To Macarena, Sarah, DCLOVER, Eve, Kate, Emma, Jenny: Thank you :D !

Son

Part 8

"I don't wanna sleep!" Hippolyte shouted the moment they crossed the threshold of the bedroom.

The two adults exchanged bewildered stares as the little boy crossed his arms and sat on the floor, pouting like his life depended on it. Bruce did not think Hip was the kind of child to put up a fuss when it came to obeying, and given Diana's startled expression, this was the first time it ever happened. She crouched by his side, trying to catch his eye.

"Is something wrong my love?" she asked, slightly worried.

"I'm not tired," he mumbled. The lines beneath his eyes tended to contradict his words. Bruce found it oddly familiar and wondered if Hip had inherited that grumpy stare from him. "I want to stay with you."

By tactical agreement, Bruce and Diana had decided to wait after Hippolyte had gone to nap for their friendly spar. Neither had wanted any potential distraction during practice and to be honest, Bruce discarded the idea of that little boy wandering in such a place. If he had anything to say about it, the boy would not meet the basement until quite a few years. Of course, Hip would eventually, as a proper Wayne troublemaker, find a way to sneak in. The thought of baby-proofing the cave soon briefly crossed his mind. Bruce snorted at the amount of money he would have to invest to protect both his son and his equipment.

And so they had returned to the kitchen for lunch. There had been a light tension between the adults. Alfred had still not gotten over his initial dislike of Diana, but was willing to play along. Bruce had tried to work on his natural distrust, but hadn't quite succeeded. Diana had remained exceedingly polite, but not overly friendly. Only Hippolyte's incessant chatter had permitted the atmosphere to lighten up.

Until it had been time to go to sleep.

"You always take a nap," Diana said as patiently as a perplexed parent could. "You know you need it."

Hip glared -as much as a young child could glare. Bruce thought it adorable.

"I. Don't. Wanna," he protested and repeated: "I want to stay with you."

"We are in the same house, Hip," Bruce said. "We won't be far."

He had just wanted to be reassuring and second Diana in her decision. Hippolyte turned his glare upon him, looking thoroughly betrayed. Only years of mastering his face permitted Bruce not to grin back at the upset, but terribly cute, face.

"But you…" his voice faded as his face suddenly brightened: "Stay and nap with me!"

Diana's eyes popped wide open, which certainly matched his own bewilderment.

"Hip," she started.

"Pleaaaase? Mother? Mister Bruce?" He opened wide puppy eyes and bit his lower lip. "We can all sleep together!"

That was too much. Bruce forgot his surprise and had to cough to hide his laugh. Diana's confusion did not waver. Instead, she glanced him, as if seeking for his opinion. Bruce shrugged lightly. It would be up to her. She made up her mind and turned back to face her son.

"Just a little while my love," she warned as the little boy beamed. "Mister Bruce and I still have some matters to discuss."

"Yes mother," Hippolyte agreed eagerly and this time, he jumped on his feet to pick his pajamas much more enthusiastically.

As he changed clothes, Diana stood and whispered to Bruce:

"Just lay next to him, he's asleep pretty fast. Thank you for indulging him."

Anytime, he wanted to reply. He had no illusion that Diana would fly back to Paris with Hip, even though she promised they would keep in touch. He just wanted to spend as much time as he could with his son.

Hippolyte snuggled under the covers and motioned them to join him. Diana picked the right side while he took the left. Happily settled in the middle, the little boy closed his eyes.

Nobody moved for some time. Though Bruce knew Hip had fallen asleep, he didn't try to break the silence. He stared at the ceiling, feeling sleepy himself. His afternoon nap usually happened around this time and his mind was starting to tire. He hadn't taken much time to digest the revelations of these past two days either. Not to mention, the bed was warm and inviting, perfectly adapted for his back.

Bruce glanced quickly towards the suspiciously quiet other adult. Diana had curled on the side, her face halfway buried in the pillow. Her eyes were closed and her breathing had turned slow and regular. He bit back a laugh when he realized she too, had succumbed to sleep. She looked so normal, not an inch of that dangerous woman he had met the previous night. It brought him back to their first encounter, when he had felt so peaceful lying next to that complete stranger. Diana had been comforting, and they had connected at a different level that night. Both had been trying very hard to forget awful memories and his focus had not gone far beyond the pleasure they could give each other. The current situation was so far different now, but no less…relaxing.

He closed his eyes.

Just for a little while, he thought. After all, he needed Diana for the afternoon and he didn't have the heart to wake her just yet. If she could rest, then he might doze off as well. No falling asleep for him though, his trust in her had limits.

Just for a little while…

Son

Diana slowly stirred awake. She opened her eyes, stared at the grey ceiling. She was lying on a big comfortable bed, just over the sheets. Hippolyte was lying beside her, a vague smile on his sleeping face. On the other side of the bed, a man was passed out too.

Tension swept in her bones before she remembered where she was, and with whom. She blinked to chase the remains of the sleepiness and slowly sat up. Bruce did not even stir when the sheets moved. According to the relaxed lines of his face, he had joined them in slumber. A quick glance at the alarm told her she had drifted off for about an hour and a half.

