Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Pleeeeeeease,” Dick begs, and Bruce can feel his harshness wavering. Damn this kid—he’s got a horrible soft spot for him. “Please, please, please?”

Dick has been begging for the last twenty minutes to come to a Justice League meeting. Bruce has tried, unsuccessfully, to convince him of how boring it will be. Of how he shouldn’t spring a surprise like this on the others—and that’s true. As far as he’s aware, they don’t know nearly enough about Robin to make a firm connection to Batman. At most, they think Robin is an unavoidable acquaintance. And Batman, secretive as he is, prefers it that way.

But Dick won’t hear of it. He’s desperate to join Batman at the meeting.

Alfred says it’s because Dick looks up to him—wants to be like him.

God, that’s a terrifying thought.

“Please, dad?”

And he’s got him. Fuck, Dick has Bruce wrapped around his little finger. It’s really that easy, and Bruce finds himself sighing and agreeing. At least he’s rewarded with Dick jumping up and down.

The ‘dad’ thing is new. Very new. Bruce hopes it never fades, though he doesn’t know how to make sure of that. He knows it’s all through adoption, luck of the draw, the randomness of finding Dick and looking after him…but he’s Bruce’s son. At least, that’s what Bruce thinks to himself, when he thinks of Dick, before he realizes it.

“But you have to behave, alright? And your mask stays on, no matter what.” Dick only rolls his eyes.

“I know, I know.”

“I know you know, chum,” Bruce replies, ruffling his son’s hair. Dick tries to dodge it, laughing, but Bruce is too quick. “Come on then, go get ready.”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

Bruce has never seen Dick leave a room and Robin return so quickly. Of course this is the time he rushes the most.

“Ready?” Bruce asks, peering down at him before they reach the zeta tube. Dick nods, once, a huge smile on his face. He surprises Bruce by reaching for his hand—he’s never liked teleports, but it surprises Bruce all the same.

Forget secrets, Bruce thinks; there is no chance he’s letting go of this hand first.

But before they’ve even stepped out of the tube, Robin drops his hand, standing up straighter.

“Okay,” he says, quietly, “time to be super professional.”

“You just be yourself,” Bruce corrects. Dick gives a nod.

J’onn is the first person they pass, but Bruce isn’t worried. Despite finally learning how to put up mental blocks, he’s very sure the Martian Manhunter had long since clocked his identity. Now, he definitely knows Robin’s. But Bruce knows he won’t say a word. J’onn probably carries more secrets than Bruce does.

Batman moves to his regular seat, regarding each of the members who’ve already arrived with a single nod. Before he sits down, though, Robin is tugging on his sleeve.

“Where should I sit?” Dick whispers.

“Hm,” he ponders. It’ll be a full table today. Batman has a very serious presentation planned about prevention strategies, and he’s requiring it for everyone. “You sit here,” Bruce points to his normal seat, “I’ll get another chair from Lounge–W6.” It’s the closest place he can think of, because he doesn’t really want to lug extra chairs across the tower.

Robin nods, then climbs up into his new assigned seat. He leans forward, looking serious, and laces his fingers together on the table.

“We will begin shortly,” he announces somberly, doing his best glare at each member. Bruce has to swallow a chuckle, forcing himself to remain stoic in the suit. It’s much harder when Robin’s gaze lands on Superman, and his eyes go wide with excitement. “Superman. Report on…uh…how your day is going.”

Superman raises an eyebrow, a smile beginning to creep on his face. Bruce looks at each of his teammates, as Flash arrives late, and sees equal surprise and confusion on each face.

He chooses to ignore this, instead retrieving the chair as Superman answers to the best of his ability. Bruce can tell he’s trying to match Robin’s attempt at seriousness, and he appreciates it. He’s glad his kid is having fun.

“And then I came here,” Superman finishes as Bruce takes his new seat, beside Robin. “So, I would say, it wasn’t half-bad.”

“Oh, cool! Er, I mean…fine. I guess.” Robin’s voice lowers an octave at the last three words, and he glances at Bruce, as if to ask Batman if he’s doing a good job. Bruce gives a nod, and Robin breaks out in his signature smile.

Bruce jumps into the presentation without further preamble. The less time Robin has to reveal any details about them, the better. If Bruce doesn’t know Superman’s identity at least, then no-one is welcome to have his, either. And they’re certainly not welcome to know his son’s.

But after two hours, he can tell people are trying hard to continue paying attention.

Except Robin. Robin is completely engrossed in his presentation, nodding along or even looking confused at times. He never asks a question—Bruce can guess that he’s too intimidated—so Bruce does try to explain things further when Dick’s brow dips, until it relaxes and a proud smile lands on his face for understanding all on his own.

“Now, the most important part of preventative action is to report things to your team, even if you’re not sure it’s important. Err on the side of caution—why take risks, and eventually blame, for keeping things to yourself? See something, say something,” Bruce continues, though he stops when Robin’s hand shoots up abruptly.

“Yes, Robin,” he calls on him. It’s funny, because Superman is the only other person to raise a hand during a meeting for interruptions.

“I saw a bird at the park yesterday!” Dick exclaims. Batman blinks at him. Even the members who had begun to tune Bruce out bring themselves back for Robin’s participation.

“That,” Batman answers, ignoring the heads turning in his direction, waiting for his response. “Is outstanding. Excellent work, Robin.” Dick beams, and Bruce catches a miniscule frown pass across Superman’s face. His protective side kicks in: “This is what I’m talking about. Superman,” he says seriously, “why can’t you be more like Robin?”

Superman’s eyes go wide, and Flash seems to stifle a laugh.

“Well, I—”

“It was me!!!” Dick interrupts again, seemingly exploding with what is clearly a punchline. “I saw my reflection in the fountains.”

Another proud smile is on his adorable, tiny face, and Batman forces his own face to remain empty.

“Get it? Robin?!”

It is unbelievably difficult to hide the emotion on his face.

“Yes,” Batman answers. “That is a brilliant contribution, Robin.”

Dick makes a tiny, pleased sound, before settling back into his seat.

“AND ALSO SUPERMAN YOU’RE MY FAVORITE.” Now that he’d been holding in for a while. Bruce had wondered when he’d pop and spill the beans. Superman gives a good natured laugh.

“What, not Batman?” Superman asks, and Bruce fakes a scowl, mostly to make Dick giggle.

“Batman can’t fly,” Robin shrugs, “and you wear superhero colors.” Then he looks over at Bruce, shrugging. “Sorry, dad.”

Bruce exhales a sigh, though he knew it had been coming.

Every head in the room snaps toward him.

“Dad?!” Flash exclaims.

“Yes,” Bruce answers calmly, "this is Robin. My son.” Dick has that wide, open-mouthed smile on, looking so happy that Bruce doesn’t even mind that this fact had been shared. Especially because it looks much more surprised than he would like. Besides, it’s not like this alone will trace people back to his identity.

“How old are you?” Diana asks, and Robin opens his mouth.

“Don’t answer that,” Batman reminds him. Robin’s mouth snaps shut again.

“Too young,” Green Lantern speaks up for the first time.

“You can’t just indoctrinate a child into a life of crime-fighting,” Diana agrees. Bruce sighs.

“Robin, would you mind grabbing me files from my office? Do you remember the way?”

Of course, he’d been up here before. Never with the Justice League around, though, and it had been a while. But Dick nods.

“Okay. They are in the top right drawer, in a blank, dark gray folder. Do you remember the passcode?” Another nod. “Thank you, Robin.”

Robin has a clear hesitance to leave. He knows the conversation they’re about to have is about him. But eventually he tears himself away from the table. The moment the door closes behind him, the table explodes.

“Dad?!”

“He’s just a child!”

“You’re a father, what the fu—”

“Eight, maybe nine years ol—”

Bruce shakes his head.

“What, just to replace your mantle, when you’re gone?” Diana demands. “To grow up and become you?”

“To become better,” Bruce answers simply. “Robin has been through a lot. I didn’t want him to end up…like me.”

It’s a loud admission, despite his quiet voice. It’s the most personal thing he’s ever told any of them. Silence echoes, but J’onn nods.

