For Batfam Week: Day 7 – Father's Day

Started this after Legacy and finished it after the others.

It's late but I hope all of you and your fathers and father-figures had a super Sunday.

Also, that's all folks. For now. Finally finished this Week. Yay!

Dear Thomas,

It's the third Sunday of June today. And as was usual, your son was surprised by his children celebrating it.

Dick was the first to greet as he has always been the early riser.

Bruce woke up at his usual hour. Patrol last night had been pretty light and they'd turned in early. He'd opted to sleep in still. The previous week having kept him too busy for much sleep.

There was a knock on his door. Bruce sat up expecting Alfred to come in. He was surprised instead at seeing Dick poke his head in.

"Morning B."

Still a little confused by the visit, Bruce returned the greeting. "Morning."

Bruce grew more confused still when Dick retreated and seemed to be talking to someone. He opened the door wider and then came in carrying a breakfast tray. Damian walked behind him carrying a thermos and mug.

Damian, like the duckling he is, followed behind his brother. The two had woken early and had prepared breakfast -miraculously without mishaps. I myself was also awarded their best efforts upon waking.

Dick set down the tray and Damian poured him coffee. Dick placed his hands on the boy's shoulder. It was the signal. So together, they greeted, "Happy father's day!"

Bruce smiled at the two. "Thank you, you two. You must've been up early to prepare all this."

"It was of no consequence, father. Myself and Grayson were able to prepare both meals." Damian smile was smug. "And without any mishaps even!"

"That's very good to hear." Bruce raised a brow at Dick. He was answered with a shrug and a proud smile. So no mishaps at all then.

The food was cooked right and was made tastier by the love and effort they'd placed in it. I cannot help but feel proud at how far they've come. Dick especially. The mishaps of old still tended to crop up even the poor boy simply wanted pancakes.

You would also be glad to know that this year, Damian had foregone training as a gift and actually gave something instead. It's a painting, not on a large canvas but enough to see the subjects clearly. Four robins on a branch that holds Cassandra's favourite peonies.

"This is beautiful, Damian." Bruce looked at the painting and already, he knew where to put it in his study to always keep it easily in his line of vision.

Timothy, throughout the years, has grown less awkward in displaying his affection. Though it still does not stop him from doing so where his brothers wouldn't see.

A knock on the door was all he got as a warning. Bruce had been standing by the bookshelves deciding on what to read when the knock was heard and, as he turned, was suddenly hugged by his third son.

"Happy father's day."

Bruce smiled. "Thank you, Tim."

Stepping back from each other, they each gave a wide smile. It had been a while since Bruce had seen his busy son. "How was your day?"

Tim rolled his eyes. "I'm the one who should be asking you that. This is your day."

"Hmm. That it is." Bruce gave a chuckle and moved to sit, waving a hand on the opposite chair. "It's been a while, so let's talk."

It is heartening to see Timothy openly conversing and even using his many hand gestures as he talks. His time with Bruce was quite nice to see. These two don't talk as often as they should.

Bruce was looking around the converted studio. He'd received his daughter's message via Alfred. Not quite sure what he was supposed to do, he stepped inside and was greeting with a tackle.

He could here Cass giggle as she lay atop him in victory.

The young lady has returned more often this past year, and decided just last month, to stay the rest of the year here in Gotham. This news was very much welcomed by myself and the family.

Cass has continued her lessons and has progressed most tremendously in her speech therapy. Although sign language and minimal words is still here preferred way of speaking. But Cass at the least always says what she means. Bruce still has much to learn from her.

"Happy father's day, Bruce."

"Thank you, Cass. Maybe let me up now though?"

Cass hummed like she was thinking about it. But still she stood up and gave him a hand.

"Sit. Watch."

"Okay." Bruce stayed on the floor and watched as his daughter went to stereo and played the beginnings to a song.

He was smiling widely all throughout, watching closely as Cass danced her way across the floor. Feet seeming to fly as they arched when she jumped, when she spun, touching the floor only to remind him that there was gravity.

Another grandchild who could learn from her would be our little rebel. Though admittedly no longer so little, Jason does still act the child sometimes. And we let him. Call it guilt or nostalgia but when Jason acts so free, it only makes us glad because he can.

"Boo!"

Bruce only looked at him. It honestly wasn't funny. His son's tendency to hide behind his anger, snark comments and morbid humor had once been a shield Bruce had stupidly never seen through. Jason had always been one to choose to be alone when he was a child. And even afterward.

But again, it had only ever been a false front. Jason had always chosen to be alone because he always expected to be left alone. Better to have it as his choice than otherwise. When Jason was a child he'd had that revelation.

But when Jason came back, so different but also very much the same, Bruce had not seen past his own walls, his own shield. Had not bothered to see beneath and remember that this was his little boy. His son.

"C'mon old man. You can't be broody on this day. Don't ruin it." Jason rolled his eyes at him. But Bruce could see the worry.

As always, he'd made his son assume he'd done something wrong. So Bruce mentally shook himself out of his…well, brooding thoughts.

"How are you, Jay?" The use of the nickname only sometimes caused him to flinch and retreat but not this time. And Bruce was glad.

Jason only shrugged and flicked a card at him. Bruce stumbled to catch it, caught by surprise to even receive one.

His humour though, has taken a turn for the morbid. I do still tend to censure him when I can. It is only funny in the barest of sense. Thus it makes me glad when he does a funny without it.

The card was plain white with simple handwritten font.

'Without me today is just another day.

(You're welcome.)'

Bruce gave a snort and smiled. Opening the card, he felt his heart stutter.

'Happy Father's Day, Dad.

From you're awesomest son.'

None of it was written by Jay himself but that he'd chosen a card that said those words…Bruce tried not to turn into a sap as he looked up at Jason -who had retreated into busying himself with making tea and plating a cake that Bruce was sure had not been there this afternoon.

Jason moved the plate and tea towards him. "Leftovers from Alfie's gift."

Bruce smiled. Leftovers indeed. The cake was a small one but whole. And although he was sure Alfred's had been much bigger (as he deserved), he didn't mind.

"Thank you, son."

"Whatever, dad." Jason shrugged and turned away, ears red.

They've come a long way. And not just he and Jason. The family had grown since and I've never been more glad. Through all our faults and schemes, through all the madness they've endured to save this city, the heartaches and the pain, this family has only grown stronger.

Though I still wish every day that the greetings I've received, the little gifts, the kisses and hugs, were all the things I'd have loved for you to receive as well, I am nevertheless so thankful for your son and the children he's chosen as family.

Happy father's day, Thomas.

I wish you were here.

Your dear friend,

Alfred.