roseoo

Because he knows that bitch is Batman. He’d worked it through that big brain of his and he’s without a doubt certain that the same idiot who spilled champagne on him last New Year’s Eve moonlights as the Batman.

—

“No chum, I thought you grew out of this.” Bruce let out a frustrated huff as Dick was practically glued to his side. He just wanted to go take a quick piss and maybe have some alone time in the bathroom. So what if his arm was in a sling? He’s had worse.

Instead, his oldest was whining and trying to stop him. When he closed the door to the bathroom, thankfully alone, Dick was sticking his fingers underneath the door and begging to be let inside, just like he did when Bruce first adopted him.

Bruce truly thought his eldest had grown out of that particular habit. It had only happened when Dick suffered terribly from separation anxiety and couldn’t bear to let Bruce out of his sight for long. He never did it again when he got to double digits, but now- “Tati, open the doorrrr! I miss you!”

Bruce sat on the closed toilet lid and held his head in one hand, already exhausted. “Dick, just give me ten minutes!” He pleaded, silently hoping that Dick would listen to him. What a fool he is.

Bruce ignored Dick’s cry of anguish and turned on the shower to drown it out. Ten minutes, that’s all he needed alone.

—

Bruce was trying to move around the kitchen and make himself something to eat, but it was especially hard with a grown man taller than he was clinging to his back like a koala. It was truly lucky that Bruce was Batman and worked out consistently, so he could give his massive baby a piggyback ride.

“Jay baby, please go wait at the dining table.” Bruce tried to request nicely, but was only greeted with a muffled whine in response. “I can’t just keep carrying you around.”

Bruce sighs and continues to suffer as he makes the two of them omelets for lunch. “Extra cheese and ham on mine, pa?” Jason requested, hooking his chin on Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce sighed, but started doing it.

He should’ve never fallen into the harbor and gotten that cold. It was a bad one. Must’ve reminded Jason of some dark times with his mother. Bruce was barely conscious and coherent for a week.

At the dining table, Jason moves his chair to be right next to Bruce’s. At least he wasn’t trying to squeeze into the same chair as him. Small mercies.

The moment Bruce was done with his food and stood up, Jason was once again clinging to his back, grumbling softly about something Bruce didn’t bother to try and decipher.

Lucky for him, he had a reinforced spine.

—

Tim frowned and poked at the eyepatch Bruce was wearing for a temporary period, for the fourth time.

“Sweetheart. Stop thinking about it.” Bruce scolded softly, gently pulling his son’s hand down and letting out a huff of air. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Tim didn’t say anything but snuggled himself deeper into Bruce’s side. Since Bruce had temporarily lost sight in one of his eyes, he’s been confined to his room and forced to lounge on his bed till his vision returned.

Tim pressed himself even closer, squeezing Bruce, even as he had a scowl on his face. “I’m gonna hunt down those mother-“

“Stop that.” Bruce sighed and ran his fingers through Tim’s hair, messing up the careful comb job his son most likely did that morning. “I just need a few days, and my sight will be back to normal. When that happens, we’ll work on the case again.”

Tim nodded. “You’re not allowed to get up.” He stated, grabbing Bruce’s blanket and tugging it over both of their bodies.

Bruce chuckled, but stopped when he saw Tim’s serious expression. Damn, he was hoping to at least walk around his room for exercise. Now that he has an octopus clinging to him, he definitely wouldn’t be able to.

—

“Baba, hold my hand.” Damian insisted, grabbing Bruce’s hand as he tried to make his way down the stairs.

Bruce barely resisted rolling his eyes right in his son’s face. It was cute how caring he was the first few times, but now it was way too much. Damian was acting as if he were an invalid.

“Qalbi, I’m just going down the stairs.”

“But you’re hurt!”

Bruce sighed and ruffled Damian’s hair. “It’s a grade 1 muscle tear that’s basically healed. I’m more resistant than you think.” Bruce tried to reassure, not mentioning the fact that it was almost a grade 2 muscle tear.

Damian pouted and looked up to Bruce with tears in his green eyes, widening them to make them look even bigger. “Please, Baba? Let me help you.”

Bruce felt his heart clench as he looked down at his youngest child, who rarely willingly showed any trace of distress. “Awe- I mean, okay, I suppose I can continue letting you help me maneuver around Habibi.”

Damian let’s put a huff of triumph, it was adorable, but Bruce would never tell him so, and tightly held onto Bruce’s hand as he helped him walk down the manor stairs.

Slightly unfortunate, Damian refused to allow Bruce to let go of his hand for even a second. Adorable, but tiring. Bruce could never refuse him, though.

—

Bruce thought it would be different with Cassandra because he hadn’t seen her in almost an hour, and he was free to relax by himself. It was nice to relax on the one-seater armchair and not focus on the dull throb of his ribs. He should’ve realized that none of his kids could be normal about anything.

“I will find a way to transfer your pain to me,” Cass stated seriously, holding around twelve thick books in her arms and sitting on the ground by Bruce’s feet.

“Please don’t practice dark magic on us, Princess.” Bruce sighed, massaging his brow as a headache started to bloom beneath his eyes.