“You love that boy very much. It radiates throughout the room. You should know—he feels the same.” Bruce meets his eyes and feels the sentiment echo throughout his soul. It’s warm and familiar and utterly terrifying. But he won’t reveal that to these people—not that J’onn doesn’t already know. Instead of a response, at the risk of his voice breaking, he simply nods.

The rest of this room thinks this over.

“He seems like a good kid,” Superman utters eventually. It seems like an olive branch. “I always thought you would make a good father.”

Bruce didn’t know that was something Superman thought about. But the rest of the room nods in agreement, as if they too have thought the same thing.

“How is he so old? Surely you couldn’t have had him so young—”

“I’m back!” Shouts Robin, breathless, clearly having run the entire way and back, just to return to this conversation. He hands Bruce the folder, and Bruce instinctively ruffles his hair.

“Thank you, chum.”

Everyone at the table coos, and not even one of Batman’s famous glares can shut them up.

Chapter Text

It’s a strategizing meeting, the next time it happens. Except this time, there’s no preamble, no cuteness to the beginning. In fact, the beginning scares the hell out of Bruce.

Because in the middle of the meeting, his personal phone rings. His personal, emergency phone. Only three people have access to the number—Alfred, Dick, and Barbara. Bruce has made it clear that it must be an emergency to ring this phone, especially when he’s with the League.

“Excuse me,” he announces gruffly, stepping away from the table as briskly as he can.

“Batgirl? What’s wrong?” Bruce asks, when he’s alone in the hallway.

It’s still new, her living with them. She isn’t used to such a big, empty house, but Bruce has watched her make the most of it time and time again. The loss of her father was hard for her—Bruce knows what that’s like—but she’s adapting well. He hopes Gordon would approve of Bruce taking her in…he just didn’t want her to be alone.

She and Dick have taken to sliding down the railings like a slide, and hanging upside-down from chandeliers. It would scare Bruce, but he’s seen Dick walk wires like tightropes and Barbara backflip off buildings, so. He lets them play.

“B—it’s an emergency. The absolute kind. The crazy kind.” She sounds rushed, and she’s whispering. Bruce’s heart stops.

“I’m on my way,” he answers automatically.

“What? No. I just—can we do a video call?” It’s still a whisper, but Bruce would gladly like to see where she is, and agrees quickly.

She’s in the batcave.

Looking perfectly composed, in her full suit. Although the camera is a little close, and she still speaks in a whisper.

“I need your help. In fact,” she pauses, “I need the entire Justice League.”

Bruce, unthinking, still worried off his mind, rushes back into the room, interrupting something Superman is saying.

“Okay, Batgirl, tell us what you need,” Bruce tells her, desperate to know what the emergency is.

She looks around nervously.

“I need help planning Nightwing’s birthday party!”

Bruce’s concern drops from his face as the rest of the League get a close look at Batgirl for the very first time. Her auburn hair is unmistakable, though. Any glimpses they’ve had of her are confirmed now.

“Sorry?” Superman asks. Batman glares at the screen and as a sneaky, satisfied smile slides onto Barbara’s face.

“Nightwing. His birthday is coming up. Agent A says we can just do something at home, but come on, sixteen? We need to do something extra special!”

“Batgirl!” Bruce scolds. She rolls her eyes.

“How can they help plan it if they don’t know how old he’s turning?”

Bruce glares at her more. He hears Flash laugh, though, and quickly turns to spread his wrath in his direction instead. Barry Allen—Bruce has put the pieces together recently. Wally West was the main lead in that solve, to be fair.

Of course, he’s neglected to tell Flash that he knows his identity; Bruce isn’t really a ‘cards on the table’ kind of guy.

Except his ward seems set on ruining his reputation, because she’s currently telling stories of Nightwing’s past birthdays and how they celebrated them. Including the potato sack races at nine, and cowboy themed party when he was twelve, when Bruce wore the whole getup. The whole table is cracking up at his expense by the time she’s finished.

Batman is scowling at everyone. It doesn’t help.

Eventually the whole lot of them get into suggestions, and Flash is writing ideas on a whiteboard. Since they first met him eight years ago, the League has seen Robin more than a handful of times. It must be why Barbara has decided that they are capable of deciding something as important as his sixteenth birthday party.

Eventually, it’s decided to have a disco, roller-rink, flash mob sort of party. The Teen Titans will be invited the night before to an epic sleepover in the Lighthouse between cities, with enough snacks and activities to make them sick and dizzy. Then the next day the disco will begin, with all of Dick’s non-superhero friends, (and any Teen Titans that know his identity, though neither Barbara or Bruce reveal that to the League.)

When Barbara is satisfied, she says she has to go, because she needs to work on finding a celebrity guest for the party. Green Lantern suggests Bruce Wayne. Barbara laughs at him for an entire minute before abruptly hanging up the call.

“So,” Superman says, after a moment, “got another one, huh?”

Bruce glares at him again.

Chapter Text

Jason is, without a doubt, one of Bruce’s favorite things in this world. He misses Dick, now that he’s Nightwing and living so far away, but he loves him equally—and no, that’s not parent-speak. He really does love them both so very dearly. But the thing is, he’d forgotten. He’d forgotten how very adorable it is to have a youngster around, always energetic and excited. It worries him, of course, when he doesn’t take things seriously—things that could get him hurt. But overall, when he’s safe at Batman’s side, Bruce is so grateful that little Jason is in his life.

Jason, even more so than Dick, loves being Robin. Hell, he even loves being Jason. In fact, the kid pretty much loves everything. He loves hugs, and climbing on Bruce like he’s a spider, scrambling up to the top of his shoulders. He loves cooking with Alfred, sharing a love of books and puzzles. He loves ice cream and the stars and phone calls with his brother. That last one took a while—Bruce knows how unsure Dick was about Jason, in the beginning. He wouldn’t even call him Robin, at first.

But eventually he did, and even though they live in separate cities, Bruce can tell they’re still close. He loves that.

Today, though, Jason woke up with a fever, and refuses to detach himself from Bruce’s leg.

“I have to, Jay,” Bruce tries for the one hundredth time.

“No!” Jason answers, hugging him tighter. “You can’t go!”

It’s one of those rare, ridiculously important meetings at the Watchtower that Batman simply can’t be late for, let alone miss entirely.

He wants to, though. More than anything, he wants to stay at home and take care of his kid. Bruce hates to pass him off to Alfred when he is so specifically asking for him.

“I want a story!” Jason demands.

“I already read you a story,” Bruce reminds him. Jason tries to bite his leg out of spite, which is hard to do, because Bruce is already in full Batman uniform. He’d only come to say a quick goodbye, and make sure Jay’s temperature hadn’t risen. But his little Robin had been waiting for it, and had sprung himself at Bruce before he had time to react.

“I don’t wanna be alone,” Jason whines. Bruce’s heart melts.

“I promise, you won’t be. Alfred will be here with you the whole time. And Babs will be home this afternoon.”

Still, Jason won’t detach himself from Bruce’s leg. Bruce could pull him off, if he wanted to. But Jason is still so small for a thirteen year old. He looks years younger than he should; he was malnourished in his youth, Bruce knows that. He’ll forever wish he’d found him earlier.

All this to say, there is no world in which he’s forcing his son away from him if Jay doesn’t want to let go.

“But I want you!”

Jason starts to sniffle, and Bruce knows the tears are next. He sighs, pinches his nose.

“Okay…Okay. What if you come with me?”

“Okay.” Jason is completely calm as he agrees, at last detangling himself from Bruce. What a little trickster. Bruce can almost bet, based on his sneaky, Barbara-like smile, that this is what he’d been hoping for the whole time.

“Okay,” Bruce says, trying hard not to sigh again. “But you have to promise that you’ll be quiet the whole time. If we get there early, they don’t even have to know you’re there.”

“Deal!”

They grab his Robin suit, but Bruce doesn’t make Jason put it on. He was already wearing his domino, anyways. The kid rarely takes it off, when they’re at home.

See? Adorable.

They arrive at the tower first, and Bruce places him in the guest room nearest their meeting space.

“You call me on the comms if you need me—don’t come out, alright? Like we talked about?”

Jason nods, and Bruce inwardly sighs because he knows this is going to end up exactly like Dick. But then Jason lies down on the bed, and Bruce waits with him until his breaths become slow and even, and he has a twinge of hope.

