Archive of Our Own ^beta

Bruce stumbled forward as soon as Clark set him down on the front porch. Clark stifled a chuckle and moved to steady his drunk friend but a sharp glare stopped him in place. Bruce waved an angry finger at him and growled.

“Don’t- don’t do that again.”

He swayed on the spot and hiccuped.

“Do what, Bruce?” Clark asked, crossing his arms to resist the urge to support his friend.

“Drunk- drunk fly! Ish danger- dangerous!” he lectured, stomping his feet (cutely) angrily for emphasis. Leave it to Batman to preach about safety while drunk off his ass.

“You’re the one who insisted on going home, Bruce. What else was I supposed to do? Let you drink-drive?” Clark refuted with entirely too much logic which only served to fuel Bruce’s drunk temper.

“Bad! You’re a bad boy scout!”

Clark had to laugh at this. He clenched his stomach, bending over with laughter as Bruce grew more and more indignant at Clark’s supposed disregard of sobriety laws.

“First of all, I was never a boy scout. Second, I was nowhere near as drunk as you are; I was tipsy at most. Third, I flew up to the sun to sober up before I flew you home. You were going to turn on the autopilot of your car and drive two hours home because you missed your babies.”

Bruce suddenly froze and stared at Clark like a deer in headlights. “Baby-” he sobbed, eyes filling with tears, “Where are my babies?”

“Ah, shoot. You know I can’t say anything when you look at me like that. It’s like Brucie is real and I can’t be mean to an actual rainbow puppy, B. I prefer it when you’re your usual wet cat self. Hey, tell me the truth, you based Brucie off of how you act when you’re drunk, didn’t you?”

“What?” Bruce sniffled and tilted his head to the side just like a puppy. The blank confused look on his face perfectly matched too. Dang rabbit! How did his eyes just turn bigger and rounder and wetter? It should be illegal for eyes to look that sad.

“Nothing. Let’s get you inside, hmm? Get you home to your babies.”

“Baby-” The waterworks started again and really, Clark had no one but himself to blame for being an idiot. Seriously, no matter how many times he witnessed it, he still couldn’t get used to Bruce being an emotional drunk. Never mind the fact that Diana and he took advantage of that fact to get Bruce to emote like a regular-smegular-well-rounded person. If they even existed.

Clark gave drunk puppy Bruce a pat on the head and inserted the keys he confiscated from him into the keyhole. As soon as he opened the door, he was met with Alfred’s unimpressed face.

“Oh, Alfred!” Clark gasped out in surprise. “Hi. Good evening. Morning? I thought you were asleep.”

It was a rare night off for all the Bats so Clark had assumed that they would all be asleep at the ungodly hour of one in the morning. Oh, who was he kidding? The Bats sleeping properly? He’d sooner see pigs fly. (Okay, one wasn’t that late but Clark grew up with an enforced bedtime of ten.)

“I was alerted to a lingering presence at the front doors and assumed Master Bruce had returned home rather than staying out like he had intended,” Alfred informed him drily. “Thank you for bringing him home safely, Mr Kent.”

“Oh, no worries. My pleasure. It’s what I should do for getting him so drunk. You know Bruce. He can’t resist challenging us in drinking even though he knows he has a lower tolerance. He thinks he could build a tolerance to Amazonian Mead.” Clark snorted.

“Alfred~ tell Clark- tell Clark he’s bad,” Bruce snitched. He slumped forward and leaned on the butler’s shoulder, aiming and missing a mean glare at Clark. “He- he drunk-flew!”

“Oh dear. How very terrible. Shall we fine him and take permit points off his licence for this offence?” Alfred deadpanned.

Bruce nodded emphatically. You know, like a hyprocrite. Clark was sure the Batmobile broke more traffic laws on a nightly basis than Clark would ever in his whole life. He'd witnessed that asshole driving on the sidewalk once.

“I’ll be sure to repent and reflect on my crimes.” Clark laughed. “I’ve gotta go now. Diana and Lois are scheming back at the apartment and as much as I want to see Luthor’s head tattoed pink, I don’t want my wife and friend to get arrested.”

Alfred smiled. “Safe travels, Mr Kent.”

“No- no drunk flying!”

Clark snickered and nodded indulgently. “Be good, B. Don’t bother your babies too much.”

With that, he flew off to (regretfully) save Lex Luthor’s head from a pink fate, unknowing of the bomb he set off in Wayne Manor.

