Chapter 28
"Bane and Jason should be back late tomorrow night," Bruce said the next afternoon to Tim, Steph, and Damian as they ate brunch in the kitchen with Harley and Alfred.
Tim and Steph had both gotten another day off from school as it turned out, because there had been significant water damage from the ice that "Mr. Freeze" had coated their classroom with in the Suicide Squad's anti-bullying escapade. Their class had the rest of the week off, in fact, so that Gotham Prep could both restore their classroom (and the one underneath it that the melting water had leaked into) and so that they could provide counseling at an off-site location for the traumatized students.
Not that any of the actually traumatized students would be honest with their therapists about what had really happened in class on Monday. That night, Tim had thoughtfully tagged each and every one of his classmates in Killer Frost's YouTube video of Deadshot's kneecap target practice in case they needed a reminder that snitches got stitches.
Of course, he had tagged Steph and Alana and Dillon, too, so as not to arouse any suspicion, and he had captioned the video montage "Gotham's new heroes!" He and Steph had giggled with glee when he posted it on his feed and Alana and Dillon, their previous non-bullies and now new friends had both liked the video and posted happy comments about how badass Deadshot was and how accurate his aim was, and from such long distances, too!
Steph had gotten up early the next morning for her ankle x-ray, which Alfred had taken her to with Steph's brand-new boyfriend Tim cheerfully tagging along. She had ended up needing to get the bones re-set due to the ass-kicking which she had dished out the day before to Brad and Winston (although of course to the doctors, she had blamed it on her supposed kidnapping), but she hadn't needed surgery, so even though she was in some pain, it could have been worse. Although she grumbled a little bit when Alfred refused the oxycontin due to Bruce's prior instructions.
"Now, Miss Stephanie," Alfred had gently scolded her after the doctor had left the exam room. "You of all people do not need oxycontin, hm? Addiction runs in your family, young miss."
"I wouldn't abuse it, though," she said. "My mom popped them for years and years and they only want to give me two pills."
"Nevertheless," Alfred said. "Why give yourself an experience you may later crave in times of stress? You need to learn to be cautious now before you are old enough to make your own foolish decisions."
"He's right, Steph," Tim had said seriously. "I don't ever want to lose you like you lost your mom."
"Oh," Steph said, looking into Tim's anxious but loving eyes. "Well, all right. If it worries you, then I won't ever take it."
Tim smiled happily as he reached down to gently interlock their fingers before bending in to softly kiss her on the lips as Alfred beamed approvingly as Steph's decision.
"Thank you," Tim said to Steph as he lightly swung their hands together. "You mean too much to me and your mom's addiction scares me. Plus, given our extra-curricular activities, you're likely to be offered oxy a lot as an adult."
"Yeah, I guess that's true," Steph had said. "But you can't take it either if I'm not. Fair's fair," she grinned.
"I won't," Tim promised her.
It had been late morning by the time the trio had returned to the manor and the teens had started helping Alfred prepare brunch so that it would be ready by the time that Bruce, Damian, and Harley woke up. Since they had some extra time, Alfred had given the teens their first lesson in making quiche, which the family was now enjoying together as they chatted around the kitchen table.
"I will be glad to have Bane back home," Damian said after swallowing a bite of his food. "I did not think I would ever see him again before he came to live with us," he said. "But now I do not ever want him to leave."
"Well, maybe he won't," Bruce said with a suspiciously happy twinkle in his eye, which Harley noted along with the crinkle at the corner of his lips. She caught Bruce's eye and smiled at him over her mug of coffee. Her smile widened when Bruce gave her the tiniest of smiles back.
"You look happy," Steph said to Bruce.
"Indeed," Alfred commented with a sly smile as he gazed fondly at Bruce.
"You and Tim look happy, too," Bruce said calmly, looking over at the two teens who had been nothing but smiles since the day before.
"We look happy because we're dating," Steph significantly. "Is there something you want to tell us, B?"
Damian looked up and furrowed his little brow.
"What are you insinuating, Stephanie Brown?" he asked her.
"She thinks that Bane and your dad are dating," Tim said helpfully as he stabbed his quiche with his fork.
"Really?" Damian said with interest. "Are you, Father?" Bruce huffed.
"First of all," he said to Tim with more humor than the teen was accustomed to hearing in his voice, "I am your father, too. In every way that counts except legally. And yours," he said, pointing to Steph as Tim smiled broadly.
"But that does not make them siblings," Bruce said quickly, turning to Damian. "It only means that I love them both like a father." Damian frowned.