It startled her. She hadn't felt particularly tired earlier. In spite of her short night, she had caught a few hours of sleep. And even if she hadn't, it wouldn't be the first time she had to skip a night after a nightly investigation. Her eyes focused on her son and she wondered if he had anything to do with it. His mini-tantrum had caught her off-guard, as had his insistence for all of them to share a bed. Though she was genuinely grateful that Bruce had played along, she doubted he would have willingly fallen asleep in her presence.

Bruce grumbled in his sleep and frowned. The expression was so Hippolyte-like Diana nearly reached out to soothe him in reflex. Instead, she stared at his profile for a moment. Her friends and surrogate family had always claimed Hippolyte took after her, but now that they lay side by side, Diana wasn't so certain. Hip had his father's eyes and nose, and his jaw promised to grow in a similar shape. She thought the vaguely wavy hair came from her mother, but Bruce had the same base too.

Her eyes left his face to trail down the rest of his body. His clothes were tailored to fit him perfectly, and she briefly remembered him without them. He had made an impression back then, with the strength he possessed -nothing compared to hers, but far stronger than any man she had bedded. He was handsome and charismatic. Even sleeping, he had an appeal that called to her. Diana knew herself to be a beautiful woman. If Hip inherited both of their genes, she had no doubt he would grow into a very handsome man.

Hippolyte muttered something intangible and frowned, mimicking his father.

Diana smiled tightly. Her hand brushed the top of his head in a gentle caress. He didn't stir, as she didn't expect him too, but the frown eased and he smiled again. She dropped a kiss on his forehead. As she pulled back, she wondered if Hippolyte had truly induced them to sleep, and if he had done so willingly.

Are you hiding something from me, my love? she wondered, and stood from the bed. Suspicions would have to wait until he woke.

Her feet made no sound as she walked to the door and opened it. She glanced again at the amusing picture before her: a bear of a man and a tiny boy, both oblivious to the world. Diana smiled and left the room. She did not encounter Alfred on the way and assumed he must have returned to wherever he lived, or gone to do some chores, or even return to the cave. She had noted the efforts he had made to be civil to her, no doubt to please Hippolyte. She ought to return the favor, if he was to become a fixture in Hip's future too. The butler seemed to have been around Bruce for a long time, long enough to share his secrets. Perhaps Hip had gained another grandfather, she thought in amusement.

While she waited for either man to wake, she sat on the couch and turned her laptop on. A series of unread emails appeared on her screen. Nadia had sent her a picture of her latest grandchild. Mo, an old acquaintance from Arabia, was asking her to check a letter for spelling mistakes. Her head of department, Mr. Berne, inquired if the trip was up to expectations. She first replied to her colleague, confirming that the private collection had been secured for a future exposition. Then, she quickly read over Mo's letter. She was about to run through the pictures Nadia had sent when a heavy set of footsteps broke the silence.

Bruce appeared in the corridor, still looking sleepy.

"That was surprisingly refortifying," he merely commented and blinked slowly at her. He seemed about to add something but instead changed his mind and asked: "Are we ready for our…appointment?"

To be honest, she was in no mood to fight. Earlier that day, she had wanted to test him, see how strong he might be. Though she was of pacific nature, she didn't mind the occasional scuffle with a trained fighter. From every rumor she had heard, the Bat was a warrior through and through. And yet…the nap seemed to have evacuated every desire to raise her fists.

Still, Bruce seemed keen on going on and she had a competitive nature. If he wanted to throw a few fists, she would not balk.

"I don't want to leave Hippolyte alone in a house he is not familiar with. Can M. Pennyworth stay until he wakes?"

"Alfred won't mind. He must be in the garden," Bruce said. "If he saw us sleeping-" at those words, he winced slightly. Embarrassed perhaps? "He must have left outside. And I remember him mentioning something about needing more wood for the chimney."

Diana quickly shut her laptop and set it aside. Bruce pulled out his phone and texted something. He had barely put his phone back into his pocket when he heard a smashing:

"NO!"

Son

Hippolyte woke up listening to silence. The mattress he laid on was comfortable and the sheets soft. The smell on the sheets was not the one he was used to, but not disagreeable. He curled on his side and buried his face deeper in the pillow. He was not tired anymore, but he liked mattress and the sheets. They felt like a cocoon, and they helped him sleep. His first thought went to mother. He wondered if she loved the mattress as much as he did. Mother did not usually mind, but she must have. Then his thoughts turned to Mister Bruce. Mister Bruce was a big man; it was not surprising he slept in such a big bed.

He suddenly gasped and opened his eyes. The bedroom was silent because he was alone.

No, he thought. His heart beat faster as he tumbled down the large bed and ran to the door. The house was big and mostly silent. He could hear mother and Mister Bruce talking. The words were polite but everything else…

Nonononono

It wasn't right. It was not right.

"NO!"

The two adults jumped at his voice. He ran to them, launched himself onto the one person he trusted in the entire world. Mother was a tall woman, but he could hold her leg still if he clenched hard enough.

