AN: Just as a general notice, there's an increase in potential for what I call "second-hand embarrassment" in these upcoming chapters. I think it all turned out more cute than awkward, but you never know, you know? Anyway, enjoy the chapter, and let me know what you think!
Bruce steeled himself. He had faced mobsters and mutants and any number of raving rogues, but this? This was something entirely more difficult.
Okay, maybe he was being dramatic. Just a little. Still. Given how each of his children, who really were all children now, had reacted to the announcements that they wouldn't be acting as vigilantes and that they'd have to go to school, this announcement wouldn't go over well either.
Bruce quieted his nerves. He was Batman. He could do this. He spoke, calmly but firmly stating his case when the conversation came to a sort-of lull. "Okay, it's getting late. You'd all better start getting ready for bed."
The conversation went silent.
Cass gave Bruce an unimpressed look and said simply, "No."
Jason cackled at that, and Duke whooped in agreement, and the conversation promptly resumed at twice its original volume.
Bruce sighed. He hadn't thought it was going to be easy. He spoke again, a little louder this time to cut through the conversation. "You can't just say 'no.' You do need to get ready for bed."
"We don't need to get ready for bed," Duke protested. "We're not tired at all, we-"
"Damian is already half-asleep," Bruce cut in.
"No, I am not," Damian said, voice bleary with exhaustion.
"Damian, your eyes are closed," Tim pointed out.
"No, they are not," Damian snapped, opening his eyes forcefully. A moment later, they began to droop once more.
"Again, Damian's half-asleep," Bruce said.
"That sounds like a Damian problem," Jason said, forcefully cheerful.
"Everyone needs to go get ready for bed," Bruce said. "You have school tomorrow."
A chorus of groans and protests arose.
Bruce shook his head. "I'm not going to argue this one. Alfred already put new clothes in your rooms, including pajamas. Go get ready for bed."
"Awww," Duke whined, but he stood from the couch and began heading for his room.
Tim followed quickly, and after a few long moments of twin stares at Bruce, Cass and Jason did the same.
That left Dick, who had stood up from his chair, but was standing in place and scuffing his foot against the carpet, and Damian, who was probably entirely asleep rather than half-asleep by now, if the way his head was slumped against the chair's armrest had anything to say in the matter.
"Dick?" Bruce asked, deciding to address the awake son first. "Do you need anything?
Dick frowned and didn't speak for a minute, maybe even two minutes, and Bruce was considering restating the question when Dick spoke at last. "I need this to be over."
Bruce sighed. "I know, chum."
Dick sighed back, but he trudged out of the room.
Bruce gently scooped Damian up.
Damian mumbled something incoherent. His head lolled against Bruce's shoulder, and his fists clenched in Bruce's shirt.
Bruce marveled at those tiny hands. Had each of his children really been this small once? It was hard to believe, almost harder to believe than believing aliens existed when Bruce had first encountered that evidence. And here was evidence for each of his kids having been truly kids.
Shaking his head in awe, Bruce headed for the family wing, walking slowly to let Damian sleep. By the time he reached the bedrooms, the lights were already out in Duke's, Tim's, and Jason's rooms. Cass had her light still on, as did Dick. Bruce would have to check on all of them, he decided to himself.
In Damian's bedroom, Bruce left the lights off. He pulled the bedclothes aside, placed Damian carefully on the mattress, and pulled the sheet and blanket over him.
Damian made a small content sound, almost a hum.
"Good night," Bruce whispered, and he stroked a hand over Damian's head in wonder. Then he left the bedroom.
Stepping into Duke's bedroom, then Tim's, then Jason's, Bruce confirmed that, yes, all three were in bed and, somewhat surprisingly, already asleep. Maybe that wasn't so surprising, though. They'd had a big day of becoming little, after all.
By the time Bruce left Jason's room, Cass had her light off too, and Bruce stepped in to check on her too. She was blinking lazily at the open door, and Bruce gave her a little wave.
She gave an amused huff and waved back.
"Good night," Bruce said quietly, and he went back out.
Turning to look down the hallway, Bruce noticed there was still a glow from under Dick's door. He headed for that bedroom, then hesitated at the door. Maybe Dick had fallen asleep with the lights on? If so, Bruce didn't want to wake him. He wasn't sure what to do, and he sighed.
"Hello?" A small voice called, sounding almost scared.