Then he leaves, quietly closing the door, and sits in his usual seat. When J’onn arrives, he gives Bruce a soft, knowing smile. He can probably sense Jason, despite him being in a soundproof room.

The rest arrive, and surely as ever they begin another meeting, discussing new heroes that should be invited to the League. Nightwing’s name is thrown out, but privately Bruce wants to let him be on his own for a while, first. That’s what he left for—he wanted space away from Batman. Away from Bruce.

So he turns down the idea, and they move on to other possibilities.

It’s almost an hour into the meeting before he feels something tug at his leg. More specifically, someone. Jason must have crawled on the floor, because Bruce hadn’t even seen him walk the short distance between the hallway and Bruce’s seat. Superman must have been too wrapped up in what he was saying to notice the extra heartbeat that had joined them.

Bruce tries to look casual and nonchalant as he glances down at Jason, who is still tugging on his leg.

“Hi,” Jason whispers.

Superman stops talking. Well, he definitely heard that.

“Supes?” Flash asks. “Everything okay?”

Superman doesn’t answer at first, simply scans the room.

“Something is in here with us,” he murmurs, brows furrowed. Bruce rolls his eyes. If there had been a real threat in here, it’s concerning how long Superman is taking to identify it. Luckily, it’s just Jason.

“Thought I told you to stay in the room, little bird,” Bruce says softly, giving up entirely on the secrecy. Plan has been totally blown at this point, but that’s no surprise. Everyone’s eyes land on him, and he realizes that it looks like he’s talking to the ground.

“I wasn’t sleepy, anymore,” Jason mumbles, in a soft, tired voice.

“Alright,” Bruce answers. He feels the tug on his leg again.

“Is that Wonder Woman?” Jason asks, shyly. Bruce can’t swallow down his tiny, surprised smile in time. Only once he’s got his face under control again does he respond.

“Yes. Do you want to say hello?”

Jason gasps dramatically, then jumps up from the floor. The rest of the table shares looks of wide eyes and barely contained laughter.

“Hi,” Jason announces, hands on hips in his usual Robin pose. Except, Bruce realizes belatedly, he’s not in his Robin outfit. He’s still in his pajamas—Wonder Woman themed, of course—but luckily still wearing his mask. He insists on sleeping in the thing, so it’s no surprise that he is still wearing it now.

“Hello, there,” Diana responds, clearly having heard the conversation. Jason’s eyes go wide.

“Hi,” he repeats. Diana laughs lightly.

“I must say, child, I like your outfit,” She comments, and Jason strikes his pose again.

“They are the coolest pajamas, ever. I got them for Christmas!”

“Oh, did you? How exciting. From Santa?”

“No. Dad gave them to me.”

Bruce tries to desperately hide his blush. Jason never calls him ‘dad’ in front of other people.

“Is that so?” She asks, and her eyes slide to Batman, who shrugs.

“You’re his favorite.”

“I miss being the favorite,” Superman complains, resting his chin on his hand. Bruce rolls his eyes. The table laughs.

“Question,” Green Lantern interrupts, “if you weren’t supposed to come out here, why are you wearing a mask? A mask in your pajamas?”

“Are you kidding?!” Jason explodes, eyes going wide. “Why would I take it off? Robin gives me magic!” He does four cartwheels in a row, then a little spin. Everyone claps, and Bruce’s heart hurts a little. Then Jason is climbing up him, like the monkey Dick trained him to be, and sitting atop his shoulders in five seconds flat. “You have to wear the mask, to get extra good dreams.”

“He won’t take it off,” Bruce fills in, when worried eyes glance at him. “We’ve tried everything.”

“MAAAAAAAAGIC!!!!” Jason announces, scrambling down and running around the room.

“Woah! You’re faster than me, kid,” Flash says. Bruce again has to work hard to contain his emotions as Jason beams at the compliment.

“So, Robin, huh?” Superman asks, looking confused.

“It’s a family name,” Jason answers solemnly, sounding like a record player of Dick. Bruce wishes he had a video to send to him.

“Alright, alright, little bird,” Bruce reaches out and grabs him on his fourth lap around the table, placing him on his lap without any real force. “I thought you promised to be quiet, today.”

Jason’s mouth snaps closed, then he whispers loudly, “I am quiet.”

“Sure you are,” Bruce loudly whispers back.

“Batman, if you need to go,” Superman begins.

“No!” Jason pouts. “I’ll be quiet. Promise.”

And he is, because five minutes into the meeting he’s fallen asleep against Bruce’s chest, Batman’s cape tucked around him like a blanket. Everyone coos over it, and Bruce lets them, because really, how could they not?

Chapter Text

Nightwing joins the Justice League, in the end. He was too talented and good-natured not to. But Bruce was careful to avoid mentioning that he’d once been his little Robin. After all, Dick had made it clear he wanted to be his own person, now, separate from Bruce.

Bruce is so proud of him. He never says as much, not sure if it’s his place. But he hopes Dick knows.

Except, today, he’s fifteen minutes late. The meeting has moved on without him, but Dick isn’t answering their batfamily comms and Bruce is about two minutes away from storming out of here and going to find him.

He won’t lose another kid.

He won’t. He refuses.

It’s been hard. Since Jason. Bruce only got to have him for three years before he failed him, and it’s something he doesn’t know how to move on from. Bruce is vaguely aware his teammates sense something is wrong with him, that they know he’s more tense and angry than he used to be. He tries to tamper it down, when Dick is around, but now he’s late and Bruce is having trouble breathing.

Then, just as he opens his mouth to dismiss himself, Nightwing marches in.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he starts, “there was an explosion in a warehouse in Blüdhaven just as I was heading out and—”

And Bruce is out of his chair and at his bird’s side before he can even finish the sentence.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Let me see,” his voice is soft, a rough whisper, and he’s surprised when Dick waits, allowing himself to be checked over. Wordlessly, Bruce lifts his arms, checks his hands and fingers, his shoulders. Anything dislocated or sprained or broken. He touches Dick’s neck lightly, then takes his jaw in one hand, gently pushing it side to side so he can check his ears for blood and head for bumps.

“I’m okay, B,” Dick says softly, taking one of Batman’s wrists. Bruce just shakes his head silently, clenching his jaw. “It wasn’t anything big, and I was ages away.”

“You have soot on you, it could have…it could have gotten you—”

“B.” His voice is calm, but firm. Bruce forces himself to breathe. “It was minor, just a turf war mishap. I’m not him.”

“You could have been hurt,” Batman says, and it would sound like a threat if he wasn’t still looking over Dick so carefully. Dick takes his other wrist now, and Bruce feels small compared to his son, who is suddenly all grown up, even though Batman is still the slightly taller of the two.

“I am okay,” he whispers at last. “I know it’s…a lot. Exploding buildings. But I am okay. I promise.”

Bruce nods, but still finishes his check. When he lightly taps Dick’s ribs, he catches the flinch and nearly growls. “Bruised ribs say otherwise.”

“Dad,” Dick whines, reminding Bruce of when he was much, much younger. It’s been too long since he called Bruce that. He’d forgotten how much his heart ached for it. “I’m okay. I’m the king of okay.” Dick smiles and it’s not his usual, signature smile, but it’s enough.

Bruce swallows, nods, tries to be okay, too.

“How many kids do you have, Bats?” Flash asks. Nightwing turns to the group, surprised, glancing between them and Batman.

“They didn’t…” he questions.

“No,” Bruce answers. He’d been careful about that secret. It’s never his to tell, it’s up to each of his kids, how and when they want to reveal it. Or, re-reveal it, in Dick’s case. But Nightwing only laughs, his eyes sparkling with this newfound secret.

“God, you’re paranoid, B.”

Yet, Dick doesn’t explain to them that he used to be the first Robin. Bruce doesn’t correct them either. They get on with the meeting that Batman had clearly disrupted, and if Dick notices Bruce glancing at him for the majority of it, he doesn’t say anything.

Chapter Text

Tim, unlike his other children, is very good at secrets. He always has been. He’s been keeping Batman’s identity safe since he was nine, after all.

Which is why it is absolutely all Bruce’s fault that the Justice League finds out he has another kid. Ever since Jason…returned…Bruce can’t leave Tim by himself. He just can’t.

