Wow... There are a lot of Doctor Who fans who love Batman! You people have great tastes! Anywho, this is somewhat a glimps into the past and into the future. Post Sacrifice, but before school starts up again. Enjoy!

Dick - 17 Jason - 14 Cass -12

The Old Costume

"Oh my gosh..." Cass couldn't help but make the exclamation when she opened the old box. She and her siblings were helping Alfred go through some old clothes in storage, looking for items to donate to the latest charity drive in the community. Selina had mentioned it in passing and everyone in the end thought it was a good idea. Both Alfred and Bruce were packrats, nearly filling the attic with old clothes. Some belonged to Bruce's parents, the rest were just old things they never threw out.

Trick was finding which were which. Top of the list was old baby clothes that did not belong to a museum, and whatever clothes Bruce wore he could not possibly wear again. Cass' old clothes were definitely going too if they did not have any sentimental value. All the boys were up for debate. Costume pieces though would be staying, as per Alfred's request.

She just did not expect this.

"What is it Cass?" Dick leaned closely over her shoulder, curious beyond all measure. After a moment in shock, his jaw dropped. "What the..."

"Who wore this?!" The girl picked up the shoulders of the gaudy one piece before her. It was two shades of blue with gold lines, and had a huge disco collar. A good portion of the chest was open, so if it was worn, it would leave little to the imagination. The thing looked really tight. "Please say it wasn't grandmother."

Alfred looked up from what he was working on, spotted the old outfit, and snorted. Dick jerked his head around to the man in surprise. Alfred snorted? The butler regained control of his features and answered. "No miss. Mrs. Martha most assuredly did not wear that costume. If you look carefully, you will see it is made for a man."

"Grandfather then?" The dismay in Cass' voice as she kept looking over the piece only increased the old man's amusement. Dick was starting to come to his own conclusion.

"No." Alfred's smile only grew with each second. "Mrs. Martha would never let her husband out of the house dressed like that. She barely agreed to join Master Thomas at a party when he was dressed as a bat."

"You didn't wear this." The young man looked up and down their revered butler quickly, deciding it was too gaudy for him, even for a performing role. Shoulders were too broad anyway.

"No, I did not." Finally Cass looked over to the highly amused man, as if in revenge. "But I do remember making the bloody thing."

"Alfred!" The girl's ears turned pink, having learned all about the term and what it implied not too long ago from Selina. Dick's eyes nearly popped from their sockets hearing the term coming from that particular mouth.

"My apologies," Alfred recanted quickly, "but that particular fabric was quite aggravating to work with when I had subpar needles and machine. Only for it to be worn once."

"Pictures. Now. Please." The inevitable conclusion brought both of them to their feet, Cass bundling up the disco costume quickly so they could get to their goal while Dick stumbled over his own mouth. This was going to be good.

When Bruce got back from the office, all he wanted to do was get the kids in bed and take a long bath. It was a very long and tiring day. Luthor made another grab at Drake Industries' Medical Division, Dagget was trying to buy Park Row, and Queen as making a fool of himself and his company with a poor investment. He had to handle all three of them before things went seriously south, then there was the projects he and Lucius were working on to help the League in their fight against crime. And don't forget regular tasks at Wayne Enterprises. Even if he wasn't taxing his body like before, he was very, very tired.

Maybe he could convince Damian or Tim to sneak into his room that night for cuddles instead of Dick's. The teen wasn't the only one who slept better with a smaller body next to him. It was long past dinner time but just in time for a few stories then bed. He just had to find his children first.

Strangely, they weren't in the kitchen, the playroom, or any of their usual haunts or bedrooms. He checked the cave briefly, then looked around again. He must have missed something. The cars were all in their ports and Alfred didn't give him any notifications. The house couldn't be empty, not at this hour. Were they...

While checking the kitchen again, he heard a wail of laughter, from many mouths. Very curious, he ventured into the servant's quarters/Alfred's sanctuary to find the source. They were only allowed in that part of the manor if Alfred allowed it or it was an emergency, but if the kids were there, he had to know what was going on.

Before he knew it, he was at the small common area of the quarters, which was transformed into a private sitting room years ago for his father figure. Within he spotted three of his children on the couch looking over some books while his youngest was play-reading something else. Alfred sat in his favorite chair there nearby, sipping tea and watching them comment about pictures. What struck Bruce though wasn't any of that.

