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God where do we even start?
There’s a multitude of events leading up to this… predicament. One that involved Bruce’s legion of kids staring down what was supposed to be Earth’s biggest line of defense against aliens and whatever it was that floated around in space.
Perhaps it would be best to begin during their first encounter, approximately 4 years ago when Superman had to undergo an emergency visit to Bruce’s manor, having contracted a virus after visiting another planet.
Bruce was approached on a whim, under Oliver Queen’s advice, after Superman hadn’t been able to recover after a week of resting.
They didn’t just need someone who was experienced in medical care.
But a person who had an in depth knowledge in alien anatomy, and access to advanced technology, combining techniques from both Earth and Universal origins.
That’s where Gotham’s Bruce Wayne comes in.
“I’m telling you, he studied everything you could ever think of. I’d even bet that he has information on Amazonian tech…” Oliver argued, crossing his arms and lifting his legs against the table.
“Plus, I know who he is. I trust him enough to tell him about Clark’s identity.”
After much debate, Clark finally relinquished his case.
His face had been sunken as they knocked on Bruce’s large ass doors.
The manor was looking a bit grim, it was almost as big as Gotham’s hospital sitting in acre upon acre of empty well-mowed lawns and bushes.
But it wasn’t the extravagant pieces of furniture nor the luxury cars that first caught Clark’s attention, it wasn’t the fact that the door was opened by a butler straight out of an old film, no. It was Bruce’s striking blue eyes that captivated Clark.
His heartbeat was calming.
His biceps were defined in a manner that Superman wanted Bruce Wayne to just carry him in his arms and charge against the infirmary yelling orders as Superman breathed heavil—
He takes a gulp.
God the power this man holds . Clark thinks to himself.
Sure he’d looked him up, but it was almost as if Bruce looked better in front of him in comparison to his photos online.
He smelled good, a mix of sandalwood and the hospital’s ethyl alcohol. Then there was the defined bone structure, his biceps again , then his—
Bruce extends his hand to Clark, and he stares at it dumbfoundedly.
“Wow,” he mutters under his breath.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Bruce leans forward, he could see the way Superman’s face turned cherry red, as he finally reached out to hold Bruce’s hand, shaking it with a firm grip as though he hadn’t been caught checking him out.
“Oh, I just wanted to say that it's nice to meet you.”
Oliver was right beside him, letting out a mute laugh as he bites on his tongue.
The manor was made with fine architecture, it was almost a shame because Clark wouldn’t even be able to tell you what the color of the walls were simply because he was staring at Bruce’s back, the way he massaged his shoulder, still wearing his white coat from the hospital.
He was almost thankful he had to visit.
There was an entire laboratory hidden within the manor, to which Clark had to sit down as Bruce hung up his coat, pulling onto the sleeves of his black button up as he sat down in front of the superhero.
His pecs were heavily defined against the tight polo he was wearing, almost as though they were ready to burst— God I hope they do , Clark tenses at the cold feel of the stethoscope as his imagination had been put into an abrupt stop.
“I’m sure you’re tired of the same procedures, but I hope you don’t mind me just checking again.”
Of course!
Clark didn’t mind, for the first time in seven days he didn’t complain when another person insisted that he check on his temperature once more. He sat there taking everything like the good boy he was, licking his lips every once in a while as he stared at the veins in Bruce’s arms.
“All things considered, I’m guessing this is a strain that’s unique to you Kryptonians. Wonder Wo— I mean Diana, had told me that you weren’t able to trace it back from the other planet, there also haven’t been any medical records available to cross-reference, and the rest of the members have also been immune to it.”
Bruce lets out a sigh, leaning against his chair as he looks over the files again.
“I have contacts with people back at STAR Labs, who are actively trying to look for any medical information you may have come with in your… rocket.”
Blah, blah, blah.
There were almost hearts forming in Kent’s eyes as he listened to the baritone voice of Bruce, finding the low, low, voice very… endearing.
“Mr. Kent?”
Oliver hits his back, enough to snap him back to reality.
“Yes, I’m sorry what?”
Bruce puts down the medical record, “I wanted to know if it was alright for me to take a sample of your blood?” Clark had never acted out as fast as he did, opening up his arms as though allowing Bruce to do whatever he wanted to do to him.
“Jesus Christ, Supes, get a hold of yourself.” Oliver comments, snorting. “Do you even have a needle to get his blood drawn?”
To which Bruce rolls his eyes, walking while sitting in his chair as he fumbles a drawer open. “Of course, I do Ollie, you underestimate me.”
Ollie?
Were they really that close?
Clark could feel the steady drop of his mood as the word repeated itself over and over in his head.
What the hell is wrong with me?
This was way out of normal bounds.
This is completely irrational, and he shouldn’t be acting this way. Because first, he had no right to. Second, he BARELY even knew the guy!
Bruce lifts a wrapped butterfly needle, it was glowing green. The color was enough to make Clark wince, to which Bruce takes active notice as the hero shifts away from the needle ever so slightly.
Even with just a small amount it was enough to affect Clark.
Bruce gently puts down the needle just beside Clark, “where the hell did you even get that?” Oliver asks, staring at the object with a curious look in his face as Bruce carefully wrapped a tourniquet in Clark’s arm.
