You stand in the kitchen, reheating the soup for Damian, although Alfred would have done it, you told him you would do it yourself. You needed a moment simply to yourself, that's why you told Bruce to watch something with Damian while you were in the kitchen.

Your alone time didn't last long when you feel arms wrapping around your waist. You flinch slightly before you relax against your husband, even after all these years together, he could still sneak up on you, but he's Batman after all so you're not really surprised.

"You okay?" Bruce mumbles into your neck, tightening his arms slightly around you.

"'M fine," you drawl through a sigh, frowning when one of Bruce's arms let go of you to grab the wooden spoon in your hand, lying it down before he turns the stove onto a lower temperature to be able to turn you around in his arms to face him without having to worry about the food.

"Want to finally tell me what happened with the school?" he asks, cupping your face softly with his hands.

You let out a deep sigh, playing with Bruce's collar to avoid eye contact. It's not like you didn't want to tell Bruce what happened because you really want to tell him, but you slowly started to think that maybe you were a bit dramatic about everything. The school politics say that 'in case of an emergency the parents are to be informed'—𝘨𝘰𝘴𝘩, 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘩𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘦, it's completely disrespectful to adoptive parents, foster parents, stepparents and other caregivers—

"Honey?" Bruce says softly, noticing that your mind was wandering so he gave you a soft smile when your eyes finally snapped up to his. "I was worried when Zuri told me that the school had called."

Your eyes widen at that, you didn't really think about what must have gone through Bruce's head when Zuri told him after his meeting that the school had called. He must have thought that you were sick or that something happened to you.

You shake your head in his grip, leaning forward to give him a soft peck on his lips. "I'm really fine, my love. Sorry that you had to worried about me. I had so many things going on in my head, and after Damian ate his soup we pretty much fell asleep, but I should have called yo—"

Now Bruce was the one to leave a soft peck on your lips, stopping your ramble. "No need to apologize. I'm just happy nothing happened to you, so please tell me why the school called me, and why they couldn't reach you."

You huff, letting your hands fall back to your sides, but before you could look away, Bruce stepped a little closer to you, and brushed his thumbs over your cheeks to ground you (and maybe to ground himself too).

"They couldn't reach me because they... because they didn't even tried to call me in the first place," you say, looking your husband in the eyes to see his reaction.

You feel his hands twitch lightly on your face, his brows knit together in confusion after a few seconds. "What do you mean?"

"The vice principal told me that the parents are to be contacted in case of an emergency."

"Yeah," Bruce nods in understanding, but his brows were still knitted, "but they couldn't reach me, and you are the first person to be contacted anyway, so why didn't they?"

"In case of an emergency the parents are to be contacted," you repeat, seeing how your husband's confusion turned slowly into irritation.

"I understand that, so why didn't they call you?"

You could see it in his expression: jaw tight, gaze sharp, and he let go of your face, hands tightening into fists beside him. He knew the answer to his own question, but he was hoping that he was wrong about his assumption.

You take a deep breath before letting everything out that happened and where your thoughts have gone. "They didn't call me because I'm just his 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, and therefore have not the same rights, and the worst part his that 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨! I'm not his real mo—"

"Stop," Bruce grits out, shaking his hands lightly out on his sides to cup your face again, firmer this time, still gentle of course, but with more earnestness. "You 𝘢𝘳𝘦 his mother as much as you are the mother of our other children."

You nod at him, feeling a lump forming in your throat, and tears welling in your eyes. You knew that in your heart, but it was really good to hear the words leave your husband's mouth.

"Give me a name," Bruce says with a deeper voice and darker eyes. Someone disrespected you, his 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦. And he will not have that.

"Mr. Banks," a raspy voice says before you even got the chance to open your mouth.

You quickly wipe away a few tears that had escaped your eyes with the back of your hand before you turn towards the door where your youngest boy leaned against the doorframe.

"Dami, why aren't you in bed?"

"You weren't there," he mumbles, feeling heat creeping up his cheeks that didn't came from the fever so he cleared his throat (well, he tried to, but the scratching in the back wouldn't go away) and straightened up from the door. "It was cold. It's much warmer when someone else is in bed, and I didn't know it takes so long to heat up soup."

You laugh softly, of course he didn't want to admit that he wanted to cuddle. "You're right, it doesn't take that long."

"You can go back to bed with Damian," Bruce says, grabbing the wooden spoon before you could, "and I'm taking care of the school."

You give him a soft but meaningful kiss, mumbling '𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘴' against his mouth before you walk towards your son.

Damian looks at you with still glassy eyes. "Could you please get me the blue blanket?"

"Of course, my little bat," you answer, stroking a few strands away from his eyes, turning towards your husband when you hear a light scoff. "Got a problem with that?"

"No," he answers with sarcasm, "why would I have a problem with a blanket?"

You lift your eyebrows and smirk before you put on an innocent face. "I don't know. Why do you have a problem with the blue blanket?"

Bruce just shakes his head, turning towards the soup. He knew that you knew what his problem with the blanket was, and he doesn't want to play that game. Unfortunately for him, you wanted to play.

"It's big, fluffy and keeps you warm—"

"It's a 𝘚𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘯 blanket."

You gasp in fake surprise. "Really? I never noticed that."

Bruce scoffs again, throwing a dish towel at you, but you already ran out of the room, your laughter still echoing through the hallway.

Damian smiles softly after you before his father's voice snaps his attention towards him. "Damian."

"Yes?"

"When you're feeling better, I'll need your help with Mr. Banks," Bruce says, stirring the soup again, "and those of your brothers."

"Do you have something in mind?"

"Plenty," Bruce chuckles, looking back to Damian with a mischief smirk, "but I'm sure you got some ideas as well."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔 .

—𝗠𝗼𝗻𝗱𝗮𝘆—

"Are you sure this will work?"

"Pleaseeee," Tim scoffs, opening his laptop,

"'cause this'll work."

Damian rolls his eyes, looking around before he looks back to Tim. "Can you hurry up? It is slightly embarrassing when someone sees us together."

"What is embarrassing?" Tim asks, frowning slightly when he opens a few tabs on the Laptop. He only half listen to his younger brother, he has an important task to complete, after all.

Damian raises a brow, "should I really say it out loud?"

Tim's frown deepens, finally looking up from the screen when it finally dawns on him what Damian was trying to imply. "Do you mean me? 𝘔𝘦?"

Damian scoffs at the high pitched and offended voice of Tim, rolling his eyes again. "Congratulations Timothy, you're officially the greatest detective of 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘭𝘭𝘭𝘭𝘭 time," he says with a pointed look.

"I'm not embarrassing," Tim argues, still very offended, "you're embarrassing and you don't see me complaining do you?"

"What makes me embarrassing?" Damian asks, looking around again before he sits down next to Tim to be able to look at the screen. He raises his eyebrow again when Tim couldn't come up with something.

"I don't know," Tim shrugs, looking back to the loading screen, "you're the younger brother that automatically makes you embarrassing."

"So according to your logic," Damian starts with a disgusting look on his face, "that makes Jason what?"

"What does Jason have to do with this?"

Damian pinches the bridge of his nose. "He's older than you, and according to your logic, that makes you the embarrassing one," he huffs with a little smirk, "which is the same thing I told you."

Tim opens his mouth to say something smart back, but nothing came out because Damian had a point (not that he would ever tell him that), so he did the only right thing in this situation: flicking Damian's forehead.

Before Damian could do something back to Tim, the screen finally lit up with their target. The boys glanced at each other for a few seconds before they quickly leaned towards the laptop to have the perfect view of Mr. Banks still sleeping in his bed. Is it questionable to spy on your vice principal? Yes. Do the boys care? Absolutely not! That 'man' disrespected you and no one disrespected their mother.

"I hacked into every system in his house," Tim smirks, "this is going to be a lot of fun!"

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔 .

—𝗧𝘂𝗲𝘀𝗱𝗮𝘆—

"Boys, dinner is almost done," you yell down into the Batcave, "please finish your training." After you heard replies of '𝘺𝘦𝘴' and '𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨' you made your way through the grandfather clock towards the dining room. You're a bit suspicious; normally the boys would argue back that they weren't finished with training, but perhaps they've noticed that Alfred isn't in a good mood today and definitely don't want to make the butler even angrier.

𝘖𝘩, 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦!

The boys stand behind Tim who's sitting at the Batcomputer, playing the video of Mr. Banks again. It shows him running around his house in a panic; the lights are constantly switching on and off, the doors are opening and locking themselves—every time he pulls on the door it's locked but as soon as he lets go of it, the door opens again. That was the favourite of Tim and Damian because they were the ones to always press the button to close and open the door, it was really funny to watch Mr. Banks frustration.

Jason's favorite part is where the vice principal gets up, the curtains open, and he stands naked before almost his entire neighborhood. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦? Maybe, just maybe did someone dressed up and rang everyone's doorbell to report a gas leak—well, everyone expect Mr. Banks.

Dick's favourite is when Mr. Banks slips because the refrigerator has leaked, in his panic to get away from the window, the vice principal didn't see the water on the floor.

"Okay," Dick laughs, seeing only lights through his tears, "play this part one more time, and then we go up before mom sees this."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔 .

—𝗪𝗲𝗱𝗻𝗲𝘀𝗱𝗮𝘆—

"I'm not sure this is a good idea," Damian mumbles, but still follows Jason through a window. "Father said we shouldn't do something illegal."

"We aren't," Jason simply states as if they hadn't just broken into Mr. Banks' house, opening some drawers in the living room.

Damian still stands hesitating at the window, eyes following his older brother, who looks through some books before he turns around to look at the younger boy.