Which Tim absolutely hates, of course. So, Bruce has taken to using some interesting tactics to lure the kid within eyesight at all times. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.

For example, today, the watchtower will be empty, and Tim is itching to get out of the house, so Bruce has one of his brilliant, nothing-can-possibly-go-wrong ideas.

“Why don’t we go up to the watchtower today?”

Tim looks up from his computer for the first time since breakfast.

“Wha—really?”

Bruce nods, maybe a little too eagerly.

“I was wondering if maybe you could help me update our systems? Reorganize data, just an idea, it could be extremely boring—”

“No!” Tim shouts, nearly out of his chair. He coughs, returns to a more relaxed, angsty new-teen position. “I mean, uh, no. It doesn’t sound boring. It sounds…Fine.” Bruce tries to look surprised. As if this isn’t the most predictable kid ever. As if he isn’t practically bouncing in his seat.

“Alright, then. Whenever you’re ready. No rush.” Tim nods, and Bruce leaves his room. It’s precisely three seconds before the door is swinging open again, computer bag in hand. Bruce swallows a laugh. “Ready?” Tim gives a quick, maybe too vigorous, nod.

And up they go.

And of course there, upon arrival, is half the team.

Superman and Wonder Woman have the gall to look surprised. Green Lantern—Hal, Bruce has pieced together—has a quick intake of breath, a little too close to a gasp for Bruce’s liking. J’onn just smiles.

“Welcome, Robin,” he greets simply. Tim nods at him.

“Can I still get to work?” he asks Bruce. Batman nods, glad he has such firm rules about being in costume when visiting the tower. Tim abandons them in search of the monitor room. He’s never been up here before, but Bruce knows the kid well enough to know he’s long since downloaded and memorized the schematics and layout of the tower.

“Wait, child,” Wonder Woman calls after him. Tim spins on his heel, facing her. He smiles at last, the laser focus fading enough for him to stick out a hand for her to shake. He repeats the motion with Superman next, then Green Lantern, then a solemn nod at J’onn.

“Robin. Hi,” he greets.

“Wow,” Superman comments, “finally one that’s more like his father, huh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dick asks, entering the room with a bag of chips in hand. His tone is soft, light, teasing, and he holds the bag out for Tim, who steals one.

“Wing,” Bruce mumbles, surprised. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Blüdhaven?”

Dick, at least, looks a little sheepish.

“Right…sorry. It was last minute.”

“What was?”

“Well, we meant to call you in next,” Superman interrupts. “Really. It’s just—you take so few days off! And so we didn’t want to bother you, until we were sure.”

“See something, say something,” Tim inputs, as if rehearsed. It probably is. The amount of times Dick has given him that speech is insurmountable.

“That’s true!” Dick ruffles his hair, a little.

It’s nice. Bruce wishes they had more of that.

“Yes, that’s why I called in—” Superman starts.

“Everyone else?” Batman interrupts with a growl, even though he’s not really offended. He knows the team doesn’t need him all the time.

“Not Flash! He’d requested the day off, too.”

“So, what is it, then?” Tim chimes in at last. Eyes turn to him, surprised. Bruce catches Dick’s fond eye roll, trades one of his own. They both know what happens next. But the Justice League are cut off guard, and Superman fills both new arrivals in on the Lex case he’s working. Tim migrates to the main room as they talk, the group naturally following him. Superman continues explaining details as Tim sets up his computer calmly, quietly. By the time Superman has finished talking, though, Tim is already spinning the device toward him.

“The dropoff will be at the docks just outside of Gotham,” he decides aloud. Superman’s mouth falls open, and he drops to Tim’s level.

“Wha—how—”

“Decent guess is heavy goons, heavier firepower, and they seem to be waiting for you.”

“How do you know that?” Green Lantern arrives.

“This is live security footage. There’s no other reason to have ten armed guards at every entrance and exit,” Tim explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“He sounds like you,” Dick whispers to Bruce. Bruce can only nod, a little more haunted by the idea than he’d like.

“Lex is probably working with Dr. Maxwell Deter, based on the material of the boxes—known signature of the guy.” The league bombards him with more questions, but Tim just puts on his headphones. “And—yep. Audio tells me the drop-off is tonight.”

“Where have you been hiding this one?” Wonder Woman asks, impressed. Dick pouts, and Bruce can’t help the arm that wraps around him protectively.

“All of my children are very talented,” he says honestly. Dick—who’d tensed, a little, at his touch—relaxes. Tim looks up, a smile gracing his face at last.

“Can I get back to the security on this place now?”

“If you don’t mind,” Bruce says, as if he doesn’t already know the answer to that one.

Chapter Text

Bruce is storming through the tower doors, seeing red in a way he rarely has before. His anger is palpable. Dick is beside him, equally livid. They’re choking on the rage, the protectiveness.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Superman greets, “he’s through here.”

“Let him out. Now.” Batman commands, tone even more curt and sharp than usual.

“What?” Superman stutters, turning toward him, stopping them in their tracks before they’ve even reached the room.

“He was taken off of our wanted list months ago,” Nightwing answers, and Bruce almost catches a sneer in his voice.

“Let. Him. Out.” Bruce’s voice holds no room for argument, and they open the door to the large cell that contains one Red Hood, cuffed to a chair, being seemingly interrogated by Wonder Woman.

She’s reaching for his helmet, and Jason’s back is to them, so he doesn’t see his family enter as he says, “I wouldn’t.”

“Oh? And why not?”

“Because if you take it off wrong it will explode,” Jason explains coolly.

“What?!” Dick leaps further into the room, moving until he’s perfectly between Diana and Jason. “Since when.”

“Since I made it, dickhead.”

“You’re bluffing,” Dick says, disbelieving.

“Am not.”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Boys,” Bruce interrupts, and the room falls silent. Jason looks over his shoulder in surprise. “Superman,” Bruce barks, “did I not just give you an order?”

“Oh, right,” Superman scrambles to free Jason from his chair.

“About time,” Jason mumbles, stretching. “Told you so.”

Superman looks down.

“What does he mean?” Dick demands.

“Well, just that he’d said we would regret bringing him here—but we thought it was just the usual threats!” Superman explains, sheepish. Good. He should be.

Bruce wants to pull out his Kryptonite just so he can punch him in the fucking face.

“Aw,” Dick says, though, seemingly having the opposite reaction. “You knew we were coming for you?”

“Do I look like an idiot to you, dickhead?” Jason grumbles, crossing his arms.

“We had you removed from the wanted list the day we found out,” Bruce clears up. “I will start holding update meetings so this doesn’t occur again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason mutters, and it feels like he’s an annoyed fourteen year old again. But he’s not. But that’s okay—Bruce doesn’t need him to be.

“On the Most Wanted list or not, this man is a known criminal and drug lord,” Diana points out. Bruce glares at her.

“Your information is outdated,” he growls in a warning. Flash steps forward, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“We should at least turn him over to police custody!”

“You will do nothing of the sort,” Bruce commands. Dick steps in front of his brother, so miniscule that Bruce wonders if he even notices he’s doing it.

Superman opens his mouth to argue, maybe, so Bruce cuts him off.

“This is my son,” Bruce announces, “and everyone in this room owes him an apology.”

Jason and Dick’s head swivel toward him, and Bruce realizes he’s just taken away his son’s choice to announce—or not announce—that information. After all, there is surely a reason he didn’t say so earlier.

But just as Bruce opens his mouth to apologize himself, Jason is storming over to him, reaching out, and—hugging him.

Jason is hugging him.

“You ever tell anyone that again, old man, and I’ll kill you,” Jason threatens quietly, but it feels empty. It feels like healing. Bruce doesn’t realize he’s been hugging him back until he steps away.

“Can’t he say it one more time, though?” Dick stage-whispers. Jason crosses his arms, but gives a single nod. Bruce manages to tamper down his huge grin into a tiny smirk.

“This is my son, Red Hood. You ever tie him up again and it will be your last day in this League.”

“Last day on this Earth,” Jason mumbles.

The room choruses with apologies.

“You don’t actually have a bomb in your helmet, do you?” Dick asks worriedly.

“He does,” Superman decides aloud, and he’s wearing that face that tells Bruce he is attempting to use his X-ray vision. “Along with a bunch of lead.”

“Hood!” Dick whacks his brother on the arm.