“Well, it went on sale a few years back in the underground market. I had it in my just in case medical supplies, wasn't really expecting to use it… But here we are.” He takes a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol, gently wiping an area in Clark’s arm with gloved hands.
“Just like an ant bite…” Bruce lets out a soft smile towards Clark, remembering his apprehension upon seeing the apparatus.
“Actually, can ants even bite you?” Bruce pauses mid-insertion, thinking to himself with fascination.
“Jesus B, he eats bullets for breakfast, he can take this…”
“Met a guy like that in the military Ollie, doesn’t mean they can’t get scared of trivial things like this.”
Clark’s heart warms as he winces, despite Bruce’s light hand, the inherent capacity of the green kryptonite still weakens him. He stares at the liquid rushing through the collection tubes.
“And, you’re good!” the doctor exclaims, reaching for his pocket out of instinct as he gave Clark a lollipop.
Clark stares at the candy with amusement in his eyes as Bruce rubs the back of his head apologetically, “sorry, force of habit…” still, Clark takes the lollipop.
This encounter would define the image that the Justice League would develop of Bruce.
“He was just so kind, and was so detailed with his work. He even sent me a copy of my reports and he was updating me with every single development, heck, I received a copy for each one of the tests he conducted trying to fight off the virus—”
The League would listen with amusement.
Clark’s stories would be told off as if they were legends passed from one quarter to another.
He was vividly smitten.
And was looking a lot brighter just after seeing Bruce.
This exchange of words would only make Bruce’s presence seem more… alluring.
Because this was Clark Kent, the ever so respectful, good guy™ actively fussing over Bruce Wayne.
“Please, please, please just let me come with you!” Barry was practically begging Clark the next time he had to visit the manor.
He had Superman’s 20/20 vision supporting him, there was no way that Barry wouldn’t find him attractive too. Plus, the mere fact that Superman hadn’t been able to shut up about him, it was just different.
Hal was holding onto Superman’s arm using his ring as the man neared the exits back to Earth.
“Let go!” Superman lets out a cough as he yanks Green Lantern away.
“You just want to keep him all for yourself!” Barry was pouting, crossing his arms as he glared heavily at Superman.
God this is supposed to be one of Earth’s mightiest heroes.
“That is obviously different from not wanting to cause a commotion, why would I want to rally up towards his house with two adults acting like children?”
Thus, the rest of the team wouldn’t meet the esteemed doctor from Gotham until the opening of the Justice Hall, where Bruce just so happened to be present due to his large donation allowing the creation of their facilities.
“Will he be coming?” Diana asks Oliver, “told me he’d try…” a string of protest would emanate from the crowd.
The rest of the team was eager to meet him.
In fact one could even assume that meeting Bruce Wayne was a bigger deal to them in comparison to opening up their multi-million hub.
Because how good did he look that Clark gushed over him for the past five months?
Bruce was running late as the speaker called onto his name awaiting his speech, the crowd went silent. But Clark saw him putting on a coat as he sprinted from his vehicle, his dark mane swept away by the wind in the most perfect manner.
He fixes his suit before standing up on the podium.
“Holy shit, look at that ass.” Hal Jordan loudly exclaims, to which Barry kicks him in the leg.
“His ass? Bro look at his fucking build, he’s like a tank. Like he could break me into pieces and just build me back up better.”
“And those thighs? God…”
“His hair looks wetter than Aquaman’s, like it was carved out by a God from Olympus.”
“And his chest? I just know he could bench my weight…”
There was a certain level of comfort that engulfed Clark, knowing full well he wasn’t just an insane man who found Bruce to be insanely attractive. He could hear each member pointing out things he first noticed way back when they first met.
“And he gives out lollipops.” Clark states in a matter-of-fact tone, to which the members let out a sigh or a sound of approval. “It’s illegal to be that attractive, kind, and smart all at the same time.”
It was!
Oliver could only laugh as he watched the reactions range from holy shit! To holy shit , two different extremes that would best describe Bruce as a person, not that he’d tell him that, of course he needed to keep his friend humble.
So humble that Bruce fails to even detect any hint of attraction from any members.
“Just thrust it in there, baby…” Hal whispers as Bruce tries to give him fluids after a week in space.
Barry internally groans, rolling his eyes as he lets out a sigh at Hal’s obvious flirting, watching as Bruce finally slides the IV in one of his veins. “All good now,” he innocently replies, smiling as he takes off the gloves.
“Don’t I get a lollipop to suck on?”
There was an audible wince from the crowd as they peeked through the infirmary, obviously here to see Bruce, but not expecting Hal’s obnoxious ass to keep on flirting with him throughout the entire time.
Bruce adjusts the drip, before patting the pockets of his pants before eventually handing him out a candy.
“Will this do?” Bruce lets out that rich laugh , with each “ha” you could almost feel money running out of his pockets and heading straight to his bank account, it was rich, warm, and hearty, and God it was just absolute bliss listening to it.
Hal lets out a satisfied look.
“I have to blame Clark for telling you about the lollipops, you’re running my stash low. They’re supposed to be for kids,” he sighs, letting the chart down before running rubbing alcohol against his hands, and finally opening the door.