"You told me previously that Tim and Steph were my siblings," he said.
"They are," Bruce said as Harley bit her lip to hold back a giggle. "They are both your siblings, but they're not each other's. Because siblings don't date each other," he said. "Tim and Steph were two friends first long before they both moved in with me and they've never been more to each other than friends."
"Excuse me!" Steph protested. "We are much more to each other now than friends."
"Ok, yes, romantically," Bruce said, rolling his eyes a little bit. "Stop confusing Damian."
"Pretty sure you're the one who confused him," Tim said as Damian stared uncomprehendingly at his father. Bruce sighed as Harley snickered. Alfred peacefully sipped his tea and stayed out of it.
"Look, son, Tim and Steph are your siblings because they were already living here when you moved in and you've grown up with them as your brother and sister," Bruce tried to explain. "But they weren't raised with each other and they were interested in each other romantically when they both ended up living here and that's stayed the same for them. Does that make sense?"
"I suppose," Damian said. "I understand that people who feel like they are siblings would not date each other," he said. "So I would not ever want to date either Timothy Drake or Stephanie Brown when I am older," he said as the two teens both snickered at the idea.
"Yes," Bruce said with relief. "But to each other, Tim and Steph felt like friends and now they are dating. And I feel like a father to both of them despite that."
"Like you do to Barbara and Dick," Damian said calmly. "Who are also my siblings. And dating. And both consider you a father." Bruce groaned as the teens and Harley dissolved into laughter while Alfred smiled indulgently.
"Should have led with that, Brucie," Harley giggled.
"Yeah, way to overcomplicate things," Steph laughed. "And way to avoid the question about Bane. Are you dating? Tell us!" she demanded. Bruce sighed, but not with annoyance.
"Yes, we agreed to date each other," he said with a tiny smile and much more pride than embarrassment.
"Yay!" Steph shrieked as Tim yelled "I knew it!" Harley gave Bruce a quiet knowing smile and Alfred actually teared up and breached etiquette to stand up from the table and walk over to kiss the top of Bruce's head.
"My boy," he murmured in Bruce's ear as he hugged around his shoulders and patted his cheek. "I have hoped for so long that heartbreak would not be the end of your journey," he said, and then Bruce was choking up, too, as he clasped his strong hand over Alfred's wrinkled one.
"I had given up hope," Bruce mumbled under his breath just for Alfred's ears.
"Hmph," Alfred said gently. "A benefit to old age, then. Never losing sight of how unexpectedly easy a new beginning can be, no matter how hidden it may remain before suddenly appearing." Bruce blinked away his tears as Alfred returned to his seat with one last kiss to his son's head.
As he cleared his eyes, he saw Damian regarding him with a thoughtful look.
"Son?" Bruce asked him. "How do you feel about me dating Bane?"
"Pleased," Damian said calmly. "Now he will be my father, too, and not just my friend."
"Yes," said Bruce.
"And he will always stay with us?" Damian asked him.
"I expect so," Bruce said. Why bother to pretend? he thought to himself, thinking of Harley and Jason's hasty marriage. For someone in the vigilante business, there wasn't much use denying the obviousness of a relationship that worked.
"Good," said Damian, returning to his quiche. He paused with his fork mid-air, however, which was most unlike him, and turned his eyes to Harley.
"Rob said he would be my father, too," he informed her, using his name for Jason that Talia had given him during his time with the League of Assassins. "During our phone conversations this week."
"I know," Harley smiled at him. "He told me. He was so touched that you think of him like that, Damian, and that you forgive him."
"Yes," Damian said. "Does that make you my mother?" Harley spit her mouthful of coffee across the table and coughed violently. Alfred silently handed her a napkin before standing to fetch a sponge and dishtowel. Harley's huge eyes met Bruce's amused ones.
"Um, I don't know," Harley said after she quickly wiped her mouth off. "I ain't never been anybody's mother," she said nervously.
"Bullshit," Bruce said firmly. Her eyes flew up to him. "You parent two-thirds of Gotham, Harley Todd Hood," Bruce said to her. "The Suicide Squad? Steph? The guards at Gotham? Bane? Half the villains I've locked up? And all the people you make amends to, whether they know you're looking out for them or not." Harley blinked at him.
"You're already a damn fine mother," Bruce said authoritatively. "And hell yes, you're Damian's mother, too."
"And yours," Steph said to Bruce with a wicked smile.