"Look," Jason sighs, "we just want to find something to help the old man get rid of this damn jerk, so either you help me," he gives Damian a pointed look before he points to the window, "𝘰𝘳 you go back home".

Damian rolls his eyes before he starts to look through the house as well. "What are we even looking for?"

"Don't know," Jason mumbles, looking behind a few paintings to see if he finds a safe, "but you know it when you see it."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔 .

—𝗧𝗵𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗱𝗮𝘆—

Bruce walks through the door, seeing Damian sit on one of the chairs near the secretary's desk, this time with perfect posture, head hanging low to cover up his smirk.

"Hallo," Bruce greets the secretary, stepping forward to her desk, "I'm here to pick up my son, Damian Wayne."

"Of course," the secretary nods, standing up and points to a door that lead to the principal's office, "I'm going to get the vice principal."

Bruce nods with a polite smile, glancing to Damian when the secretary goes into the office. He takes a deep breath to calm himself, although he firmly believes that violence isn't the solution to everything, it's still his first instinct when something or someone threatens his family. Or in this case disrespected 𝘺𝘰𝘶, his 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦.

Damian takes a deep breath himself, he's still a bit upset with himself for not being able to defend you last week, and he really just wants to punch the idiot in the face. But you're so proud of him that he no longer reacts directly with violence, and he certainly won't let that pathetic excuse of a man ruin that.

Bruce gives his son a knowing smirk and a wink before the office door opens again, and the man he never met but hates anyways walks out, and stretches his hand out in greeting.

"Mr. Wayne," the vice principal greets with a smile that makes it almost impossible to not punch him in the face, but lucky for him Bruce is able to control himself. "I'm glad we're finally meeting."

"Yeah," Bruce says with a fake smile that only Damian knew was fake, shaking the other man's hand a bit tighter than he normally would, but he remembered that you said Mr. Banks did the same to you. "I'm glad you're happy that we're finally meeting," he says, letting go of Mr. Banks' hand, "but my wife announced this wouldn't be a pleasant meeting so I'm not sure what you're happy about."

The vice principal is taking aback by the sudden change in the atmosphere, glancing to his secretary for help, but the woman looked into her computer, completely ignoring him. He got himself into this situation; now he can figure a way out.

"I assure you, this is just a misunderstanding."

"What is?" Bruce challenges him, "is it that you misunderstood the meaning of a mother?" Bruce says, still with a smile but the longer the vice principal looked at Bruce's face, the more he noticed how sharp it actually was. "Or does the misunderstanding lie in the fact that you were disrespectful to my wife and thought I wouldn't do anything about it?"

Mr. Banks gulps; his throat suddenly feels really dry. "How about we continue the conversation in my office?"

"That's not necessary," Bruce dismisses him, "you already got a second chance, but you called me first 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. This means you disrespected my wife. 𝘈𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯."

"M-Mr. Wayne, if you would just please let me explain—"

"There is nothing to explain," Bruce chuckles, "You thought that in your position of power you could do whatever you wanted, but you're wrong."

Bruce turns towards his youngest with a soft real smile. "Please get your bag, we're leaving now. Mom's waiting in the car, we're going to get some ice cream."

"Mr. Wayne," the vice principal tries again, "I don’t know what your wife told you, but I can assure you that it wasn't like that."

Bruce turns sharply around, narrowing his eyes. "So you say that my wife is dramatic?"

"W-What n-no... of course not," he stutters, taking a few steps back when Bruce takes a few steps towards him, towering upon him.

"So you're calling my wife a liar?" Bruce says in a dark voice (or like his family called it: his Batman voice).

"I-I would...ne-never..." the other man stutters out, he feels his heartbeat going up, and that his hands start to sweat when he looks in Bruce's eyes. Who knew that the prince of Gotham could be this terrifying? Wasn't he the one who used to strip at parties a lot a few years ago?

"But you did," Bruce says with a clam voice, "but it's alright, you know why?"

Mr. Banks opens his mouth but nothing came out so he just shakes his head, relaxing a bit when Bruce leans back again.

"Because 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳, and I make sure you lose your job. I can't let children have a vice principal who is disrespectful towards women, can I?" Bruce says with fake politeness. "Now excuse me, 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 and I are taking 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘯 to go get some ice cream."

Bruce turns around, and leads Damian with a hand on the shoulder out of the school, relaxing with every step he takes, looking down towards his son when he feels an intense gaze on him. He lifts a eyebrow to let the boy know he can say what he wants to say.

"Don't tell the others but that was really cool."

Bruce chuckles, giving Damian's shoulder a soft squeeze. "I won't tell, but if you found this cool you should see what happens tomorrow."

"What do you mean?"

Bruce stops, making Damian stop as well. "There's something important you need to understand," when Damian nods Bruce continues, "when someone hurts my family they don't only hurt Bruce Wayne's family." 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘉𝘢𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘯'𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔 .

—𝗙𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗮𝘆—

"Where are you two going?" you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Patrol," Bruce says simply, putting on his gloves.

"I can see that," you roll your eyes playfully, going towards your husband who's hands immediately go towards your hips, "but Dicki is in his police outfit."

Bruce looks towards Dick with narrowed eyes, he told him they need to hurry up before you saw them because he knew you would ask questions why he is going out as a detective and not as Nightwing.

"Master Dick spilled something on his suit again, and unfortunately I haven't had time to remove the stains yet," Alfred angel like voice echoes through the Batcave, ever the true hero, "therefore, I suggested that he could still come along as a detective."

"That's a wonderful idea Alfred," you smile at the butler before you turn to your two boys. "Please stay safe, I love you."

"I love you too," Bruce says, leaning forward to kiss you, completely ignoring the disgusted sound coming from your oldest child.

"That's enough," Dick says, tugging his father away from you before he gives your temple a kiss, "love you, mom. But we really need to go before Damian and Jason start to team up against Tim again."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔 .

𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥. They really fired him. After everything he did for that awful school and the stupid kids. And why? Because of a bored dramatic housewife!

Mr. Banks is relived when he finally arrives home. He had to walk all the way to his house because his car wouldn't start (wonder how this happened), putting the boxes with his belongings down, he starts to search for his keys, but freezes when he hears something behind him.

"I know what you did," came a deep voice from behind him.

"Do you want money?" Mr. Banks says in panic, "just take it and go away."

"I don't want your dirty money."

"W-What else do you want? Please, I don't have anything else."

"That's not true," the voice says with a chuckle. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘯?

Mr. Banks chokes on his next words, "do you work for the Joker? P-Please, I don't have the money yet but... but tell him I have it in a few weeks. I need more time!"

It's quiet a few seconds, and Mr. Banks almost thinks the man behind him is gone, but then came the deep voice again, "looks like you don't have a job and therefore no money."

"It's not my fault!" the ex vice principal says a bit louder, punching against his door, "it's the fault of this stupid bitch—"

Mr. Banks yells when his face connects with the door, immediately feeling pain shooting through his nose and a mental taste in his mouth. The hand on his neck tightens, "carful! I hate men who talk disgustingly about women."

"Please," Mr. Banks groans, "it's her fault! Tell Mr. J if he wants the money, he can get it from Mrs. Way—", he yells again when his face connects with the door again, crying out when the man behind him kicks his feet away so his knees fall onto the floor.

"𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 say her name," the deep voice growls, "if you ever say her name again, you wish I would work for the Joker."

This is so confusing! The stranger does not work for Mr. J and doesn't want his money. What does he want?

"Do you understand?" Mr. Banks just winces when the hand still holding his neck tightens again. "𝘋𝘰. 𝘠𝘰𝘶. 𝘜𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥?"

"Yes," the man cries out, reaching behind him to the hand on his neck, trying to make the man let go of him.

The stranger chuckles again, leaning down to be level with his ear, "always 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳: respect will take you far in life."

Mr. Banks groans when the hand let go of him, causing him to fall forward against the door. A few tears escape his eyes, relief shooting through his body before he tenses again when he still feels someone behind him.

"BPD! Don't move."

"Finally," Mr. Banks laughs.

"You are under arrest," the voice behind him says before he feels hands on him, but before he can thank the police man he feels handcuffs on his wrist. 𝘞𝘢𝘪𝘵, he is under arrest? What about the guy behind him with the deep voice. When he turns around, the stranger is no longer there.

"This is a misunderstanding...there was a guy and he—"

"You are under arrest for disorderly conduct, money laundering, and dealing drugs for the Joker."

"What? No—"

"You have the right to remain silent—"

"This is a misunderstanding! Please—"

"Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law—"

"T-They tricked me! And you! Do you understand? They—"

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔 .

"That was really cool," Jason says with excitement in his eyes, standing on the roof of the house opposite Mr. Banks' house.

"Yeah..." Tim agrees, "does that mean dad is actually cool?"

"Don't say that," Damian scoffs as if he hadn't said the same thing the day before.

"I think he was pretty cool," Dick says through the earpiece, looking up after he put Mr. Banks in the police car. "Dad doesn't play around when it comes to mom."

"That's right," Bruce says, coming up behind the boys, "you all did a really great job and I'm proud of all of you."

"Yeah yeah," Jason dismisses him with a light blush on his cheeks, "don't get sentimental now, old man."

Bruce chuckles, shaking his head when he looks down and sees that Mr. Banks still tries to argue with Dick. "I'm sure you have everything under control now, I have something else to take care of." With that the Bat was gone as quickly as he had been there.

"He goes home, doesn't he?" Dick questions with a frown.

"I really don't want to think about what dad and mom are going to do, dickhead," Jason groans in disgust.

"That's not what I—"

"Yeah, whatever. Let me get a selfie with this jerk, he comes on my shitface wall."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔 .

"Bruce?" you mumble, feeling an arm wrapping around your waist before you feel his chest snuggling against your back.