His eyes were a mix of somewhat surprise, and something endearing.
They must have been worried sick for Hal . Bruce thinks to himself, smiling at the thought as the heroes turned their back from Hal’s room, immediately following Bruce as he walked through the property as though he owned it (granted he did, he was the League’s biggest benefactor).
“He’s just a little dehydrated is all, surprisingly no major breaks this time, just minor trauma to the ribs so he should be up and running by the next week or so. I’ll try to check up on him as much as I can, but… I might not make it next week.”
The members pause in their tracks, “but why?” Superman’s voice looms over, there was an obvious drop to his tone as though this had been the most devastating news he’d received in his entire life.
Hell, even Jon hadn’t heard him speak that way since he found out he was the last of his species.
“I mean, obviously Hal needs strict observations, we all just really want him to recover.” Superman tries to back up in his tracks.
“Do we really?” a lone whisper echoes.
Bruce lets out a sigh, a small smile still escaping his lips as he bites tilts his head sideways, itching the back of his neck as he thinks about it.
The taut muscle showing was enough to keep the room quiet.
“Of course I’ll do my best to monitor him from the manor, I’ll be available 24/7, but unfortunately, I have my big day coming up next we—”
“What?!”
“With who?!”
“You were engaged this entire time?!”
“Hal will die from that information alone, you can’t just leave him there!”
“Engaged, what?!” Bruce replies in a hurry, the tips of his ears turning a pinkish hue as he clears his throat. “Contrary to your assumptions, no I am not getting married. I’m welcoming my son home,”
“That’s even worse!”
A series of groans echo throughout the hall, Bruce stands there in the midst of it all, unsure as to how he should be feeling from the spike of negative sentiments. This was definitely unexpected .
Diana clears her throat amidst the chaos, quieting down the rest of the protests. "We are all truly delighted for you, Bruce. Prioritize your child above all else; from this moment forward, you are a father first and a doctor second."
“Nope, he’s not!” Another loan whisper echoes.
Finally, the man in question speaks. “I need to ensure my son’s well-being above all things. I can get someone else to take over for me this coming week, seeing as how you guys are all very concerned about Hal. I’ll be personally selecting and handling the arrangements—”
“No, no. Perhaps we’ve all just been overreacting. We will call upon you once we see fit. Congratulations on your son, Bruce.”
Bruce finally excuses himself, still feeling a bit off with the League’s reaction.
He thought they’d be happier for him .
“He has a kid, Oliver?! You didn’t think to tell us?!”
“No but the tabloids don’t have anything about him being married, having a son, you’d think there’d be more words on the streets but none… He’s keeping it all under the wraps.”
“Sure as hell didn’t keep it all under there especially since he HAS A KID!”
“I feel like I’ve been betrayed, like I’ve been cheated on. I need to call Iris.”
“I thought we were all strictly professional with him?” Oliver finally replies, “still feels illegal hitting on a kids’ father.”
“If it helps you guys get over it, I also didn’t know about this.”
At the manor, while the rest of the League have a meltdown over Bruce having a child, the doctor in question was busy staring up at the ceiling as he watched his son swing from the chandelier.
“Dick, be careful.” He tells him, as Alfred watched the scene with amusement. “He is just as lively as you were, master Wayne.” The butler recalls having to chase down young Bruce throughout the halls of the evidently large house.
“I think I’m gonna have a heart attack,” he whispers under his breath, albeit Bruce was very tired, having to tend to Gothamites and a bunch of superheroes, and still having to be a father at home. But nothing could ever replace the joy he got out of seeing Dick land another move, insistent that he show Bruce another one just before they went to bed.
He feels the warmth enveloping his heart.
He was more than happy to see Dick finally expressing himself, after months of trying to get through to him in the hospital as Bruce patiently abided him with his recovery.
“I just can’t stop thinking about him, Alfred.” He tells the butler, sighing as he recalls the way Dick looked back at Bruce as the Child Services came to collect him from the hospital.
He’d been quiet for the past month, almost non-reactive except for the very few noises that told Bruce whether Dick liked what he was eating, what he was playing with, what Bruce had been talking to him about.
It was almost a one-sided connection.
Until Bruce saw the way Dick’s eyes welled up with tears as the woman held onto him, reassuring him that he was going to find a home.
That he would soon find a family again.
Bruce felt his heart tighten, his fists were shaking as they balled up, trying to show the same confident face that Dick saw as his parents fell, as though telling the kid that everything would be fine, those eyes that offered him solitude amidst the panic.
Dick yanked his hand away from the woman as his sneakers squeaked against the cold hospital floors.
“I don’t want to go!”
Bruce was already on his knees with his arms wide open as Dick finally spoke, these were his first words. Crying as he sobbed endlessly against Bruce’s coat, begging him to take him home, that Dick wanted to come home with him .
“We’re going to get you home okay?” He tells him. He doesn’t know how, but Bruce will do everything he can to make sure the child goes back home to him.
“I just need a few more days, please. I’ll handle all the needed paperworks, I just need more time.” Bruce was practically begging, whispering his words out as he let out his sentiments, as the woman told him that she needed to take Dick with him.
