Ollie with suspicion in his eyes.
“I wasn’t going to kidnap him! I just thought he was lost and was going to offer some help!”
“Everyone knows you’re not supposed to touch someone without asking!” Bruce argued.
Duke nodded. “That’s right, Ollie. You’re the one in the wrong here. Bruce was just trying to defend himself.”
“I’m bleeding!”
Duke rolled his eyes. “And? You startled a child. Be grateful that that’s all that happened. You could have died for that in Gotham.”
“Oh my god, you Bats are crazy. Why did I think that commonsense was in the equation here?”
“Did you even apologise to Bruce?”
“I did! While I was begging for him to stop biting me!”
Duke nodded. “Well, you’re even now then.”
Apparently deciding that the conversation was now over, Bruce flapped his arms like a baby bird and puffed his chest out. “Duke, I wore the clothes you chose for me. Do you like it?”
“Yes, yes, you’re adorable. Thank Gotham you didn’t get any blood on your hoodie. I didn’t even take a photo of you yet.”
“I’m experienced enough not to do that.”
“I’m definitely going to ask you about that later. Let’s just brush your teeth for now.”
Duke carried the boy back to his quarters, though Bruce still aimed a bloody grin at a gobsmacked Ollie as they passed by.
“I’m definitely going to medbay to get a rabies shot. He’s fucking feral,” Ollie groaned. He looked at his bloodied arm. “He bit through my damn bandages. It’s definitely going to scar.”
Clark stared at Ollie’s arm as the hero walked past. He looked a little… jealous?
Oh Hera. This was hilarious. (Though Diana understood where he was coming from.)
“Clark, do you want Bruce’s bitemarks to leave a scar on you too?”
“Ye— No!” Clark denied with a red face.
“That seems a little difficult to achieve. Why don’t you settle for matching bracelets or anklets instead? I think Bruce would prefer anklets. He likes to switch out the accessories on his wrist a lot but he doesn’t wear anklets so he wouldn’t take it off as often. I could ask a sister to forge one for us so they would be able to withstand battle.”
Clark hid his face in his hands. “Matching anklets with Wonder Woman and Batman… Oh my lord, I can’t believe I actually like the idea. I feel like I’ve become a schoolboy again.”
Diana clasped a hand over Clark’s shoulder. “Adults get matching jewellery too.”
“Yeah, when they’re dating or married.”
Diana just smiled.
Clark’s blush deepened in colour.
Ah. Adorable.
“Let’s… let’s just help Duke finish his pancakes,” Clark stammered.
“Sure.”
Duke piggybacked a freshened-up Bruce to the kitchen just in time for Clark to start flipping the pancakes. Clark flicked his wrist and sent the pancake flying through the air, doing three rotations before it landed neatly back into the pan. It was golden brown and cooked perfectly on the top.
“Wow,” Bruce exclaimed. “You’re really good at that.”
Clark grinned. “Thank you.”
Duke put Bruce down at the table and poured him a glass of chocolate milk. “Are you both joining us for breakfast.”
They both nodded.
“Sweet.”
Duke placed two more plates at the table and poured both heroes a cup of coffee.
“Oh, right. I need to report to Alfred.” The young vigilante clicked on Alfred’s contact and put it on speaker mode as he waited for him to pick up. Young Bruce watched with interest in his eyes.
“Hello, Alfred? Good morning.”
“Good morning, Master Duke. Is Master Bruce there with you?”
“Yep.”
“Hi, Alfie! Um, about yesterday…”
“We were all very upset last night. It’s all water under the bridge now.”
“Mm!” Bruce nodded and gulped on his chocolate milk.
Clark and Diana kept making pancakes but didn’t try to pretend to not be listening.
“Alfred, I have a question for you since Bruce refuses to answer properly. Um. How do I say this? Bruce got startled by Green Arrow and he, uh, bit him. Really hard. Exactly like Damian. He’s acting like does this every other Tuesday.”
Alfred cleared his throat. “We may have been a little overzealous when we taught Master Bruce about the dangers of a stranger.”
“Only people Father, Mother, or Alfred call friends are safe. Everyone else is a stranger. Strangers that grab you without permission are enemies. Fight enemies with all your might. Your teeth are your strongest weapons,” Bruce recited.
“Is that why you hid when the Sirens came over? And you only relaxed when Alfred introduced them as your friends.”
Bruce shrugged. “It’s the rules.”
“Alfred’s where you got the paranoia from? The others are never going to believe me.”
Alfred harrumphed. “We felt that it was necessary at the time. Thomas and Martha were scarred from their baby being taken from school no less than three times and I hadn’t taught Bruce how to safely handle a weapon yet.”
“I can do tricks with a knife now,” Bruce bragged.
Clark placed a stack of pancakes down in front of Bruce while Diana pushed the berries and honey closer to him. The boy beamed and thanked them.
“You’re my best friends, right?”
Diana grinned. “Yes, we are.”
“You’re both really tall. Can I ride on your shoulders later?”
“Of course!”
“We prepared a lot of games for you to play with us. Twister, Monopoly, chess, some video games and card games.”
“That sounds fun. What do you usually do with my adult self?”
“Well, we take turns choosing places to eat, we try new hobbies, and we make fun of the paparazzi by being confusing.”
Bruce made an almost mystified face. “That sounds like what my parents do with Alfred.”
“Indeed, Master Bruce.”
Diana blinked. Everything she described was what they did on their almost-dates. (No matter how unspoken it all was, Diana was certain that it wasn’t entirely platonic. Clark knew that too though Bruce never seemed to realise. It was fine. Diana would wait until he was ready.)
“What do you mean by make fun of the paparazzi?” Duke asked.
Alfred made a fond sound. “They thought the Wayne couple were having an affair with me. They couldn’t decide if the cheater was Thomas or Martha. We left them clues to catch rather frequently. Sometimes we matched our outfits and they would have a field day trying to figure out what it all meant.”
“I never realised you were a troll, Alfred. In hindsight, I really should’ve,” Duke commented.
Alfred just chuckled.
Diana and Clark looked at Bruce. He had a conspiratory look on his face but when he noticed their stares, he smiled innocently at them and took a big bite of his pancakes.
“Blue, red, gold, black, and yellow. All of our colours on one anklet. What do you think, Kal?” Diana quietly asked her companion.
“Yeah, that sounds great. I wonder what the paparazzi would decide about that.”
Diana giggled. “I look forward to it.”
Notes:
I meant to make the superwonderbat more subtle or hinted at but I couldn't restrain myself. I love them too much.