Dick had not fallen asleep with the lights on, and now Bruce knew it. He opened the door, only to dodge a pillow thrown his way.
"Oh!" Dick exclaimed, stammering from where he sat on his bed. "Sorry, Bruce. I mean, I didn't- I wasn't-"
"What?" Bruce asked when Dick cut himself off.
Dick's shoulders hunched up. He looked… Embarrassed? Frightened? Definitely not sleepy.
"It's okay," Bruce said, confused but concerned.
"I thought you were someone else," Dick said slowly.
Bruce blinked. The only other person he could think of to check on Dick at this time was Alfred, and the chances of Dick throwing a pillow at Alfred were significantly lower than the chances of Dick throwing a pillow at Bruce. "Who?"
Dick's shoulders hunched up more. Eventually, he mumbled. "I don't know. Somebody else. A monster, maybe."
Bruce tried not to laugh. Really, he did. But a snort escaped him anyway.
"It's not funny!" Dick protested, but he started to smile too. "Really, it's not!"
"It is a little," Bruce said.
"A little," Dick admitted with a sigh. "What, I can fight Scarecrow and beat up Bane, but the minute the hallway lights go low, I start thinking there's monsters out there?"
"Apparently," Bruce said.
Dick groaned and flopped backward on his pillow.
Bruce came all the way into the room and motioned to the edge of Dick's bed.
Dick nodded.
Sitting down, Bruce patted Dick's shoulder. "What a day, huh?"
"What a day," Dick repeated. "Yeah. And you know, I didn't want to go to bed, but I'm super tired, way more than I should be."
"Maybe losing years makes you lose energy," Bruce suggested.
"Maybe," Dick said with another groan. "Okay. I'm gonna go to sleep now."
"Good night, then," Bruce said, patting Dick's shoulder again before standing. He headed for the door and reached out to the light switch, only for another pillow to come flying his way. Bruce dodged it and raised his eyebrows at Dick.
"Leave it on," Dick said.
"It'll be harder to fall asleep with the light on," Bruce pointed out.
"Leave it on," Dick repeated firmly.
"What if we go to the bathroom light being on instead?" Bruce asked. "You can even leave the door to the bathroom open if you want."
Dick considered that. "I guess that'd be okay."
Bruce crossed the room, turned on the bathroom light, and came back to the door, hovering a hand over that light switch and watching Dick.
Dick nodded reluctantly.
Bruce flipped the switch.
"That's fine," Dick said. "Okay. Night."
"Good night," Bruce said again, and he left the room for his own bedroom. Or at least, he tried. Instead, he found himself pacing back and forth between the doors, listening at each room, worrying about each one's inhabitant.
Bruce smirked. Alfred had told him before about peeking into Bruce's room at various times, mostly when Bruce was young but still occasionally now, just to check that Bruce was good, was okay, was still breathing. Bruce had done this sort of thing before too, but usually only when one of his kids was physically hurt or emotionally distressed.
At least they were all asleep or well on their way now, he consoled himself as he went to his own bed and finally closed his eyes. There wasn't much of a chance for them to get hurt or distressed in their sleep, right?
Something was nudging him. No, nudging wasn't the right word, Bruce decided. It was really more of a poke, first to his cheek, then to his forehead, then to his nose, and then-
Ow.
Right to the eyelid.
"What?" Bruce groaned, scrunching up his face and speaking before he could stop himself to think through if he'd been captured as Batman or as Brucie Wayne.
"B," a voice called. "Something's wrong."
Something was indeed wrong, because that was Jason's voice, but… young?
The events of the previous day came back in a hurry.
Bruce opened his eyes and sat up.
"Something's wrong," Jason said again. He was standing by Bruce's bed, fidgeting with the sleeves of his pajama shirt. "I mean, it's not a big deal or anything, and I don't really care why, but someone's crying, and, uh, and it's too loud. It woke me up, and I can't get back to sleep. So that's why I came to get you. Yeah."
Bruce stared at him for a second, parsing that.
Jason flushed. "I don't really care, okay!"
"Right," Bruce smirked a little, before realizing what the rest of what Jason said had to mean. "Wait, which of your siblings-"
"It's coming from Damian's room," Jason answered before Bruce can even finish the question.
Getting out of bed, Bruce jogged to Damian's room, Jason not far behind. Already hearing the sobbing, Bruce knocked on the door. "Damian?"