“Please,” he begs, patting the back of the child as he swayed his hips, cradling Dick close to his body as he begged the woman for at least, just one more day.
He used his network of connections, finally pulling onto the strings, taking advantage of the power that was bested in him to ensure that Dick would get to go home with him. Because that was his son, as far as he was concerned.
“I was certain you’d pull through,” Alfred tells him, knowing that since the first week Dick had been put under Bruce’s care, there was now way for his young master to let go of the child.
Alas, the two of them are here now.
Snuggled up in Bruce’s bed, with an elephant plushie in Dick’s chest, named Zitka.
–
While the members of the League did promise to respect Bruce’s boundaries, it didn’t really stop them from gawking at Bruce.
Although it could be said that it was more lowkey than it was before. A little under the radar contrary to their obvious and outward expression of admiration for his impeccability.
Sure, every once in a while a lone Mrs. Bubblegum Bruce Wayne edit would still play as they scrolled through their phones, but there weren't any bold moves happening, none of the flirting that Hal Jordan brought when they last had known Bruce as a single man. Not a father.
“How’s everything with the kid, you know back at home, all that,” Barry snacks on a sandwich as he holds out his arm, letting Bruce wrap it as he hummed at the question, “he’s doing great, adjusting well to his environment,” Bruce lets out a satisfied sigh as he finally finishes wrapping the bandage.
“He isn’t stressing you out or anything? You know, waking up in the middle of the night.”
“Hm I wouldn’t find that stressing, Barry. After all, I stay up late for other people, why would it be bothersome when it’s my son doing it?”
That alone was enough to make Flash fall deeper into the Bruce Wayne lore. In his head it doesn’t make sense that a man could just be as perfect as Bruce Wayne is. Nope, it absolutely cannot be.
Only one thing remains plausible and that was Bruce was not human.
Because he cannot be everything good mixed up in a pot and birthed as a human in Gotham. Nope. Impossible.
“He proceeds to tell me, I kid you not. Ehem. I stay up late for other people, why would it bother me when it’s my son doing it?”
“Aww…”
“That’s cute as fuck, what the hell.”
“God I need a Bruce Wayne.”
“His partner must’ve saved the world befor—”
“But I saved the world too…”
Years and years of admiring him from afar would accumulate, and would eventually show itself digitally . When the League formed their very own TikTok account, intended for public announcements.
Diana was the first to dishonor their name.
She wasn’t really that big of a fan of using social media, she preferred communicating with people through real interactions. Not online. But having been one of the members spearheading the group, the younger members insisted that she adapts to the technology and use TikTok for once.
It’d be useful for keeping up with trends, events, and other things . They reasoned, and she listened.
Eventually, visiting this social media platform became a normal part of her routine.
And with hours and hours of scrolling, she finally stumbled upon the work of the demons.
A Bruce Wayne edit to American Law.
Diana didn’t know where the feeling came from.
She saw Bruce regularly, but something about the way the videos were cut and put together, the way they flashed across her screen, something about it made Bruce seem all the more attractive.
And being an honest woman, she found herself liking the edit.
Because she did like it.
Why the hell would she not leave a like?
This honesty would alter the League’s entire algorithm. Each one of them were logged into the account, and once that like had gone online, all of their algorithms changed to accommodate what the user liked seeing, and that was Bruce Wayne edits.
Perhaps it could be said that was just the American Law.
The act went viral.
LMAO JL LIKING BRUCE WAYNE EDITS WAS NOT ON MY 2024 BINGO CARD
WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THE ACCOUNT
hONESTLY, i respect it.
Y’all got Bruce going viral again, like he ain’t always been that B
Diana tried to tell them it was an honest mistake, having come off from the highs of watching the same edit over and over again.
“But why does it keep going, who keeps liking all of it?” Clark tries to get into the bottom of things, being the investigative journalist he was. “I don’t see how this is a problem, it’s admiration for our resident doctor. Why should it be seen as humiliating?”
That started the havoc that was the Justice League’s TikTok account.
Whenever Bruce Wayne was mentioned, they were always there, subtly lurking in the likes of the videos.
Until eventually, it was a matter of which edits they didn’t like over which they did.
And amidst all this chaos, Bruce remains in the dark.
“Any thoughts on the song American Law, Mr. Wayne!?” Bruce pauses in his tracks as he walks up the red carpet, this was quite an unusual question, considering most of the queries he received surrounded his charitable endeavors, the next big thing for the enterprise, newest developments in the medicinal field, and certainly not about his music taste.
On that same night, Bruce would stumble upon a kid trying to steal the tires off of his Rolls-Royce.
Somewhere behind the parking lot, this little kid sneaked up on the security, managed to find the most expensive car in the entire property, and was on his way to taking out the second tire.
“Hey,” the kid glared intently at Bruce’s gentle voice. Backing up into the corner, leaving the fruits of his labor by the side of the vehicle as he clutched his tool against his chest.
It was wittily crafted, with all the right things he needed in one little metal rod. The kid was clearly bright, but he was also obviously malnourished.