Also, feral Bruce! He's too cute even with blood around his mouth
Chapter 13
Summary:
Bruce roams the watchtower
Notes:
Hi! I'm back. Not sure when the next one is going to come out; I'm still trying to get back into the groove of things but I thank you for your patience and here's the chapter :)
Brief recap of the last chapter because it's been a while:
Bruce had been relocated to the Watchtower because the rogues made a bet between themselves on who could kidnap Bruce first. Bruce was understandably upset at first but he had since settled and went back to being his sweet angel self (ignore GA's new bite scars.)
Chapter Text
The tower came crashing down in a cacophonous uproar, debris flying everywhere as Bruce stood frozen before it. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He did not want to believe his eyes.
Bruce… lost?
“Clark moved my arm!” he immediately protested.
“I’m nowhere near you!” Clark retorted from the opposite side of the table.
“You have superspeed. That defence is null!” Duke declared.
Diana tuned them out and gathered the Jenga blocks to rebuild the tower. She honestly did not know why she thought that kid Bruce wouldn’t have been as competitive as his adult self; she should’ve known competitiveness was a Wayne trait. That, and being a sore loser.
“I did not cheat! You guys are the ones cheating by putting the blocks vertically,” Clark cried back.
“That’s how everyone in Gotham plays it,” Bruce lied.
“You’re lying,” Clark called out. He looked to Diana for support but the hero just shrugged.
“I don’t know enough about Gotham to dispute that.”
“You have a lasso that compels the truth,” Clark deadpanned.
Diana gasped and mockingly placed a hand on her chest. “I would not use that on my friends on something as simple as a game, Kal.”
“How dare you, Uncle Clark. Just because you’re a cheat, doesn’t mean you have to accuse everyone else. I thought you stood for truth and justice,” Duke joined in.
Bruce bounced a little on the spot as he excitedly added to the playful teasing. “I can’t believe you’ll go so far for a game.”
Clark just stared Bruce dead in the eye (all the while internally cooing, ‘cause just look at him! He’s so cute!), “I know you don’t remember but you of all people have no right to say that ‘it’s only just a game’.”
Bruce cocked his head to the side. “Why?
“There’s a reason why we never play Poker anymore.”
Duke clicked his tongue in disappointment. “I can’t believe you don’t support Bats’ wrongs, Uncle Supes.”
“What?”
Duke grinned. “It’s not good enough to just support Bats’ rights. You have to support their wrongs too.”
“Is that… Is that a play on Women’s rights?”
Duke shrugged and turned to Bruce. “Alright, Bunny, you start first.”
Bruce saluted and removed a bottom piece from the Jenga tower, replacing it on the top vertically. Clark immediately gave him a stink eye for that, doubly so when Duke immediately did the same, stacking his block vertically on top of Bruce’s, making an incredibly unstable tower. Diana went next, and shocker, her block was also placed vertically on top of the others. Bruce always did bring out her playful side. Unfortunately, Clark just so happened to be the victim of it half the time.
It was now Clark’s turn. He gave each and every player that went before him a mean glare and then turned his attention back to the Jenga tower. The top of it was balanced perfectly but would topple over with a single wobble. Even with his super senses, this would be a difficult task.
Of course, just as he began his attempt, Bruce started giggling and hopping around like a bunny, hands positioned on his head to imitate said creature. Duke hid a smirk behind his hand and winked at Clark. In his other hand was his phone, recording the video.
“The others would love this,” Duke said. “Bunny, wrinkle your nose.”
Bruce obediently faced the camera and wrinkled his nose.
The Jenga tower came crashing down.
“Beautiful!” Duke cheered. His phone spun around to record the downed tower and Clark’s face. Duke snickered loudly at the sight. He became more and more like his siblings by the day. Clark wished he could go back to the days when Duke bothered to pretend to be a sweet angel.
“Bruce, come here,” Diana beckoned, arms stretched wide for a hug.
Bruce hopped over to her and jumped into her lap. “Hi!”
“Hello,” Diana replied, charmed. “I’m glad to see your tactician mind is still with you.”
“Of course.” Bruce proudly puffed his chest out, a familiar smug expression on his face. “I’m a natural.”
Diana laughed. “That you are.” She tweaked his nose and he squealed, escaping into the safety of Duke’s arms.
“Hide and seek!” Bruce declared.
Duke grinned and made them invisible, though not before saying, “No superhearing!”
“Why can he use his powers if I can’t use mine?” Clark grumbled. He was still careful to tune out the sound of Bruce’s younger but still familiar heartbeat and didn't track Duke’s progress through the vents. “Seems like you should start hiding too, Di-”
Diana was already gone.
“Typical,” Clark laughed to himself.
Bruce grinned at the sight of the red clad hero below. He was staring at the screens laid out in front of him, occasionally twirling his seat and throwing five dice up in their air before catching them all in a split second. It would be so easy to just jump down and give him the scare of a lifetime.
“Hm?” The hero, Flash, Bruce’s mind supplied (he was getting more of that these days; a sure sign that the older him was in there somewhere), straightened up. “Green Lantern?” He pressed a button and one of the screens turned into a video call.
“Oh, hey, Flash,” Green Lantern greeted.
“Sup, GL. How’s the trip?”
“It’s been good. No detours and I stocked up on some of the cooler alien stuff. Got the cure too.”
“Sweet! So you’ll be back in a week?”
“Yup! Got this bad boy to give to the Bat.” Green Lantern lifted his arm and showcased the object he was holding. It was oddly bulbous, like it was made out of pieces of large marbles melded together and jammed onto a rectangular prism to form something in the shape of a gun.
“That’s the cure? Why’s it a gun?” Flash asked.
“It’s so they could shoot and cure the victim as soon as possible. Re-age them and get to rejoin the battle straight away. I asked around but they didn’t have it in any other form.”
Bruce felt his heart picking up in speed and clenched his fists. ‘Clark could hear your heartbeat,’ he reminded himself. Bruce unlatched the vent and positioned himself over the conveniently placed office chair.
“Boo!” he screamed as he landed.
“Ah ha! Got you, little bat!” Flash didn’t even bother to pretend to be surprised but Bruce satisfied himself with the sound of Green Lantern’s shock ‘whoa!’ resounding through the speakers. The satisfaction was short-lived when Flash began to mercilessly tickle Bruce, leaving him a helpless puddle of giggles.
“How did you know I was there?” Bruce asked once he was released.
Instead of Flash, it was Green Lantern that replied. “Once you’ve been ‘tested’ by enough Robins, you get a sense for this sort of thing.”
Bruce pouted at the ruined scheme before abruptly remembering that he was supposed to be playing hide and seek. “It was nice seeing you two. Don’t tell Clark I was here!”