“Ow!”

“What are you thinking, putting a bomb and lead next to your head all the time?!”

“I’m thinking, I don’t want people to figure out my identity. So if they open up the helmet in the wrong way, it blows up my face and will leave them either dead or with a real nasty scar, depending on how close they got.”

“I’m gonna kill you,” Dick threatens.

“I’m not scared of you, dickhead.” Jason argues. Dick nods, thinking this over.

“Fine. Then I’m telling Agent A. And he can kill you.”

Jason throws up his middle finger.

“Boys!” Bruce scolds.

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“He started it!”

Bruce starts to herd the boys from the room, hopefully from the tower altogether, but Flash’s voice calls out behind them.

“Sorry—um. Sorry. But your…your son is a…crime lord.”

“He’s a vigilante.”

“We caught him because he was at an illegal weapons deal,” he pushes.

“Well,” Bruce says, turning to Jason, “he has a very good reason for that.”

And he does. Jason explains, annoyed, that he had been undercover, and close to infiltrating the whole thing. Everyone gives another round of muttered apologies.

“Stay for dinner?” Bruce asks on their way out of the tower. He makes himself add: “Please?”

“Well,” Jason shrugs after a moment, “how could I say no to free food?”

“Please,” Dick scoffs, bumping his shoulder, “as if A isn’t already bringing you food every week.”

Jason is pretty quiet after that, though the dinner table is lively and full. Tim doesn’t even seem to mind having Jason around—Bruce is pretty sure they’ve had some sort of conversation and/or battles without him present, and now seem steady. Not friendly, really, but not unkind. When Dick makes a light-hearted joke about Tim’s new hair, Jason throws a roll at his older brother in Tim’s defense. It feels like progress.

Bruce will take what he can get.

Chapter Text

Cassandra is the strongest little girl Bruce has ever known. It’s horrible, trying to show her kindness and having only her blank-faced bravery to show for it. If David Cain weren’t already dead, Bruce would have been decorating a new Arkham cell just for him.

Cass isn’t one for asking for help, or wanting company, or explaining her thoughts. Actually, she reminds Bruce of himself a lot, in that way. But it was forced on her, and she’s so much younger than he was.

All this to say, she doesn’t openly act like a kid very often. So when she does, Bruce does everything he can to encourage it. It’s not exactly common now, but it’s certainly less rare.

So, when little Cass attaches herself to his back, hiding beneath his cape, and refuses to let go? Bruce simply carries on to the watchtower. She can hide up there for as long as she wants, and be as clingy as she likes. Even more so because she is so silent; Bruce is hoping to make it through the whole meeting without being exposed.

“The quarterly reports are telling us that the Red Lanterns have shown signs of heavy movement and mobilization,” Green Lantern is saying. Bruce wishes they could all be having this meeting at the table, where Cass could relax a bit in the space between the chair and his back. But alas, they are all standing over maps and coordinates of the local solar system, so Cass has to continue to hold on.

It’s not overwhelmingly new, anymore, her living with the family. Well—it’s just Bruce, Alfred, Barbara, and Tim in the mansion. But Dick comes by more often than he needs to, statistically speaking, which Bruce takes to mean that he likes visiting. That’s what the math tells him, at least. And Jay and Tim seem to be strangely close, considering the near murders within the past couple years.

But by now, even those not living at home, have learned sign language to communicate with Cass. She does speak, but Bruce knows she prefers to read and understand body language, and finds words easier to say with her hands.

Cass readjusts herself, arms probably tired, and the cape slips open a little. J’onn shoots upright for the first time, and Superman has a similar reaction.

Damn.

This never will stop happening, will it?

When the cape was fully closed, it was dampening the sound of Cass’ breaths and heartbeat, along with shielding traces of her mind. But even a sliver of space broke the spell, and now both metas look desperately around for the source of this new information they’re processing.

“I can feel…” J’onn trails off. “Someone is blocking their mind from me,” he continues slowly, after a moment. “Someone new.”

Bruce internally congratulates her, because he hadn’t trained her on that at all yet.

“There’s a heartbeat,” Superman agrees. “Who’s there?”

Bruce doesn’t move, awaiting Cassandra’s decision. He’s happy to let his teammates be confused, if the other choice is uncomfortably meeting them before she’s ready.

But Cass sticks her little head out of his cape, maneuvering so her chin sits atop Bruce’s shoulder.

Eyes dart to Bruce’s direction at the movement, and he blinks in response, offering no answer nor reaction.

“Hello,” Superman greets slowly, tenseness in his shoulders relaxing as a small grin creeps onto his face.

“Oh,” Diana says, “and who might you be?”

There’s a long silence, in which Cass extracts herself from Batman and stands up a little straighter.

“Not. Orphan,” Cass answers at last, forcefully, as if reminding herself. This is something they’ve started doing—-started practicing. A separation from the mask, and from the past she hates.

The room doesn’t seem to recognize the name, though, and eyes shift to Batman as they expect answers for the weird comment. But he ignores them, in favor of bending to her level.

“That’s right,” he says softly, for her rather than them. He allows himself a small smile, because it’s easier for her to read sincerity when he isn’t swallowing it down. “Not Orphan. Not ever.” Bruce stands upright once more, addressing the room. “This is my daughter. When she is in suit, she goes by the name Black Bat.”

He speaks slowly, picking his words carefully. Her name is not Black Bat, and Bruce doesn’t want her to think he’s pressuring it onto her. She is more than just a weapon, more than a vigilante. Cass seems to understand what he’s saying, though, because she tugs on his cape and he looks down at her.

I know, she signs. Your friends seem nice. She raises an eyebrow, and Bruce wonders if Babs taught her that face. So sly.

They are nice. But don’t go telling them I said that. She giggles, a little, as he finishes signing.

“I cannot read your mind,” J’onn states. “You are young, to have developed such technique.”

“Yes,” she answers, though it doesn’t say much. Bruce turns to her again.

Do you want to go home? I can take you back, Alfred will be there to keep you company.

The Red League’s invasion seems important.

Possible invasion, Bruce corrects. She crosses her arms.

“Stay.”

“I’d only be gone a minute, I know it’s important,” Bruce replies.

“No,” Cass interrupts in a huff, “I stay.”

And Bruce can’t argue with that.

“Okay,” he announces, “we can continue with the meeting.”

“Oh come on,” Flash argues, “we don’t get any more information? You have ten billion sons and only one other daughter that we’ve met, and you’re, what is that, signing? And smiling? And we don’t get any more information?!”

“No,” Cass answers before Bruce can.

Bruce smiles down at her proudly.

“Well, I think she covered the basics. Green Lantern, continue.”

“No fair,” Flash whines quietly, “the softest version of Batman ever, and we can’t even celebrate it.”

Batman rolls his eyes. Soft? He can’t imagine that he’s any different with Cass than he has been with his other kids.

Alright, fine, if he’s thinking about it, Cass has changed the way Bruce presents himself, a little. Bruce is trying to open up more—just a bit—to make his emotions easier for her to read. And weirdly, it’s reflecting throughout the rest of the house. Bruce, accidentally complimenting far more than he used to, no longer able to swallow his words in time. Bruce, asking for help when he needs it.

And now the whole family—even Jason! Are all connected through sign language, through practicing and learning and getting better at something as a team.

It’s nice.

Bruce taps on Cass’ shoulder as Green Lantern begins to talk again.

Are you in the mood for a hug? Bruce asks, because he always asks. Cass gives a big smile and nod, and he reaches down and picks her up without another thought.

Shoot. Maybe he really is going soft.

Chapter Text

Bruce doesn’t remember how he got up to the watchtower. He doesn’t remember how he got on the floor.

“It doesn’t sound like he’s breathing!”

“I hear no sensory thoughts.”

“There’s isn’t a heartbeat, either.”

“We need to take off the cowl—”

“No!”

“Diana!”

“We can’t just—”

“Do you see any other option? You heard the spell, same as I did. And if his “falseness” is this identity, then it’s not going to stop on its own. It will kill him.”

Batman tries to push them away from him, as sighs and complaints of “we shouldn’t be doing this” kick in. But he can’t move. He can’t explain that he’s awake and very much does not want his identity revealed over this.

