warnings: fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, and angst… also sex is mentioned but nothing graphic
111
"OH MY GOD!"
"Oh no, wait— Dickie, this isn't what it looks like!"
"IT LOOKS LIKE SEX WITH CATWOMAN, BRUCE!"
"Dick, sweetheart, this is not sex. It's just kissing, which leads to sex—"
"NO! KNOCK THAT OFF, SELINA!"
Dick turned around, booked it for the stairs, and Bruce and Selina watched him go, one regretful and horrified and the other amused.
Once the door to Dick's bedroom door slammed shut, heard all the way down in Bruce's office, Selina turned to Bruce with a bored expression, but with a wicked gleam in her eye. She quirked a brow. "Want to try that again?"
Bruce stared at her in outrage as a few seconds after she spoke she burst into hysterical laughter, already gathering up her belongings and half-stumbling towards the Manor's entrance. He knew she had reached the entrance when he heard Alfred's voice, helping her.
That just left Bruce with the hardest task of all: confronting Dick, his still virtuous fourteen year old son.
111
It was easier said than done. Well, actually, it wasn't easy to say, either. Just thinking it made Bruce shudder internally, because Dick was too young to be with anyone like that, and Bruce should have been more careful with his, ahem, adventures at home.
Especially when he knew Dick could and would pop in without warning.
But then Selina had called him, saying that she was on her way and Bruce just knew she had something special planned for them. Oh, and she had had something special planned, but, kids. Or rather, just the one. They just don't know how to knock.
"Wish I could just skip this whole mess," Bruce grumbled to himself, slowly trudging up the stairs. "Or, just dump this on someone else. Maybe Alfred? Oh, Clark would be absolutely perfect for this, I should call him…"
111
Bruce ended up in Dick's room, at three in the morning, awkwardly patting his sons back while he digested the new knowledge Bruce had dropped on him. Dick slowly came to life under his hand, his back straightening as he inhaled sharply, and Bruce was only slightly worried for what would come next.
"So…" Dick drawled, his voice, for a moment, just as deep as Bruce's. "When can I do that?" Then he squeaked, and Bruce felt laughter bubble up his throat and he breathed deeply so as to avoid embarrassing Dick any further.
And then, Dick's words caught up with Bruce's mind, and he choked.
Amid Dick's disbelieving laughter, and Bruce's sputtered:
"Not until you're at least 16!"
They relaxed against each other, and Bruce managed to curl up enough to sleep on Dick's bed with him. Bruce was uncomfortable and knew that he'd be feeling it in the morning, but as he settled beneath Dick's Superman sheets, still clad in his suit from earlier that day, he felt his chest tighten in affection for this small boy.
His son.
111
That morning, Bruce woke to the sound of Dick's high-pitched cackles from his place on the floor.
Somehow in the night Bruce had slipped to the hardwood floor, dragging the blankets and Dick's Superman plushie with him. From the clipped footsteps approaching, Alfred was in the room with them.
It was only a matter of time before the camera was brought out, but Bruce figured he had enough time to get in a few more winks before then.
"Smile, Bruce!" Was his only warning as Alfred's camera then flashed.
"Now this is one for the mantel, Master Bruce."
222
The next time Dick walked in on him, Bruce was just on the wrong side of drunk, and he and Selina had been broken up for almost two weeks. He was feeling a little bummed out, so who could blame him for wanting something (someone) to make his day?
She was perfect for the night; tall, blonde, and absolutely stunning; so much so, that Bruce found himself drinking to excess just to keep himself on track.
She was the opposite of Selina, which was just what the doctor ordered, and he decided to take things back to his bedroom. The one place he and Selina had yet to actually—nope, he was not following that train to the station, nothing good waited there.
No, he was going to have a nice, relaxing evening with a beautiful blonde woman, and then he was going to spend the rest of his time patrolling his trying-to-be-good city with his son.