"Go back to sleep, baby," he says, kissing the back of your head.

"What are you doing here?," you whisper, almost asleep again, "it's early."

"Just wanted to be with my girl," he grins against your throat, kissing you there a few times. Bruce feels totally relaxed when he hears your sleepy giggles.

You turn around to give him a kiss on his lips. "I love you."

You slowly open your eyes, squinting them to make out the numbers on your clock—𝟩:𝟢𝟦 ᴀᴍ—deciding that this is definitely to early to be up on a Sunday, you turn around to seek out the warmth of your husband, but before you could even wonder where Bruce was, you heard a sound coming from the other side of your door. Blinking a few times more to get the fogginess to leave your mind, you start to realise that that's the reason to why you woke up in the first place—𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘨𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘴.

"Boys, I told you it's too early. Mom's still sleeping." At least now you don't have to wonder why Bruce isn't asleep next to you.

"But we made her pancakes," your hear Dick whine to his father, probably with a cute little pout on his lips.

"And I picked some flowers for her," Jason also whines, probably with the same pout on his lips.

"Boys," you call out to them. You're awake anyway, and pancakes sounds pretty good to you right now, and you had the feeling that your husband had a hard time to say 'no' to the boys when they both looked at him with puppy eyes.

Dick and Jason burst immediately when they heard your voice through the door with wide smiles on their faces. "Happy Mother's Day," they say at the same time, jumping into bed so they each could cling to one of your sides to hug you, and to give you a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks, little birdies," you say, giving each of them a kiss on the head before you cup their cheeks, noticing that they are covered in flour, and Jason even in some dirt. You turn your head to the door to ask Bruce what happened to them, but he didn't followed the boys in and you had slowly a feeling as to why. "Darling?"

"Yes?"

"How bad is it?"

Bruce walks slowly into the room, almost a bit sheepish. He was covered from head to toe with flour, and 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘨𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵-𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵? "I promise the kitchen is almost clean."

You completely lose it when you see him and burst out in laughter, wiping some tears from your eyes, making your boys laugh with you. "As long as it's clean before Alfred sees—"

"MASTER BRUCE!"

"Too late," Dick giggles while Bruce and Jason wince.

"Alright, c'mere," Bruce says, grabbing Dick away from you to sat him back down on the floor, "the egg on the ceiling is your fault so you'll help me clean it."

The boy groans, slumping against Bruce. It's not his fault that the egg landed on the ceiling. He just tried to juggle the eggs, and then to let them land in the bowl, but then Jason scared him when he burst into the kitchen after the younger boy picked some flowers for you, so the last egg flew a little bit to high, how is that his fault? Sure his dad told him not to juggle with the eggs, but he wasn't looking at that moment and Dick is really great at juggling and—𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘩 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺, 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵.

"Fine," he mumbles, before his eyes shine with excitement, "but first I'll get the present for mom, and than some pancakes, oh and—"

"First present," Bruce agrees to end the ramble of his son, turning him around to the door, "then we clean and Alfred or Jason can bring mom some pancakes in the meantime."

"I think he stopped listening to you after you agreed," you laugh, hugging Jason closer to you while you watch your eldest son running out the door.

"Yeah, thought so," he says, stepping towards the bed to lean down to give you a kiss, frowning when you lean away from him. "What're you doing?" he mumbles, trying to follow you, but you hold Jason in front of your face, who laughs when you tickle his side.

Bruce smiles, knowing you want to tease him. "Why don't you go and grab the flowers you picked for mom?," Bruce says to Jason, helping him out of your grip when you realise what Bruce's plan was.

"Jay, noooo, come back," you say with an overly dramatic voice, pressing your foot on Bruce's chest when he tries to lean down again.

"Guess he doesn't listen to you," Bruce smirks, grabbing your ankle to pull you to the edge of the bed.

"Bruce," you shriek between a groan and some giggles when his body lands on top of yours to pepper your face in kisses. "Go and help our son," you laugh, trying to push his face playfully away from you.

"Yes, ma'am," he agrees with a final peck on your lips before he stands up with a wink, stepping out of the bedroom where he sees Dick and Jason run with a plate of pancakes and flowers to your room again.

"You two should clean the kitchen."

"Alfred said that as an adult you should have assessed the situation better, so it's actually your fault that the kitchen looks like that," Dick shrugs.

"It's also Mother's Day," Jason deadpans, "and we would like to spend some time with our."

Bruce laughs in disbelief, they both got that mischief behaviour from you, "you could've at least clean yourself."

"I'm sure you're also capable of cleaning your bed," Dick smiles, following his brother into your bedroom, leaving his father alone in the hallway who simply laughed and made his way downstairs into the kitchen.

"Here are your pancakes," Dick smiles, handing you the plate with pancakes in the shape of hearts on it.

"Thanks, sweetheart," you grab the plate, and take a bit from it, "their really good."

"And here are your flowers," Jason says, holding a bouquet of different flowers in his hand, he just picked whatever looked beautiful to him.

"Thank you baby," you put the flowers in the vase on your nightstand that usually hold flowers from Bruce, but he must've removed them when Jason told him he wants to pick some flowers from the garden for you.

"How about we watch a bit TV as long as your dad's cleaning the kitchen?," you smile, having heard what the boys told him in the hallway, normally you would've told them to help their father, but you carved some morning cuddles with your boys, who knows how long they'll want to do that? (Spoiler: they always want to cuddle with you).

"Here we are," you say, turning around to face your youngest boys in the backseat.

"Great, thanks mom," Tim smiles at you, unbucklling his seatbelt so he is able to lean forward to give you a quick kiss on the cheek before he opens the car door to step out, frowning at Damian when he realises that the younger boy hasn't moved a muscle yet, although he was always the first one in and out of the car.

You give him a nod when he looks to you, signaling him that it is okay to go. "Have a nice day with your friends, Timmy. Love you."

"Love you too, bye," he says with a smile, closing the door when he spots some of his friends.

When Tim is far enough away, you turn your head towards Damian who's slightly leaning against the window. He looks a lot sicker than when you all left the house, but when you tried to convince him to stay home he said something along the lines like '𝘐'𝘮 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦' and '𝘉𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴' or something like that.

Damian lives with you for a while now, but sometimes he still finds it difficult to accept help (especially because he still has the feeling that you want to test him and not that you actually just want to care for him). You don’t want to think about all the cruel things Ra's al Ghul probably did to him when he was sick and couldn't concentrate on his training.

With a shake of your head to get the image out of your mind, you look at Damian again. "Are you sure you want to go to school?" you ask with a soft voice because you're sure the boy has a headache, "your father has a lot of meetings today, and with Tim going to a friend's house after school, it would be just you and me at home, and well Alfred of course."

"I'm fine," he mumbles back while finally unbucklling his seatbelt.

You let out a quiet huff, of course 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 his answer. "We could watch some movies, read a bit or play some games," you suggest, "we can do whatever you want."

"I want to go to school." 𝘚𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦, you give him that.

"Okay," you relent, watching him rub his slightly glassy red eyes before he opened the car door to step out. "I'm home today, please call me when you feel worse," you say, thinking about what you could say to convince him to come back home with you, "you're not weak if you call me, Dickie still calls me when he's not feeling well."

Damian rolls his eyes with a scoff, "Grayson just wants the attention you give him."

"And I gladly give it to him," you defense your eldest son, "I give it to all my kids. That includes you too," you smile softly before you continue with a teasing voice, "besides, if you really think Dick wants attention when he's sick, you should really see how your father acts when he's sick."

Damian's lips twitch at your tease.

"Have a nice day, love you."

Damian gives a small nod, working his jaw before he lets out a quiet, "bye, mom," and closes the door to make his way to the entrance of the school.

You start your car, smiling to yourself despite the slight guilt you felt because you couldn't convince him to stay home with you. Damian started to call you '𝘮𝘰𝘮' a month ago, and it still made you smile every time you heard it. You two had a bad start—like everyone had with him—but when he started to realize he couldn't get rid of you, he started to see that you actually didn't want to get also rid of him—like he thought—but that you just want to get to know him, and if he wants to take care of him.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔 .

"Hello?"

"Hello, Mrs. Wayne, it's Zuri. I'm really sorry to bother you," she begins, and you straight up at the voice of Bruce's assistant, not because you didn't like her, you absolutely adore Zuri. She's a really sweet woman in her mid fifties, who helped you a lot back then when you were new parents to Dick, and you bought him along when Bruce had time to eat lunch together. It was rather her tone that let you knew something was wrong.

"What did Bruce do?"

"It's about Damian—"

"Damian?" you interrup her, feeling guilty for not convincing him to stay home.

"Yeah," Zuri winces, "the school called a few times, saying that he doesn't feel well, and that Mr. Wayne should pick him up, but he's in a very important meeting right now."

All you could think about was why the school tried to call your husband first, and why they didn't called you immediately after they found out Bruce was busy? On all three information sheets of your boys (Jason went to a public school), you filled out that in case of any emergency you'll be the 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 person to be reached out for, and 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 if they couldn't reach you, they would have to reach for your husband. 𝘚𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭?

"I asked them if they couldn't reach you," she continues, when you didn't say something back, "they said that it was against the school rules or something like that, and that Mr. Wayne should pick Damian up."

"Against the rules?" you ask, but it was more a question to yourself. "That's weird, but thanks for calling me."

"I'm sorry for not asking more questions, but they pretty much ended the call quickly after that."

"No need to apologize," standing up from your bed, you grab a jacket before you make your way downstairs to get your shoes, "you absolutely did the right thing to call me first, before interruping an important meeting."

"It's probably just a misunderstanding."