Then there's a weight on his upper stomach, light but warm, comforting even. And someone starts hissing. He vaguely wonders how a cat got up to the watchtower.

“NO-ONE TOUCHES HIM,” a familiar voice shrieks, and there’s a whooshing sword throughout the air.

If Bruce were able to open his eyes, he would see:

Damian, poised confidently atop his father, hissing and growling in tandem with people meeting his eye. Swinging his sword with ease against anyone who takes a step inside the circle he’d drawn at some point around his father’s limp body.

“We just need to cut the parts that are choking him,” Superman says calmly, arms outstretched in surrender even as he takes a step forward.

Damian, pulling out Kryptonite out of his special protective container.

“Another step,” he threatens in a remarkably low growl, “and it will be the last one you take.”

Superman backs up. Damian puts a hand to his ear.

“Who’s on the way?” he asks his comms.

If Bruce were able to open his eyes, he’d see Nightwing and Zatanna rushing for him, Damian hopping off, out of their way.

“They say he’s not breathing,” Damian reports mindlessly, voice far less strong than it had been. Zatanna is speaking backwards, quickly and carefully, and Bruce silently thanks Barbara for sending her to him. “Oh, baba,” Damian murmurs, like an afterthought.

Then Bruce is shooting upright with a gasp. Because he can open his eyes, he gets to see his oldest and his youngest sons hugging, Dick wrapping himself around Damian as if to protect him from an explosion.

Damian immediately wipes furiously at his face.

“I wasn’t crying.” He pushes himself away from Dick and crosses his arms. But Dick just grabs him again, ignoring his protests, and moves to sit beside a now panting Bruce, backs against the wall.

“I was,” he answers simply. His face is covered so it’s hard to tell, but yes, his nose and cheeks do look a little red. “And D—Robin. That is okay. Even Batty here cries, sometimes.”

Dick gives him a harsh look, and Bruce throws his arms open. Both boys dive into his chest.

“He’s right, Robin,” Bruce says softly. “Crying is good for you. You cry anytime you need, okay?”

“The League said—”

“They’re wrong.” Bruce interrupts quickly, pulling back enough that he can look at Damian directly. “Bottling it all up is only going to weaken you. Or drive you insane.”

“Like you?” Dick teases. Bruce surprises himself with a chuckle.

“Yes,” Bruce admits back in a teasing tone, “Like me, chum.”

Superman interrupts with a coughing fit.

“Robin, put the Kryptonite away!” Bruce chides. Damian takes a moment, but complies. “Great use of resources. Fantastic job.”

“Hey!” Superman exclaims. Bruce looks up at him.

“Next time, don’t provoke him.”

Dick nods solemnly next to him.

“You were dying! And why does a child have Kryptonite?!”

“All my kids have Kryptonite,” Bruce answers plainly.

“What?!”

“Oh, don’t worry, they’re in safe, protective pockets. They won’t get any side effects from holding it long term.” Bruce explains at last, done with this conversation and ready to be home.

“I mean, that’s good, I guess, but that’s definitely not the part I was thinking of,” Clark begins, but Zatanna starts herding him, and everyone else, from the room.

Damian looks around the now empty room—save for the three of them—sniffles, and curls himself right back into Bruce’s chest.

Bruce doesn’t let go. Finding out he had a biological son after all this time, one that grew up fighting, hating, learning to be a soldier? It breaks Bruce’s heart. All he can do is love Damian, and hope that it teaches him, like they taught Cass, there is more boy than weapon. It’s taken time, but he’s begun calling Bruce “baba” at random, which is a huge win. Stealing Dick’s old sweaters, helping Cass and Steph prank Jason—that one Bruce isn’t supposed to know about. No-one’s told him, at least. But he does know, and he doesn’t intervene, because his kids are acting like kids and it’s his favorite thing in the world.

Dick lays a head on his shoulder.

“I’m glad you're okay,” he says quietly, “dad.”

Bruce lifts the hand not rubbing circles on Damian’s back to ruffle Dick’s hair. Dick pretends to dodge it, but in reality he barely lifts his head.

“Come to dinner?”

“No chance you’re getting rid of me,” Dick agrees. “And I think Jay is coming, too.”

“Oh?” Usually, they don’t know in advance when he’s popping in. No one complains.

“Well, his text said ‘if you don’t save me any potatoes I’m going to cut your tongue out and feed it to you.’ So. We can’t be sure.” Bruce hums at this.

“Robin,” Bruce begins. “We were in the field, fighting. No-one was up here—what were you doing in the watchtower?”

Robin mutters something, but it’s purposefully muffled.

“Robin,” Bruce repeats. Damian pulls back with a sigh.

“Sometimes when I know no-one will be up here… I sneak into the training room. No-one else is using it!”

“Impossible,” Bruce disagrees. “Entries and exits are recorded and I would have been notified.”

Damian mumbles again.

“Robin,” Bruce warns.

“Oracle stops that from happening. In exchange for my dessert on the days she has to do it.”

“What?” Bruce asks, surprised.

“What?!” Dick interrupts, seeming perhaps more shocked than the situation warrants. “She would never do that for me!”

“Obviously not. I’m her favorite.”

“But you’re already my favorite! You can’t be two people’s favorites!”

Damian shrugs.

“Robin, you can’t be up here without supervision,” Bruce cuts in. “What if the tower was attacked?”

“Then I would destroy them in battle,” Damian answers. Bruce squeezes his eyes shut.

“No. No, you can’t do that. What do you need? A new training room?”

“You’re rewarding him with a new training room?” Dick explodes.

“I’m negotiating.”

“Pretty sure it’s called making a deal with the devil, but sure. Wrap it in a pretty bow if it makes you feel better.”

In reality, Bruce has come to the conclusion that the watchtower would benefit from a twenty-four hour watch, taken in shifts by its residents. But that has nothing to do with the possibility of his kids sneaking up here by themselves. Obviously.

Chapter Text

Dick is babysitting tonight. Which is…fine, Bruce supposes. He wishes he didn’t have to. It had been Bruce’s idea to do a movie night tonight, and they’d all patrolled earlier and double-checked on Arkham and no-one was out and damn it, Bruce wanted to be home. Just tonight. Just this one night, Bruce wants to be home and with the kids and cuddling with as many as will let him get close.

But Superman called an emergency meeting. And Bruce had to come.

He mentally gives Superman five more minutes before he lights up a smoke bomb and dives out of here.

So, yes, Dick is babysitting. And there are a lot of kids to deal with tonight, when Alfred is taking his first vacation in years.

Four minutes. Four minutes and Bruce is leaving.

Then three. Superman is still talking.

Then, just before two, the alarms of the watchtower are ringing. Bruce groans internally, hating the world. He just wants to go home and order food and be with his kids—

“Attention shoppers! This facility is now closing, please bring your carts to checkout and exit in a timely manner!”

Nevermind. He hates his kids. Because that is most certainly Tim’s voice, clearly doing an impression of a grocery store announcement.

The rest of his team launch from their chairs and ready themselves for a fight. Bruce just runs a hand down his face.

“Again, attention shoppers! This facility is now—ugh, dad, why aren’t you getting up?!”

Bruce looks up at the nearest security camera, hoping his glare comes across on whatever screen Tim is safely watching from.

“Ugh,” Tim says, still loud over the announcement speaker, “you’re no fun.” He turns the alarms off, and Bruce’s teammates turn to look at him as Tim initiates a very public call.

Bruce, hating his life and regretting his choices, accepts the call.

“Why aren’t you home?!” Tim asks, wearing his Red Robin mask but a civilian hoodie.

“I was giving them a few more minutes to wrap up,” Bruce tries to explain, but is interrupted by Barbara’s booing. She slides into frame, adjusting a mask on her face that she is clearly only wearing for the sake of the call. After all, Oracle doesn’t exactly need one, being at the computer all the time. It’s not a domino, though, it’s a lower half face mask, and between that and her thick glasses, her face is pretty much covered.

“Booooo!” She continues in a pout. “Are you aware you left Nightwing in charge?”

“Yes.”

“Uh-huh. And are you aware that Hood arrived early?”

“Yes.”

Tim interrupts her patient questioning, “And you thought that was a good idea?” Tim tilts the screen a little, and Bruce watches helplessly as Dick and Jason wrestle on the floor.

“Take it back!”