Cass frowned and set her book to the side. “But Dad-“

“No black magic,” Bruce said firmly, scooting over to one side and patting the cushion. Cass immediately pressed herself into his side, trying to keep her body away from his torso to prevent herself from causing him any discomfort.

Cass stayed silent for a little while before looking up at Bruce with an accusing frown. “You would use black magic to transfer our pain to you.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“I’m your Dad,” Bruce stated, hugging his daughter closer and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

—

“Hold still.” Stephanie hissed, sticking her tongue out as she colored in whatever she was drawing on his arm cast.

Bruce hummed and kept his eyes closed. He didn’t know why she decided he needed a makeover now that he wasn’t allowed to move much until his broken hand was healed.

She had already painted his nails on both his hands, gave him a full face of makeup (which he looked great in), and was now trying to write her name graffiti-style on his cast.

“You done?” Bruce asked, chewing on some snacks Alfred brought in earlier for him and Steph.

“Nah, I can’t figure out how to write the S.”

Bruce blanked. “What? Thats the first fucking letter. What the fuck have you been doing this entire time?” Bruce looked down incredulously just to see his hand case mostly being covered by a surprisingly good drawing of Nyan Cat.

“Like?”

“Hrn.” Bruce lay back down but didn’t close his eyes, just watched Stephanie’s face. She looked a little constipated as she worried on her bottom lip and stared at his cast.

“Sorry about your-“

“I thought you said something about face masks?” Bruce asked, interrupting her with a soft smile. “You gotta wipe off my makeup though, I’m not doing it.”

Steph grinned and grabbed her backpack, which she had thrown into the corner. “Okay, I found, like, a bunch and they’re fruity smelling so I think they’ll be really good.”

Bruce smiled as Stephanie started chattering again, the pained and hesitant look on her face mostly gone. As long as she didn’t try to wax his eyebrows, everything would be fine.

—

Bruce watched with a grimace as Duke choked down another sob, trying his best to get through his slam poetry read, tears streaming down his face.

“Honey bee, you really don’t have to do this.”

“B-but-! You broke your leg cause of me!” Duke flung his body at Bruce and hugged him; his poem, stained with tears, fluttered softly to the carpeted ground.

Bruce gently patted Duke’s back and shushed him. “Next time, I’ll go over protocols clearly for when I work with you during the day. We both could’ve done a better job.”

Duke sniffed and continued to hide his face in Bruce’s shoulder before pulling away. “I need to go write another poem.” He sniffled, a frown set on his face. “But- I can’t let you out of my sight-!”

“Maybe that should wait until your mind is clear?” Bruce laughed, but kept Duke from getting up and grabbing another piece of paper and trying to rhyme as many words as possible with the words ‘sad’ and ‘cry’. “Let’s watch some TV, hm? We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Duke chewed on his bottom lip before settling back down next to Bruce, holding onto his arm tightly. “I guess…” Duke agreed.

Because it's a massive East Coast city but the property values are probably like $200 a month for a three bedroom apartment, and most Gothamites are like, "Hey, Bane never swore to break my back."

And here's the thing: you're not just moving out of Gotham City. You're moving into the rest of the DC universe. And it has hero-based power scaling.

Oh, Metropolis looks fucking great. But it gets invaded by aliens and robots and demigods, because Superman is there.

Wonder Woman's tangling with gods.

You go to Central City, and some Reverse-Flash motherfucker runs backwards from an alternate future and kicks your balls off at the speed of light.

You could move to the West Coast, and oh, an entire city just gets exploded by Cyborg Superman or some shit.

How about you move to Indianapolis, or Cleveland? Haha, no. They have no protector during the alien invasions, and you're in Cleveland

So stay in Gotham. Sure, you have lunatics, but you know that if you had a gun, you at least have a chance against the Joker or Riddler. Mongo of War-World would crush you. But Gotham just has creeps, and you know you have a chance. Even Bane, R'as Al-Ghul, Killer Croc, and Mr. Freeze are just slightly altered dudes. Oh no, Poison Ivy is going to kiss me to death! Who gives a shit, you kinda wanted to go out that way anyway.

I think it's all about perception. Gotham City has crime. But when Ares sends his undying legions to march upon the mortal realm and Wonder Woman has to punch all of them, people don't internalize that as "crime." That's "a crisis" or "a religious event" or at best, terrorism. Same thing when Superman has to stop Brainiac from shrinking Metropolis or whatever. That stuff is objectively more dangerous but it's on such a huge scale that "crime" is not the word for it. The cops don't involve themselves in this at any point. But the stuff Batman deals with is like, robberies, assaults, gang wars, serial killings. All his villains commit actual crimes, so they go into police reports, which end up as statistics. So when someone compiles all this data, oh look, Gotham City has the highest crime rate in the country, yet again. Forget the fact that 10% of Keystone City's population had their skulls crushed by invading superintelligent gorillas. Who cares that a random guy in Opal City accidentally teleported the entire state to Hell after he found out the hard way that he was born a wizard. Those are not crimes. There's nothing in the police recordkeeping app's drop-down menu for a Gorilla invasion. Closest thing we've got is Random Chimp Event.