"I hope you," you say, putting on your shoes, "please let Bruce know, after the meeting is over, that I picked Damian up, and he doesn't need to worry, we just make a cosy movie day together."

"Will do Mrs. Wayne."

"Thanks again Zuri, have a nice day, bye."

"You too. I hope Damian gets well soon, bye." With that the call ended, and you had all your things to go get your son, and make a cosy movie day, hoping that he doesn't want to watch animal documentaries again.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔 .

You walk through the door, seeing Damian sit on one of the chairs near the secretary's desk, well he's more slumped into it which directly alert you on how worse he must feel because that boy has a straight posture 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, even when he was 'relaxing'.

You go straight to him, ignoring any other people in the room completely, your boy comes first.

You kneel before him to better cup his face, frowning when your hands make contact with his skin that feels hot and sweaty. He probably has a fever. 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭?

"Ummi?" Damian questions, when he felt your hands cup his face, trying to blink his dizziness away, "I'm...fine."

You smile at him softly, knowing he must feel vulnerable (even though he would never admit that). He called you that the first and last time after he was seriously injured on a mission. Back then, just like today, he didn't want to admit that he didn't want to be alone, and you didn't left his side for his entire recovery time. Some time after that he started to call you 'mom'.

"I know, baby," you let out a quick disbelieving laugh, of course he still tries to argue with you, "but I take you home anyway. You can feel fine at there too."

He doesn't argue with you any further which is another signal for you that he was anything but fine. You just hoped you didn't need to take him to a hospital or call a doctor, you just want to get home, give him some medicine, Alfred's famous 'get well' soup, and than cuddle in bed, but for now you had another problem to solve first.

Standing up, you turn around and look at the other two people in the room. You first look to the secretary, the one who should have called you, but she wouldn't look directly into your eyes which is really weird to you because she was always friendly, shrugging it off in your head, you turn your gaze to the man you never saw before.

"Hello," the man greets with a sigh and a look that tells you he is not happy that you ignored him before, stretching his hand out anyway, "I'm Mr. Banks, the vice principal."

"Mrs. Wayne," you say, shaking his hand, "where's Mr. Santos?" you had a really weird feeling about this 'vice principal', starting with the fact that you never saw this man before and that he had grabbed your hand to hard to which you let go as soon as possible.

"Oh, Mr. Santos isn't here today, he called in sick."

You give him a soft nod in acknowledge, looking over you shoulder to make sure Damian was still fine, you really should make this conversation short, the sooner you'll be home the better.

"Will Mr. Wayne be here soon?" Mr. Banks asks before you could ask anything, looking at the door to see if Bruce just parked the car, and will soon coming in as well.

"No, he's in an important meeting," you answer, "which is why I'm actually a little confused as to why nobody called me. The information papers clearly states that in case of an emergency, I am the first person to be informed."

Mr. Banks frowns slightly, seemingly not happy about the fact that your husband wouldn't come to the school. "We simply followed the school rules."

"Which are?"

"In case of an emergency the parents are to be informed."

"But I wasn't informed," your brows knit together, looking back to the secretary, but she still avoided eye contact. "The assistant of my husband informed me. I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding, but I'm the first person to be informed because—"

"In case of an emergency the parents are to be informed," Mr. Banks interrupts.

"Right," you agree, nodding your head once, "that's why I'm confused to why you didn't call me first, or even after my husband didn't answer his phone."

"In case of an emergency the parents—"

"Which I am," you interrupt him this time, getting very irritated with him, your child was sick, and you wanted to know why nobody called you. "I'm his mom, so I—"

"𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘮𝘰𝘮."

"Excuse me?" you say with a clam voice, but you were everything but calm. Yes, you're his stepmother, but you absolutely didn't like the tone he used when he said the word.

"You're his Stepmom, and the school rules say that 'the parents are to be informed', and that doesn't apply to you here," he says with a smile on his face that you really want to slap off of his face.

Damian straights in the chair, glaring at the vice principal. How dare he to speak to you like that? Your his mother, and nobody but him and you could decide on that matter. Reaching to his dagger, that he actually wasn't allowed to bring to school, he stops when you step aside, blocking his way to Mr. Banks. Damian scoffs, knowing it's a warning that you have everything under control. He slumps back in his seat, but being still on high alert to fight for your honor.

You relax slightly when you hear Damian scoff, knowing he wouldn't do anything, well at least for now. You've been long enough together with Bruce, therefore you have unfortunately a lot of experience with these kind of people. People who saw you 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 as his wife, as a 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘭 who can't do nothing but spend the money of her hard working man.

"You can of course wait here with Damian until your husband arrives."

You're normally a very patient and calm person, you had to be with four sons, but you were fed up with this man, so you couldn't help yourself but laugh at him.

Mr. Banks looks confused, clearly not understanding what's so funny all of the sudden. "That's not funny, Madam."

"Yeah it is," you say, still laughing, "it's very funny that you think you can stop me from taking 𝘮𝘺 sick child home."

"It's against the school politics to allow a stranger to pick up the kids."

"Well, lucky for you that I'm not a fucking stranger. I'm his 𝘮𝘰𝘮, I have authority 𝘢𝘯𝘥 permission to take him home."

"Like I said," Mr. Banks continues, completely ignoring what you just said, "you can wait here with Damian, but only Mr. Wayne and Damian's mother are allowed to take him home."

You scoff, turning around to go to Damian. You were absolutely tired and fed up with this stupid conversation. "Sweetheart, grab your bag, we're going home."

"You can go, but Damian stays here. I don't want to call security, so why don't you calm down and go a bit shopping or whatever else you do with your husband's money."

Normally Damian would jump off of his chair, and protect your honor from his vice principal, but he felt really dizzy. But then he saw the look in your eyes, and could slump back in his seat with ease, knowing this look all too well, he knew to better not stand in your way.

"I adopted three children."

"What—"

"I adopted three children," you say again, raising your voice slightly, "I'm their mother, and also Damian's. I didn't adopt him because his biological mother is still alive, and I'm very grateful for that because the parents of my other children are 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥."

"Mrs. Wayne please listen—"

"No, you listen!" you take a step forward. "I had to fucking bury on of my kids, so if you think security can stop me, please be my guest and call them, but I'm calling the police because you hold us hostage. I have permission to take Damian home, so next time do your fucking job, and look in the files of the children to see who is allowed to pick them up and who isn't."

Mr. Banks looks shocked, not knowing what to say or what to do, but before a sound could come out of his mouth you continue, "oh and I'm not a stupid little doll who spends the money of her husband all day. Am I a staying home mom? Yes! Absolutely nothing wrong with that. You think you can do my job?" you laugh again, taking another step forward, "fine, let's switch places for a day, but we all know you wouldn't survive an hour in my shoes."

With that you turn on your heels and go to kneel before Damian again. "C'mere, baby," you say in a much softer tone, taking him in your arms to stand up, its also another sign on how bad he must feel. Damian wouldn't let people carry him, he must be really 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 tired.

"Ma'am, please let us talk this through," Mr. Banks tries to stop you, seemingly sensing that he made a huge mistake, but before his hand, with wich he tried to stop you, could touch your shoulder, Damian stopped him.

Damian grabs Mr. Banks' wrist, looking him with his last bit of strength sharp in the eyes, "don't touch her!"

I-I wasn't I o-only—" the man stutters, shocked by the brutal strength of the young boy.

You turn around, forcing Damian to let go of his vice principal. "You wanted to meet my husband so desperately? Congratulations, you will meet him, but I can guarantee you that it won't be a pleasant meeting," you say with a wicked smile that mirrors the same one that your son has on his face, when you finally leave the school office.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔 .

Back home you send Damian into his room to change into something cosy, asking Alfred to make soup while you prepare tea and look for medicine to hopefully reduce Damian's fever.

You thank Alfred before heading to Damian's room with a tray of everything you need to take care of your boy, frowning when you see his door is open, but he's not in the room, you smile to yourself because you know exactly where he is, where all your children end up sooner or later: 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮.

And indeed, Damian lies in your bed on his father's side as if it had always been his.

"There you are," you smile, placing the tray on your nightstand.

"I thought it made more sense to be here so you wouldn't have to get up every ten minutes to check on me," he mumbles between coughs. Damian would never admit out loud that he just doesn't want to be alone right now so. "And your TV is a lot bigger than mine."

You both knew that was a lie; all televisions were the same size, thanks to 12-year-old Dick and his jealousy of Jason at the time. But you just hum in agreement, happy that you can take care of him without arguing about it.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔 .

A small smile spread across your face when you hear hurrying footsteps. After Damian ate his soup and drank half of the tea, he quickly fell asleep once his head made contact with your shoulder, thanks to the medicine.

Bruce opens the door as quietly as possible, smiling when he sees you and Damian cuddle up together with you stroking your hand through his hair. When Zuri told him everything after his meeting, he immediately cancelled all other meetings, and made his way home.

"Hey," he whispers, leaning over you to give you a kiss before he brushes some hair from Damian's forehead, the boy lets out a displeased sound, tucking his face into your neck. "Looks like we got another mama's boy."

You laugh softly, cupping Bruce's face with your free hand, "aren't they all at some point?"

"Can't blame them," he smiles, leaning down to give you another kiss before he frowns slightly, "want to tell me what happened with the school?"

"Later," you answer to which Bruce nods. You don't want to talk about what happened now, knowing that Bruce will get angry when you tell him what the vice principal said. "I just want to cuddle with my boys."

Bruce smirks, standing back up to his full height to take off his jacket and tie before he cuddles up to your other side.

"What?" he asks at your raised brow, "he's completely on my side, and they always kick me when their sick."

"Expect Dick."

"That's because he kicks every other time."