“NO!”

“You take it back or I’ll shoot you dead!”

“TRY IT!”

They’re both unmasked, but moving too fast and are too far for the camera to really pick up their faces. Damian, whose back is to the camera, begins hitting Jason with a wooden sword.

“Get off him!” Damian demands.

“Oh, you better not, you little devil spawn,” Tim growls, jumping from his seat, grabbing a wooden sword, and hitting Dick with it. “I’ll save you, J!”

“Oracle,” Bruce starts, trying to repress a sigh as he hears his friends’ chuckles around him. Babs only laughs.

“What am I supposed to do? We’ve been waiting half an hour!” Bruce glances at his watch. She’s right. Those last two minutes have ticked away, and now the half-hour of pretending to care about the league is up. “Please come home.”

Jason wrestles out of Dick’s grip enough to grab Damian, pulling him to the floor.

“I’m rubber and you’re glue!” Jason screams.

“STOP CALLING ME GLUE, YOU INSOLENT—” Damian’s threats are cut off as Dick pries him away from Jason. Tim jumps back into the mix, attacking a now free Damian.

Cass’s eyes peek into the camera, upside down. Bruce wonders where she could possibly be sitting where they can only see her eyes, but is too busy feeling relieved at her relaxed, joyful expression to care.

“Baba,” she says softly. “Home?”

“BB is right,” Babs says, “you promised.”

Bruce looks away from the screen and to the rest of the league for the very first time.

“Look,” Superman says gently, “I know your family is important to you, but this is important too. I can’t say for sure what the right call is. But we all make sacrifices to be here.”

“Okay, how’s this for a sacrifice,” Tim says, voice dropping half an octave, rejoining his place by Babs’ side, typing furiously at his computer. “I am going to disable the entire tower for the remainder of the night, and send out signals to other heroes to tell them to be on guard because the regular shift needs a break. See? It’s called delegating.”

“Like you know what a break is,” Babs argues, elbowing him so that she can have the keyboard back. “I am going to send out those ultra flares I’ve been working on—”

“That’s a prototype,” Tim argues.

“You’re a prototype,” she mocks.

Dick and Jason are still wrestling in the background. Damian and Cass are dueling with the wooden swords. Bruce can barely hide his smile because his kids are acting like kids and it’s everything to him.

“Oh, and how’s this for sacrifice? You let our dad come home,” she threatens, and Bruce feels a swelling in his heart because she so rarely calls him that, “or I’m calling out everyone on their identities. Right now.”

“You don’t know our identities,” Flash points out.

“Be quiet, Barry Allen,” she responds. Mouths drop.

“Oracle,” Bruce warns again.

“Careful, pops, that threat includes you, too.”

Bruce goes very quiet. Turns to the rest of the group.

“I…have to go home.” He knows Babs well enough to know she is very much not kidding. In fact, his kids have been begging him for a while to just get over himself and tell the rest of the group. But he can’t—Damian is still so young! He doesn’t want his tiniest Robin to not have a choice in his identity later, just because Bruce was selfish now.

“Are you serious?” Green Lantern asks Bruce with a laugh.

“He better be, Hal Jordon.”

“She is very scary,” Hal responds softly. Bruce nods. Superman seems hesitant to speak, which is clearly the smart move.

“That’s my Oracle,” Bruce says proudly. “And Red Robin. He’s definitely the one who made the alarms go off. Always had a flare for the dramatic.”

Tim nods solemnly.

“Let’s take a break for the night,” Bruce announces, and it feels softer than Batman had ever been with the team. No-one’s identities had actually been revealed yet, because only Superman and Batman had yet to have a reveal within this group.

But suddenly Superman is stepping forward.

“Actually, in the interest of revealing identities, I’ve been meaning to find the right time. And it seems there’s none like the present—”

“I wouldn’t—” Bruce warns, because his kids are typing furiously at the computer, but then it’s too late and confetti and glitter cannons are going off and a screen is appearing behind Superman just as he says his name aloud.

Clark Kent!!!!!!! It reads. I Knew It But Didn’t Wanna Spoil The Surprise!!!!

“Oracle, put that away,” Bruce reprimands. Her eyes shine.

“Wasn’t me,” she refutes innocently.

“I would like to state for the record that I knew it as well,” Tim interrupts.

“Suuuure,” Babs answers sarcastically.

“I did!” Tim says, “I’ve known Batman’s identity since I was nine years old—”

“Oh, like figuring out a flip is so hard—”

Bruce ends the call.

“Thank you for sharing that with us,” Bruce says to his friend, because it’s important. The moment is ruined, a little, because they’re all covered in glitter and confetti. “Sorry about the kids.”

But Clark just smiles good-naturedly.

“I figured you already knew,” he admits. Hands pat Clark on the shoulder and back, and Bruce, still across the table, shakes his head. “Well,” Clark decides, “I’m glad you know now.”

“And maybe one day Batsy will reveal his identity, too…?” Hal questions. Bruce surprises himself when he doesn’t automatically disagree.

“I’ve got to go home,” he says instead. “You can all take the night off, don’t worry. Red Robin and Oracle took care of it.”

The group nods.

“Have fun!” Diana calls after him, and Bruce turns around.

“It’s movie night,” he answers, surprising himself again. He even smiles, a little. “We never finish the movie, but it’s nice to have everyone at home.”

Everyone coos and gives little awws and he’s close to being annoyed by the time he steps on the zeta. Then Bruce settles in for yet another chaotic night with the kids.

Chapter Text

It’s time. Bruce knows it, his kids know it, even the Justice League knows it. The jig has been up for a while, after all. All of his friends (wow, is he really openly admitting that they are his friends?) have met all of his kids at this point. And all of the said kids are desperate to reveal their identities to their various colleagues.

And…Bruce knows he has to let them have freedom, in this. It’s not up to him. The least he can do is respect their wishes.

Bruce clears his throat, after their meeting has finished. Every head snaps to him, and he’s vaguely aware that he’s never shown a shy weakness of the kind.

“Ahem,” Bruce says, mainly against his will. “I would…I would like to invite you…all…to my home. For dinner. Tonight.”

“Your…home?” Clark asks slowly, looking just as baffled as the rest of the team.

“Yes. I suppose,” Bruce says in a sigh, “It’s time I reveal my identity to you all.”

A collective gasp goes around the room.

“Really?” Flash asks, surprised.

Bruce nods.

“It’s time,” he admits. “I’ll send each of you the address.” Bruce dismisses himself, but turns back to the group halfway out the door. “Thank you, for your patience,” he mumbles. “I’m…grateful.”

He ignores the shocked and baffled sounds behind him, and walks out the door.

He knows, of course, that when he sends his address, his identity will be revealed anyway. Which actually, he prefers. He’s hoping between the announcement that he lives at Wayne Manor and their actual arrival, their annoying amount of surprise will have faded a bit.

As he finds, a few hours later, it was too much to hope for.

He is still dressed as Batman when Alfred answers the door, when the first knock comes, because he is nothing if not dramatic.

“Batsy,” Flash greets.

“You’re…early,” Bruce comments, genuinely shocked. Barry has genuinely never been early. To anything. Ever.

“Ha!” Flash answers, “Like I would be even a minute late to this! Then I’d miss the big reveal!”

Bruce raises a brow. Hasn’t he already been revealed?

Apparently not, he finds, as more people begin to show up. Diana and Clark enter at the same time. J’onn and Hal arrive only a few minutes after that.

“It’s crazy that you rented out a mansion for this!” Barry says, and…what?

“Yeah,” Clark laughs, “really leaning into the whole, mysterious mansion bat dweller thing, huh?”

What?

“So, come on, who are you, then?” Diana asks.

Bruce opens his mouth, possibly to question his friends’ intelligence, but is interrupted when his horde of kids comes tumbling in.

“DAAAAAAAAD!” Dick comes charging in, in his favorite blue sweater. No one is wearing masks tonight. Except Bruce. Which he supposes has no point, now. “JASON STOLE MY BOOK!”

“IT’S MY BOOK, DICKHEAD!”

“Boys,” Bruce starts.

“They’ve been bickering about this all day,” Babs complains from the couch.

“Father, I suggest you arrest Timothy immediately.”

“Why?” Bruce asks tiredly.