“BABY!” Bruce wailed.

Alfred flinched back at the scream in such close proximity to his ear and pushed Bruce back by his shoulders. “Master Bruce!” he admonished.

Bruce hiccuped and looked at Alfred with the eyes of a kicked puppy. “My baby. I miss my baby. Baby. Baby, where are you? I miss you, baby.”

Alfred clicked his tongue with distaste and sighed. “Let’s get you to bed, Master Bruce.”

“Noooooooo! I need my baby. Alfred, I need my babies.” Bruce weakly struggled against Alfred’s grip and whined pathetically when he was not released. In retaliation, he let the tears glistening in his eyes fall as he stared at Alfred with a look of abject betrayal.

Alfred winced and steeled his heart. He had decades of experience in dealing with Bruce’s wet beast eyes. He shall persevere even in adversity. “Children, would you please assist me in getting your father into bed?” Of course, every little help was still greatly appreciated. Bruce’s eyes were a foe not to be taken lightly.

Bruce suddenly perked up (like a meerkat) and looked around (again, like a meerkat) excitedly. “My babies are here?”

The boys stood side by side, arms hanging awkwardly by their torsos as if they suddenly didn’t know what to do with them anymore. 🧍🧍🧍🧍

“...Um, Bruce? Are you drunk?” Dick hesitantly asked as if the heavy stench of alcohol and red flush on his dad’s face wasn’t a dead giveaway. To be fair, when Bruce looked like that, he was pretending 99% of the time.

Dick was prepared for Bruce to drop the Brucie act, doe eyes sharpening back to their intense default. What he was not prepared for was the force of the damn sun suddenly focusing on him and him alone as Bruce’s eyes crinkle and his mouth widens with pure joy and he’s beaming at Dick and stumbling forward on drunken feet.

“Dickie! Baby, I missed you so much!” Bruce exclaimed as he caught Dick in a bear hug, AKA the best hug Dick had ever experienced in his whole life. Bruce had been holding out on him and Dick was going to get back at him for that, but for now, he melted into the embrace, relishing in its reassuring tightness.

Bruce’s words registered in his mind and Dick couldn’t help but to laugh. “I’m baby?”

His dad nodded and looked at him with the warmest eyes. “Baby, I’m so proud of you. You’ve become such a good man but you never come home anymore.” Bruce started crying again and Dick panicked because he’s-a-terrible-person-and-he-just-made-a-puppy-cry-OMG.

“I visit at least once a week!” he stammered, trying to defend himself.

Jason smirked and seeing an opportunity to dunk on Dick, he hollered, “Shame on you, Goldie, you just made the old man cry!”

Dick spluttered with indignation.

“Jay!” Bruce cheered. He released Dick from his bear hug and captured Jason instead. “Baby, I love you so much. Did I ever tell you how much I love you?”

Jason’s face reddened to match Bruce’s. “You stink of alcohol, old man. How much did you drink tonight?”

“I don’t know? Diana gave me some of her Amazonian Mead and it was soooooooo good.”

Jason playfully slapped Bruce’s shoulder. “You went to a drinking party with Wonder Woman and you didn’t invite me?!”

Bruce blinked his Bambi eyes at the boy-now-man. “Clark and Diana ambushed me. I can organise another party with Diana if that’s what you want, baby.”

“Stop calling me baby!”

The dreaded crying made a return as Bruce hugged Jason tighter. “Alfred, my baby doesn’t want to be my baby anymore!”

“Who’s making Bruce cry now, Little Wing?”

“Shame on you, Jason.”

“Tt-, Todd, how could you do that to Father?”

The boys took turns ragging on their brother but little did they know, they’d just attracted Bruce’s attention to them instead. Bruce waddled over to Tim and Damian and pulled them both into a tearful embrace.

“Baby!” he cried. “Are the both of you still my babies?”

“Uh, sure, Bruce,” Tim replied, trying to pretend that he wasn’t leaning into the best damn hug of his life.

Caught in the same situation, Damian clicked his tongue with a flushed face. “I will accept the endearment considering you are currently impaired, Father.”

Bruce rubbed his face against the side of Damian’s head and rambled, “Baby, you’re so small. Tiny. Miniature. My sweet precious little babies.”

Damian made an indignant sound. “Father, Drake may be short for his age but I am still growing!”