"Can you be quiet? I'm trying to sleep."

Bruce sits on his desk, working on some papers he needs for a meeting tomorrow before his ears catch the sound of little feet running towards his office. He looks to the watch on his wrist, and a smile appears on his face. It's quarter to eight which means is almost Dick's sleeping time which meant it was time for Dick's favourite game before bedtime.

"Mom said—," Dick interrupts himself, remembering he didn't knock when he entered his dad's office. He gives him a sheppish smile and a whispered '𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺' before he closed the door again, and knocks this time on the door, waiting (definitely not so) patiently to be allowed in.

Bruce's smile widens at that, and lays his pen down before he leans back in his chair, already turning it slightly to the right, to talk better to his boy. "Come in!"

He didn't even really finished his sentence before Dick storms through the door, running directly up to the right side of Bruce's chair.

"I love you so much that if one of your butt cheeks fell off, I would share one of mine with you," Dick laughs, trying to catch his breath.

"She said that?" Bruce asks, chuckling softly when Dick nods eagerly.

It's a silly little game you three played before it was bedtime for Dick. You came up with it one day when your little boy had a bad day, and wouldn't go to bed, so you asked him to deliver Bruce a little massage, and then Dick came back with a massage from Bruce, and now it was his favourite game to play before bed, and it was also a good way to tire him out.

"You know, I was just thinking about getting an extra butt cheek, and your mom's is very awesome."

Dick nods, already ready to start running back to you before his dad grabs his wrist softly. "No, don't tell her that."

Bruce shakes his head, knowing you'll probably kill him when you knew he said something like that to your sweet son. "Tell her that I love her so much that if she would be a stain on my favourite shirt I would never wash it."

Dick giggles, finally able to run out of the office to deliver the massage to you, but he stops halfway on the way to your bedroom, and turns around to run back to Bruce.

He frowns when he stands in the doorway, having left the door open, so he didn't have to knock again. "Don't you mean Alfred wouldn't wash the shirt?"

"You're right, chum," Bruce's now fully laughing, children are more attentive than you think. "I wouldn't let Alfred wash the shirt."

Dick seems satisfied with that, and starts to finally make his way to you to deliver the massage before he runs back to Bruce again.

"I love you so much that even if your feet would stink so much that everyone in Gotham would move to Metropolis to get away from them I would still snuggle you."

"That's very romantic," Bruce smiles, "I think we should test this one day."

Dick grimaces at him, "please test this without me, because I wouldn't snuggle you when you stink."

Bruce gasps at him, "you wouldn't?"

"I wouldn't," Dick answers, laughing when Bruce grabs him to lift him up, hugging Dick tightly against his chest, and swinging both of them from side to side.

"That's very rude of you," Bruce whines, "I snuggle you, and you always stink."

"I do not!"

"Yes, you do!"

Dick pouts at his father and tries to wriggle himself free from the hug. He doesn't always stink. Only after practice, which to be fair is almost every day, but that's not the point right now.

Bruce gives his son's head a kiss before he lets him down, seeing the pout on his face. "Okay, stinky pants, tell mom that I love her so much that even if her fart took out the whole world I would still kiss her."

Dick tries to hide the smile that grows on his face, but a few giggle leave his mouth before he's out the door, running towards your bathroom where you were currently brushing your teeth.

"I love you so much that even if your f-fart took out the whoooole world, I would still kiss you."

You almost choke on your toothpaste when you laugh at the proud smile you see on the boy's face, and at how 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤 your husband is.

"Oh wow," you mutter, rinsing your mouth out, "that's the most romantic thing I've ever heard."

"Now you have to tell me something even more romantic than that."

"I don't even know if that's possible," you shake your head, giving Dick the signal to open his mouth to check if he brushed his teeth.

"Tell dad that I love him so much that I scrap off some of his armpits stink and rub it into my clothes so that I can smell him every day."

Dick grimace, starting to walk out of the bathroom, "you guys are so weird."

But you could still hear his laugh, and the '𝘦𝘸𝘸𝘸' from your husband before you hear Dick running back to you.

"Dad said—" Dick stops himself to let another laugh out."

"Is it that bad?"

Dick shakes his head, "it's very romantic." But he still couldn't properly breathe from all the laughing. "He said that he loves you sooo much that he would lick peanut butter," another laugh, and a horrified look on your face, "peanut butter and jelly off your toes."

"Ewww," you grimace, making your son laugh even more.

"Don't worry," you turn around at the sound of your husband's voice, seeing him leaning against the doorframe, "we never have these at home because stinky pants over there always eats them up."

"You have stinky feet," Dick defense himself, rubbing his eyes while he leans against you.

. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦇་༘࿐

After you and Bruce put Dick to bed, you now found yourself on your bed, the TV playing some movie that you were not really interested in, it was more for some background noises.

You giggle to yourself, "I love you so much even when you're mean to our sweet little boy."

"I'm not mean to him," Bruce chuckles, walking out of the bathroom towards the bed, standing at your side with crossed arms. "I love you so much even when you and our son team up to be mean to 𝘮𝘦."

"Awww my poor baby," you say standing up on your knees to cup his face in your hands and giving him a peck on his mouth, "and I love you sooo much that in a room full of Superheroes I'll still wave to you when I fly away with Clark."

Bruce was really nervous about taking Dick to Haly's Circus, sure it was Dick's birthday and he really wanted to come but it was also his first birthday without his parents and Bruce didn't want to tigger something in Dick. But then, two weeks ago, he received a letter from Mr. Haly saying that the circus would be in Gotham and since it would be Dick's birthday by then, they all would be really happy to see him but they would understand if he couldn't visited and would send him a gift instead. Dick was so excited to see all his old friends again that Bruce couldn't say no, but he made Dick promise that when he felt uncomfortable he tell Bruce and they would drive home.

"Come on," Dick says, tugging on Bruce's sleeve and bringing the man out of his nervous state.

Bruce didn't have time to reply before Dick tugged at him again so he just gave him a small smile and tired to keep up with the boy.

"Mr. Haly!" Dick calls, letting go of Bruce to run to the man he hasn't seen in a long time.

Mr. Haly lets out a small grunt when Dick runs directly into a hug, making the man take a step back to try and hold balance. "You made it."

"Of course," Dick beams up at him. As if Dick would ever not come. He missed them all so much, sure it's pretty cool with Bruce but he really missed the life in the circus.

Bruce walks slowly towards them. He's sure everyone in a two meter radius could hear the exited ramble of the now nine-year-old.

"Mr. Wayne," Mr. Haly greets, letting go of Dick to shake Bruce's hand. "I'm really happy to see you again."

"Me too. It's been a long time."

"Yeah, we thought it'd be nice to make a short stop here in Gotham before we make our way to Metropolis."

Dick leans slightly against Bruce. He was already bored. 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘢𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬? He doesn't want to talk about the weather or whatever other boring things adults talk about. He wants to go around and greet everyone, and he wants to go and greet Sitka, he missed his best friend. He couldn't wait to see her again. But he couldn't just go around without Bruce, sure he knows the people around here but he promised him to be within reach, so that if he would get overwhelmed he wouldn't be alone.

"And we have a surprise for Dick." Now that got his attention.

"What is it?" He looks between Mr. Haly and Bruce but the latter just shrugged at him. Bruce really didn't know what the surprise was.

Mr. Haly points to the tent with a knowing smirk. "Why don't you just go and see for yourself?"

Dick doesn't even reply to him but starts running in the direction of the tent before he stops to look at Bruce for permission. Bruce smiles at him and gives him a nod. And that's all the boy needs for running into the tent.

Dick stops when he's inside. It's been something over a year since he saw all of that and he feels an uncomfortable shiver run down his spine. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘉𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘦. But before he turns around, he sees a present lying on the floor, and his curiosity and excitement were bigger than this uncomfortable feeling.

He slowly approaches the box. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘹 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦? Dick looks around and frowns. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦? Nobody was in the tent which is very weird. They all should be here and greet him, and above all, practice their performance.

His frown forms into a pout. But since he's already here, he can open his present. The boy opens the box happily but that turns into confusion pretty quickly. A note. All that's in the box are a few words written on a piece of paper.

Dick grabs the note. 𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘹 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘮?

It did not.

So he finally reads what's written on the paper.

'𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘶𝘱!'

Dick frowns slightly but looks up anyway. There is a sign that reads: '𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵!'

He got really excited and looks to the right but there was nothing, except that this side of the tent was really dark.

𝘞𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥. 𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘢—

Dick's thoughts are interrupted when a spotlight on the ground turns on and illuminates the dark side of the tent. The birthday boy blinks a few times to adjust his eyes to the new brightness. And then he blinked a few times more because he couldn't fully grasp what he saw. Standing in front of him were all the people he missed so much: Sando the Strongman who played tug-of-war with him, Waldo and Harry—the funniest clowns he ever met, Palmer the juggler, and many many more.

A big smile stretches on Dick's face when he runs forward to greet everyone.

🎂🦇⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅🐘🎪

"Have you had fun so far?" Bruce asks, helping Dick clean his face—how the boy got more cotton candy on his face rather than in his mouth was beyond him.

"Yes!" Dick says, putting another piece of cotton candy in his mouth. "This day couldn't be better."

"I have something that would make the day even better," says Mr. Haly.

Dick stares at the man with wide eyes. "What is it?"

"It's not a what, but a who?"

"Who?" Dick frowns, "everyone is here."

"𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵?" This voice. Dick knew this voice. But it couldn't be, could it?

The boy turns slowly around before he lets go of his candy in complete shock. 𝘠𝘰𝘶. It was really you. Dick hadn't seen you in over two years and now you stood before him. Tears welled up in his eyes and with a soft whimper of your name he starts to run in your direction.

