Archive of Our Own ^beta

Bruce isn’t salty. He’s not upset, or brooding, or pouting, or whatever other adjective you might want to use, thank you, Alfred. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.

See, he’s always kinda known he’s not his kids’ favorite superhero. He’s their dad, he knows that shatters the illusion somewhat for them. They know how hard he works and trains to protect the city, but he’s no Superman. Even Tim has lost his hero worship in the year and a half he’s been with them; groundings and frustrating evenings trying and failing to help with homework will do that. So yeah, he knows he’s not their favorite hero. 

Still, it stings (and hurts) to see it so blatantly on display.

It starts… light, in a way. Dick comes home one weekend from uni with a big box in his arms and a massive grin on his face. When Bruce asks, his oldest son lights up.

“This weird popup shop appeared near campus and it had a shitton of Justice League merch! I got a bunch of stuff of their favs for everyone!” his boy says, and Bruce can’t help his fond smiles.

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Dick.”

“I know, I’m awesome!” he boasts, jerking his head so his bangs do a little floppy swoosh. “I’m gonna give everyone their things! See you for dinner, B!”

Dick skips past him, and that’s when he notices the Superman symbol stamped on the back of the blue hoodie he’s wearing. Bruce blinks a little but waves it away. Superman has been Dick’s favorite ever since he was eleven. He even chose a Kryptonian legend as a new callsign when he’d given Robin to Jason, for Christ’s sake. It’s not that surprising. It had rankled him at first, but it’s fine now. Mostly. 

He sees Jason the following morning at the gym, running on a treadmill with his headphones on. Bruce makes sure to move a bit within his line of vision so he knows Bruce is there and then starts wrapping his hands. It takes him until he’s tucking the end of the second wrap to process and snap his head up. Jayson is wearing Wonder Woman joggers and he has a Wonder Woman water bottle on the front panel.

This… is also fine. Jason has never been shy with his Wonder Woman favoritism; Bruce even got Diana to sign a promotional poster for one of Jason’s birthdays once. It’s fine. He’s fine.

It actually starts to get to him with Barbara. Because while he hadn’t thought he was her favorite, he hadn’t thought he wasn’t either. And then he sees her with a Black Canary sweater and a matching hairclip. He does a 180 and stomps back up the stairs of the batcave without saying a word because he’s not sure he can control his face.

His Babs. His oldest. The girl he’s seen grow up the longest of his kids, having met her when she was just six. It’s fine. He’s fine.

Tim almost breaks him, especially because they cross paths on the stairs and his boy wants to talk about a case while Bruce does his best not to react to the Flash jacket his youngest is wearing. This one stings the most, especially because Tim used to idolize him. He does his best to answer his son’s questions and makes a hasty retreat.

Then he sees Stephanie and Cassandra in the lounge on his way to the kitchen. They’re curled up together on the couch, heads bent close and knees touching, both looking at Steph’s phone and giggling softly, Cass’ cheeks flushed a soft pink. The sight usually would melt his heart. Not today, though. No, because Stephanie’s wearing Green Arrow sneakers and Green Arrow bracelets.

He resists the urge to bash his head into a wall and moves along before he can see what Cassandra’s wearing. If Tim almost broke him, he doesn’t want to know what confirmation that he’s not Cassie’s favorite superhero will do to him.

He has a special, unique bond with each of his children, even the newest two who aren’t technically his (yet? He’ll have to look into it). He truly believes in not picking favorites, not in any real way. But Cass… Cass just looks and acts so much like his mother. She’s sweet and kind and has just enough cheek and sass to keep you on your toes. She’s generous and hardworking and doesn’t shy away from making her opinion be heard, even when her words and voice fail her.

Having her in their lives has made everything so much brighter. Alfred adores cooking with her, Dick is home more often to dance with her, Barbara makes sure to spend more time out of her room and Jason has calmed down considerably, their energies balancing out. She’d also been the one to help Tim come out of his shell, and Steph? Well, he has his suspicions, but he’s going to let them come to him when they’re ready.