But, that was a plan for later on. Now, he had a lapful of blonde and he was tired of the teasing. He took one look at her smooth, strapless dress and felt around for the zipper. She laughed, but didn't help, and that definitely didn't make him think of Selina, no sirre.
There was a knock at his door, and before Bruce could even blink, Dick was there and then gone, having shoved open the door with a grin and then a horrified screech.
"MY EYES!"
Dick left the door open, and Bruce and his date could still faintly hear him screaming as he ran.
"MY INNOCENT, VIRGIN EYES! IT BUUUUURNS!" Bruce sighed to himself, ignoring the indignant huff from his date.
What a melodramatic little shit.
222
Bruce was serving a hard timeout after that incident.
Alfred took most of his privileges away, and when Dick made fun of him for it, proceeded to ground Dick for him. Then it was Bruce's turn to poke fun as Dick was now unable to attend lunch with Barbara Gordon on Saturday.
Later on in his punishment, Dick only had this to say, blue eyes narrowed dangerously, "You know what? Laugh it up, Bruce, 'cause one day, one day soon, it's gonna be me and Babs, and you're gonna make the mistake of walking in on us, and you won't be laughing then, you jerk."
The thought alone made Bruce pale significantly, and he grounded Dick again, this time as Robin.
222
"DICK!"
Bruce stumbled out of the bathroom, clad only in a towel as he bellowed his first, and soon to be dead, son's name.
"God fucking dammit!" His hair was pink. Pink.
From the chandelier above, Dick called out teasingly, "Yeeeees?"
Bruce glared up at him through furrowed pink brows, and rested his hand on his hip. "Get down here, now."
Dick pretended to think for a moment, actually going so far as to tap his finger against his chin in thought. "Hmm, I'm gonna have to pass, Bruce; it's nice and airy up here." He grinned, showing off all his pearly whites in an imitation of Bruce's own Press-Approved smile.
Bruce wasn't fooled.
"Get down here, right now Dick, or so help me, you and Barbara won't be going on any study dates anytime soon."
Despite the threat to his budding romance with the Commissioner's daughter, he still remained where he was.
Cocky, arrogant little shit.
And then, the icing on the cake of Dick's disobedience, "You know what? Pink really suites you, Bruce!"
333
Bruce never wanted to walk in on Dick. Not ever.
The thought of it was enough to make him pale dramatically and shiver like a stray in the cold. Seeing the actual thing?
Well…
Bruce was currently hunched over in the bathroom furthest away from Dick's room, trying not to throw up his lunch. Unbidden, thoughts of what he'd just escaped from came to mind.
Bruce repressed the urge to gag and scream out like Dick had done before.
He could never face his son again.
333
"Soooo," Dick remained perfectly still on the edge of the building Bruce had situated them on, though his mouth had yet to stop moving. "Let's talk—"
"Hn." Bruce growled.
"OK, Mr. Growley-Pants." And then he stopped.
And for a moment, all was peaceful.
Until Dick opened his mouth again.
"I so told you so, B."
This boy would be the death of him.
333
"Mr. Wayne?" Oh, hell no.
Bruce pasted on his best smile, hoping the glow from his teeth would temporarily blind his would-be attacker so he could get away safely. Judging by her guilty, still laser-focused gaze on his face, Bruce realized that his smile hadn't worked.
Shoulders slumped, and Bruce met Barbara Gordon's steely gaze head on. "Yes, Ms. Gordon?" He really didn't want to talk to her.
She seemed to draw into herself, cheeks flushed pink, and her head down, glasses covering her eyes. Then the moment passed and she took a deep breath. "Mr. Wayne, I am so sorry for what happened last Tuesday. It was completely irresponsible of us and we shouldn't have even— I mean, what I mean to say is—"
She was rambling, and that was somehow charming in spite of the topic being rambled on. Bruce held up a hand, smiled again, truly this time, and assuaged her fears.