Baby Bruce being famous for being so precocious as a kid, being kind to people he met when Martha took him to shelters or orphanages, not caring about who he plays with or talks to but having the time of his life. Bruce sharing toys and clothes with kids he met at events or vibing with the elderly because they have a lot of puzzles and Bruce loves puzzles.

Bruce being comforted at the funeral of his parents by people lining the street. They are mourning the Gotham Martha and Thomas could have built if they got more time but their hearts, thoughts and prayers are with their little boy who is trying so hard, so hard not to cry. There’s more than one assault at the Wayne funeral, mostly on paps who try snap a candid of Bruce at the funeral.

Teenage Bruce being forgiven for being a bit of a party boy and teenage tearaway. Gotham moms who would usually rag on their own kids for such behaviour will ultimately mutter that ‘He’s had such a hard time’ and if their kids point out the hypocrisy, they won’t hear it.

Returning Bruce welcomed like the Pope, people just feeling a buzz of something in the air now that Bruce is back where ‘he belongs’. Bruce can’t walk down the street without getting hailed by some Gothamite who has a complaint about something or wants to thank him for the favour or just say hi to him. Bruce can’t go through certain neighbourhoods without getting at least getting four offers to come over for dinner.

Bruce’s empire funding murmurous health schemes, pension schemes, free clinics, providing meals and enrichment for the elderly, building hospitals, funding the education of foster children and orphans and Bruce fighting for better lighting and transportation, going against mayoral spending schemes to buy up public works and then fund them.

Bruce’s string of love interests being judged by the entire city. There are some prospective Mrs Waynes and there are some ‘gold diggers’. His dates are vetted by Gotham, their financials studied, their dating history analysed, anybody who so much as looks any way romantically at him? Be prepared to be the target of city wide surveillance.

Bruce being in the side of regular Gothamites. Bruce will loaning funds to start up businesses. If you want to open a food truck stand, you can try the bank but if you bring Bruce Wayne a generous helping of rummaniyya or a kick ass kielbasa, he’s going to fund you straight off. If you got beef with your boss or landlord, Mr Wayne will be offering you one of his legal team.

Bruce being supported by the city when he starts his family with his adopted and warded kds. The papers are speculating over his reasons and where they are actually his illegitimate kids because lets be real Bruce looks like he birthed those babies. Bruce being offered advice by Gotham parents or praised when they see him out. The first time Dick was being difficult in public, Bruce got backed up by a Gotham mom who told Dick off and said that if he didn’t knock it off, Batman was going to come and get him.

Bruce being supported by the city during any sort of strife. Losing Jason, the Manor was flooded with letters and flowers. Losing Alfred, businesses across the city shut their doors as the hearse went through the city. Bruce just enveloped in a circle of silent support. The press? They ain’t getting near the guy,

The memory kept going. He had accepted the future to come, he had lived through it once. He had healed from it, so he was prepared for what was supposed to come... But something was wrong.

He saw, from his spot between the shadows of the tent, how Bruce took position on the stalls. Not first row how his recollections used to show him... Cold sweat covered his back. He lifted his small head toward the trapeze his parents were going to occupy after the current act was over. Something was wrong. He swallowed.

The climb was harder than he remembered. His hands too small. His fingers too weak. He used to climb with his parents help.

He made sure nobody saw him climb. Even Bruce was distracted by the show in front of him.

He took the knife out.

His hands trembled. His vision blurry with tears. The weight of his sinful intention pressed against his lungs and made the air enter with difficulty.

He breathed in, and pressed the edge against the ropes. There, were it hide against metal, were it was imperceptible at first glance. He slid it once. Twice. He couldn't clean his tears. He couldn't be loud. Tiny teeth bit down his lip to quiet his regretful sobbing.

He felt those eyes on him. His head whipped towards the crowd.

Wide ice blue filled with horror started at him.

Oh. That's why everything was messed up. Of course.

He shyly smiled, sniffing. He waved a shaky hand and did his best to enunciate each syllable of his whisper.

———

clark wakes on a couch in the manor, supremely confused, considering bruce has been on a space mission for the past month, so he has no reason to stay over.

he follows the sound of the front door opening, surprised to see bruce closing it behind him with his coat over his arm. he's in his civvies. when would he have had time to change out of his batsuit from the watchtower?

"you're home early," clark says, unable to keep the delighted warmth from his voice. any length of time without bruce is less than pleasant, but the mission bruce was sent on had been especially stressful because of its distance from earth. even the first sign of trouble would be too late to respond to from so far away. "is everything okay?"

bruce smiles at him, his eyes crinkling. it steals the breath from clark's lungs. "thought i'd surprise you," he says, moving closer. he puts a hand on clark's hip, drawing him near, and before clark can even understand what's happening, bruce pulls him into a kiss.

it's over before clark can truly reciprocate. his lips tingle as bruce pulls back to look at him.

