Title: Ybab Cigam

Series: DC-U

Pairings: Bruce x Dick, Tim x Kon, Lex x Clark

Rating: PG

Warnings: AU, OOCish, Fluff, Idiocy, Smut

Disclaimer: I own my brain and the stories it creates. DC and many others own the characters that I play with – as such, no money is made and much time is wasted.

YBAB CIGAM.

Tim sighed as he approached the manor from the main gate – it'd been a long day, made even more so when Bruce had failed to collect him from school. A bright white flash shone out from the old building, and he stopped in his tracks. Calculating the angle and speed of the flare, he determined it's location as being the garages, and ditching his bags – he ran towards them as fast as he could.

The lack of damage to the cars was the first thing he noticed, and it let him breathe a little easier – acts of violence almost always left an impact on the surrounding area, and with nothing out of place – the heart-pounding worry that coursed through him could ease a little.

A tiny sound – a mix between a sneeze and a splutter, had him reaching for the Birdarang he kept hidden behind the stitched crest pocket of his blazer. Carefully he moved forward and rounded the black Beamer that Bruce had been favouring of late – the one he was supposed to have picked him up in.

The site before his eyes made his mouth drop open and his eyes widen. On the floor were two little boys, huddled together in a puddle of clothes and looking up at him in concern. Kneeling down, he let go of the weapon and put his hands out in front of him, "Hey…" he wasn't really sure what to do or say – he'd never had any real exposure to little kids, "Where did you two come from?"

The boys didn't say anything, just cuddled closer to each other and stared silently at him, their big blue eyes filling with tears.

"Master Bruce? Master Dick? Are you still here?" the connecting door to the manor opened and Alfred walked in, "You'll be late to pick up… Master Timothy; who are these children?"

"I don't know," he rocked back on his heels, "Bruce didn't pick me up, so I walked home. When I got to the drive I saw a flash of light from here and … oh… Bruce? Dick?" the two little boys looked up at him as he tentatively called the names, and he groaned loudly as they stared at him, "Who did you piss off this time?"

"Language Master Tim," stepping over the stray cables and other typical garage debris, Alfred moved closer and fished the two naked children out of the oversized clothes. Looking at them sceptically, he wrapped them in the large, now abandoned, blazer and carried them into the house, "Come along Master Tim – we have much to do."

"Tell me about it," he muttered.

As he approached the penthouse, Clark could hear the sounds of slow sultry music. Resisting the urge to use his supervision, he opened the door and slipped inside.

The lights were off and the curtains drawn, but the flicker of candle light towards the bedroom made him grin and shrug off his coat. Removing his shoes, he padded closer – stopping so he had a clear view from the doorway, the sight before him was enough to downgrade the smile to a predatory leer.

Just as he was about to step forward and pounce, he felt a cold shudder shoot up his spine and the oppressive feel of magic wrap about him, "Lex…" he croaked and fell forward.

From the bed, Lex watched as his partner paled and toppled forward, landing in tiny crumpled heap on the floor – a heap that looked about five years old.

"Shit." Grabbing his dressing gown, he hurried forward and retrieved the JLA comm from his lover's too large clothes, flipping it open he grabbed Clark and requested a beam up to the station.

The league was in pandemonium, three little boys were sat in the corner watching with wide eyes. They'd all been found children's garments and looked, Tim thought, rather adorable.

Baby Bruce was holding onto Baby Dick like a teddy bear, his slightly longer arms and legs wrapped securely around the younger child. Next to them, Baby Clark was hanging onto a bruised looking silk shirt, his chubby little hands wringing the material tighter and tighter each time Luthor left his line of sight.

"Do we have any idea what happened, or even who did this?" Lex was keeping his voice level through sheer force of will; he'd shouted once and caused Clark to burst into tears – his supersonic wails shaking the room and knocking three of the wall-plaques free, "And why is it only the three of them?"

"As far as I can ascertain," J'ohn spoke up first, his human disguise in place for the sake of the children, "They were changed at the same time – this I could read from their minds. As for the where, who and why – we've called Zatanna Zatara. Hopefully she'll be able to see what magic has been used and reverse it."