So yeah. He storms back down to the cave, suits up and takes a tube up to the Watchtower.

Barbara watches Bruce leave the cave and cringes, sharing a grimace with Tim.

“I think we went a bit too far,” she murmurs, biting her lip as she gives the Zeta Tube another glance. Tim looks like a popped balloon, fiddling with the sleeves of his Flash jacket. He stares at the tube for a few more moments before looking back at Babs with big, teary eyes and a trembling lower lip. She suddenly remembers that the boy is barely twelve and has abandonment issues a kilometer wide.

Crap.

She opens her arms, and Tim crawls into her lap, just like Jason and Cassie used to do before they grew too big to fit, and rolls herself to the elevator.

“It’s okay, Tim, we’ll fix it.”

“Is he gonna make me go back?” she hears him whisper and takes a second to comb her fingers through his hair before the elevator reaches the main floor and she maneuvers them out.

“No, Tim, never. You could curse him out in fifteen languages and he’d still make sure you had a piece of fruit in your lunch. Hey, guys?! Lounge!” she calls down the hall, and then enters. Steph and Cassie are already curled up on the couch, but Cassandra takes one look at them and immediately straightens.

“What’s wrong?” she says, voice gravely. These are probably the first words she’s spoken today; she much prefers to use ASL these days. Or play charades if she’s feeling playful. She’s grown so much from the scrawny slip of a thing Bruce brought home that one night. An amazing girl with a bright future.

She signs ‘wait’ and then rolls to the couch. Cassie unfolds herself from Steph and helps her transfer without dislodging Tim, then gives the boy a little head bump and grins when he gives her a wobbly smile.

“No crying. We’ll fix,” she tells him before returning to her place. Tim’s still learning to sign, so Cass does her best to speak with her signs to help him along.

Seconds later, Dick and Jason walk into the room, both grinning mischievously before they see their siblings’ faces.

“What?”

“It didn’t work? I saw him pout in the gym this morning!”

“No, no. it worked. But… I think it worked a little too well.”

Both boys stop, identical frowns twisting their faces. “What?” they say at the same time, and Babs answers quickly before they can get into a jinxing duel.

“I think he got upset, Like, really upset. He stormed down to the cave, suited up, and left on the Zeta,”

Dick deflates, sitting down on the couch in front of Cass and Steph. “But… he never seemed to care that much…”

“Yeah! He’s always known that Superman is Dick’s favorite and mine’s Wonder Woman! He grumbled a bit sometimes but it never seemed like a big deal,” Jason adds, sitting down next to Babs and Tim, worrying his hands.

“Maybe it was that he wasn’t anyone’s favorite?” Steph says, her voice a confusing mix of sarcastic and hesitant. She’s clearly trying to be nonchalant, her elbow on the backrest of the couch and her head resting on her hand, but she’s curled into herself and her brows are furrowed.

Tim whines, and Dick jumps up, clapping his hands together. “Okay, things didn’t go as planned, but that doesn’t mean we can’t fix it with part two! Everyone, get suited up! We’re going up!”

They all blink at him for a second before understanding dawns on them and manic, feral grins spread around every face in the lounge.

Alfred watches from the safety of the kitchen as the Wayne brood runs out of the lounge towards their rooms and silently shakes his head.

He can’t help the amused smile that pulls at his lips, but as there’s no one to see it, did it really exist?

Diana likes to think she’s gotten pretty good at reading her teammates in the Justice League. Clark and Barry have always been easy; hearts on their sleeves, the both of them. Oliver and Hal are both pretty reactive, so it’s not hard to know what’s on their minds. Dinah and Arthur were harder, but once she learned their expressions and mannerisms, it was all good. J’onn was somewhat of a mystery, mostly because he didn’t emote much, and Diana had found it much easier and faster to just ask for his thoughts and feelings, as he’s always forthcoming about his mental state and lets you know if he simply doesn’t want to talk or share.