It was Dick dressed up in his old disco costume, prancing around like a prima donna. His tracking anklet bulged from the blue boot covering it, but other than that, the getup fit like a glove. What was he doing in his old clothes? His old Halloween costume at that? "What the..."

All at once they noticed he was here. "Bruce!" "Dad!" "Daddy!" "Ah, Master Bruce! So glad you could join us."

"I thought you burned that." The billionaire gaped and pointed at the horrible outfit he hadn't seen in nearly twenty years. Looking at it, he felt old.

"After all the work I put into it?" Alfred gave him a chiding look that could almost count for mocking. "Perish the thought."

"You wore this," Dick started, ready to crack up, "when you were sixteen?"

Donning came to the man's eyes, along with dread. He turned on the aging butler. "You have pictures..."

"I have many pictures sir." Amusement like no other grew in the man's eyes. "Memories that are meant to be shared. I just had yet to bring them to anyone's attention until now."

"Alfred!" It was almost a whine, making his children on the couch laugh. The big scary bat whining because of a single old man, hysterical.

"I do have rules Master Bruce," he assured him, quieting complaints. "The albums do not leave this part of the house and only come out when I say they do. Your secrets are well contained, to the day I die."

"Please don't give them any ideas Alfred." The very weary businessman could already sense what would happen then. The day Alfred died, all of those pictures would make their way online, or worse, around the League and Wayne Enterprises. Bruce prayed he'd die before his father figure, just to escape the humiliation bound to come his way.

"Too late!" Jason's singsong joke started another fit of giggles among the kids, increasing his father's stress level exponentially. Thankfully one of his destressors (Damian) was walking up to him right then, rubbing his eyes. At least someone still respected him. He picked the boy up as the younger teen kept going. "Seriously, why on earth did you wear something so horrible?"

"Halloween theme party," Bruce stated simply, looking over to the kids carefully, particularly Tim. He didn't think it was time to tell him the whole story yet. "I was a friend's wingman that night, and he was insistent on me getting him into that party. I wasn't about to do things in halves."

"Why's the material so tough then?" Dick tugged at the collar a bit, raising an amused eyebrow. "Bit heavy for a Halloween costume. Poor Alfred worked his hands raw making this thing."

"There were many threats against my life at that moment," he explained carefully. The former vigilante pointed to the costume once more. "That is an early design for the batsuit's cloth. Flame resistant, insulated, bullet resistant, and can deflect most needles."

"I should say so," Alfred added in frustration. "I was tempted to leave those metal tips in the blasted thing."

"So this is basically flashy disco armor," Dick concluded, still smirking at the outfit.

"Armor, yes. Now get out of that thing and get to bed. All of you." He cast a shrewd glare over the entire room, hoping to scare them into a dash. Didn't quite work yet. Damian was nearly out cold in his arms.

"Just one more question." A mocking smile grew on his eldest's face as he turned around and exposed his back to them. "Does this outfit make my butt look fat?"

"BED. NOW. ALL OF YOU." He almost shouted at them for laughing or thinking the question, but a sleepy child on him kept his voice in line. The others leapt off the couch, cackling to themselves as they ran back to their section of the house. They thanked Alfred for the fun before going, causing enough of a distraction for Dick to run back to wherever he changed his clothes before. The sitting room now empty, Bruce turned a cold look on his oldest friend. "What was that?"

Alfred settled back into his chair, sipping his tea comfortably before answering. "The joys of grandparenting I believe."

The following evening Bruce found display cases set up in the cave. Some were appreciated, like his father's old Halloween costume resembling a bat and his mother's of a butterfly. Some were not. He jutted his jaw in several directions when he spotted the disco costume standing next to Dick's 'Robin' getup. Oh how the man loved to tease him with memories...

"Maybe I should ban Halloween from my life. No more costumes."

A/N: Alfred is having a lot of fun here. One thing grandparents love to do is see their kids squirm because of the grandkids. So I wrote in Dick's disco Nightwing uniform! I needed a logical explanation for where it comes from later (not his permanent outfit, I promise) so this came up. Fun times! Bruce is a little young to wear it as a fashion piece, so I made it a halloween costume! The Robin costume here is the one that led to Sacrifice, so don't make any assumptions. Alfred put it up too to remember the good and the bad.

As for why Bruce was a wingman wearing that thing, I just decided that was the night Tim's parents met. In the origin stories I have planned, you could say that without Bruce, Timmy would never come to be. Small things are so fun to consider. The other's ages aren't mentioned strictly because they don't have lines.

Until next time!