"What makes you think it's magic?" the Flash was lounging by the door, but the ever changing snacks in his hands proved he wasn't actually as still as he appeared.

"Just before it hit, Superman identified the sensation he was feeling as the result of magic." J'ohn sat down and looked at his hands, his head was aching from the backlash of being in their minds and he needed a break.

It wasn't long before the Lady Magician arrived and looked at the three heroes turned children, "This attack," she proclaimed, "Was only meant for Superman."

"So how were Batman and Nightwing caught then?" Tim ran his hands through his hair and adjusted his mask.

Zatanna closed her eyes and spread her hands out – a faint purple aura flickering over them, "Batman carries upon him kryptonite – which is related to Superman; the focus lashed over the piece and caught him. Nightwing was dragged into the transformation as well when the wave spread – you can tell it was weaker when it hit as he is much younger than Batman – yet they are now mere months apart."

"So we've got some whacko aiming for Supes and scoring a triple whammy?" Flash interjected, "Any ideas yet on who…"

"More importantly," Wonder Woman interrupted the red-suited hero, "Can you undo it?"

"No." Zatanna shook her head, "I would need the caster to undo his work. But I must ask – has anyone checked on Superboy?"

Tim's eyes widened behind his mask and he hurriedly reached for his Titans communicator, "Robin to Superboy – come in…"

He was eventually answered by gurgles and the sounds of plastic straining under super strong teeth.

Alfred was staring at the room in disbelief. It had been decided that the 'children' would stay in the manor, as it was out of the way and secure enough that they would be safe. He'd only left the room for two minutes in order to get snacks for the boys, but upon returning he found complete chaos.

Clark was sitting underneath the antique writing desk - his face screwed up and red, tears beginning to pool in his eyes – there were sheets of paper and torn cushion foam swirling around him. Conner was sitting firmly in Tim's lap sticking his tongue out at the other Super; and the last two were curled up on the sofa – both fast asleep and tangled together, their clothes and hair covered in feathers from a burst pillow.

"Alfie," Tim's eyes were wide and a little wide around the edges, "A little help…"

Stepping fully into the room, the Butler put his tray down on the side table and picked the little alien up, "Master Clark – would you like to choose your cookie first?"

The little boy opened his eyes and nodded solemnly, "Pweese."

Sonic disaster averted, Tim turned his attention back to the small boy in his arms. He'd set up small video cameras in the corners of the room, and had the remote in his pocket ready to take stills – Kon had often lamented to him in secret, that we wished he'd had a childhood – and had a chance to be more than just The Kid, Superman's younger clone. Whilst the spell had caused problems, he was determined to record every moment and not only give his lover the chance of a lifetime – a chance to be a child – but give himself a whole cache of black mail material on the other three.

"Timmy," Kon stood on wobbly legs, his chubby fingers grasping Tim's long sleeves, "Timmy – up! Cookie – cookie Tim COOKIE!"

"Alright," scooping the young boy up, he got to his feet and moved over to the side, "You can have one cookie and one glass of juice – no more."

"No more, no more," the little boy sang as he reached forward and took three biscuits – stuffing them into his mouth before they could be taken from him.

"No Kon," Tim tutted and moved the boy away, "You're only supposed to have one."

Turning in his arms, Kon moved up and put his hands on Tim's cheeks, "Tim angwee?" he didn't wait for an answer, but seemed to see something in his eyes because his mouth wobbled and his face crumpled, "Kon sowee…" he burst into tears, the tables and chairs surrounding them beginning to shake.

"No, no – I'm not angry," Tim hugged the boy close and tried to soothe him, "Don't cry – I'm not angry." Looking over at Alfred for guidance, he noticed Bruce and Dick were awake and staring at him, Dick's eyes wide and unhappy – he looked as if he were about to cry as well, "Alfred …"

"Come now Master Bruce, Master Dick – cookies and juice," the elder man shifted Clark onto his hip and made an encouraging motion.