The sobbing paused, then resumed at half the volume, still clearly audible, though.
"He's still crying," Jason said, and for all he didn't "really care," he still sounded really worried.
Bruce knocked again, then, when no answer came, he said, "I'm coming in."
The sobbing tripled in volume.
Bruce opened the door.
He wasn't sure what he expected to find. A broken arm from falling out of bed? For a four-year-old, that was a relatively long distance. A sweaty forehead from getting sick? Little kids didn't have great immune systems. A villain from the city having broken in? That was probably not likely, but still.
He sure didn't expect to find what he found, though.
Instead of an injury, an illness, or even a villain, he found a strong smell.
Jason, coming up behind him, skidded to a stop. "Oh. Uhhhhh…"
Damian's sobbing continued.
And of course it did.
After all, it couldn't be very comfortable, lying in a puddle of-
"Is that pee?" Jason asked frankly.
Damian just wailed.
"You're on your own," Jason said, and he ran back to his own bedroom, shutting the door quickly behind him.
Clearly, Jason didn't know what to do.
Obviously, Damian didn't know what to do.
Unfortunately, Bruce didn't know what to do either. But he did know he needed to help.
"Okay," Bruce said. "Okay. Okay, Damian, are you okay?"
"Noooo," Damian whined, fresh tears springing to his eyes.
Bruce's heart ached. "Well, I'm going to make sure you get to be okay."
Damian sniffled, but he nodded.
Acting mostly on instinct, Bruce stepped forward and pulled the sheet and blanket off of Damian, piling them on the edge of the bed.
Damian sniffled again. "I… I apologize. I did not think this would-"
"Neither did I," Bruce sighed, reaching out to Damian. "But it's okay. It'll be okay. Come here."
Damian hesitated, but when he squirmed, the wet sheet beneath him made a squishing sound. Damian's face crumpled up, and he reached out to Bruce in turn.
Bruce lifted him and set him on the floor carefully. "Let's grab some more of those clothes Alfred got you. Where are they at?"
Damian pointed across the room.
Bruce took a few strides over and picked up a shirt and pants, basically at random. He wasn't even certain they were pajamas, but they seemed soft enough to sleep in, so they would work. What mattered right now was getting Damian comfortable. "Good. Let's go into the bathroom."
"But-" Damian began, voice wavering and stopping. He tried again. "You- I do not-"
"I'm just going to get you some wet washcloths," Bruce said hurriedly. "If you don't want me in there, I won't be in there."
Damian nodded slowly and followed him into the bathroom.
After placing the clothes on the floor, Bruce wet down a few washcloths and placed them, a dry towel, and a bar of soap on the edge of the bathtub, within Damian's reach. He grabbed an air-cleaning spray too before stopping in the doorway. "There you go. I'll be right out in your room, okay?"
"Okay," Damian said, still crying but a little more quietly now.
After using the air-cleaning spray liberally, Bruce hovered just outside the bathroom door, his mind blank except for listening intently to the soft sounds within the bathroom: sniffling, sobbing, scrubbing, and finally, a sigh.
The door opened, and Damian stepped out, tears still streaking down his face. "What do I do with, with my, with the…"
"I'll take them," Bruce said, and he stepped past Damian, picked up the dirtied pajamas by their still-dry edges, and walked back into the bedroom to place them on top of the wet bedclothes. Then he paused and turned around.
Damian was watching, face blotchy and damp and continually getting more so.
"Oh, Damian," Bruce sighed as he rushed over to pick Damian up.
"I apologize," Damian said again, this time into the sleeve of Bruce's shirt.
"No need to apologize," Bruce said, looking around and spying exactly what he wanted. "Everything's okay. Come on."
He walked across the room to the recliner beside a standard desk chair, for the times Damian got tired of doing art at his desk and wanted to be more comfortable. Bruce sat, reclined the chair back, and popped up the leg rest, all without letting go of Damian. He settled Damian on his lap, gently tugging Damian to lean back against him.
"Just relax," Bruce soothed. "Let's rest for a little bit before we try to change anything, okay?"
"Okay," Damian hiccupped, tears finally slowing down. He let out a sigh and slumped against Bruce, murmuring as his eyes closed, "Thank you, Father."
"Of course," Bruce said softly, and his own eyes fluttered closed too.