“I think that was the first time Bruce has ever told me it was nice to see me,” he heard Hal Jordan say just before he ran out the door.
He ran around, trusting his instincts to guide him, and hoped that Clark wouldn’t find him. Bruce was aiming for being the last to be found, or at the very least, not the first. At home, the kids always found Bruce first and then made him search for the others with them. If Bruce was allowed to hide in the walls, he wouldn’t have been the first to lose every time, hmph! So unfair!
“Hi!” Bruce greeted as he walked into what looked like an observatory. Or maybe it was just a cosy nook with a good view of Earth. Martian Manhunter, or J’onn looked up from his book and gave him a closed lipped smile.
“Hello, little one.”
“What are you reading?” Bruce asked. He plopped down on the sofa besides J’onn, keeping a close but respectable distance, and leaned in just enough to glimpse at the text.
“An autobiography by a ballerino.”
“Cass is a ballerina, did you know that?”
“I did. You have shown me recordings of her performances a few times.”
“Is that why you are reading about a ballerino?”
“No, it was just a coincidence. Though it does give me a better appreciation for your daughter’s craft.”
Bruce grinned proudly. “She’s amazing.”
J’onn nodded. “That she is.”
“You’re green like Miss Ivy,” Bruce commented, even though he knew it wasn’t polite to comment on another person’s appearance if it weren’t a compliment. “Are you two related? Do you have plant powers too?”
“No,” J’onn patiently replied. “I am green because I am a Martian. I do not have plant powers like Poison Ivy. However, I have telepathic abilities and I am capable of shapeshifting.”
“Cool,” Bruce exhaled. “Can I see? Please?”
J’onn nodded and transformed before Bruce’s eyes. His skin darkened, no longer green, but instead a rich brown. On top of his previously bare scalp, was hair just like Duke’s, though they were missing the cool shaven lines that Duke had on his sides. Red eyes also turned brown, more rounded than previously. He was visibly less tall, shrinking from a hulking 7’2 to just 6’4.
“This is John Jones, the form I typically take when I am in disguise,” J’onn explained, gesturing at himself.
“That’s hardly different from your real name,” Bruce laughed.
J’onn grinned and Bruce could see his pearly whites this time. He wondered if J’onn would show him a toothy smile when he was in his real form.
“Is it weird to be shorter than you usually are?”
J’onn turned back into his usual form and shook his head. “I don’t really need to adjust to my different physical forms.”
“That makes sense. You’re a shapeshifter; you must be used to changing size.”
And J’onn smiled in that closed-lip way again so Bruce cocked his head to the side and asked, “Why do you smile differently?”
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t smile with your teeth as a Martian.” Bruce pointed at his own teeth and smiled in demonstration.
“Seeing my teeth tends to set off the fight or flight instinct in others,” J’onn explained. “I’m told that it’s similar to seeing a predator bare their teeth at you threateningly.”
“Really?” Bruce asked excitedly. “I would like to see it very much. Are your teeth like shark teeth? I like sharks. Did you know that sharks can grow back their teeth? It’s a little unfair that humans can’t. We’ve only got the two sets. If I could grow back my teeth, Alfred wouldn’t be restricting my intake of sweets as much.”
J’onn chuckled and let his lips part, exposing two rows of sharp fanged teeth. They were too pointy, too long, too much for the average person to stomach but Bruce just leaned in and said, “How do you brush your teeth when they’re that sharp? And you have so many! How long does it take to brush your teeth? Do you get bored? I do. Sometimes, Alfred has to watch me to make sure I’m not speeding through the process.”
“I brush it very, very, carefully,” J’onn answered. “And I do get bored so I like to listen to music while I’m doing it.”
Bruce nodded to himself. “I should try that next time.”
J’onn gave into the urge to ruffle Bruce’s fluffy hair like he would a cat and nodded at the door. “I believe you are in the middle of a game right now. He’s coming down the corridor.”
“Oh no, I need to hide!”
“Found you!” Clark swooped in and lifted Bruce up by the pits. “C’mon, Diana bought ice cream.”
“Ice cream!” Bruce cheered.
“J’onn, we got double stuffed oreo ice cream for you too.”
J’onn smiled with his teeth bared and followed them to the cafeteria.
Chapter 14
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Spoiler reporting for duty! Signal to report to base for further instructions!” Steph gleefully informed them. She was changed out of her uniform despite the codename usage, but was still garbed in her signature purple, only instead of stab/slash/fire/bulletproof armour, it was a hoodie and comfortable black sweatpants.
Duke put his pencil down and pat his pocket for his phone. “I didn’t get any messages about a shift change?”
“I thought I’ll come tell you myself. Chop chop, go get suited up. The others are looking for Scarecrow right now.” Steph clapped her hand twice and rushed Duke out. The poor boy hurriedly said his farewells and zeta’ed back to the Cave to help the others.
“Is everyone alright?” Bruce worriedly asked.
Steph smiled widely and ruffled Bruce’s hair. “Everyone’s fine. We caught most of the rogues and shuffled them back into Arkham. We even got the Joker first! He was so indignant about it! And, and, Jay was in the Batsuit. Dick and Jason have been taking turns being Batman so that no one would realise Bruce Wayne and Batman were gone at the same time. Anyway, this was basically the first time Jason’s Batman interacted with Joker and you know Jason, he’s a theatre kid at heart, so he’s committed to the act. He refused to break character like Dick would and kept up the Batman persona the whole time. Which means he ignored the Joker the whole time except at the end when he said One. Single. Devastating. Line. Oooh, Joker was so mad. Jason was cackling afterwards ‘cause when he’s Red Hood, he would break a few of Joker’s bones, but Joker would be laughing anyway, but this time, all it took was one sentence for the Joker to get angry for real.”
“What did he say?” Bruce asked, too immersed in the story to be worried anymore.
“‘Nightwing’s a better clown.’” Steph started cackling, slapping her palm against her thigh. “Then! Nightwing just nods and goes: ‘Yeah, I am. I mean, I almost failed clown school but at least I passed.’ The Joker was so mad ‘cause he’s prided himself on being the only clown in Gotham, since none of us really like clowns anymore, but then Batman declares Nightwing the better clown, dethroning his title in one fell swoop, and then ‘Wing with his notoriously shitty taste in humour just casually agrees, adding on that barely passed Clown School! Oh, the fall-out was glorious! I saw that reporter from the Gazette there, and those vultures aren’t afraid of anything, so you can bet that tomorrow’s headlines would be about Gotham’s best clown: Nightwing.”
Bruce giggled along with Steph and bumped his head against her upper arm.