"want to go out for dinner?" bruce asks, his hand still warm against clark's side.

it's then that clark realizes he's not where he's supposed to be. the floor beneath him is the wrong type of wood. the artwork on the walls is different from what he remembers. and bruce wouldn't— he would never— not with clark.

he must be in an alternate dimension. with his fair share of good and bad dimension-travel, clark decides to be cautious, to feel this bruce out, see if he's trustworthy.

clark agrees to dinner. they go to a quiet, modest place in downtown gotham. bruce has them seated in a secluded corner with his back to the wall—a typical habit clark has seen on the rare few times they've had meals together in actual restaurants.

they talk. clark tries to fit in and figure out if bruce is batman, if he can trust him with the knowledge of the unfortunate travel. he aims to glean as much as he can from bruce, subtly probing for information that a bruce who dates clark kent might be more willing to share. it almost feels like an interview, like the first time he spoke to bruce wayne and felt like he was being led in circles. nothing deep, everything surface-level.

after a while, clark realizes that's exactly what it is. he catches a familiar glint in bruce's eyes, almost smug. a barely-there smirk.

clark's shoulders drop as he sighs in defeat. "how long have you known," he asks with a groan.

bruce smiles at him, teasing. with a shrug, he replies, "oh, only since i kissed you."

clark puts his elbows on the table and his face in his hands as a flush rises to his hairline. "i didn't know if i could—" he starts, muffled.

"trust me?" bruce finishes, still smiling. clark wishes he weren't so beautiful. it'd be much less distracting. "i must be rubbing off on you."

"i wish you were rubbing off on me," clark mutters under his breath. thankfully, bruce doesn't seem to hear him.

"we aren't together where you're from," bruce says, sobering quickly. his eyes search clark's face, and clark has always found it hard to hide from bruce.

he pulls his hands from his face and shifts in his chair, avoiding bruce's gaze. eventually, he shakes his head.

"but you want to be," bruce continues. it isn't a question; bruce knows.

clark nods reluctantly anyway, face flaming.

bruce offers him a smile, almost sad, and says, "let's get you home."

———

they work tirelessly in the cave to find clark's universe. bruce keeps asking clark about specific things his bruce does, prying for something. clark isn't exactly sure what, but the answers are harmless: yes, his bruce's heart beats faster whenever clark catches him from a fall; yes, his bruce doesn't truly relax around the league but he does around clark; yes, his bruce has dozens of safety measures to protect clark specifically.

all reasonable, all explainable. clark eventually realizes what this bruce is trying to point out.

"he's not into me like that," clark says after bruce's third time asking a different, highly specific, pointed question. the words pain him to say out loud, but it's the truth. "trust me. it's been years. there's never been any indication—"

"are you seriously about to argue that i wouldn't be able to hide my feelings and emotions for as long as i felt i needed to?" bruce asks, deadpan.

clark deflates. "well, no, but—why would he need to? i don't know what i'm doing wrong. why won't he even consider me?" he asks, his voice thin.

bruce sighs, glancing over at the data pulled up on the batcomputer. they're close to finding a solution, but not quite. clark can tell that this bruce misses his clark sorely. he only wishes his bruce felt the same about him.

"have you given any indication that there's anything to consider?" bruce asks after a long moment.

"sure i have!" clark protests. "i bring him dinner—"

"you bring lois and jimmy dinner."

clark frowns. "sometimes, we patrol together and talk the whole night."

"your night is his day. he doesn't see it as staying awake to chat with you because he'll be up either way."

"but i—"

"clark," bruce says, turning in his chair. clark supresses the shiver in his spine at bruce's low tone. "have you looked him in the eye and asked him out. told him how you feel. said anything that would make him believe he had a chance."

"he's bruce," clark stresses. "he's always had a chance."

bruce inclines his head. "i'm sure he doesn't think so."

"how could you possibly know that?" clark asks, irritation blooming.

bruce looks him in the eye and says, levelly, "because i didn't either."

———

they come to an understanding after that. clark apologizes, promises to return the right clark to this universe, and bruce smiles and says i know you will.

they finally manage to build a sort of wormhole in the manor's backyard.

clark tells this bruce thank you.

bruce tells clark to hug his bruce and listen.

with those odd instructions, clark says goodbye after ensuring the right clark returns to this bruce.

———

when clark finally returns, he learns that an entire month has passed. his bruce had returned from space unharmed, his mission successful, and got right down to work, figuring out how to return the new superman to his dimension.

bruce stares at him in the cave. clark stares back as the portal closes behind him.

"i tried to come back sooner—" clark starts.

"don't be ridiculous," bruce cuts in. "with nobody on this end to keep the portal open, it would've been impossible." bruce sighs, a frown etched on his face. "i should have returned the moment i heard something happened."

"it worked out," clark says, smiling despite himself. "did that clark tell you he and the other bruce—"

"are dating?" bruce finished. "yes, he mentioned it. kept going on and on about wanting to propose." bruce sounds almost bored when he says it, but clark hears the way his voice catches on the last word.

"what?" clark exclaimed. "did you—what did you say?"

bruce peers at him carefully. eventually, he says softly, "i told him to ask alfred for my father's engagement ring. my father said he wanted me to have it from the moment i was born."