His cheeks had been sunken, dark bags forming underneath his lids as he balled up his fists until his nails turned white. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.” Bruce knows that wouldn’t be enough for a kid to trust him. So he tries to find something, anything he could offer.
Bruce offers him a crocheted little bee. One that Dick and he picked up from the farmer’s market, after Alfred asked for their help last week.
“I’ve got a son too, you know. Around the same age as you…” Jason’s little eyes would let up a little, letting them soften as he stared at the bee. “He told me to give it to those who need a little help, so that they could feel better, bee better.” Jason rolls his eyes at the pun.
But Bruce could see that it was at least helping lower his guard down.
As far as the older man was concerned, getting the child to safety and providing him with all the nutrients he was lacking was top priority. “Do you have anyone back at home, someone to help you?” He notes the way that the hoodie slides off from his thin arm, suggesting that Jason was a lot thinner than he had anticipated.
“Mom died last week, dad I don’t know where the bastard is.”
Bruce winces. He feels the level of hurt emanating from each word.
“Do you have a place to stay?”
“I live with one of the working girls. They feed me, keep me off the streets best they could.”
But they could only do so much, can they . Bruce sighs, “can I at least get you anything? Anything at all,” he could see the hesitation forming in the kids’ eyes.
Jason bites his lip.
“You clearly know the brand of the car I drive, I can afford a whole lot, you know?” He tries to make the kid feel more comfortable.
What he hadn’t expected was that Jason would be asking for a casket.
The four of them stood in front of the tombstone. Dick was holding onto Bruce’s hand, as Jason stood in front of them, Alfred was right beside them.
The kids’ loud sobs echoed through the cemetery.
It crushes Bruce’s soul.
No one should ever have to live with their mother’s decaying flesh in their own homes, no one. He could feel his heart filling up with anger remembering what life awaited Jason in his so-called home.
Bruce stares at the ground in regret. Knowing that no matter how hard he tried to fight for a better system, there would still be kids like Jason, surviving and not living.
The next time Bruce appeared in their quarters, there was an obvious downcast looming over him. The bags in his eyes have somewhat grown and the pomade in his hair didn’t seem to slick back as well as it used to.
Still, there was a light in his eyes.
And that was all that they needed to see.
“Having two kids is hard ain’t it?” Bruce was surprised to find the rest of the League still there. “Mhmm, but it feels nice. Just nice,” he smiles to himself, tending to the burn wounds of the Martian Manhunter.
“I can tell.” Jon responds with a smile.
“A little disheveled, but your mind seems to be more at peace now than it has ever before.” Bruce pauses, letting out a sigh of relief, disposing the used gauze. “I can’t even describe how happy I am now, sure I’ve barely got any time to tend to personal matters but… I feel it’s worth it. For them, especially.”
While the bitterness of losing Earth’s most eligible bachelor still stings, the members couldn’t find it in their hearts to actually feel anything negative towards Bruce’s current predicament.
They’ve stopped calling onto him unnecessarily, unlike before, where they did everything they could to call onto him. Sometimes involving giving Superman a splinter, which they insist could only be treated by him because of his expertise in using kryptonite related medicinal tools. All of which sounded like bullshit, but Bruce endured through.
“Somehow he looks better like this…”
“You do know that him having another child won’t stop me from engaging with more of his edits on TikTok, no?”
The members let out a laugh.
Of course not.
That gave them all the more reason to “show admiration” .
The meme continues online, referring to the Justice League as the biggest supporters of Wayne Enterprises.
But throughout the past few months, there would be an obvious shift to the edits that they chose to engage with, namely those being in the more innocent zones.
Which meant that the League also went out of their way, trying to defend Bruce’s public image, unbeknownst to the man himself.
This one, surprisingly, is from Clark Kent.
Ever undercover.
This was one of his biggest secrets, sometimes it could even be regarded as a bigger secret to being Superman. He loved engaging in online discourse especially if it meant getting to protect the good name of his friends.
The song playing was Womanizer .
As per usual the victim of the edit was Bruce Wayne.
It was multiple shots way back before he was even their doctor, the naughty smiles he showed off in the camera. It was all obviously fake! Clark tried to argue.
But he couldn’t hold back his emotions and decided to finally comment. As he does with his own private TikTok account, one that didn’t contain any information that could lead others to finding him.
Bruce Wayne is not a womanizer.
Clark angrily types, until… He saw the username. JL_Official. Complete with the blue checkmark.
Oh well, too late.
He didn’t even have the time to delete the comment, three seconds have passed and it garnered about 200 likes. The screenshot was already circulating online, memes were being posted, bets were being placed as to which member actually commented using the official account.
“Mr. Wayne, any thoughts on being called a womanizer?”
On the other end of the line, somehow the questions keep getting more and more ridiculous with each public appearance.
It’s good that I didn’t take the kids with me .
Bruce thinks as he ignores the question, leaving the reporter behind as the charity event finally commences. He sits behind a cute little boy, no older than the age of 12, with a bowtie fixed onto his collar with a straight posture.
Out of instinct, remembering the way Dick’s bowtie was also crooked on his first day in Gotham Academy, Bruce reached out to the kid, trying to straighten out the tie.