Steph hissed in pain and brought another hand up to rub against her arm.
“You’re hurt?” Bruce’s hands hovered panicky around Steph’s arm and looked at her with kicked-puppy eyes.
Steph smiled to reassure him, “Just a small scratch. I already got it looked after. See?” She rolled her sleeve up and showed him the pristine bandages wrapped around her bicep.
Bruce looked at the bandages carefully and leaned in, pressing a light kiss against the white cotton. “Pain pain go away~!” he sang.
After a stunned second, Steph swooped Bruce in for a hug and nuzzled his head with her cheek. “Awww, you’re the sweetest! I think I’m better already!”
Bruce beamed. “Father said that love is the most important part of medicine after medicine!”
“Wise words.” Steph nodded sagely. She then peaked at the shrew of paper left by Duke before she evicted him from the Watchtower. “So, what were you two doing?”
“We were writing acrostic poems,” Bruce reported.
“Oooh, can I read them?”
“Sure,” Bruce easily replied.
Avoiding the ones that were obviously written by Duke, Steph picked up a paper with ‘ALFRED’ written in Bruce’s neat but childish scrawl.
Alfred,
Let me tell you this:
From the moment I was born, I knew one
Real truth. The world won’t
Ever get it right, but there is nothing truer than the fact that you are my
Dad. I love you always
“This is so sweet, Bunny. You’re going to make Alfred cry with this.”
Bruce blushed bashfully and shuffled around some of his loose papers. “Thank you. Duke helped me a little but I did most of it on my own. You know, Duke’s really good at writing. He won some competitions!”
“I betcha you’d win some too if you submitted these.”
“Well, no one else is ever going to see these so it doesn’t matter.” Bruce shoved another paper into her hand with letters written in purple glitter gel pen spelling out her name.
Someone should
Tell you that
Emeralds and diamonds are just
Poor substitutes for the glow of your
Hectic exuberance. The
Average person would
Never be able to
Infer what you think, which is
Exactly what I love the most about you
“A lotta big words there, Bunny.” Steph sniffled and hid her face behind the paper.
“Is your arm hurting again?” Bruce asked in concern.
“Yeah,” Steph lied. It was awful how sincere Bruce was; she didn’t have any immunity to this at all. “You should kiss it better again.”
When Bruce leaned in to kiss her arm, Steph pulled him into a big hug. “Thanks for the poem, Bruce. I love it.”
Bruce returned the hug and nuzzled the underside of her chin. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
Acrostic poems completed and put away, Bruce and Steph lounged on the couch, staring out into space. Bruce was seated on Steph’s lap with her arms around him like seatbelts while her chin rested on his head. So technically, they weren’t lounging, but rather cuddling, but lounging gave off the image of cats sprawled across the furniture in the most spatially inefficient way possible, and that was a rather lovely image, so lounging it was.
“Brucie.” Steph shot up and looked down at Bruce with unholy glee. “Do you want to do something Forbidden™ ?”
The playful upturn of her lips combined with the sing-song manner in which Steph pronounced ‘forbidden’ immediately clued Bruce in on the unspoken trademark following the word. The Alfred trademark.
He turned in her embrace and asked, “Forbidden™?”
Steph leaned down and whispered in his ears, “Fast food.”
Bruce looked up in awe because he already had chicken nuggets – dino nuggets – just a little over a week ago, and Alfred had a strict rule regarding junk food: once a month but preferably never. It wasn’t even close to a month yet. Plus, he already had ice cream today!
Steph poked his dimpled cheeks and, with a conspiratorial tone, told Bruce, “We’ll have it up here in the Watchtower and Alfred won’t know a thing.”
Bruce bounced, unknowingly kneeing Steph in the stomach where she got punched just hours earlier. She put in a valiant effort into making her groan sound comically exaggerated instead and tickled him while she was at it.
“So, what do you want to eat, Bunny?” Steph asked, planting a light kiss on Bruce’s nose.
“Pizza! No, fries! And burgers! And fizzy drinks!” he rambled, in the way an overexcited kid deprived of fast food would.
Steph hummed and pretended to think about it. “We can do burgers only if you answer one question for me, Bruce.”
“Hmm?” Bruce intoned nervously.
“How do you eat a burger?”
“By biting it?” Bruce answered in confusion.
“No, like, with your hands or using utensils.”
“If it’s not on a plate, then with my hands, I suppose,” Bruce answered.
Steph frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
Bruce shrugged. “If we’re sneakily eating fast food, I just use my hands because the burgers usually come in wrappers, so the sauce doesn’t drip everywhere. And they’re not too big, you know? Not like the restaurant ones. Sometimes they’re very tall and messy and difficult to eat and I don’t like when sauce touches my hand so Mama cuts them up into bite size pieces for me. And it’s normal to use utensils when food is on a plate, isn’t it?”
“Well, if it’s a habit started by the great Martha Wayne, who am I to criticise? Damn, can’t make fun of you for the knife and fork thing anymore. How dare I desecrate the memory of Mama Wayne?” Steph said jokingly.
Bruce cracked a cheeky smile. “It should be Grandmama to you.”
“Fair,” Steph agreed. “Anyway, we’ll order burgers and soda and there won’t be any plates so you will be using your hands, Bunny. Get messy like us ordinary people. Or better yet, learn to eat without smothering sauce all over your hands.”
“You just said you won’t make fun of me for it!”
Steph blew a raspberry at him. “C’mon, little baby, let’s get sneaking.”
“I’m not a baby.” Bruce pouted.
“You totally are.”
It was extremely easy to sneak a few dozen burger meals into the Watchtower. Steph honestly played up the entire thing to Bruce out of a sense of whimsy but all she did was ask Flash to act as their delivery man and paid him in leftovers. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. Ah, the joys of knowing a billionaire, albeit a reluctant one. It was hilarious how easily the man made money despite putting every effort into doing the opposite of that.
Bruce dug into a cheeseburger with animalistic glee the likes of which she’d never seen from him before. At first, he had politely thanked Barry for the burgers like the sweet little gentleman he was raised to be, sneaking glances over at the Zetas as if he was afraid Alfred would suddenly materialise to scold him. Then, after confirming that Alfred had not caught him, he freed the burger from its box and quickly bit into it.
On the first bite, his too-tight grip squeezed the sauce out of the burger and onto his hands, because of course Bruce selected a burger with too much sauce out of all the usual ones with too little sauce. He cringed at the messiness but was distracted by the greasy burger and continued to eat, slobbering sauce over his chubby cheeks, and then, somehow, his hair.
It was no wonder Mrs Wayne got him to use a knife and fork instead.