Bruce smiled indulgent and pressed a kiss to Damian’s forehead. “Of course, baby. I love you, Dami.”

He leaned over to Tim and kissed his forehead. “I love you, Timmy.”

“I love you, Dickie.” Bruce kissed Dick’s forehead.

“I love you, Jaylad.” He kissed Jason’s forehead.

“I love you, Dad.” Bruce kissed Alfred’s forehead.

Alfred’s eyes teared up and he placed an affectionate hand on Bruce’s forearm. “I love you too, son. Let’s get you to bed now, alright?”

Instead of obeying, Bruce sobbed and flashed sad eyes at Alfred. “Alfie, my babies didn’t say they love me back. They don’t love me.”

Dick quickly ducked under Bruce’s arm and hugged him with all his might. “Aw, Bruce, I love you too. You should get drunk more often.”

Swept up in the mood, Tim added, “I love you too, Bruce.”

Then, Damian, “I love you, Father.”

Everyone looked expectantly at Jason.

“I love you too, old man,” Jason finally grumbled.

“My babies love me back. Dad, my babies love me,” Bruce sobbed.

“Yes, they do, Master Bruce. We all do. Now, for the last time, would you go to bed?”

Bruce blinked big wet eyes at Alfred and nodded. “If you tuck me in.”

“Of course, lad.”

Alfred supported Bruce with one arm on his shoulder and another around his waist, telling the kids he had it from there. He directed Bruce to his bedroom and tucked him tightly into bed as requested. Brushing a loose strand of hair away from Bruce’s face, the old man placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Sweet dreams, son.”

Bruce smiled dopily at him and licked his lips. “Water, please.”

Alfred chuckled and nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

The butler rushed to the kitchen for the glass of water and ran into the children on his way. They were smiling stupidly to themselves, teasing each other about what had just happened. Alfred smiled fondly and made his way back to Bruce’s bedroom, wishing to catch him before he fell asleep.

“Master Bruce, here’s your-” Alfred sighed. “Bollocks, he’s escaped his bed…”

The rogue drunk threw Duke’s bedroom door open and ambushed his foster son with a hug.

“Uhm, Bruce? I appreciate the hugs but I have to wake up early tomorrow and you kinda stink of alcohol.”

Bruce drunkenly hummed. “Baby, I love you. I know you think you’re not as crazy as your siblings but I promise you, you’re just as crazy and valid. Not just anyone jumps off a bridge and expects to survive. Not without training.”

“I don’t think being called crazy is usually a compliment but thank you?”

The Big Bad Bat giggled. “You’re absol- absolutely unhinged, baby. My life has been brighter since I met you.”

Duke grinned at the pun. “And mine has gotten bat-shit insane. I love you too, B.”

“Guys, guys, guys, guys!” Steph squealed. “Duke just texted me and he’s saying Bruce is drunk off his ass and serenading the entire house! He’s singing ‘I Want It That Way’ by Backstreet Boys perfectly!”

Babs dropped her chip and shoved the packet aside. Her fingers flew across the keyboard and the show they were watching disappeared from the TV screen, replaced by live footage of the kitchen in Wayne Manor.

“Bruce never say he could sing!” Cass gasped and pouted when Babs connected the audio. The voice of a male god flowed through Babs’ shitty TV speakers. “Will force him to go karaoke next time.”

“OMG, no one clapped and now he’s crying. Shit. How are his eyes doing that?! They’re so round and puppy and kitty and every cute thing in the world! What the fuck, Bruce?!”

“Okay, now he’s forcing them to sing with him and no one could refuse those eyes so they are.”

“This is greater than any show we could’ve ever watched.”

“Best. Sleepover. Ever.”

Meanwhile, Clark was dealing with two horrible drunks on his own.

“No, Lois! You can’t tattoo ‘Egg head’ on Luthor’s head in pink cursive. Even if it’s funny and accurate.”

“Diana! No! I can hear you trying to escape out the window. You’re not going anywhere with that tattoo machine. Where did you even get one? Bruce gave it to you? Of course he did-”

“Lois! Honey, please just drink this water and go to bed.”

“Yes, Diana, I know he deserves it but that’s highly illegal and you shouldn’t do it!”

“Yes, I know he does illegal things all the time but we have to prove that to do anything about it.”

“Urgh, I wish I stayed to deal with Bruce’s puppy eyes instead of this.”