"bruce, that's," clark swallows the lump in his throat, "that's so thoughtful."

bruce grunts, shrugging.

clark can't help himself anymore. he surges forward and wraps bruce in a hug. "i missed you," he whispers, something inside him finally settling with bruce safe in his arms.

bruce slowly returns the hug, his breath catching when clark squeezes harder, heart pounding between them.

clark hears it. he gasps.

"spending time with him—with the other bruce," clark starts. "it made me realize that...well, i want you to know that i—"

bruce pulls back a fraction. "yes," he breathes. "yes, i know. the other clark told me."

Like, in the days following his depature, almost all the people who knew him receive letters. Those who were closest to him get piles of those, others just a couple, but they all get some. On the first letter of the stack there is the phrase "Things I would've liked to say to you but I never found the courage to". And they are just that, pages and pages, written with his convoluted calligraphy, detailing all sorts of things the Bat never said out loud.

Some are silly things, like how he liked the way someone did their cofee and he would've liked to drink that too, or how someone's accent scratched his brain just right, or how he was the one who did that particular irritating prank but never admitted it.

And then there are things like: "I never told you that I like the way you fly, even when I tought it was the most beautiful thing I ever saw", "I loved you, I loved you so much and I never found the courage to tell you, at least not how many times you deserved to hear it", "You'll always be one of my biggest what ifs, what if I had been better, what if I made you stay". And thing like that.

Those unsaid words pass trough villains and heroes, family and friends and collegues and lovers, from one side of the world to the other. They cause laughter and tears, sudden bursts of love and crushing pain. They finally reach the people they were meant for, a final gift.

Dick, turning to Clark with a puzzled look: “…that’s cool! isn’t that cool, Jay?”

Jason, not willing to play dumb like Dick: “Bruce likes planes though. That’s why he and Hal were talking ab—”

Dick, quickly: “Bruce likes a lot of things.”

"I- If you- I don't mind..."

Fix this, FIX THIS! "Yeah, no. It sounded more sarcastic in my head"

"... Oh." Wrong move! He turns back to Bruce. The man is looking down. Shit shit shit.

"No, I don't mean that you aren't- I mean... You- you aren't -" Bruce's head downs more and more to the ground with every word "No, no, no! Ah! Listen! I-!"

"It's fine" he doesn't look at Dick

"B! Bruce! Sorry, I-"

"It's fine... Go to your room, Dick" Bruce looks up and smiles. "Let's talk tomorrow"

Dick runs away before he starts messing everything more. And they never talk about it again.

"It's a process. We all found it difficult at first, I know. But I still feel guilty over that moment." Dick shrugs. Jason frowns at him.

"Noooo, we didn't." Dick stops and twist his body from his lotus position to watch his brother over at the computers.

"What do you-?"

"Really? You found it difficult?" Tim tilts his head next to him at the mats. Dick swallows.

"I-"

"I guess nowadays I can't call him pops as I used to" Jason nods to himself "but I started calling him that as soon as the papers were signed"

"I never heard you..."

"You were never here... And I wasn't dumb enough to call Batman my pops, Dick" Jason scoffs at him.

"Why would it be hard for you?" Dick turns back to Tim

"I- I had my parents so..." He closes his mouth. Tim is studying him, no judgement. But Dick still feels sick.

"Mmh. I guess so." Tim holds his own chin.

Dick smiles "You felt the same way?" He can see Jason joining them from the corner of his eye.

Tim frowns "Hell no!" Jason guffaws as he sits next to Tim "I saw an opening and started bombarding him with the word!"

"Stalker Tim?" Jason waves his hands "You seriously think stalker Tim was shy about calling him dad?"

"But... Your parents..."

Tim twists his lips. "Yeah... Looking back it was kinda rude to Jack to call B my dad so soon after meeting him"

"... What?" Dick gapes. Jason belly laughs

"Imagine Jack Drake going to an event with his kid and as soon as Bruce appears, this dude runs to him screaming dad"

"Never did that" Tim points a finger at Jason "I only called him dad in private"

Jason raises his hands in surrender "I was exaggerating"

"Well, don't. Jack never knew... I hope"

Dick stares at them. Jason sighs.

"Look, if it makes you feel better, now I find it really really hard and awkward to call him pops anymore"

"No, it truly doesn't help"

"Well damn I'm never opening to you ever again"

"No... What I mean..." Jason crosses his arms and waits. "Now I find it easy. So..."

"Right," Jason rolls his eyes as Tim snickers "be a show off, why not"

"We're all different. With dad." the trio jumps as Cass sits next to Dick "Don't feel sad"

"That-" Tim swallows as he catches his breath, pointing at his sister "that's true" Dick tries to steady his own heart. "Our history is different from yours"

Dick wanna believe it. But he can't.

"You barely call him anything but dad" Dick sighs. Tim raises an eyebrow at him.

"He's dad. So I call him dad" Cass tilts her chin up, proudly, smugly. Something ugly growls inside Dick's chest.

"Well, at least you don't sound so stuck up calling him B. Imagine calling him father"

"He is my father" Tim is the only one to scream. "Seriously, Drake?"

"Since when are you here?!"

"He... Came with me" Jason raises a hand. "Are you ok?"