“Want some fries, Bunny?” Steph asked, waving a fry around enticingly.
Bruce nodded and opened his mouth like a baby bird, waiting for Steph to feed him. Fortunately, he had remembered to swallow before doing so, saving Steph from witnessing the digesting mess.
(Bruce’s voice - in that distinct lecture-y tone - spoke in her mind: Chewing in the first stage of digesting; chew thoroughly to make it easier for the rest of the process. He clearly didn’t remember his own advice, considering how fast he was eating.)
She raised an eyebrow at him and looked at his hands, and then the small mountain of fries in front of him, pointedly.
“Bruce doesn’t like eating fries with sauce,” Diana explained quietly to her.
“Huh. Never noticed. What a weirdo. We don’t eat fast food often enough for me to notice a pattern,” she murmured as she delivered the plain fries into Bruce’s awaiting mouth and watched his cheeks fill up like a hamster.
Diana laughed. “He wants you kids to eat healthy.”
Steph snorted. “Hypocrite. Classic Bruce,” she said fondly.
“Watch this,” Clark told her, a grin plastered across his face. “Want a sip, Bruce?”
Bruce swallowed the fries in his mouth and licked his lips. “Yes, please.”
Clark directed the straw to Bruce’s mouth and then they all sat back and observed as Bruce took a long sip, swallowed, and shivered exaggeratedly, fingers flexing as he fought through the burn of the fizz.
“Now, I know that Bruce can handle soda, so, what’s up with that?”
“He told us he never really drank any until he was a teenager, so before then, he was unaccustomed to the fizz and would always react like that,” Clark explained, snickering at the sight of Bruce going back for more and reacting the exact same way.
“I had the same reaction the first time I tried a soda,” J’onn told them. “It’s a perfectly reasonable response to carbonation.”
“I find it hard to believe when I’ve witnessed Brucie down five shots in a row without flinching,” Steph responded.
“Master Bruce—!”
Bruce sat straight and froze, staring into Steph’s eyes like a deer in headlights.
Steph herself was staring at Alfred like a deer in headlights.
Holy shit, fast food really did summon Alfred!
“Good evening everyone. I see that you’re all enjoying a plentiful meal.” The sarcasm was palpable.
“Hey, Alfred,” Steph tried to say. “Um, how’s everyone doing back home?”
“Everyone is doing quite well, Miss Stephanie. We took care of everything without any further injuries save for a few scrapes and bruises,” Alfred informed her primly. “Though, I hesitate to call this casualty-less.”
Bruce finally unfroze and scrambled for a napkin. “Clark, clean me up with your superspeed!” he hissed.
Unfortunately for him, Clark had a healthy amount of fear of Alfred, and Alfred had supernatural hearing, so before he could get rid of the evidence, Alfred was already prodding at his clothes to inspect the damage.
“How does this happen every time you eat with your hands, Master Bruce?” he tutted, wiping Bruce’s hand with a handkerchief. He clearly decided everything else was a lost cause because he didn’t even attempt anything else.
“I don’t know?” Bruce shrugged nonchalantly, remarkably relaxed for someone that just had their life flash before their eyes.
Alfred sighed. “Well, say goodbye to everyone and hop to the showers. We’re going home.”
“Really?!” Bruce beamed and hugged Alfred in excitement. “Oops.”
Sauce was smeared all over Alfred’s nice suit.
Alfred sighed again and picked Bruce up. “I suppose we could shower at home instead. Say goodbye to your friends.”
“Bye Clark! Bye Diana! Bye Barry! Bye J’onn! Thanks for playing with me. I had a lot of fun.”
“Bye, Bruce,” the four chorused.
“Ciao, amigos. Enjoy the rest of the burgers, Barry,” Steph added, hopping onto her feet and bouncing to Alfred’s side. They quickly entered their codes in the zeta and teleported out of the Watchtower.
Notes:
Not pictured is everyone tearing up when they got their poems
Chapter 15
Summary:
Goodbye Bunny <3
Notes:
I started writing this chapter while waiting for my next class and got so into it that I missed my class :p
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
There was a very strong awareness that they were on a time limit. Though it was not expressed, it was very telling in the constant barrage of activities, photo taking, and videos shot, urged by the frantic desire to create as many memories as possible while they still could. All within the confines of the Wayne manor because despite the detainment of the dangerous rogues, in some ways, the paparazzi posed a bigger cause for concern.
Today’s choice of activity was Minecraft, in an attempt to quench Bruce’s wanderlust, or perhaps it was consolidation for not being able to go outside.
‘Sorry for the house arrest. Here’s a fake outside instead.’
Sims would’ve been a better game for that. Or maybe that was just Dick’s unholy childhood obsession with the game speaking. (He and Babs made a Batman mod; it was actually the most downloaded mod in Gotham, possibly worldwide.)
It was that line of thinking that prompted Dick to push aside his bat-laptop and stand up.
“We,” Dick waved at all of them imperiously, with an air of solemnity about him, “are going to build a fortress.”
“We,” copied Tim, same gesture, tone and all, “already have one.” He waved at their respective (bat)laptops, where they were fortifying their fort with crossbows and traps for any zombie dumb enough to approach. Bruce and Cass had the more important job of decorating with flowers. Damian was building a barn for his horses.
“No, I meant IRL. Let’s build a blanket fort to build our minecraft fort in.”
Tim considered this. It would be poetic, he thought to himself, every bit his father, the same one that decided Batman must work in a cave full of bats, despite his fear of them.
“Alright. Get the blankets and the poles. And some snacks.”
“And tea,” Jason chimed in.
“Juice,” Cass added.
Dick rolled his eyes. “Any more demands, your royal highnesses?”
“Don’t forget the pillows,” Babs teased.
“Yes, yes.” Dick heaved a sigh, as if greatly inconvenienced, and placed his hands on his hips. “I need someone strong to help me.”
“Me!” Bruce bounced up and raised his arm. “I’ll help you!”
A few people in the room chuckled at that.
“Oh, you’re a big, strong boy, are you?” Dick asked.
“Yes.” Bruce flexed his twiggy arms and they all pretended to be amazed, oohing appropriately at the display of ‘strength’.
“In that case, can you ask Alfred for some drinks and snacks while I get everything we need for the fort?”
“Okay!”
Bruce dashed off, carelessly abandoning his open laptop on the couch.
By the time Dick made his several rounds, going back and forth from the linen closet, bringing back a small mountain of blankets and pillows with no help from his lazy siblings, Bruce barely managed to return with a jar of cookies that he proudly hugged around his chest like a stuffed toy.