The kid flinches, shoving his hand away, only to bow down when he sees that it was Bruce Wayne. “Mr. Wayne, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you I was merel—”
“It’s okay, kid. No need to apologize.” Bruce takes note of the two empty seats beside the kid, “if I may, your bowtie is a little crooked.” The child looks up, allowing Bruce ample space to work with it.
“It was my first time wearing one so I didn’t know how to wear it, sorry…” He was unnecessarily apologetic, clearing his throat as he watched the speaker out at front. “No need to apologize, kid. What’s your name?”
The kid by instinct, hands out his hand, offering it to Bruce to which he shook with amusement. “I’m Timothy Drake, Mr. Wayne. From Drake Industries.”
He’s like a cute little sales rep .
Bruce smiled softly at the child, chuckling with amusement as he observed the little man.
“You’re our neighbor, are you not? How come I haven’t seen you much?” Obviously Bruce knew why. The Drakes were barely home, but he was looking for a gateway to get to know the kid, to spark up a conversation regarding the interesting things he saw abroad, as a way to escape the boring event.
After all, it was quite evident that Timothy also found this event to be… boring.
“My parents are usually abroad and the nanny insists that I stay inside so that I don’t get sick… well get sick less often.” The kid explains with a lilt in his eyes, Bruce stills at his words, but relaxes nonetheless, trying to pry out more information.
“Hm, don’t you go with them?”
“My parents tell me kids are not helpful in making deals. So the best way I can contribute to our business is by staying home and being a good boy.” Bruce’s gaze hardens even more, staring at the Drake’s standing at the distance with champagne in their hands, acting all lovey-dovey.
“How often are their business trips? Do they bring home any souvenirs?”
“Hmm, usually I just get postcards. My parents told me it was a bit time consuming having to look around—”
Bruce blanks out, staring at the necklace he knew was made by a brand in Dubai, Janet wore a bag from a Parisian brand which was catered only in one store, no online distribution channels. He could see the shoes in Jack’s foot, tightly fitted with customized embellishments signalling that they took their time waiting for the shoes to be finished.
It wasn’t time consuming when it was for them, was it?
“So who do you spend most of your time with?” Bruce asks with a childish tone, amusing Timothy into letting go of more information. “Usually myself, mr. Wayne. I’m quite introverted,”
The fuck he was not.
Bruce went out for the gala with two children, as he came back home, he was certain that he had three.
The League didn’t even know at this point that Bruce had three kids with him, he didn’t manage to slip the information that he now was a proud father of three naughty boys that kept him occupied.
Which is why it came to them as a surprise when Bruce finally called them, telling them of his plans to alleviate responsibilities off of his shoulders.
“I’ll be able to come by from time-to-time, but it surely won’t be as hands on as I once was.” He tells them through the video call, he was wearing a black shirt sitting in his office back at the manor.
“I probably should have let you guys know about my circumstances, but most of these events also happened unexpectedly. I mean, I’ve got four kids running around now…” He scratches the back of his neck.
Four kids in three years!?
“Four?!” Hal stands up from his seat, “holy shit, B. You didn’t even take a break did you?!” Amusement was obvious in Hal’s voice as he stood nearer the computer, as though it would make his point all the more right.
“What?” Bruce asks, his brows knitting together as he stares at them with confusion.
“36 months B, and you’ve got 4. Which means almost as soon as the last one—”
Bruce was standing up as he heard Damian crying from the confines of his crib, he was out of frame at this point but the League could hear the way Bruce cooed in order to quiet his son. “It’s okay, shhh…” He steps back into the frame with a tiny baby nestled in his arms.
“What were you saying, Hal?”
The League stays quiet.
It was the first time they were seeing Bruce with his kid. And my God did it make their hearts melt.
“Holy shit,” Barry squeaked, pouting as he saw the way Bruce swayed with Damian in his arms, smiling lovingly at the kid as though he held the world in his arms.
“How old is he?” Clark queries, placing his head on top of his hands, watching in amusement as all protests of jealousy died down in his heart.
“He’s about two months old now,” Bruce responded without looking at them, just looking at Damian. From the background of the conference call, the league would hear the doors slam open.
“Dad! Jason took my freaking scooter!”
“You said you weren’t using it idiot!”
“Can I have my turn next?”
“Your father is on a conference call, it is absolutely inconvenient for each one of you to fight over scooters right now.” It was a voice coming from further down the hall as though trying to stop the kids from barging in.
But they were already inside.
And Bruce already sighed, smiling lovingly at them. “The three of you have your own scooters, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but I wanted the big boy scooter.”
“What did I say about taking turns?”
“I did wait dad, but Dick wasn’t using it at all and when I used it he took it from me and—”
“Okay, okay. You, what’s your case?”
“I was taking a popsicle from the fridge, dad. I told Jay that I had twenty more minu—”
“Have you finished your homework?”
“Well… About that…”
“So a) you weren’t allowed to take a popsicle, because you haven't finished your homework and yet you took one, and b) Jason didn’t wait for his turn in the scooter. Aside from that, Tim you’re too young to ride Dick’s scooter, use your own—”
“But I don’t like freaking Rocky from Paw Patrol!”