Tim shakes his head. "I think I shat my heart out"

Damian rolls his eyes in an almost painful way and gets away from the computer. "I call him baba when we're in appropriate- Honestly, Drake? You're being too much"

Tim takes a big breath and points at him "Not my fault you're garden gnome sized and practically invisible to normal eyes-!"

"Okay"

"There goes the chill afternoon"

Cass giggles at Damian taking off his shoe and throwing it a Tim's shoulder.

Steps on the stairs make them all turn their heads in unison.

"What are you all-" Bruce takes a second to blink. Dick sees his expression of 'god, I understand when the League calls them creepy', but it quickly goes away. Bruce clears his throat. "What are you kids up to?"

He steps down. The answers came in voices running over eachother, fighting to be heard.

"Yoga"

"Medi- ok, yoga"

"Working"

"Working on a case"

"Hanging out"

Bruce's lips turn upwards. Oh, he's proud. Damn.

Dick feels the moment.

"Hey, da-"

"Yo, pops" Jason raises up. Dick's mouth falls open. Bruce freezes, blinks and nods out of his momentary stupor. "Care to check this out?"

Dick grabs him by the ankle, making Jason trip and fall on his face. "YOU ASSHOLE"

Jason turns to face him, shocked. "What the-?"

"You did that on purpose!"

"What?!"

"Jaylad, are you okay?"

Jason kicks his hand away "No I'm not! That shit hurts!!" He takes Bruce's hand to stand up. Tim is covering his mouth with both hands, shoulders shaking. Cass has turned around, probably to laugh as well. Damian's eyes are empty as he seems to contemplate killing them all. "Sorry for feeling emotionally vulnerable and taking the moment that was offered to me!" Jason dramatically presses a hand on his chest.

Tim falls back with a laugh. "It could have also been my moment!!" Dick stands up.

"Boys..."

"Then use it! It's not one per event you- you-!!" Jason looks around "I have nothing to throw at your face!!!"

"Oooh!! You know it wouldn't be the same!!" Dick seethes.

"This is so stupid" Damian sighs and moves between them to grab Bruce's hand. "Todd and I were working on this case" Bruce looks over his shoulder at them as he's dragged to the computers. "Nothing serious... Come on. Sit, baba"

"Well... There you have it" Jason points with his hand and walks to the duo.

Dick throws his head backwards with a growl and joins them. Behind him, he can hear the other pair mock them.

"Careful, dad! He's in a foul mood!"

Bruce slightly turns to them before Jason grabs his head with a hand and twists it back to the computers. "Scary big brother, dad"

Dick glares at them before standing next to Bruce's chair.

Bruce looks up. Slowly grabbing his hand. "It's okay, son"

Dick blinks. And everyone is quiet for a second before he throws himself to Bruce's neck. "Oh, dad!"

"Come. On!"

"Grayson, can you do that after baba checks this out?"

"He always ends up stealing the spotlight"

"Drama"

"Goldie! Let him go!"

Yeah, Batman is cool. Well, he pays and tips in crumpled bills that usually have some blood or soot on it, is polite to the grandpas, agrees to dropping by their houses to make sure their kids aren't staying up too late or their spouses came home safe.

But nothing beats seeing the Prince of Gotham stumbling out of work, ordering 20 bagels for his gluttonous children and tipping 150% more than the original costs. They ceased thanking him for the programs their family benefits from, knowing he much appreciates seeing photos instead or having extra onions in his shawarma wrap.

Some of them would be acutely aware of the parties that Brucie Wayne goes to because there's at least an 80% chance of him stumbling out drunk and every old man street cart vendor starts mother henning him.

"Mister Wayne, you shouldn't be drinking on an empty stomach! 😨"

"Sit up, boy 😠 Good god, you look like a bloody mess."

"Aww, poor kid 🥺" (Bruce is 45 yo man btw) "Here lad. Ice cream. On the house. Yes, yes, tell me all about the last model that dumped you, but please do it while sitting upright."

Sorry if this is to much to ask!

I would love to Anon!

(The post in question)

It's a monthly get-together, where everybody stays for dinner and spent some quality time together. This month it's Cass's turn to pick an entertainment, this means they'll all be playing 30 seconds.

And while the kids where having fun Bruce couldn't allow himself to play with them, a dissaproving voice echoing in his head.

It'd be inproper, to impose on his kids' fun like that.

It would be uncalled for.

And he was is truly happy to see his kids having fun.

And he knew it wasn't his place to interupt, in fact he knew his place would be in another room. Away from this, so he can't ruin it.

Away.

Should he excuse himself? It's not like they would notice, and he wouldn't disturb. Yeah, just walk away.

One step after the other he quietly left. Not a sign he was ever there.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

After an hour of playing the kids had switched to truth or dare. Ranging from stupid first crushes to doing backflips on the roof.

It was Jason's turn.

"Timbo, truth or dare."

"Dare, who do you take me for?"

"I dare you to grab something personal of Bruce's."

"Bet"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Bruce's room looked awfully staged, there wasn't much of anything, sure it looked clean and proper. But.. There wasn't anything personal. Nothing of sentimental value or anything that hinted at the fact that their dad slept there.