“Alfred said the drinks and snacks will take some time to prepare, so we can have some cookies first,” he told them all. From the crumbs around his mouth, it was clear that Bruce had taken a pit stop to preemptively reward himself for the completed errand.
Cass grinned and teasingly brushed away the crumbs from Bruce’s chubby cheeks. “Looks like you began without us.”
Bruce blinked innocently. “I needed the energy to carry it alllllllll the way here.”
The older Bruce claimed ‘dad-tax’, the young one claimed ‘energy boost’. Truly, no matter the age, Bruce was always sneaking cookies.
Cass pulled Bruce (and the jar of cookies) into her lap and ruffled the boy’s hair. “The big strong boy couldn’t make the walk back without help?”
“It was a treacherous journey filled with many dangers. The cookie was my only saving grace,” Bruce shamelessly told them.
Cass nodded with faux solemnity. “Job well done. You did well, recruit.”
Bruce mimicked her and also nodded. “It was my honour.”
They both shared wide grins and knocked two cookies together in cheers.
Dick put his hands on his hips and stared down at the two of them. “Now that you refuelled, could you both help with the fort?”
Bruce seemed to only now notice the large pile of blankets and pillows on the floor.
“My blanket!” he cheered. The boy shot up from Cass’ lap and sprinted at Mt. Blanket, snatching the fuzzy blanket that rested at its peak. He rubbed it against his cheek before spreading it in front of himself to examine it.
The blanket in question was a soft blue blanket with cartoon bee prints decorating it and a large sunflower in the corner.
“This is different,” Bruce commented, caressing the sunflower. It appeared to be made of the same material as the rest of the blanket, but upon closer examination, it was apparent that the flower had been carefully stitched on to hide the fact that it did not belong.
“That’s your blanket?” Dick asked, mouth agape.
Bruce nodded, still caressing the sunflower. “It’s my favourite blanket.”
“Holy childhood memories, Batman,” Dick whispered to himself. “Bruce never told me it was that old.”
“Oh my god, you idiot. That’s the blanket you burnt when you tried to do that seance!” Babs hissed.
“I was nine!” Dick defended himself. “I didn’t know the blanket was important to B. He gave it to me so that I would feel more at home and I loved the thing so much that I brought it everywhere with me, except outdoors because Alfred wouldn’t let me. And I already cried and apologised for it when it happened. B said he was just glad I didn’t get hurt or summoned malevolent spirits into the manor.”
“Oh,” a soft voice intoned. “That’s why the sunflower’s here. Alfred did a very good job with the repairs.”
“So you’ve told me.” Alfred walked in with a serving tray, loaded generously with drinks and snacks.
Bruce grinned and bounced on the spot. “I want this to be the door!”
“Perhaps you may want to start on the rest of the fort first, Master Bruce,” Alfred suggested kindly.
Dick heaved a sigh of relief. “I really thought he would have a bigger reaction to it than that. When I tore Zitka the first time, I threw a fit for three days and didn’t calm down even after Alfred fixed it for me. It wasn’t until Bruce took me to see the real Zitka that I stopped crying.”
Jason flicked Dick’s forehead. “Yeah, yeah, you were a massive brat; we already knew that. Now, stop being a fossil and help make the fort you wanted to build in the first place.”
“Meanie.” Dick pouted but obediently got to work. Already, Tim was attempting to take command and was being ignored by all his siblings. Duke was insisting on a making a window for sunlight and airflow, while Steph adamantly refused, claiming that forts were meant to be dark and spooky. Cass, it seemed, was making a nest of blankets and pillows instead of a fort. Babs herself was busy throwing pillows at everyone who forgot to make it wheelchair accessible.
In the end, the fort was a mess of blankets thrown haphazardly over couches and poles, tall or short depending on who was building that section of the fortress.
“Ahhhhhhh, it's falling down!!!”
“I told you idiots to make it wheelchair accessible!”
“I don’t think structural integrity is part of the ADA!”
“It wouldn’t have fallen if you just followed my instructions instead of doing your own thing!”
“Who died and put you in charge?”
“If only we had a window, we could’ve seen that pole there and not knock the load bearing pole over, huh.”
“Who puts load bearing poles in blanket forts?”
“I’m a blanket monster, boo!”
“Ghosts say boo, Bunny. Blanket monsters should say gawwwwwh!”
“GAWWHHHHHH!!!”
Alfred recorded it all with a camera and sat back with a cup of tea, sipping the hot beverage with a smile on his face.
Babs looked up from her screen when she heard soft pattered feet behind her. Bruce stood half hidden at the doorway, hugging the wall to stay balanced.
“What are doing still awake?” she asked in a whisper, unwilling to break the fragile quiet of the night.
Bruce took a step to the side and released the wall. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Why?”
He shrugged and looked down at the ground, feet shifting nervously.
“Bruce?”
He lifted his head and it broke Babs’ heart to see his little face red and tear filled, lips wobbling in an effort to keep it contained.
She set her work aside and wheeled herself towards the boy. Silently, Babs offered a hug and Bruce dove forward, clamouring into her lap and clutching at her shirt. Babs rubbed up and down at Bruce’s trembling back and waited.
She’d grown a lot since the first time a child clung to her when she was Batgirl. Between comforting traumatised children at crime scenes and traumatised children at the public library, Babs could consider herself a pro at this. Still, she was flustered because even now, she saw the indomitable Batman in this small child. It was one thing to see him cheerful and playful, it was entirely another to feel him shaking in her arms, on the cusp of tears.
“I’m scared,” Bruce confessed, words she only heard him utter on two occasions prior. (And it was always fear on behalf of them; his kids, his mentees. Never himself.)
“Of what?” she softly asked, swallowing down her trepidation.
“The cure,” Bruce stated plainly -- forcibly calm. “It’s a gun.”
“Oh,” was all Babs could say in response.
Bruce buried his head into her neck. “I- I want to turn back—I do, but-” He paused to take a steadying breath- “but I’m scared. The last time a gun was pointed at me, Mother and Father died.”
Not for the first time, Babs wondered how long it took for Bruce to get over his fear of guns, if he ever did at all. PTSD was a bitch and a lifelong condition. There was no cure, only management. And Bruce managed it well—only, she was not wondering how true that statement was, if the sleepless nights were truly a product of undying work ethics.
She rested her cheek against his head and said, “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. The cure is just another option.”
“But—I walk really quiet so no one notices me so I see and hear a lot of things. Everyone misses the older me. They want their dad back. I don’t want to take their dad away from them.”
“You are their dad, Bruce.”
Bruce shook his head. “I’m just a kid.”