“He won’t stop holding my cat.”

“That’s not a proper reason for an arrest, Damian.”

“Told you!” Tim interrupts.

“Baba,” Damian whines in response, which only makes Bruce smile. Damian has gotten even more comfortable using that nickname, which feels so much more personal. It warms Bruce every time.

“Wait…” Hal mumbles. “These are…these are Bruce Wayne’s kids!”

The entire Wayne family turns their heads to him slowly, waiting for Hal to finish putting the pieces together.

“Not the brightest bulb, huh,” Jason teases. Bruce rolls his eyes in agreement.

“Wait,” Barry mumbles, a look of disbelief flashing on his face. The rest of the League reach the same face, one at a time. “But that would make you…”

Cassandra leaps down from the chandelier at last, landing smoothly on Bruce’s shoulders. She pulls off his cowl at last, and a tiny smile finds its way onto Bruce’s face.

“Bruce Wayne. It’s nice to meet you. Officially.” It’s strange, the sort of shyness he wasn’t expecting to feel. But the genuine smiles of his coworkers put him at ease.

“Hello, my friend.” Clark steps forward first, reaching out a hand. Bruce shakes it, less annoyed than he expects when Clark pulls him into a hug. “Thank you for sharing this with us,” he says softly, just loud enough for Bruce to hear.

“Shut up,” Bruce answers quietly, and Clark laughs as he releases Bruce from the hug. Cass, however, took this time to switch from Bruce’s shoulders to Superman’s.

"WHAT?!" Barry exclaims. Hal seems to share a similar sentiment. "Billionaire playboy kidnapped-every-other-week, Bruce Wayne?!"

Diana lets out a quiet chuckle. "I suppose that's how the tower was funded, hm?"

“Master Bruce,” Alfred begins as Clark laughs at the new development. “Perhaps you can take this time to change from…your extra curricular uniform?”

“Of course, Alfred,” Bruce agrees, knowing how much Alfred dislikes having the suits in the house.

“And who might you be?” Diana asks politely.

“Alfred Pennyworth, at your service,” he responds with a smile.

“The elusive Agent A,” J’onn decides. A smaller, sly smile creeps onto Alfred’s face.

By the time Bruce returns, in more simple clothes, each of his friends seem marginally more relaxed. Only Clark remains standing, and Bruce can guess it’s due to the child still on his shoulders. He smiles softly, gratefully at Clark, who wrinkles his nose playfully in return.

“So, where are the rest of them?” Barry asks, looking around the living room.

“Rest?” Bruce questions.

“Of the kids? Where’s the rest of ‘em?”

Bruce looks around. Counts. Double-counts.

“They’re all here…?”

“No, they’re not, we met loads more!”

“It might be beneficial if we had a proper introduction,” Diana suggests.

“I am the blood son,” Damian begins with his usual force. “We have met before on occasion, I am Robin. But you may temporarily call me Damian.”

Jason rolls his eyes.

“Red Hood, remember? You idiots tried to arrest me. Uh…Jason Todd–Wayne.”

“Black Bat,” Cass says from Superman’s shoulders. “Cassandra.”

Dick does a flip, for no apparent reason. Bruce claps, but the rest of his kids roll their eyes.

“I’m technically Richard Grayson–Wayne, but everyone calls me Dick.”

“Yeah they do,” Jason interrupts, and Dick shoots him a glare.

“From my perfect form, I’m sure you recognize me as Nightwing.” Dick finishes with a smile.

"That's why you're so old!" Hal exclaims. Dick raises a defensive brow. "It's just, you and, uh, Jason, look far too old for youngin' Bruce Wayne. But you're...adopted, right?" Dick takes this moment to act absolutely scandalized.

"Adopted? Dad? Is this true?! SHOULD I EVEN CALL YOU THAT?!" Jason and Dick devolve into faux hysterics, and Bruce glares at Hal for bringing it up. Hal, at least, looks sheepish.

"Just kidding," Dick announces, once he's done pretending to stomp. "Most of us are adopted. Brucie here has a real problem."

"Yeah, you try to jack his tires one time..."

"And he practically stole Timbo!" Dick says, pointing at Tim. Tim, distracted on his phone---based on Barbara's chuckles, they'd been texting each other despite being in the same room---looks up in surprise.

“Uh, I’m Tim. Wayne. Drake–Wayne. Ah, whatever, fuck it,” he says. Then, as an afterthought: “Uh, I’m Red Robin.”

“Elegant as always,” Damian says with a sigh.

“Dami!” Dick scolds. Barry laughs.

“And I’m Barbara Gordon. Oracle, of course.”

“Ah, yes! You knew who I was!” Clark exclaims excitedly.

“Hey, so did I!” Tim argues. Barbara flips him off. They begin an ever–loud argument. Why wouldn't they argue over text? Ugh. Bruce will never understand their adorable teenage minds.

“So,” Hal says, “where’s the rest of them?”

“What are you talking about?” Bruce asks at last.

“We’ve met nine of your children,” Diana fills in. “You’re missing four.” Jason genuinely slaps a hand to his forehead. Bruce understands the sentiment.

“Your coworkers are fools,” Damian scowls.

“Dami!” Dick scolds again. “Don’t be rude to B’s friends!”

“It’s not rude if it’s true!”

“These are all of my children,” Bruce corrects, tactfully interrupting their argument.

“I was the first Robin you met,” Dick says with a laugh. “Ah, good times.” Clark smiles even wider.

“Oh!” He cheers. “Am I still your favorite?”

Dick blushes furiously. Bruce ruffles his hair, remembering.

“I was the third Robin,” Tim announces. “The best one, obviously.”

“Oh, ho, ho, strong words, Replacement. Wanna test that theory?” Jason questions. Bruce narrows his eyes. It’s been a while since Jason has referred to Tim that way. In fact, their closeness these past few years has been astonishing. Between Jason and Tim getting their college degrees together, and Tim forcing Jason and Alfred to teach him how to cook, their fights are increasingly rare.

“None of that, Jason,” Bruce says firmly.

“It’s okay, Dad,” Tim giggles, “the whiner is just teasing.”

Of course, he then tackles Jason. So Bruce doesn’t really know who to believe. As the room descends into chaos, Flash once again steps forward.

“What about the second Robin? And Batgirl?”

“Flash!” Clark scolds. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that first question, Batma—or, er, Bruce.”

Bruce pauses, brows furrowed. He doesn’t understand the interaction. But then Jason is cackling.

“They know I died!” He laughs.

“...You?” Diana questions, head tilted.

“You don’t look very dead to me,” Hal questions. Jason laughs even more maniacally.

“Yeah, well, it didn’t stick.”

They lounge and enjoy the platters of snacks brought by Alfred, and Jason regales a slightly more light-hearted version of his return trip to the living.

“So, yeah, I died. Briefly,” Jason says.

“Skill issue,” Damian interjects with a roll of his eye.

“What did you just say, demon spawn?!” Jason grumbles.

“Well, considering I haven’t died even once, it’s easy to determine—”

“Oh, like you could take me!”

“I have one hundred different ways I could kill you right now!” Damian yells, exasperated.

“Dami!” Dick interrupts. “What did we say about bragging about the different ways you can kill someone?”

“Not to,” Damian mumbles in a pout. He crosses his arms, and hides a bit as he cuddles closer to Barbara. The tips of his ears go red, and Jason sticks out his tongue.

“If you please,” Alfred interrupts, returning to the main room at last, “dinner is served.” The kids bound to the dining room dutifully, but Bruce hangs back a moment, to talk privately with the rest of the League. Everyone beams at him, and Bruce would be annoyed if he didn’t have this weird relief bubbling in his chest.

“What ferocious and wonderful children,” Diana comments with a familiar twinkle in her eye.

“They really are great, Bats,” Flash agrees.

“Thank you for letting us be a part of this side of your life,” Clark agrees. The rest of the team share similar sentiments, and they follow the kids at last, ready to eat Alfred’s delicious food. The table is lively and full. Cass and J’onn seem to communicate wonderfully. Wonder Woman interrogates Jason on whether she's still his favorite. Dick, Clark, and Hal exchange stories of strange saves, and Tim, Babs, and Barry seem to be arguing about computers.

Something warm settles in Bruce’s gut. It feels a lot like home.