"No," Bruce said flatly, raising his eyebrows and surprising Steph. "Harley is my daughter." He looked across at her and was surprised to see tears forming in her eyes. She smiled bashfully at him.
"Yeah, I kinda like havin' you as my pops, Brucie," she admitted. "You're not so bad at it, anymore." Bruce felt his heart expand with emotion.
"That means quite a lot, coming from you," he said in a low voice and Harley nodded, knowing that he was thinking of how he had accidentally abused and traumatized Jason as a child through his inept parenting.
"And to be fair," Harley said, clearing her throat, "Bane is more like my brother than my kid. 'Cause he takes care of me, too."
"Still," Bruce said with a tease in his voice. "That leaves a hell of a lot of people who you parent pretty damn well, Harley. Damian will be in good hands with you."
"Well, ok, kid," Harley said, looking down at the little seven-year-old who was looking pleased at her new role. "I'll do my best, ok?" she told him and Damian nodded.
"I believe that you will be adequate," he said and Tim snorted.
"Hey," Steph said, leaning into Tim's arm. "That is a remarkable demonstration of faith from Damian," she laughed up into his face.
"Not disagreeing," Tim said, smiling back at his cute girlfriend. "Still laughing at him, though."
"Tt," Damian said. "When you have mastered adequacy, Timothy Drake, you shall understand what a monumental achievement it is."
Steph busted out laughing so hard that she had to lean back in her chair so she could hold her stomach as it shook. Tim laughed a little bit, too.
"Damian, I will never get a big ego as Batman with you as my Robin," he said.
"Indeed you will not," Damian said calmly. "Nor shall you have a big ego when I am Batman and you are my Robin."
"Excuse me?" said Tim, his jaw dropping. "That's not how it works, Damian."
"Nonsense," said Damian. "I am your superior and it is only my age which shall limit me from being Batman before you. Therefore, when I am old enough, I shall become Batman and you shall return to your rightful role as Robin."
"I'm not Robin, anymore," Tim said, with an actual Batgrowl sneaking into his voice, which caused Bruce to give him a surprised albeit impressed look, although Tim didn't notice it due to his intense staring contest with Damian.
"I'm Batboy," Tim growled. "Because I'm going to become Batman. Robins fly away and I'm not leaving."
"Nor am I," said Damian with equal intensity, drawing his eyebrows together fiercely.
"Not all Robins fly away," Bruce pointed out. "Robin himself never leaves Gotham. Or Batman." The two boys flicked their eyes to him dismissively before snapping them back to glare at each other.
Harley raised an eyebrow and looked at Bruce, who was beginning to look like he was floundering for an idea as to how to intervene and coming up short. Steph was chewing on the inside of her cheek to fight back her giggles. But it was Alfred who spoke after taking a leisurely sip of his tea.
"It would be a shame to let your considerable skill at cake decorating fall by the wayside for the sake of a title, Master Damian," Alfred said casually. "Gotham is in dire need of a truly refined, top-tier bakery. Do you know that we as a society import our special occasion cakes from Metropolis? Metropolis," he scoffed as if it was a curse word. "I shudder every time I see that wretched van before an event," he said with haughty disdain.
"But of course, Batman would not have the time for such pursuits," Alfred mused as Damian's eyes narrowed. "Robin would, however. Especially if Batman were to take on additional sidekicks in the future."
Four pairs of eyes turned to look at Alfred as he calmly took another sip of tea while Damian stared him down.
"And of course," Alfred sighed, "Master Timothy does not possess your skill with confectionery."
"Indeed he does not," Damian said sharply. He glanced at Bruce. "You would not be disappointed, Father, if I do not take up your mantle one day?"
"Of course not," Bruce said quickly. "You don't even have to become a vigilante at all if you don't want to," he said, although Damian scoffed at that ridiculous notion. "I want you to do whatever makes you happiest," Bruce said. "All of you," he added, looking over to Tim and Steph, too.
"Hmph," Damian said. "Then perhaps I shall consider your suggestion, Grandfather. As I am already demonstrating a remarkable aptitude for cake decorating."
Alfred was sitting speechless, staring at Damian with watery eyes. Bruce glanced at Alfred.
"Yes, your cakes are already amazing," Bruce said to Damian when Alfred appeared to be rendered mute. "Aren't they, Alfred?" Bruce said pointedly.
"Yes," Alfred murmured. "Yes, indeed," he said, and pulled out a handkerchief to dab his eyes. "Am I to understand that I am your grandfather now, Master Damian?" he asked his young charge in a slightly quavery voice.