Babs brought her hands up and gently cupped Bruce’s face, tilting his chin up until he looked her in the eyes. “Bruce, listen to me very carefully: You are Bruce Wayne. Friend, family, and favoured. Younger or older, we all love you. You’re not taking anyone’s dad from them. You’re showing them a different side of their dad. The playful and mischievous side that he keeps hidden. The affectionate side. The cuddly side. The vulnerable side. It’s been an honour to have known you, Bruce.”
Bruce’s tears fell anew and Babs brushed them away with her thumb. “I’m honoured to have known everyone too. I never thought I’d have a family after what happened but my family is so big now, I don’t...” he trailed off, at a loss for words.
“This is a family you helped create. We’ll all love you no matter what.”
“I don’t want to just disappear,” he whispered. “I want it to happen on my own terms. By my own choosing. I want to be able to say goodbye before it just happens.”
Always needing to feel in control, Babs thought fondly to herself. She did not blame Bruce in the slightest. Anyone would be grasping for the slightest bit of control after being tossed into the ‘future’ unexpectedly.
“In that case, you can choose when you want to use the cure and we’ll be there with you every step of the way.”
“I don’t—” He swallowed heavily and tried again. “I don’t know if it would be scarier or not if someone I knew shot the gun.”
Why did it have to be a gun? Babs wondered to herself, ignoring the phantom twinge in her paralysed spine.
“How about this, we can take apart the gun and see if we can turn the cure into an injection or something like that. We’ll have about two weeks to do this.”
She felt a slight nod from the child.
“What if you can’t make it and I turn back?”
“If we don’t manage it in time, you can choose who you want to use the gun on you. Either someone from the Justice League or one of us.”
Bruce’s hands twisted the material of her shirt. “But what if I remember them using the gun on me and the memory overlaps with the- the mugging? It- it happens sometimes. In my dreams. Things that happened separately combine into one. I don’t want that to happen to someone I love.”
Babs hugged Bruce tighter and hummed a soft melody while she mulled over it. “In that case, I want you to really, really focus on the details. The alien gun is more rounded than the guns we have here. It’s almost like a water gun. When someone points a water gun at you, you don’t get scared, do you?”
“Mm, I get annoyed because then I’ll be wet.”
“We’ll get someone who annoys you to hold the gun, then you won’t be able to associate the memory with anything but annoyance.”
Babs suddenly burst into laughter.
“What? What’s so funny?” Bruce asked, staring up at Barbara with concern.
“I just remembered. One time, Batman got shot by an alien gun that turned him into an alien cat, and he insisted Hal Jordan be the one to turn him back to normal. At the time, he said that Jordan was the only League member with gun training and the most experience with alien technology but now that I think about it, it was strange that he was openly praising Hal. It makes so much more sense if Batman just thought his annoyance of Green Lantern was stronger than his fears.”
Bruce blinked. “He does have a very annoying face.”
Babs grinned. “Did you know, the only time you didn’t call Hal annoying was when you fell into an Old West universe with him?”
“Did we wear cowboy hats?”
Babs nodded.
“Cowboy hats make everything cooler. Even annoying faces.”
Letting out a slight laugh, Babs rubbed Bruce’s back. “We’ll make sure Hal isn’t wearing a cowboy hat when we need him to be annoying. Now, are you ready to go back to sleep or would you like to read a little story with me?”
“Story, please,” Bruce quietly requested.
As promised, when Hal returned Earth-side with the cure, the more tech-orientated minds of the family dedicated their time to studying its components. They only had two weeks to completely understand the mechanisms of the alien technology but since they already had a base knowledge of similar guns, the kids thought they might have a chance.
“Timmy, Alfie said you’re not allowed to be here anymore. Not until you’ve eaten and slept,” Bruce told his middle child.
Tim lifted his head from the blueprints he was drawing. “I haven’t even been working for long?”
Bruce stared at Tim’s dark eye bags with big round eyes. It almost looked like he was making them bigger and rounder on purpose. “You haven’t eaten with me for two whole days.”
“See, it’s only been 48 hours. It’s only after 72 hours that it becomes a problem.”
“Two. Whole. Days. Timmy.” Bruce chewed on his lower lip lightly and blinked rapidly. “Don’t you want to eat with me? Everyone else has been taking breaks to eat with me. Except you. Did I do something to make you not want to eat with me?”
“No, no!” Tim shouted, flustered. “I love eating with you, Bruce, I promise.”
“Great!” Bruce beamed and grabbed Tim’s hand. “Then let’s go eat right now!”
Before Tim knew it, he was in the dining room, Bruce next to him, shoving spoonfuls of food into his mouth every time he swallowed, his siblings snickering at him, whispers of ‘actual baby bird’ floating around the room.
Even worse, when Tim had attempted to get back to work - y’know, the important job of trying not to trigger Bruce? - his young father dragged him into the bedroom and shoved him into bed. Before Tim could react, Bruce plopped himself on top of him and then said goodnight.
How was Tim supposed to get up after that?
And so he slept. Then, when he woke up, he was unbanned from the lab but frequently dragged away by Bruce to eat regular meals along with his siblings.
Just like that, slow but steady progress was made on their little project and they stumbled into a big problem, that being the structure of the cure itself.
“It’s an energy beam. We can’t liquify energy.”
“What if we turn it into a capsule? Let Bruce break it himself so he’d have more control.”
“If we did that, the energy would burst in all directions, dumbass. The gun’s structure helped with aim and limiting the area of impact.”
“Plus, an energy bomb is way scarier than a gun.”
“Does it have to stay a gun after all, then?”
“Regretfully.”
“We’ll just have to rely on Hal Jordan and his annoying face.”
“God bless that punchable face.”
When Bruce was informed of the situation, he simply nodded and three days later, he solemnly told them he was ready for the cure.
“I had lots and lots of fun,” he told them with a bright smile. “It was thanks to everyone here. Really, really, thank you. I love you all. Thank you for being my family.”
He hugged each and every one of his family and gave them all small kisses on the cheek. Then, they all zeta’ed to the Watchtower and gave Bruce a change of clothes that would comfortably fit his older self and directed him to sit on a cot.
The Green Lantern pointed the gun/cure at Bruce. His heart sped up in remembrance of the last time a gun was pointed in his direction but Bruce calmed himself down by looking at the gun in question. It looked more like a water gun than one filled with live ammunition. This gun was designed to give back rather than take. Bruce would be fine.
He took a deep breath and looked at his family one last time. With a final smile, he nodded at Hal and closed his eyes.
The gun made a zapping noise and a gentle warmth spread through Bruce’s body, lulling him to sleep. He gave into the sensation and fell back against the mattress.