You squat down when Dick is near you to give him a better hug. He's bigger than the last time you saw him but in this position you could hold him tighter against you.

"Hi, my little robin," you whisper in his hair, trying to speak around the lump that formed in your throat. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," he whispers.

You smile to yourself before you lean back and cup his face in your hands to get a better look at him. It's been so long since you last saw him.

You worked and lived in the circus your whole life, so you knew Dick since he was a newborn. His parents and you even had a performance together. But then your mother got sick and you took a break to look after her, and when she died you needed time to heal. A few months ago you decided to return, and that's when you learned about John and Mary's deaths. Mr. Haly told you everything about it and that he didn't want to burden you with this matter as well, but all you could think about was Dick and the mysterious but kind man who took him in.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there when you needed me," you wipe some of the boy's tears with your thumbs away. This was something you'll probably never forgive yourself for.

Dick sniffs before he starts to wipe your tears away as well. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘺?

"It's fine," he says when a big smile stretched out on his face, "you're here now."

"I am."

"Come on, I have to introduce you to someone."

He took your hand when you stood to your full size again, walking with you to a man around your age. He was dressed in only black but he had a soft smile on his lips when he looked at Dick.

"You okay, chum?" The man asks when you stand in front of him. Dick nods his head, and starts to introduce you to the man you assumed took him in.

"It's really nice to meet you Mr. Wayne." You say with a soft voice and smile, stretching your hand out.

But the man only looked at you with wide eyes. You knew you looked probably like a total mess right now with your red and swollen eyes, but it was kinda rude of him to just stare at you.

Luckily for you, Dick felt the same way.

"Bruce?" the boy whispers, "you're being rude."

Dick was completely confused by the way Bruce acted. He was always polite to everyone, even tho those he didn't like, so him acting like this was very weird and confusing to Dick. But he was even more confused when Bruce starts to blink his eyes a few times, like he was trying to wake himself up and a slightly rose colour blossomed on his cheeks and ears.

"Yeah, I-I'm sorry," Bruce says, shaking your hand softly, "nice to meet you as well, and please call me Bruce." 𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘊𝘙𝘈𝘊𝘒? 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨.

To his luck you just smile sweetly at him.

🎂🦇⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅🐘🎪

"Wait," Damian says, his voice sharp and his hand stretched out to signal his oldest brother to stop talking, "you're really trying to tell us father is terrible at flirting?"

"Yeah," Tim nods, "he's Bruce Wayne, when he doesn't have game who does?"

"True," Jason mutters. He can't believe he just agreed with the younger boys. "But it's also dad, and we know how he is around ma," he continues, seeing that everyone agrees with him on that matter. "What I don’t understand is why you’re telling us this story?"

"Isn't that obvious?"

"No."

"Negative."

"Only to you, dickhead."

"It’s the reason why the front seat should go to me!" Dick says, looking down at his brothers who sat down on the edge of the roof they were currently waiting for their father and the Batmobile.

"That's a stupid reason," Jason scoffs, taking his phone out to reply to a stupid meme Roy sent him two hours ago.

"I kinda understood the point in you being...," Damian begins before he turns his head to Jason, "what did you call him?"

"𝘈𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵," Jason says with a smirk, still looking at his phone.

"AnCiEnT?!"

"Right," Damian completely ignores Dick, "I kinda understood the reason you need the front seat because your 𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵, and therefore you have poor bones and other things that old people get."

"I'M NOT THAT OLD!"

Damian gives Dick a dismissing hand before he continues, "but what is the point in you telling us the story on how our parents meet for the first time?"

"Hey, I'm Richard," Dick says, stretching his hand out, "𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮!"

"Nah," Tim shakes his head, "we have her because dad is very charming."

"He wasn't when I introduced them," Dick grits out, "his voice literally CRACKED!"

"Who's voice cracked?" The deep voice of his father makes Dick freeze for a few seconds.

"According to dickhead over here, yours."

"My voice didn't crack, my throat was just dry."

"And what about your red face?"

"It was really hot that day."

"Hot?" Dick asks in disbelief, looking more confused when Bruce nods. "A hot day in Gotham? In March?"

Bruce just rolls his eyes before he directed his next question to all his children, "did you figured out who's getting the front seat?"

"I'm the reason you have a wife."

"I died so y'all own me something."

"I'm to tired for this shit but I took down the most guys, so it's only fair I get the front seat."

"Father, I should get the front seat because—"

"You're not the 'Superior Robin'," Dick, Jason, and Tim shout at the same time to which Damian just scoffs.

Bruce groans in annoyance. "Dick get in the front seat, everybody else goes in the back." Did he really think that would sit right with everyone besides Dick?

"Seriously?"

"Old people privileges I guess."

"Father, you can't be really—"

"Enough," Bruce says in a stern voice (but it's his stern dad voice, not his stern Batman voice, and yes the dad voice has a better effect), "it's Dick's Birthday so he gets the front seat. End of discussion."

With that he makes his way to get finally to the Batmobile, mumbling a quiet, "do you have any idea what your mother would do to me if we were late to Dick's surprise party?"

"Surprise party?!" 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩.

"I'm sure that whatever ma would have done to you is less harmful than what she'll do to you when she finds out you've just spoiled the surprise party to her '𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯'," Jason laughs when he claps his father on the shoulder, moving to the fire escape to wait in The Batmobile. If he has to sit in the back, then at least he should sit by the window.

"I guess your side of the bed goes to me tonight," Damian says with little satisfied smile before he frowns when he noticed that Tim was in the back as well, which means he has to sit in the middle. Again.

"I'm really sorry, Dicki," Bruce apologies, seeing the pout on his eldest son (some things just never change).

"It's fine," he responds, making his way to the fire escape as well before turning back towards Bruce. "I don’t tell mom, but you own me one and I don’t know what's worser for you."

Bruce just chuckles, following Dick down to the car where he can hear the other three arguing again.

🎂🦇⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅🐘🎪

"Some little birdie told me you spoiled the surprise party," you say to your husband who was about to hand you a drink.

Bruce narrows his eyes. "It was Damian, wasn't it? The little traitor, just wants to sleep on my side of the bed."

You chuckle, grabbing the drink from your husband. "Wrong bird."

"Well," now he has to think about it, "it wasn't Dick 'cause I own him one now."

You take a sip from your drink and shake your head. You absolutely love the look on Bruce's face when he was deep in thought. "It was the idiot bird."

𝘐𝘥𝘪𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘥? 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘰𝘵. 𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳—

"It was me, wasn't it?"

"Hm?"

"It was me," he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, "you didn't know, so you tested me, and I just told you myself."

"Your pretty smart for an idiot," you snort, giving his cheek a kiss before you lean closer to his ear. "You're in so much trouble."

"I know," he whispers back, but you could hear the smile on his face. "But we still have guests here, so you'll be nice to me."

His arms wrap around your waist before he starts peppering your face with kisses. Bruce always does this when he knows that your angry with him. He does this to try and charm his way out of trouble. Did it ever work? No. Does he still do it because he loves your giggle? Absolutely.

You try to gently push his face away from yours when he starts nuzzling his nose against yours but to no avail. So you wrap your arms around his neck and peck the corner of his mouth.

A disgusted sound appears next to you so you turn your head and see Dick's frowning face.

"Can you please not be this disgustingly sweet on my birthday?"

You look from your boy to your husband with a mischief smirk, and when he nods you turn back to your boy. "You're right, sweetheart. We shouldn't be disgustingly sweet on your birthday."

Bruce nods along to your words, letting you go in favour to grab Dick. The last thing you see on his face is the terrifying look that dawns on him when he realises what your plan is.

"We can be disgustingly sweet with you," you say, sandwiching Dick between you and Bruce.

"That's so embarrassing," he whispers, looking around to try and find one of his brothers. "Jason! Please help me."

"Oh, I'm helping," Jason says, going around you three to take pictures of this f̶u̶n̶n̶y̶ sweet moment.

Dick turns his head in another direction. "Tim?"

"Busy, helping Jason," he says, turning the flashlight on his phone on for better lightning.

Hope shines in Dick's eyes when his gaze lands on his youngest brother who is on his way to get himself another drink. The birthday boy is smart this time and doesn't ask Damian for help, instead he grabs the younger boy and pulls him into the hug.

"Let go of me old man," Damian scoffs.

"I AM NOT THAT OLD!"

You laugh at the bickering of your boys, and then even more when you got an idea, looking your husband in the eyes.

𝘉𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘦'𝘴 𝘱𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘱𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝟣 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸:

Dick's breath is heavy when he turned around the corner, trying to give his legs a little rest, and to think about his next move. He squats down to make himself tinier, letting out a deep breath, so he can start to breathe slower—quieter. Before he can think about his next move, he hears footsteps coming closer towards his hiding spot. Dick tightens his cape around him, feeling his heartbeat quickens. With one last deep breath he peaks around the corner, frowning when he saw nobody. His frown deepens in confusion, he could swear he heard some foots—

"Caught you!" Two hands coming under Dick's armpits, lifting the boy up, who squeals in surprise.

"Let me goooo."

"And why should I do such a thing?"

"'Cause, I'm 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 close," Dick puts his thumb and index finger close together, almost touching each other, "to attack you with my heat vision."

"You don’t have heat vision."

"Of course I have! I'm Superman!" Dick says with a frown on his face, turning his head to get a better look at the man. "Dad, you're not playing right."

"I'm not playing right?" Bruce asks, lips twitching, and at Dick's nod of confirmation, he can't help a little laugh escaping his lips. "So, what you're saying is that 𝘐'𝘮 not playing 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘦𝘴 right!?"

"𝘌𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺," Dick answers with exhaustion as if he explained this to Bruce for the 100th time.