Damian cries at the commotion.
“Alright, that’s it. No more scooters. From now on only dad gets the scooters. Are you guys happy now?”
“No!”
“What the heck!”
“What the flip!” Tim was growing fond of copying his older brothers.
The members of the League were chuckling amongst themselves as the scene unfolded. “Now go apologize to Damian, you’ve all made him cry with all the arguing.” Bruce’s voice was stoic as eventually, tiny little humans popped out from the side of the camera, giving the little baby swaddled up kisses on his forehead.
So they weren’t actually kids… They were all about teenagers.
“Sorry, Dames, it was Dick–”
“No more arguing.” Bruce scolded, as though he’d forgotten about the call.
“Now would you guys please go and behave, wait for me to finish my call—’
“With who?”
“With the League, Timbo.”
“Ooo! Can I see!?”
Just like that the scooter has been long forgotten, Tim was the first to show his face towards the camera, eyes wide with curiosity. Jason on the other hand was too busy yelling “oh my God!” running his palms against the side of his face as he yells Wonder Woman.
“Hello Superman, please take me flying some day!” Dick was waving both of his hands out as Bruce quietly hushed them out of the frame, leaving only Bruce and Damian.
“They’re… teenagers.” Wonder Woman points out.
“Mhmm, why?”
“Oh my God here I was thinking your wife was popping out a child literally every nine months!” Bruce stares at them with confusion in his eyes, “oh my God, no. No! Firstly, that would be cruel for the woman, next, Jason and Tim came to me 7 months apart…”
Bruce stared at them with disappointment in his eyes.
“You didn’t tell us!”
“I thought you’d be smart enough to piece it all together! Gestation period for most species, especially our size, lasts for the same amount of time!”
“So you’re not married?”
“No, not at all. Why is that even a concern?”
“All of them are… you know…”
“Damian is… They all are, just not biologically…”
"Where's the mother..."
"I don't even want to talk about that."
“Oh thank heavens!” Clark lets out a heavy sigh, looking up at the sky.
And just like that the legion of those thirsty for Bruce was back up. Considering that it was legally allowed to be with him now.
It was a joke, right?
Well it initially started out as one.
But that was before the League fully dedicated their accounts solely for liking Bruce Wayne edits.
“No, but see, my phone can’t play that with THAT quality.” Hal argues, playing the said Bruce Wayne edit on the team’s highly engineered computer, meant to deter universal attacks for the sake of mankind.
“Just, wow, look at the way those colors pop.” Superman agrees.
“It’s like he’s moving in front of us…” He adds.
“Oh look at this, his hands bro! What!” Barry shares his screen next, showing another edit.
It was almost a tradition at this point, barely even a meme online as the masses somehow just figured out that Bruce just must be a very dear friend to them.
“You know some of these just don’t hit the same, they’re not… Popping out you know, like the old ones did?”
“What do you mean, Barry?” Diana asks.
“Well, see that transition was offbeat.”
“It was not.” Clark argued, “see repeat that again.”
“No it was definitely off beat, like come on Clark. I’m the Flash, I think I’d best know…”
“But you’re listening to the wrong part of the sound… See, listen again, it’s on beat I swear.”
It seems as though Clark took a personal attack… Which could be said true about him considering that it was his edit being shown on screen, displayed for the League to critique as he tries to defend his transition choices.
“No but it works better that way, right?”
“I’m not saying it’s bad but the thing is, to me, it would be better…”
“Okay, fine, whatever!” Clark rolled his eyes, it wasn’t his fault that his device was lagging at the time of editing it. It was incomprehensibly slow, not to mention it was beginning to heat up due to the number of elements introduced.
Clark couldn’t believe that he’d reach this point in his life.
But then again, at one point he was only someone watching the edits. Then that escalated to full on engaging with the creators, and now… here he was. Editing his own.
The same way others start reading fan fiction, and now write stories of their own.
In the midst of the cloud forming on top of his head, Clark reflects back on what Hal had just mentioned. The technology within these quarters was indubitably better than anything else outside. And he could possibly use it to… you know, make his edits.
Surely they’d have the space, the quality, the processors needed in order to make better and improved edits.
Clark wanted to make those edits that TikTok had to load in order to show. Those with such good quality .
He knows he shouldn’t do it. Definitely.
But the computers are barely being used nowadays, especially in the conference room considering they have new facilities better equipped. And there were barely any threats tonight, so you know what… Maybe… Just maybe, he should.
It started with choosing the right song.
One that was sweet enough to show off the feels.
One that incited excitement.
Breaking Dishes .
And from there, the rest of it just flowed. Perhaps being Clark Kent wasn’t an actual mask, because as far as Clark was concerned, he related far too many times with him than Superman.
He was curious.
Concerned with the world.
And was fascinated by people.
Especially Bruce Wayne, who endured so much only to turn out this gentle.
It was only a matter of time before another incident occurred.
This time it was far more damaging, far more irreparable in a sense that this could not be taken back.
The usual warnings that flooded their account, was somehow replaced on this fateful night, as Clark uploaded his final edit of Bruce Wayne in the official Justice League account.
Took them long enough to start making edits of their own, but they got there.