"You have always been my grandfather," Damian said. "You are Father's father, are you not?" Alfred's eyes shot to Bruce's, but Bruce was already answering Damian.
"Yes," Bruce said. "Of course he is. Of course you are," he said more quietly, looking over at Alfred with a warm smile. "You know you are," he added as Alfred gave him a shaky smile back.
"Did I displease you by calling you Grandfather, Alfred?" Damian said, frowning.
"Not at all, my boy," Alfred said. "Not at all. Quite the opposite, in fact," he said with a braver smile for Damian emerging from his tears. "I was merely taken aback by the change in title."
"Oh," said Damian, looking relieved that he had not made a faux pas. "Are Grandfathers not the ones whom grandsons inherit the family empire from?" Bruce gave Damian an odd look and sent a questioning glance to Harley, who shook her head slightly in confusion.
"Had I remained with my Mother, I would have inherited the League of Assassins from my Grandfather Ra's one day," Damian explained. "And like Ra's, you are training me in your craft, Grandfather. And like Ra's, you believe that I can master Gotham with my skill when I am grown." Bruce choked. "Although Ra's believed that I could master the world," Damian said.
"And I should like to know why you cannot master the world with your baking skill, Master Damian," Alfred said, truly offended. "There are baking competitions, you know," he said.
"Oh, no," Bruce quietly muttered.
"Competitions?" Damian said, instantly perking up. "For cake decorating?"
"Yes, indeed," Alfred said, warming up to the subject. "As well as magazine cover shoots to pursue. Television shows. Royal weddings. I should like to know why my grandson could not provide the cake for the next wedding at Windsor," Alfred said, really ramping up now.
"Am I not British? Is my grandson not therefore a British baker by extension?" Alfred postulated grandly, gesturing for emphasis.
"Alfred," Bruce whispered into his hands, dipping his head as Harley silently laughed and Tim and Steph looked on, incredibly amused. Damian looked as eager as a predator who had just caught its prey napping.
"Of course I am a British baker," Damian said, nodding his head eagerly. "And an al Ghul. Your royals shall eat my blade if they will not eat my cake," he said with ruthless glee.
"Too far, son," Bruce said dryly.
"Hmph," said Damian. "Then they shall eat an inferior baker's cake which I shall poison to teach them a lesson in quality control."
"No," said Bruce.
"Obviously not, Master Damian," Alfred tutted. "No one would choose another baker's cake over yours once I have finished training you."
Damian's eyes glittered as a wicked smile spread across his face.
"Then I shall apply myself most assiduously to your instruction, Grandfather," Damian said. "As well as to becoming Robin."
"Dear God," Bruce murmured. Harley beamed.
"Well," she said brightly. "As Damian's mother, I highly approve of this choice of career paths. Except for the Robin part," she frowned.
"As Damian's future Batman, I also approve," Tim said with a genuine smile. "Of all the parts. Robin included."
"As the once and future Batgirl," Steph said with grandiosity matching Alfred's, "and as the future Mrs. Bat, I, too, stamp this plan with my seal of approval."
Bruce looked around the table.
"You all need to remember that winning competitions and being the best is not everything in life," he said severely. "And you shouldn't encourage Damian to think that way, either. It's wonderful that you want to be a cake decorator, son," he said to Damian more gently. "But you mustn't lose sight of why you're doing it."
"To carry on Grandfather's legacy?" Damian asked him doubtfully. "To establish dominance in Gotham?" he guessed again. Bruce shook his head.
"Do you enjoy it?" he asked him.
"Yes," Damian said immediately. "Very much. It makes me feel peaceful inside. And pleased with what I have created when I am done."
"Then that's why you do it," Bruce said. "No other reason."
"So I cannot compete in competitions?" Damian said in a sad voice. Alfred tsk'd but Bruce ignored him.
"Maybe you can, one day," he said to Damian. "But only if you can handle being a good loser. Without threatening to burn the kitchens down and murder your opponents and the judges if they don't pick you as the winner."
"Ok," Damian sighed. He looked sad for a minute but then he perked up again. "Bane can help me prepare for that part," he said. "Like he did when I burned the pancakes."
"Yes," Bruce said, a warm happiness bubbling up inside of him at the knowledge that Bane would be there in the future, not only with him but with his family, too. Their family, now. "Bane would be good at helping with that."
"I think you wouldn't be half bad at helping, either, Bruce," Harley said with a smile. As Bruce looked around the table at the happy, smiling faces of his family, he thought that maybe he could begin to believe her.