"Alright," Bruce says, having since learnt that you have to play exactly how a kid wants, if you don't want to argue. But he couldn't help himself when an idea popped into his mind. "Superman can fly right?"

"You know he—," Dick interrupts himself with a scream when Bruce tossed him in the air before catching him again, to turn him around, so he is holding the boy by his ankles, swinging him from left to right.

"Boys, I hope you're almost done," your voice echoes through the hallway, making father and son freeze in their movements and laughter. "We need to leave in twenty minutes."

Dick is the first one to start to move again, giggling now—still upside-down, "we're gonna be in so much trouble."

"No, we’re not," Bruce whispers, letting go of one ankle to check the time on his watch before holding Dick up higher so they were face to face. "Think you can be ready in ten?"

"'Cause I can. I'm Superman, so I'm super fast," Dick answers, putting his fists on his hips—in the classic Superman pose (although he looks rather funny upside-down with his hair sticking in all directions).

"Almost ready, darling!" Bruce calls finally back to you, hearing your footsteps coming closer, so he lays Dick on the floor, tickling the boy before making a quick move away from him. "Bet I'm faster than you."

"𝘕𝘰𝘰𝘰!" Dick scrambles off the floor, running towards his bedroom, the red cape fluttering behind him, and the symbol on it quietly mocking Bruce, who just shakes his head, making a quick move towards his own bedroom. Not even noticing that Alfred stood the whole time in the corner, watering some plants.

"You say that all the time..." you stop when you only see Alfred in the hallway, which is weird because you could have sworn you heard your boys laughter coming from this hallway.

"Can I help you with something, Madam?"

You purse your lips, shaking your head. "They're not almost ready, are they?"

"I'm sure you'll make it in time."

"I hope so," you start to slowly walk away, "but you know how the Drakes are."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔 .

Dick enters his parents' bathroom, like most children not really caring about privacy, looking for either you or Bruce to help him with his tie. "Dad, can you help me?" Dick pouts, trying to tie it himself, but it's so difficult, and usually you do it for him.

Bruce turns towards the boy, "yes, of course, chum," he answers, always happy to help his son. He picks Dick up, and puts him on the bathroom counter to avoid being in a squatting position; his right knee still hurts from last night's patrol (he didn't tell you what happened, but let's just say that even Batman have to be more careful when jumping from one roof to another).

He grabs the two ends of the tie that hangs around Dick's collar. 𝘋𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘨𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦? 𝘋𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦! 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?

At the concentrated yet confused look on his father's face, Dick tilts his head to one side, studying Bruce for a few seconds. "You look like you might need help too."

Bruce let out an annoyed grunt, but Dick knew he wasn't annoyed at him but at the tie. "Why don't you try it out on yourself first," he suggests with an encourage smile, "and I'll take care of my hair," he points to his head where strands of hair are still sticking in all directions. Bruce gives him a small smile and nods before handing him a brush.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔 .

"Can't believe them," you mutter to yourself. You waited the last twenty minutes at the front door, ready to head towards a gala you didn't even wanted to attend. But of course your husband and son had better things to do. So you went upstairs to your bedroom, ready to scold them for being late 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. What you didn't expect, however, was the sweet moment between father and son.

"Don't be sad," Dick says, sitting on the bathroom counter with a sympathetic expression on his face. Your sweet little boy, always there to make others feel better (especially Bruce). "Tieing a tie is really hard."

"I guess it is..." Bruce scoffs softly, on the verge of throwing all ties away. He's Bruce Wayne after all, no one would kick him out of a gala just because he wasn't wearing a tie.

Dick nods softly before his eyes went wide and they had that sparkle in them that all children get when they're excited. He had the perfect solution for their problem. "How about we call Superman for help? He probably knows how to do it."

You bite your lip to try and stifle a laugh when you see your husband's face, and the little vein on his temple that always pops up when he's frustrated. He's lucky you're already late to the gala, otherwise you would have let him suffer longer and maybe listened to Clark's tutorial on 'how to tie a tie' (and yes, Bruce would have called Clark/Superman because he still finds it very hard to say no to Dick's puppy eyes).

"We don't need Superman," you say, walking towards Dick, grabbing the ends of his tie before you look towards your husband with a stern look (he knows you hate being late). "𝘖𝘳 Batman," you continue, tying the tie without looking, "all you need is Bat𝘮𝘰𝘮."

"Thanks, mom," Dick says, giving you a bright smile, missing a lower canine tooth. When he lost that tooth last week, you and Bruce had nearly had a heart attack, because neither of you knew how long it actually takes for children to lose all their baby teeth. So your first thought was that he hurt himself and didn't tell you, but luckily Alfred was there and explained everything.

"Your welcome, sweetie," you give him a smile back, "how about we'll just leave dad here and go without him?"

"WHAT!?" "YEAH!" Father and son shout at the same time, making you giggle.

"Look at him," you say to your husband, squeezing Dick's face softly with your hand and turning it to Bruce. "He's so cute and very handsome alias my perfect date partner."

Dick giggles when you give his face kisses, completely ignoring the disbelief look of his father. "I can also dance with you," he says very seriously and proud.

"𝘈𝘯𝘥 he dances with me," you gasp, helping Dick down from the counter (you really needed to leave now). "It's decided! Dicki will be my date. Have a nice night alone Bruce."

Before you could step away an arm stretched out around your waist and pulled you back. "Not so fast now," Bruce laughs, wrapping his other arm around you too.

"Dick, grab your supershoes and help me," you whine playfully, trying to wriggle yourself free with no success.

Dick giggles, running downstairs for his 'supershoes', knowing exactly you mean his shoes for the gala. Before you can start your lecture, Bruce peppers your neck with kisses, knowing that it tickles you and that you hardly can stay mad at him.

"Stop it," you laugh softly, trying to push his head back but also relaxing against him, "you make us later than we already are."

"No one's gonna notice."

"You know it's the Drakes gala, right?"

Bruce winces against your neck, squeezing your hips before letting go. "We could always drive with the Batmobile, I'm sure we could make it in time with it."

You shake your head, tying Bruce's tie, thinking about his suggestion. I mean you were late, and you could probably make it in time with the Batmobile, and it was Bruce's idea after all. "You know what," you say, feeling excited, "damn it, yes!"

Bruce chuckles at your excitement, cupping your face to kiss you. He knows how much you love to drive in the Batmobile, especially if it's on date night, and you two could have some fun in the backseat.

"Can I drive this time," you ask hopefully when you pull back from the kiss, looping your arms around his neck.

"Absolutely not," he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief, "remember what happened the last time I let you drive?"

"Not my fault there was a bakery out of nowhere!"

"You mean the bakery that stood there for around twenty years?"

You let out a groan, dropping your head against Bruce's shoulder. "Well, it's not my fault 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 can't label their buttons correctly."

Bruce gives you a kiss against your temple and hums in agreement, having learnt a long time ago that he couldn't win this argument (or any argument). "Besides, do you really think I would let you drive after you bought our son a Superman cape?"

You smile at him, pulling on his tie to pull him towards you to give him another kiss. "You mean the cape he's wearing underneath his suit?"

Bruce was now the one to let out a groan. "Dick, please take the cape off," he yells, waiting for a response but it never came. But you two knew he definitely heard his father.

"Come on," you say, tugging him on his hand to follow behind you, "I don’t want to be late."

Dick walks down the hallway, awake from yet another nightmare. So he's on his way to his parents bedroom like always, but then he sees the light in his dad's office, furrowing his brows, he creeps slowly to the door and opens it quietly.

When he looks through the little gap, he sees Bruce frustrated sitting on his chair, some tools in his hand.

Bruce groans before he senses someone on the door, panicking that you woke up, and was searching for him, he shoves his tools into a drawer before he he jumps up from his chair.

"Honey?"

Dick opens the door, stepping into the office for Bruce to know it was him and not you.

Bruce lets out a sigh of relief, falling back into his chair, shoulders not tense anymore. "Hey, chum. Couldn't sleep?"

Dick just shrugs, mumbling a quiet 'nightmare'. Bruce nods in understanding, giving him a sign to come to him. Dick closes the door before running to Bruce, who picks him up, and sitting him on his lap, so they can both look at the table, and at the thing he was trying to hide.

"What are you doing? It's late," Dick says with all the confidence only a nine-year-old could have who should be asleep himself.

Bruce chuckles at that, leaning closer to Dick. "Can you keep a secret?" He whispers. Dick looks him up and down before holding eye contact, raising a brow like saying 'we both know I can'. Bruce smiles simply at him before he whispers, "I'm making a Valentine's gift for mom."

The boy looks very confused. Bruce is literally rich, he could probably buy a whole country or whatever rich people buy (Dick still tries to figure that out). Why would he 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 a gift? "Why? Your rich," he says like Bruce maybe had forgotten this fact about himself, "just buy her something. Like flowers or chocolates."

"I have flowers," Bruce answers, seeing how Dick looks more confused by the second, "but mom really likes something handmade." It's still a bit weird to refer to you as 'mom' but his heart makes a jump at this title anyway.

"Why?"

"That's a really good question," Bruce says, leaning back againstthe chair, shifting Dick a little higher, so they could both sit more comfortable, "You see, when your mom and I first got together I was nervous that she maybe just liked me because of my money."

"That's not true," Dick interrupts, always there to defend you.

"Your right," he agrees, "for some other mysterious reason she likes me—actually still trying to figure that out." Dick giggles at him.

"As I was saying," Bruce continues, "I was nervous, scared even because I really liked her, but she gave me the feeling that my money didn't even mattered to her, like it was just there." He smiles at the memory forming in his head.