LMAO THEY CAVED IN
BRUCE WAYNE SUPREMACY
Help this is the first post I saw from jl wtf is this
Did they get hacked?
eARTH’S DEFENDERS APPARENTLY OK
—
Dick was the eldest and the first out of the four to acquire a smartphone. One that he gladly shared with his siblings showing them everything he found to be fascinating. The rest of them had laptops, strictly for homework use.
Dick’s access to the internet wasn’t necessarily restricted, in a sense that Bruce observed his every move. But Bruce took the precaution of trying to at least ensure himself that Dick didn’t interact with anything he didn’t need to see, which among all things didn’t include Bruce Wayne edits.
Because how else would Bruce limit their access to that when he himself didn’t know?
He wasn’t active on social media.
He stayed online just enough.
He made accounts for the sake that his name doesn’t get used to sway the public unknowingly.
Dick, having been trusted by his father to be a responsible user of the internet, does not take this for granted and only opts to follow those he deemed necessary and safe . Especially because Jason, Tim and Damian were usually around him whenever he used his phone.
Thus, he followed first, his father’s accounts. Soon after, the Wayne Enterprise. A few wrestlers from WWE, a popular circus currently on tour, and then, of course one of the beloved institutions his father worked on.
Justice League.
Sure he wasn’t an actual member of the League, but he served them well-enough and Dick knew how much his father had done for them.
He had their notifications on blast considering that sometimes, they posted warnings before the news channels did. Which would help them in staying informed and keeping up with the news.
It was a weekend.
The kids were allowed three more hours before bed time. Bruce was snoring, laying on his stomach as Damian had used his back as his toy cars’ garage.
The notification pops up on Dick’s phone, to which he calls Jason and Timothy. Baby Damian was on his way towards them, crawling as his older brothers fussed over the notification. “Do you think it’s another update on one of the meteors about to hit us?” Tim asks.
“Eh, I doubt…”
A man, a man, a ma-a-a-an
A man, a man, a ma-a-a-an
The same words play over their heads as they see… they watch… and edit of their own father playing out before their eyes, in the official Justice League account.
The three of them were of the right age, they understood the comments.
GOOD LORD I CANT
I NEED HIM SO BAD
DIDNT EVEN REALIZE THIS WAS JL, THANKS SUPES OR WHATEVER WE SEE U LOOKIN
“Oh my God, make it stop, please.”
“What the fuck is this.”
“Dick I don’t feel so good.”
Damian was just as disgusted, taking the phone from Dick and throwing it in Bruce’s back to which the old man coughs. “Two more minutes.”
“Are you sure they weren’t hacked?” Tim was on his way, taking his laptop as his two older brothers moved with him, leaving Damian with the mission to distract their father.
Bruce underestimated Tim’s witt, as it appears. He was able to completely trace the credentials back to the appropriate location of their headquarters, which meant two things either the Justice League actually posted it, or an enemy had swarmed them and now they’re in there making edits of their dad .
And everyone on the internet is thirsting over THEIR FATHER.
Their baba.
Oh god it was making them sick.
“This is unacceptable!”
They marched all the way back to Bruce’s office, knowing full well that their dad liked to keep systems for the meeting links he needed and that if they searched hard enough, sooner than later they’d be able to call the team.
“Who! Why! He’s like 167 for Christ’s sake!” Jason was glaring heavily at the floor as he walked around.
“Jay, Dad is not that old…”
“Yeah but same thing! He’s our dad, that’s the type of thing you do with celebrities. But Bruce is a dad, not a celebrity.”
“Guys, it’s connecting!” Timothy exclaimed, sitting on Dick’s lap, while Jason and Dick shared Bruce’s seat on the desk.
“Oh wait,” Timothy exclaims, stepping out for a moment, “we need to appear serious, okay!?”
He took his bowtie, putting it around the collar of his polo shirt, because that was what made the most sense. Adults wear this all the time, so this should help in making them look a lot more serious. “That’s a good touch, Timbo, hur—”
Jason was cut off short, glaring intently at the screen as the members appeared with a flustered look on their faces.
“Explain!” Jason yelled.
“We followed your account because we wanted real world updates not– WHATEVER THAT WAS!”
The adults were flustered, some of them were turning red for embarrassment, others found it oddly adorable that Bruce had a gaggle of kids ready to throw their hands for him.
“It is admiration, Jason.”
“Nu-uh, definitely not! That was— oh I can’t even! Where did you even get those pictures! Dad doesn’t have that many!”
Timothy was gesturing from behind the screen trying to tell them to be formal, spelling out the word formal in his father’s notebook, showing it to them, but Jason paid no mind. Dick was trying to shut up Jason as his loud voice might wake up Bruce.
“What my brother is trying to say here is that, that was inappropriate! We expect better from your official account, you—” Dick cuts in.
Until a kid, clad in a white polo, with a bowtie beneath his collar appeared in front of the screen in his tiptoes, trying to get himself to show up on camera.
“UHM EXCUSE ME SIRS AND MA’AMS!” Timothy yells as politely as he could, raising his pointer finger in a matter-of-fact way.
“THAT IS MY FATHER YOU CANNOT DO THAT!”