And then there was Batman. Batman, whose name she didn’t know because even after ten years of working together and saving each other’s lives countless times, he hadn’t deemed them worthy of his secret identity. Okay, that was harsh. And unfair. He’d taken her and Superman aside a few months ago and told them that he remained hidden behind his mask because he had people to protect at home, that it wasn’t just his identity he’d be revealing. 

That had been the moment Diana and Clark learned Batman had children. Plural. She’d tried to ask for pictures, but no dice. It also hadn’t worked the other two dozen times she’d asked since then, but Diana doesn’t mind waiting. She’ll wear him down sooner or later.

Anyway, secret identity tangent aside, even after so long, Diana still can’t for the life of her get a read on Batman. He’s far too stoic, far too in control of himself and his emotions for her to figure him out. The cowl certainly doesn’t help things.

So she doesn’t understand how she can read Batman like a book right now. She stands silently at the door of the main conference room, watching Batman working on a laptop on the table, absolutely amazed that the man is allowing himself to be so open. The way he strikes the keys screams anger. The way his shoulders hunch and curl says hurt. The way his mouth curls and nose scrunches says annoyance, or maybe upset? Again, the cowl hinders her somewhat, but she’s pretty sure she’s reading him right.

Someone taps her shoulder, and she turns to see Clark floating behind her. She puts a finger in front of her lips and then points to Batman. Clark looks at him, then back at her before he blinks and does a double take; his eyes grow to the size of dinner plates and his mouth falls open. He looks back at her and points to Batman, his mouth falling open. She nods and they turn to watch the man together for a second before he motions to him. She shrugs, and they step inside.

“Good afternoon, Batman,” she says, walking around the table to take the chair at his side while Clark takes a seat in front. Batman straightens. doing his best to put on the unflappable mask, but Diana can see the cracks.

“It’s okay; it’s just us three up here today.” Clark says, voice soft. Batman seems to debate for a moment before he sighs deeply and lets go. Diana does her best to contain her reaction. This is what she wanted, for Batman to drop his walls, to let them in. She just… she hadn’t expected for the change between Batman and the man underneath the mask to be so drastic. He seems… smaller, somehow. Not softer, but his edges are rounder.

He looks sad and tired.

“Are you okay, Batman? Did something happen?”

“No, everything’s fine,” he gruffs out, some of the annoyance returning. “I’m just taking something too seriously; they were probably just looking to get a reaction out of me.”

They… oh! “Your children?” Contain yourself, Diana. Not the time to ask for pictures right now.

“Yes,” he says, and after a pause, he sighs again and closes the laptop, resting his hands on top of the closed lid. “My oldest came home with a box full of Justice League merchandise, and today they were all wearing some, each of their favorite superhero.”

“And?” Clark asks, head tilted to the side like a puppy. Diana huffs, resisting the urge to squish his cheeks. Bless him, but he’s a bit clueless at times.

“None of them were wearing Batman merchandise, were they?” she says, voice soft and low.

“Oh…” now Clark looks like a kicked puppy. He floats over the table and sits down on Batman’s other side. “I’m sorry, Batman.”

“It’s not that deep; I know they were just teasing,” he says gruffly. 

“Doesn’t mean it can’t hurt. I know I’d be upset too if I found out my parents didn’t have any of my merch,” Clark huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, “Especially since I’ve sent them tonnes of it!”

Diana laughs softly, and dares to bump her shoulder against Batman’s when she sees him fighting a smile too. She then grins at him. “So… was I someone’s favorite?”

“Yes…” he grumbles, but he’s still doing his best to keep his lips turned downwards.

“Oh! Oh! What about me?” Clark bounces a little on his seat, hand raised in the air. He truly is like one of those adorable golden dogs. What were they called again?

“Yes, you too. My oldest son’s actually. He even renamed himself after a Kryptonian legend.”

Clark’s eyes widen with surprise and glee. “Really??? Wait… what do you mean, ‘renamed himself’?”

Batman flinches, looking panicked for a second, as if he hadn’t meant to say that –wow, he’s either really that tired or he actually dropped all his defenses. Probably a mix of both; he’s far too controlled to let himself go–, but before he can say anything, the Zeta Tubes ping.