Just the bed, a closet, a desk.

Even on the desk the only thing he could find that was worth the dare was an old book, so he took it. Nevermind that 'Diary of Bruce Thomas Wayne' was written on the cover in neat handwriting.

[TW: ABUSE]

Just a small mumble, half choked on his own blood.

I love your AU’s for the relationship between Bruce and the Mob families in Gotham, and if you don’t mind, I would love to present my own!

My idea is sappy and fluffy ( ;•__•) basically what happens is that Baby!Bruce (post Wayne death but idc) is more clever than he lets on and uses his uncles affection for him as a way to have them slowly move their business away from crime/away from harming people.

Add in some time travel or magical nonsense and I think it can work pretty well (>w<) idk, maybe this is nonsense but I can’t think of anyone else to send this to

Love ya!

—🌸🐁

He's sat on his uncle's knees for years during their meetings. After his parents die, his hatred for criminals festers, but he needs to be smart. He can't alienate these men, they own the city.

So he makes sure they own the city.

Pipes up with quiet suggestions, 'sleepy' mumblings against someone's chest, until their breath of control spans the entire city. Other smaller gangs eradicated and pushed out.

Then he changes tune. Makes fewer suggestions to them, does more work in the background. Registers them as 'companies', slowly shifts the target from control to improvement.

He realises money can't do it all, and still decides to be Batman. Knows he'll need to train. Knows it will take years of dedication, and he can't be distracted. Knows he needs to leave.

Starts dropping comments about how much he wants to see his parent's dream come to fruition, of a city full of hope, not the ditch where it goes to die. Cautiously asks if one of them would like to hold his shares at W.E. until he's of age, he doesn't trust the board to honour his parent's dream.

Bruce Wayne dies at thirteen.

He goes missing, and is never found.

Gotham grieves, feels the grief of his family as they bear down harder on the city. Feels it lean up, as they remember who they're grieving, and work hard to embody his dream of a Gotham you could be proud to say you're from.

The Batman arrives in Gotham six years later, and tackles the elements of the city that goodness could never touch. This time, there has been reform backed by infiltration in the government, the GCPD, the criminal underworld, and the conglomerates. The criminals stay in jail.

Bruce Wayne arrives in Gotham seven years later, and knocks on the door of the Iceberg Lounge. He is dragged inside by his scruff, and cast at the feet of the men that own the city.

No one can impersonate their nephew and get away with it.

Sal kicks him down, Carmine pins him to the floor with a foot on his chest, and Oswald draws back a fist.

Pauses.

Gasps.

"Chick."

But essentially, the idea is, that Bruce gets kidnapped, not Batman, but Bruce, and it’s simply not one of those incidents that he can just get himself out of without giving away too much of his secret identity.

So, he’s left to wait for either the JL or the Batkids/Alfred, to realise he’s gone. Neither are coming extremely quickly. This can be for either malicious reasons, such as the batkids being upset with him, or reasons outside their control, such as the JL being off planet or already fighting a threat.

Instead, he’s saved by one (or multiple) of the rouges. My initial thought was Harvey, because, despite their differences after the whole acid attack, Bruce is still Harvey’s. This was heavily influenced by the song ‘He’s my man’ by luvcat. The JL/Batkids finally arriving when it is simply too late, Harvey has done it, he got there first, and maybe, just maybe, Bruce is feeling petty enough to make it hurt.

I just enjoy the idea of Bruce deciding for one night, to not be Batman, to instead be Bruce Wayne, who has a personal connection to many of the rouges, and simply wants away from the stress of his life, and making that choice actively in front of his other friends and family. An easy reminder that he could have gone the same way they did, and arguably had every right to do.

(I’m really sorry if this doesn’t make any sense.)

The kidnappers didn't even take him out of Gotham. It was easy to find him all along, and yet he sits there for hours, the skin under his bindings red, then raw, then bleeding sluggishly as his whole body aches from being restrained for so long. His shoulders edging towards dislocation the longer they're pulled back too far to be tied behind him.

A gunshot. Three more, and all of his kidnappers are on the ground. For a moment, Bruce thinks Jason is here, then someone groans and he realises. No. Non-lethal shots.

Familiar footsteps walk up behind him, and when a chest presses against his back, he melts into it, finally relaxing. "Harv."

"Hey doll," Harvey whispers, and a scarred cheek presses against his as a kiss is left at the corner of his mouth. "What do you say we get out of here?" The question is accompanied with a quiet snick, and Bruce's bindings are quickly sliced through, and hands catch his shoulders, easing them forward slowly with a dull ache, rather than the blinding pain as they suddenly fall when released.

Harvey wraps an arm around his waist, lifting him from the chair, and Bruce hates feeling helpless, weak, but Harvey never makes him feel that way, holding him up, holding him close as his body figures out how to be something other bound to a chair again.

"Can we—"

"I even brought a med kit," Harvey interrupts.

"For my bleeding heart?" Bruce can't help but fall back to how they used to be, and Harvey's eyes glitter as he winks.

"You know it, doll."