"For our first Valentine's day as a couple I got her something very 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 expensive, I can't even remember what it was... all I know is that I accidentally broke it. She was already on her way, so I hadn't enough time to get her something new, but I also couldn't stand there like some idiot and give her nothing, couldn't I?" Dick shakes his head, deeply hooked by the story.

"So I panicked, and looked around the whole manor to find something to give to her."

"What did you find?" Dick asks eagerly.

"Well as I was about to give up, I saw the snow globe my mother gave me on our last Christmas together," Bruce's smile fades into a sad smile before he caught himself, not wanting to make Dick sad too, "Then I remembered the love your mother has for them, she said they reminded her of her grandmother. So I went into my office, grabbed an old souvenir snow globe, took it apart, put two pictures of us in it, wrote her a card, and hoped she wouldn't leave me for this poor excuse of a gift."

Dick beams up at him. "She didn't."

"She didn't," Bruce confirms, "but she really surprised me when she opened the gift."

"How?"

"I've never and I mean 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 saw her as happy about a gift, as I saw her in that moment, when she held the snow globe in her hands, and that's when I knew I would marry her someday."

Dick smiles, nodding as if he would have done the same, before he looks confused again. "But I've never seen you give mom something handmade before," he says, narrowing his eyes in suspicion, "why?"

Bruce chuckles at Dick's distrust, but also because the reason is a bit embarrassing. "'Cause I'm still terrible at making handmade gifts," he answers truthfully. He was really bad at these things, and it was embarrassing, because he was Batman. He made most of his weapons and gadgets himself, and not to mention the Batsuit and Batcomputer. But if he wants to make a gift for the love of his life? Absolutely nothing came to his mind, and that was frustrating.

"So I mostly make something for Valentines day," Bruce continues, "and that our home isn't fully decorated with my ugly things." He makes a disgusting face, earning a laugh from Dick, who's rubbing his eyes sleepy.

"Alright," Bruce says, making himself ready to stand up, "time for you to go to bed, buddy."

"Nooooo," Dick whines, making Bruce stop in his movements.

"It's well past your bedtime, Dicki," Bruce's voice is sterner now but still soft, "and you're clearly tired."

"But I want to help you." Another thing you need to learn as a new parent, look into big sad puppy eyes and still say no. "Okay, but only twenty minutes." Well, looks like Bruce still needs to learn how to do this.

Dick seems very satisfied about the answer, starting to help Bruce get all his things back from the drawer. 𝘼 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙: Dick did in fact fell asleep on Bruce after twelve minutes, which was also a new record, normally it took eight minutes.

After Bruce finally finished the gift he gathered Dick in his arms, and left his office. Finally carrying the boy to his previous target—𝘺𝘰𝘶.

. ࣪ ִֶָ 𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦇་𓂃. ࣪ ִֶָ

"Dicki," you whisper, shaking the boy softly to try and wake him up. You had to hold yourself together, so you wouldn't start to let out a loud laugh at the weird angle father and son lie in bed. Bruce is lying on his stomach, half of him is hanging from bed, how he didn't manage to fall completely on the ground yet is beyond you. Dick wasn't better. He was hugging your pillow (he must have taken it after you got up) and his left foot was in Bruce's face, but it looked like it didn't bother him.

Dick groans from the shaking, blinking a few times. "Want to help me make breakfast, sweetie?" You didn't have to ask twice. Dick kicks his legs in joy, hitting Bruce in the face, who just grunts and turns around. Dick gives you a sheppish smile, but he gave Bruce after that not a second thought when he makes his way out of the bedroom, grabbing your hand to pull you with him.

. ࣪ ִֶָ 𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦇་𓂃. ࣪ ִֶָ

You had just finished making another two waffles when Bruce finally came into the kitchen.

"Morning," he whispers, hugging you from behind, and gives you a kiss on the cheek.

You turn your head around, giving him a peck on his lips. "Morning honey."

"Waffles?" He asks teasingly, knowing that you asked Dick what he wanted for breakfast, because you would normally make pancakes on Valentine's day.

"Well," you begin in the same teasing voice, "my little helper wanted some waffles, and we both can't say no to his cute face, so waffles it is."

You lay the last two waffles on a plate, turning fully around to hand it to Bruce. "But they're still in heart shape. Happy Valentine's day."

Bruce takes the plate, but puts it down immediately to cup your face with both hands. "Happy Valentine's day, baby," he says back before smashing his lips against yours.

When you both finally pull apart to catch your breath, you bit your lip, looking your husband sheepishly in the eyes. "I hope you don't mind that we have other plans today."

"Don't worry," Bruce dismisses immediately, "we're having a nice day at the zoo, and after that...," he squeezes your hips, trailing kisses from your jaw to your neck, "Alfred takes Dick over so we can have some time together before patrol," he grins against your neck at your giggle, when he gives your ass a soft squeeze, "and when I'm back your all rested, and we can pick up where we left off."

"Sounds like a good plan to me," you say, kissing him again.

"MOM," Dick calls from the other room.

"Coming, sweetie," you call back to him. "Come on," you say to Bruce, "and just so you know, Dick drew me a very sweet picture."

"Did he now?" Bruce raises a brow, still smiling. You nod in answer. "Traitor," he gaps with fake hurt, "I wanted to draw you a picture."

"Where are we going?" you say, laughing to yourself as you try to peek through the blindfold your boyfriend put on you half an hour ago.

Bucky takes your hand, which was just trying to lift the bilndfold, into his own so that he has a hold on both of your hands.

"You know that the idea behind a surprise is that you have no idea what it's about, do you sweetheart?" he asks, and even though you can't see him right now you just know he has a smug smile on his face.

You scoff at him, "I know that," you stop in your steps and bring Bucky to a halt, "but we're already late to the Christmas Gala, and they're probably waiting for you," you finish with a soft smile and a squeeze to his hand.

You're sure whatever Bucky had planned would be wonderful but you can't be late to another Gala.

"Why the fuck would they wait for me?"

"Baby," you snort, shaking your head, "you're literally a congressman. It is your responsibility to attend such events."

Your boyfriend was really happy about the fact that you couldn't see his frown right now. He absolutely hated those galas. They were boring, and most of the time he didn't know what the others were talking about (that's where you come in, as his assistant).

Bucky lets go of your hands to move his right hand to the small of your back to guide you to start walking again.

"I'm sure those idiots didn't even realise we aren't there," Bucky says.

"Bucky," you warn.

"Sweetheart," he says in a mocking tone back.

At your huff Bucky leans closer to you to press a kiss to your temple before he slides the hand on your back to your waist, and grabs your left hand with his to help you up a few stairs.

"Okay," Bucky whispers to himself letting go of your hands. "Stay right there and only remove the blindfold when I tell you to."

You nod your head, suddenly a bit nervous what your boyfriend was up to but you trusted him anyway.

You stand there, unsure of where you even are, in what feels like half an eternity but was surely only a few minutes.

It felt like an eternity before Bucky finally gave you the signal to remove the blindfold. And the longer it took, the more nervous you became. But when the signal came, you took off the bandage as quickly as possible.

"Where—" you stop yourself, blinking a few times to clear your vision, and to take in your surrounding. You are standing on a large stage overlooking an orchestra area and over a thousand theatre seats, four main balconies and a small fifth balconie, which are equipped with jewel-like lights and a large spherical chandelier in the center of the golden grid ceiling.

"Is this—are we really in—" you can't even finish your sentence with all the emotions you're feeling right now.

Bucky went with you to the David H. Koch Theater and you're actually standing on stage right now. It's been your biggest dream since childhood to stand on this stage.

"You once told me," Bucky says, coming back on stage, "that your fondest memory was when you were here with your grandma to see the Nutcracker.

You nod your head still overwhelmed by all this.

"How did we get in hear?" you ask, not sure what else to say without crying.

Bucky lets out a low chuckle, standing in front of you, and sneaks his arms around your waist. "Baby, I'm literally a congressman," he mocks your words from earlier.

You shake your head before you capture his lips with yours in a deep kiss in hope you can let out, hoping you can express all your gratitude with this, because words would not be enough for how grateful you are for this man and how much you love him.

"Thanks," you whisper against his lips.

Bucky smiles at you with complete adoration in his eyes. He gives you a peck on the corner of your mouth before he leans to your ear, and gives you a kiss behind it. Smirking at the shiver that runs down your spine.

"Don't thank me to soon," he whispers. "I have one more surprise for you."

You frown at him. This is the best give someone has given you what else could there be?

He gives your waist a squeeze, and lets go of you to move to the side where a big package lies. Bucky hands it to you, and waits for your reaction like a little boy waiting for praises about a drawing he made.

You tear off the red ribbon before the black wrapping paper has to suffer the same fate, ignoring the laughter from your boyfriend about your eagerness.

Inside the box is Clara's costume from The Nutcracker.

"Oh my—," you whisper, letting a few tears fall free.

"I actually wanted to buy you some new point shoes," he shrugs, "but then I remembered you have to completely destroy them before you can dance in them."

"Dance?"

"You didn't seriously think I'd bring you here and then not want a private show, did you doll?"

"You're unbelievable," you laugh.

Bucky hands you your point shoes. "I think it's the least you can do for a congressman," he winks, "And hurry up, we don't want to be late for the gala!"

"I think we should go home after your private show, congressman Barnes," you bite your lip, walking slowly backwards to change in your costume.

"And why is that, doll?"

"For my private show."

"Yours?" Bucky raises a brow, slowly following you.

"Well, you look very handsome in that suit," you say, opening the door behind you, "It would be a shame to waste the suit to a boring gala."

"That's why your my assistant, I would be lost without you," he says, opening the door more for you. "I'm pretty sure you need help changing."