"It's perfectly fine, Ms. Gordon; you and Dick are… lovely young people, and well, I did tell him he had to be 16 before he started doing anything so," Here, Bruce rubbed the back of his neck lightly, chuckling shamelessly.
The young redhead blinked owlishly at him.
He barely repressed his smirk at the look, having received the same one from Dick after their "talk" on one of Gotham's many rooftops. They were a cute couple. "Come by again soon, Ms. Gordon!" He said loudly, clapping her shoulder affectionately, "Next time let's even have a chat before you and Dick get a move on, OK?"
Watching Barbara practically sprint away after that remark was just the balm he needed after another of his and Dick's fights.
444
Dick was gone, and Bruce figured bringing home his date would be alright. It wasn't like anyone was going to burst in, right?
Wrong.
He thought his newest son, Jason, would've been more cautious than that considering his upbringing. But no, Jason had completely ignored Bruce's shut—and locked—door and waltzed in, already talking about his school day and how awful and snobbish the other kids were.
Bruce had frozen as soon as he heard the tell-tale click of his lock turning, and had rolled his date, a 30-something brunette with a thing for leather, under him just as the door opened and Jason came in. It seemed like he hadn't realized something was amiss until he looked up from his paper mid-rant and went bug-eyed at what he saw.
Then Jason flushed crimson, stammered apologies, and tripped in his haste to shut and lock the door behind him.
"Aww," His date cooed, "What an adorable kid."
Don't I know it, he thought, and pushed himself out of bed.
444
Bruce coughed lightly to get his second son's attention, already dreading the conversation that lay ahead of them. Jason merely glanced up at him before turning back to his books.
"So, kiddo…" Bruce was uncomfortable, that much was obvious. Maybe that's why Jason decided to take pity on him and save them both the embarrassment.
"It's OK, Bruce, I already know all about, um, that stuff, so you don't need to… You know. Explain anything."
Bruce let out a relieved breath, but then frowned. Jason was 11; his knowledge of sex should be non-existent at this point in his life. Bruce himself hadn't learnt of it until he was 13, and that was only after an awful date with another classmate, Lucy McMillis, whom Alfred had informed would never step foot inside the Manor ever again.
Jason must've sensed Bruce's anxiety, or maybe he'd just been through the same questions before, because all he did was say, "My mom." As if that made it all make sense.
444
The walk in incident had clearly rattled Jason.
He was quiet now, more than he'd ever been, even when he'd just moved in, and he was jumpy. Bruce would walk in, quiet as always and begin speaking to him and Jason would just about jump a foot in the air.
He spent most of his time hiding away and remaining just a step behind Alfred, badgering the older man to let him help out. That, at least, was Jason. Always ready to help.
But around Bruce, his son would get mouse-quiet and twitchy. It hurt Bruce to know that it was because of him that Jason wasn't comfortable around the Manor anymore; it made him angry to know that it was because of Peter Todd that Jason had this problem in the first place.
He wanted to make it all better, but he had no idea how to make Jason see that Bruce wasn't angry with him. He stewed on the problem for what seemed like hours but was actually 20 minutes, and just decided to come out with it.
"Jason?"
Said boy flinched slightly, but stared up at him through unruly bangs. Bruce couldn't stop the smile that came then, Jason's hair having always been a point of pride for the boy and a pain for Alfred and himself. Jason relaxed minutely at the smile, giving a shallow one of his own in return.
Bruce missed his son's exuberance, and forced himself to ignore all of his little ticks as he lowered himself to a crouch on the floor. Jason was sitting in an armchair, one that he'd favored ever since his first day at the Manor, and Bruce wanted to be as close as he could without scaring him off.
"Jason…" Bruce paused, thinking over his words. "I'm not upset with you over what happened," He looked Jason in the eye, tried to force him to keep his eyes on Bruce's to gauge his sincerity. Jason's baby blues refused to meet his own, though, so Bruce tapped his hand gently.
Jason opened his hand, palm up and Bruce wrapped his hand around his son's. He kept talking.