The two dark-haired boys didn't say anything, but Dick nodded at Bruce and waited as the older boy moved off the seat and padded over to the side, carefully taking a glass of juice and a biscuit and bringing it back. Once Dick was happily slobbering on his treat, Bruce returned and got his own.

Clark took a biscuit and Alfred gave the last one to Superboy with a gentle pat to the head. The extra reassurance seemed to work, and he settled down, planting a sloppy crumby kiss on Tim's cheek before slumping back down to eat.

"Has there been any word from Miss Zatara?" Alfred asked as he put Clark down and reached inside the cupboard for a dust-buster.

"Yeah," Tim wiped his face and sighed as Kon's sticky fingers went straight to the skin he'd just cleaned, "She's narrowed down the location the spell came from, and J'ohn is working with her to find the culprit. She seems to think that if the spell isn't lifted, it'll release on its own – but not for a good few months…"

"Which is clearly not acceptable," Alfred nodded as he swept the debris up.

"Clearly not."

It was fully dark by the time the children had settled down to sleep, and only after three separate night lights had been found and plugged in.

Tim watched from the doorway, Kon and Clark had gotten over their earlier teasing and were back to back on one bed.
He was a little concerned about Dick – the little boy hadn't spoken with anyone since his transformation, and Bruce had been ridiculously possessive of him; they'd not been more than three feet apart the whole day – not even when one of them had needed the toilet.

Leaving the room with a sigh, he hoped that the situation would be resolved soon.

Dick woke first, his dark blue eyes widening as he tried to move and found himself unable. Gently whining his distress, he pulled and shoved – trying his best to get free.

"Stay still."

He recognised the voice and immediately settled down. Once his eyes had adjusted to the gloom, he could see hands around his middle, and a small foot wrapped round his ankle, "Bwuce?"

"Yeah," Bruce shifted and tugged until Dick was turned and facing his best friend, "Okay now?"

"Mm." he nodded and allowed the covers to be arranged up against his neck, "Where's Timmy an' Cwark an' Cwon an' Awfie?"

"Clark and Kon," Bruce's voice was high and childish, but his grasp on language seemed much better than the other children's; his words coming out clear and correct, "Are still sleepy – Tim and Alfie should be sleepy in their rooms."

Satisfied with the answer, Dick cuddled closer and closed his eyes, "Gonna sweep now. Bwuce sweep too."

He sighed happily as he felt the older boy nod and kiss him on the forehead. Warm and content, he drifted back to sleep.

Lex arrived at the manor just after breakfast; he'd cancelled his meetings for the week and weaselled out of explaining anything to his Father before slipping out to his private jet. It worried him when Clark was attacked at the best of times – and messing with magic had never yielded good consequences before – but despite that, he couldn't help the warm loving feeling he got as his now little lover saw him, squealed his name loudly and dashed over at super-speed to give him a careful but tight cuddle.

"Are you being good Clark?" he bent down and picked the boy up, ruffling his messy curls.

"Uh huh," Clark nodded and transferred his arms to his Lex's neck, "Cwark a good boy!"

"And you're playing nicely with the others?" Lex felt the urge to keep asking questions – just to hear how cute Clark sounded; he didn't expect him to hang his head and pout, "What's wrong?"

"Kon mean," he sniffled, "He won't let me pway with Timmy – and Bwuce won't let Dwick play either."

"We'll just have to have a good talk with them then won't we," Lex bit back a smile, it was interesting to see the personality traits of the men being translated into their child-like perception of the world – and of course, both Kon and Bruce were possessive of their other halves; just as Lex would have been if he'd been close enough to be caught by the magic wave.

"Lex make Kon pway nice," Clark beamed, "Lex make Bwuce pway nice – evwyone pway nice!"

Buried in a castle, deep in the frozen wastes, a young blond curled tightly into her blanket, her tiny limbs cold and sore. Her face was a mess of snot and tears as her stomach rumbled, "Cwark…," she sobbed, "Kawa lownly."

END PART ONE.