“Recognized, B-01 Nightwing,” the robotic voice says, but before any of them can do more than rise from their chairs, the Zeta dings again. “Recognized, B-04 Batgirl, B-06 Undefined,” and again, “Recognized, B-02 Oracle, B-05 Undefined,” and again, “Recognized, B-03 Robin.”

“Nightwing?” Superman whispers, voice caught between surprise, amazement and awe. Batman simply grunts and leaves the conference room at a fast clip. 

Diana shares a look with Clark, shrugs, and goes after him, just in time to see him step into the main lobby. “Nightwing, report, what are–?”

Batman freezes, and only her enhanced reflexes keep her from crashing into his back. She peeks over her shoulder, and the sight in front of her melts her heart.

Because right there, standing in the middle of the main lobby of the Watchtower, are Batman’s children, lined up neatly for their perusal, domino masks over their eyes. Starting from the left is a young man, nervous fingers combing through his hair, wearing a Superman sweatshirt but also Batman sweatpants and Batman slippers. Then a young woman in a wheelchair, hands clasped politely on her lap, sporting a Black Canary sweater, a Batman beanie and Batman fingerless gloves. 

Standing next to her, one little hand gripping the armrest of the wheelchair, is a little boy with a Flash jacket, Batman sneakers and a Batman shirt under the jacket. Next to the boy is a blonde teen girl, sheepish grin tugging at her lips, wearing Green Arrow shoes, a Batman hat and a Batman bandana around her neck like the cowboys from those movies. And finally, another teen boy, rocking back and forth on his feet, wearing Wonder Woman sweatpants, a Batman hoodie and Batman sunglasses pushing his hair out of his face.

“What…?” She hears Batman mutter, voice gruff and tight.

And then the entire brood looks behind them, and they part like a wave to make room for another teen girl. She steps forward, a few paces in front of the rest, and stands tall and proud, hands clasped behind her back, so they can fully appreciate her ensemble. 

A Batman oversized sweater nearly drowns her, the neck slipping from one shoulder, the hem falling to her knees. Batman yoga pants peek from underneath, and her feet are clad in fluffy Batman socks. From her neck hangs a silver Batman necklace, and her short hair is pinned back on one side by a Batman clip.

As if choreographed, all six raise their right hand to their face in unison, palms open, and tap their chin with their middle fingers twice before using the same hand to point at Batman. Diana doesn’t understand –is this one of their hand signals?–, but Batman clearly does, because he advances on his children with single-minded determination and, after scooping up the girl, he gathers the rest of his brood into a group hug.

“You’re all ridiculous,” she hears him murmurs, and a few of them snort.

“You love us,” one of the boys says, though Diana can’t make out who with the way they’re huddled together. Batman grunts, and a few squeaks can be heard when he hugs them tighter.

“Batman?” a little shy voice rises, and the hug somewhat dissolves, though they all stay pressed close to one another.

“Yes, Robin?”

“Is… is that Wonder Woman?” from between shoulders a hand appears, pointing towards her and Clark, and Diana can’t contain the delighted grin when all faces turn towards them. She fingerwaves, and a few hands wave back.

“Superman!” the oldest boy also squeaks, bouncing on his toes. “Can we go say hi?”

“Is Black Canary here too, B?”

“What about Flash? Can I meet him?”

“I want to see Green Arrow’s bow, B!”

Batman huffs, his face twisting into a scowl as he steps away from his children, the teen girl clad in Batman paraphernalia still perched on his hip like an overgrown toddler. “Oh, I see how it is. So much for being your favorite, huh? Okay, run along, then! I’ll just stay here with my favorite child.” Batman says, and raises his chin imperiously. Hitching the girl higher on his hip, he completely ignores his children’s dismayed protests as he turns around and starts walking towards Clark and Diana, a victorious smirk pulling at his lips as soon as he has his back turned.

As if to add salt to the wound, the girl turns and sticks her tongue out at her siblings.

Their outraged cries ring around the room alongside the girl’s laughter.