Chapter Text
There were a lot of things Bruce Wayne had expected to see when he came back to the Batcave after a quick rooftop patrol.
A broken window? Sure.
A new baby Bat signal prototype being tested? Fine.
Deadpool riding the Batmobile like a mechanical bull again? Unfortunately, possible.
But what he didn’t expect—what truly struck fear into his very soul—was Dick Grayson standing in the center of the cave, holding a teenage boy by the shoulders with the brightest, most aggressively hopeful smile on his face.
“Bruce,” Dick said cheerfully, “meet your new son!”
Bruce blinked.
The boy in question—lean, twitchy, and wearing a red hoodie over what was very obviously a Spider-Man suit—gave a small wave. “Hi, uh. I swear I didn’t ask for this.”
Bruce’s mouth moved before his brain caught up. “Is that Spider-Man?”
Peter looked down at himself, winced. “Technically, yes? I can explain.”
“No, I can explain,” Dick said, beaming like this was good news. “I found him webbed to a billboard. Alone. Cold. Trying to stop a multiversal incursion while having a panic attack. What was I supposed to do, not bring him home?”
“You could have called me,” Bruce growled.
“You don’t answer texts that aren’t emergencies.”
“Because this isn’t an emergency!”
Dick tilted his head. “Isn’t it?”
Peter raised a hand. “If it helps, I’m very emotionally damaged and already used to fighting crime in questionable gear with too many issues. I’m pre-packaged for Bat-themed parenting.”
Bruce stared. “Why are you so calm about this?”
Peter looked around at the giant dinosaur, the massive computer, the grappling hook rack, and the waterfall wall. “Because I’ve been to Xavier’s School for Gifted Kids and an alternate reality where Tony Stark ran a daycare. This? This is like a weirdly well-funded trauma resort.”
Tim slid into the room, sipping from a comically large iced coffee. “Did we adopt another one? Already?”
“Technically, this one came with powers and therapy experience,” Dick said proudly. “It’s a two-for-one deal!”
Jason walked in next, glanced at Peter, then at Bruce, and pointed. “This one yours?”
Bruce muttered, “Apparently.”
“Nice.” Jason gave Peter a nod. “Welcome to the family. First lesson: if someone breaks into your room, it’s probably just Damian. Hit first, ask later.”
“Got it,” Peter said, taking out a notepad.
A small batarang suddenly zipped past Peter’s head and embedded itself in the Batcave wall.
Peter froze. “...That was fast.”
Damian emerged from the shadows, glowering. “Who is the spider?”
“Son,” Dick corrected.
Bruce exhaled loudly, dragging a hand down his face. “He’s not—”
“I’m Peter,” Peter said quickly. “I fight crime, have a tragic backstory, and bake when anxious.”
Damian narrowed his eyes. “Hmph. Acceptable. But if he touches my sword collection, I’ll web him to the ceiling.”
Peter nodded seriously. “That’s fair.”
Bruce turned slowly to Dick. “What do you expect me to do with him?”
Dick looked very, very pleased with himself.
“Father,” he said solemnly, “I expect you to do what you always do.”
Bruce stared.
Dick grinned.
“Adopt him.”
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