"I'm not angry. Or disappointed. You know, you aren't even the first person to walk in on me during situations like that." He nodded sagely when Jason's eyes finally met his own. "Yup," Bruce sighed dramatically. "Alfred's walked in on me quite a few times, although I don't think he's ever done it on accident; he doesn't really approve of my lifestyle."
Jason sniffled, and acted like it was nothing. "Yeah?"
"Yeah, buddy. And you know what else? Dick's walked in on me, too." Now this gets Bruce what he wants: Jason sitting straight up and angled towards Bruce, his interest clearly piqued.
And Bruce knows just how to make sure Jason never feels bad about this event ever again.
555
The Manor is so empty without his children.
How had he gone through life without them? His boys, blue-eyed and dark-haired and wonderful even when they were the most obnoxious little shits he'd ever met.
But now they were gone.
One of them in another city, in another state, who he couldn't bring himself to make up with, while the other rested in a casket that was too small, too light to hold a boy as big as his.
There were no more walk ins, accidental or planned, because it was just Bruce and Alfred and no one else.
No one else…
555
Bruce was waiting in the living room, sitting in his favorite armchair, when the phone rang. He didn't move to get it, knowing Alfred was more than happy to answer.
It stopped ringing, and Bruce supposed Alfred had picked it up and would be in shortly to tell him of some event that his associates said he simply had to attend to maintain his social standing.
Except, he didn't come.
And the phone rang again.
It echoed in the emptiness of the Manor, and Bruce remembered, belatedly, that Alfred was on holiday in England, and so wouldn't be able to answer any phone calls.
Still, Bruce didn't move from his spot.
Eventually, the phone stopped ringing.
555
Bruce should've put an end to it before this situation even became a thing.
Tim Drake was a skinny boy, on the shorter side and with dark hair and blue eyes and it hurt to even look at him, this boy who looked like Jason and Dick. Who waved his failures around and shouted at him until his ears rang, because the boy believed he needed a Robin.
As if he could just pull one out of a hat and command it to do his bidding.
He knew where Tim was going with it, knew the boy would volunteer, take one for the team and make sure Bruce stayed sane. That he stayed good.
Bruce wanted nothing to do with him.
Tim had broken into his home, ran around it searching for Bruce, and then, when he found his room, decided to sneak in through a widow when he noticed that the door was locked.
Bruce should've thrown him out as soon as he came in, wet and shivering but still determined to prove a point, even as he made the mistake of looking at Bruce and Selina sprawled out on his bed, only covered by a sheet. He ducked his head but kept talking.
His ears burned.
"You need a Robin." He said it more than once. Robin. Robin. Robin.
He didn't need a Robin; he needed his sons. But his brain caught on to what Tim was saying anyway.
You're losing it.
Your Robin is gone and you're losing your mind.
You're one bad day away from killing and you can't come back from that.
His first Robin was the light to his dark, always smiling and joking even when he shouldn't be. His uniform was short, a thing of nightmares, really, but it was green and red and yellow; bold. It was Dick.
His second Robin was the balm to his rage, witty and sharp and excessive in everything he did. He took Dick's uniform and made it his own, despite it being the same bold colors; this time, it was a warning.
His third Robin had to prove himself first. But he was smart, and he was already the warmth to Bruce's pain, soothing and clinical and downright dorky at times. Alfred was changing his uniform to suit him better, the same colors, of course, but a different design.
555
There was someone in the Manor now, other than Bruce and Alfred. And he never strayed far from either of them, much like Jason hadn't.
But he made friends easily, like Dick did, and he wasn't afraid to bring them around. His friends were weird, like Tim, but Bruce wouldn't have it any other way.
end
a/n: not gonna lie, I could totally keep going with this thing for the rest of bruce's kids but gilli this bad boy's for u! it's a big one too so I hope u enjoyed reading it more than I did writing it cuz holy fuck do I wanna die now
it was a lot to write and there was angst towards the end
cuz u know I had to do it to 'em