The vacation was over; it was time for Bunny to leave.
Bruce didn’t remember the three weeks he was de-aged. One moment, he was at the gala, the next, he was at the Watchtower Med-bay in clothes he didn’t previously wear, surrounded by his family and Hal Jordan of all people.
It had been months since then. Sometimes, Alfred still got a wistful look on his face when he spoke with Bruce and he’d ruffle his hair as if Bruce were still a child. It made Bruce wonder if Alfred preferred when he was small and little and easier to take care of, but then Alfred would murmur, ‘I’m glad you’re back, Master Bruce,’ and the insecurities would dissipate as if they never existed.
(Also, apparently Alfred didn’t know that Bruce knew that he was in a committed romantic relationship with his mother and father. Which was stupid because they kissed in front of him all the time. Bruce just never talked about it because who wanted to talk about their parents kissing? Ew.)
The children told him all about the three weeks, mainly through exaggerated stories and blatantly false retellings. Each of his kids had a slightly different view of Bunny, but the consensus seemed to be that he was a cute but weird kid.
Babs called him a good conversationalist, which was strange because Bruce could not recall a single moment in his life where that statement was true. However, she claimed that his odd brand of sincerity and childish honesty opened up a lot of conversational topics that people typically ignored.
Dick liked to exaggerate Bruce’s kid self’s cuteness, calling him the most adorable little devil to grace the earth, though Bruce was disinclined to agree; his kids were the most adorable devils to grace the earth, galaxy, universe and beyond. (Bruce did not think he was biased at all.)
Cass said he was horrible at dancing and a sore loser at that. ‘But good at singing,’ she told him. Bruce had to beg her not to post her recording of his karaoke session online. He wondered what he did to deserve suffering Childhood Blackmail: Round Two. A lot of things, probably. Punching people in the face nightly did not do good for his karma.
Jason claimed that he was clingy and a massive cry-baby. Bruce suspected he was lying to get revenge on Bruce for telling the same stories about Jason when he was young but everyone else corroborated and even provided evidence, making it hard to live in denial. Shame. He was a very good swimmer.
Steph said he was easy to trick and produced photos of Bruce covered in various filters as evidence. Bruce decided to leave out the fact that never allowed people he didn’t trust close at that age. It was somewhat embarrassing that cuddles were his biggest sign of trust.
Tim complained about being forced to have regular meals and a bedtime. Apparently, Bunny’s puppy eyes had a deadly effect on his middle child, something that Bruce was quietly envious of. The only person he’d ever used puppy eyes on in adulthood was Alfred, and somehow, Bruce did not think they would work on Tim. Maybe out of shock, it might. Something to consider.
(If Alfred learnt of this inner dialogue, he would’ve perhaps considered telling Bruce of the continued effectiveness of his puppy eyes. Then again, those eyes of Bruce’s were a weapon of mass destruction. For the good of humanity, it may be best for their power to be directed at him and him alone. [Internally, Alfred was aware of his biases but considered the puppy eyes to be his privilege to enjoy and his alone. Knowing Bruce, he would instantly abuse his charm to convince his friends to let him do whatever he wanted. What he wanted was often dangerous so it likely still wouldn’t work but Alfred predicted the end result to be his son no longer being single. He wasn’t quite ready to marry his son off yet.])
Duke claimed that Bruce was Damian reskinned. ‘Just as feral but disguised behind a sweet smile and all the more scary for it.’ Bruce was aware that Damian was very similar to Bruce but he wished that Duke had phrased it differently.
Damian slipped up and called him Bunny sometimes, but Bruce always responded without pause. Something in his subconscious decided that name belonged to him and Bruce wasn’t fussed about resisting the call to answer despite the teasing he received after it happened in the suit.
All in all, despite having lost three weeks of memories, Bruce treasured the aftermath of his temporary return to childhood.
Bonus:
Batman stared at the gun, alarm bells blaring in his mind. It looked familiar. Very familiar. As he jumped in front of his son, bulletproof cape wrapped around them both, his mind finally supplied the reason why the alien gun looked so familiar. Shame. He would’ve loved to have finally met Damian in his younger years. Seeing chubby cheeks in photos paled in comparison to seeing them in person.
(He loved whenever a parent would hand their baby over to him on patrol – for some reason, parents really, really trusted Batman to take care of their kids for a few moments (though his kids would repeat into the comms that the baby still had parents and was thus unadoptable; as if he was some kind of adoption-addicted child snatching monster.)
The de-aging beam landed and that cold sensation spread throughout his body once more.
“Father!” he heard Damian shout. Arms wrapped around him desperately as Bruce tried to contain his miserable whimpering. Then, unconsciousness took over and Bruce slumped over in his son’s embrace.
Father took the shot for Damian.
Father was whimpering in pain.
Father was shrinking in Damian’s arms.
Todd took care of the thug that aimed at Damian but shot Father instead. Cassandra and Brown stood guard around Damian and Father because Damian couldn’t do it himself. Damian only had the child in his arms in mind. Richard confiscated the gun. It looked identical to the one that shot Father in the gala many moons ago. Hal Jordan had informed them that it was a rare weapon from a galaxy far from them. Hal Jordan was a filthy liar.
Damian didn’t know how to feel about being forced to get to know his father for the fourth time. He didn’t want to relive his father’s fresh-not-fresh grief a second time. He didn’t want his father to be gone for another three weeks, replaced by Father-not-Father.
‘Silver linings, Damian,’ Father’s voice told him. Strange for a man so pessimistic to be always looking for silver linings. Then again, Father was Gotham’s first vigilante; he saw the good in what was considered a lost cause. Father might secretly be an optimist.
This time, it will not be publicised. Maybe they could take him out to explore Gotham. See how everything changed. They could even take him out for a swing over the rooftops at night.
Bunny-not-bunny groaned in Damian’s arms. Father’s suit was probably too heavy for the child. Damian glanced around. His siblings formed a protective barrier around them and all the thugs had been dispatched. Damian removed the cowl from the child’s head.
The child blinked to clear away the mist of slumber and made eye contact with Damian. “Dami…? Did the cure not work?”
Damian blinked three times in quick succession. “Bunny?” he questioned.
“Yeah?”
His siblings made a commotion around them but Damian ignored it.
“What is the last thing you remember?”
“Green Lantern gave us the cure and we all said our goodbyes then I blinked and I was here!” Bunny happily reported.
“Oh.” Damian fell silent before breaking out into an ear-splitting grin. “Welcome back, Bunny. We have a lot to catch up on.”
Notes:
Thanks for reading to the end!
Let me know your thoughts on the fic in the comments down below :3
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