The kidnappers shy away from their approach, but relax when Bruce kneels by their side, accepting the kit from Harvey. Rudimentary care, but it's enough to ensure they won't lose any function in the limbs Harvey shot out. Then Harvey seems to take great pleasure in knocking them all out again until someone finds them.

"Want me to take you home?"

"We can do that."

Dick steps out of the darkness, quickly followed by his other children, a smattering of his teammates. A bit showy for just Bruce Wayne, but Harvey knows who he is. They know he knows, so no one measures any responses, Bruce's identity an open secret among everyone present.

Bruce expects to be relieved at their eventual arrival, not the bitter resignation that sits deep in his chest.

"Sorry we're late," Diana apologises, but there's a smile on her face, because that's what they always say to each other. He's not sure she means it anymore. He's not sure any of them mean it, anymore.

"Come on, B." Steph gestures for the door, smiling, and he wants to return it, but finds he can't muster it.

"Allow us to take you home," J'onn asks, and something curls in Bruce's gut, rejecting the idea.

He's sick of being good. Sick of being pleasant, stepping back, stepping down, stepping aside, and laying down for them to walk over him, and still being told he's too much, too rude, too obstinate.

He wants it to stop. Wants to go back to a time when people disn't expect him to be a paragon of virtue, then drag him through the mud for it the second he faltered. When people saw his darkness and didn't draw back from it. When they accepted it as a part of him just as much as everything else.

He glances at Harvey, who watches him carefully. Go, his eyes say, kind. Ready to back off, to send Bruce back into the arms of his family.

Bruce isn't sure those arms are even reaching for him anymore.

He steps back, and holds a hand out, Harvey's fingers finding his immediately, sliding together, tangling, a gentle, telling kiss brushed over his knuckles. He turns his back on the confused, betrayed faces at his back, and finds it easy to find a smile for Harvey.

Dick: Hi 😊

Barry: So that's a... kid

Bruce: He's my protege.

Clark, floating over: Hi 😊

Dick: Oh my god, it's Superman 😭😭😭 Batman, it's Superman

Clark, tears brimming in his eyes as he hugs Dick: A baby

Hal: Jeez, what the hell? did you knock up some one nightstand, Bats? The hell is that thing? Where's it's mom?

Dick: She fell-

Hal: I bet that's what she said.

Dick: -from a trapeze... She died

Hal:

Clark: *hugging Dick tighter, eyes glowing at Hal*

Diana, squishing Jason's face: This one has the squishiest face.

Jason, almost in tears: I love you Wonder Woman

Diana, whispering: I would die for you.

Clark: *scuffing his shoes because this Robin hasn't even looked over at him*

Tim: Hi I'm... Robin?

Oliver: You don't sound sure.

Tim, deepening his voice: I'm Robin.

Oliver, who knows his friend lost a kid and this kid is helping him through it: Yes you are. Do you want an Oreo, dear?

Stephanie, hands on hips: I am Robin.

Hal: But you're a girl?

Diana:

Dinah:

Shiera:

Kara:

Carol:

Tatsu:

Zatanna:

The Entire Nation of Themyscira: so you have chosen death.

Damian: I am Robin, son of the Bat.

Hal: That's cute but -

Damian: Silence, worm.

Barry: *chuckling*

Damian: You too.

Clark: Now, wait a minute, Robin-

Damian: *opening his pocket where there is an eerie green glow*

Clark:

Arthur, arriving with a jar: Sorry I'm late, I just-

Damian: is that... Is that a seahorse?

Arthur: um, yes, buddy. He's just feeling under the weather.

Damian: Is it environmental? Perhaps he has a virus? Can I help?

Arthur: Environmental, poor guy got some oil on him. He will he fine. I'm taking him home later. Do you want to hold the jar while I sit in on this meeting?

Damian: *grabby hands*

Arthur: He's a nice boy.

JLA:

Damian, whispering to the jar: I will avenge you, Bucephelus.

Bruce, holding Cass's hand: This is my daughter. Yes, she was an assassin and yes, she is rehabilitated. You will treat her with respect.

Cass: *tugging Bruce's hand*

Bruce: *leaning down*

Cass:

Bruce: She loves your hairslide, Dinah.

Dinah: Thanks.

Cass: 😊

Barbara, seated at the JLA meeting table: I'm covering for Batman. He's busy with Gotham business. He would like to-

Guy Gardener: Sorry but who the fuck gives you the right to-

Babs, not even looking up: You're talking a lot of shit for somebody who doesn't know where Iowa was.

Guy: How did you-?

Babs: I'm Oracle. Now, unless you have something worthy to contribute I would exercise that willpower and shut the fuck up.

Wally: Get his ass, Babs.

Babs: Wally, I know what you searched on your phone last night. You're in no position to laugh. Or judge. Frankly, I was disturbed.

Wally:

Babs: Now, as I was saying-

Barry: You're not a Robin?

Duke: No, I'm The Signal.

Clark: He's a meta. He glows.

Arthur:

Barry:

Dinah:

J'onn:

Zatanna:

Victor:

Billy:

Diana:

JLA: ONE OF US ONE OF US ONE OF US ONE OF US ONE OF US ONE OF US ONE OF US ONE OF US ONE OF US