"Don't fight!" he ordered, almost shouting. "I don't want you to fight!"

Hippolyte felt mother trying to move. He held on tighter. He was not as strong as her, but she always told him he was as much as a bullhead than she, whatever that meant, and he would one day move mountains. Right now, he did not want either to move.

"Don't fight please," he muttered. "Not like that."

He could not explain why. He only knew that he must stop them. He loved mother and he liked Mister Bruce. Both were big and strong. But they acted weird when they were alone together, and he did not want them to hurt.

"We were just going to train my love," mother said as she ran a hand in his hair. It always calmed him, but not today. "We won't hurt each other. It's just like me and Mo, when we train together."

Mo was a soldier and a friend of mother. Hippolyte liked Mo too. But mother and Mo trained because they wanted to get better. Well, because Mo wanted to get better. Mother was the strongest of all. Mister Bruce and mother did not know each other well. They could not train because Mister Bruce wanted to get better.

"Not the same," Hippolyte protested. His throat was so tight it almost hurt to speak, but he went on. "It's wrong. You can't fight."

Mister Bruce crouched next to him.

"Why don't we go outside instead?" he said in the same tone Ethan used when Hippolyte was sad. "We could return to the lake."

He peeked away from mother's leg and met his eyes. Mister Bruce looked uneasy. Perhaps he did not often upset people? But most importantly, Mister Bruce was forgetting about fighting.

"Fighting is wrong." Mister Bruce did not reply, so he went on: "It's not a right training…it feels wrong."

What if mother hurt Mister Bruce? Mister Bruce was very particular; mother would not pay him special attention if he was not. Hippolyte was certain Mister Bruce was kind, but could get easily upset. He did not know mother well. He did not know mother would never hurt people out of meanness. A worse thought crossed his mind: what if Mister Bruce hurt mother? How would mother like him anymore?

"I suppose we should postpone for the time being, we will have other opportunities," mother eventually said.

Mister Bruce agreed immediately. Hippolyte sighed in relief. His throat felt less tight and he could breathe more easily. The bad feeling lifted as he agreed for another tour of the lake, and maybe playing with Lego later. No-one would fight today.

Son

The clock ticked past seven pm. The living room felt awfully empty now that his two guests had left. Bruce held the drawing Hip had done for him before departing. It was a colorful picture of the lake outside with stick characters around it. His title 'Mister Bruce' stood over the thickest one. 'Mother', 'Mister Alfred' and 'Hip' lined over the three others. If not for this afternoon tantrum, Bruce would have pictured him to be a stable, happy, normal child.

Hippolyte was a stable, happy child, he amended, just not quite normal. He seemed to read people's emotions far too easily. Even the previous day, when he had told him the story of the Dark Knight, Hippolyte had sensed his uneasiness and tried to comfort him. Diana had said she would keep a closer eye on her son to figure out if he had any hidden ability and keep him informed. He trusted that she would. She seemed somewhat content when they said goodbye and in the mood for sharing. Hopefully, the mood would hold on for a while.

"Don't start, Master Wayne. I can hear you think from here."

He turned to face Alfred. The butler had also received a parting gift in the shape of a Lego turtle. He was certain the built-up animal would end in a glass case, adorning the shelves of his private library, the special spot for family gifts.

"I wasn't overthinking," Bruce replied instead. He glanced again at the drawing. "It will take time for her to fully trust us with Hip, but I believe she will."

"You mean it will take time for you to trust yourself with your own son," Alfred nuanced with a slight frown. "You cannot seem to decide whether you want to keep him at arms' length or not."

Bruce snorted.

"Diana knows I'm committed. I won't back out now, I will be part of Hip's life." He paused. "I have a feeling she will ensure it, if only to keep an eye on me too."

"I am glad to hear that," the butler said. But Bruce wasn't done:

"And no more 'Bruce Wayne', Alfred."

Alfred stared at him. Bruce cleared his throat and explained further:

"The playboy act. It's over. 'Bruce Wayne' is part of the reason why Diana wouldn't tell me about my son. I don't want Hippolyte to grow up thinking his father is nothing but a...a coward."

And he didn't want that picture to stick with him when the media find out he had a son. People would find out one day –the later the better. There would be talk about the time of his conception; it would not be hard to draw the parallel between Jason's death and Hippolyte's birth. And Diana wouldn't approve either. She was already risking exposure by agreeing to let him see his son. Given her history, he doubted she would appreciate her face being plastered on trash magazines. Not to mention, the picture was growing old and heavy to carry. He would perhaps never forget the words she threw at his face, the very previous morning.

"Prove you are more than just a shallow businessman who can't get past his parents' murder."

He was more. He would prove it to her, and to the world. He would become the cliché playboy-billionaire-finally-growing-up. And the media would eventually find a more scandalous subject to delve on.

When he glanced back at his butler, the older man was bearing an expression Bruce had never seen before.

"I take back every ill-thought I had for Miss Prince," he said quietly. "I am very glad you have met this woman."