Thanks to Macarena, Sarah (maybe a bit clinical, but they are grown adults who know what they want…and no matter how smooth matters seem to get going, they've still got a looooooong way to go :P), Eve (Their relationship may seemed a bit rushed, but they had a few months off-screen over the phone to get to know each other, so it's not like they are complete strangers hooking up. At this point, they're kinda tiptoeing and testing their limits), DCLOVER, Pablo Agustin (it'll happen later –the oneshot chronologically hasn't happened yet :3)

Please read and enjoy!

Son

13

After Nadia and Samira had left, the three spent a quiet day together. Hippolyte didn't show any sign of distress from the previous day's events, which somewhat reassured her. The morning was spent around Hip, who as a child, basked in the attention. Alfred called mid-morning, which thrilled him beyond words. Lunch was simple but reasonably good –thank the gods Nadia had made some leftovers.

During naptime, they caught up with Mo –who had nothing to add to the situation. Diana opened a book while Bruce checked his emails from work. They spoke a little, although not of deeply important matters. He dozed off a little to catch the sleep he missed –and knowing Hip would be hyped later; Diana knew he sorely needed his energy. At three, everyone was up and ready for an outing. They drove to another park where Hip mingled with kids and the two adults spent more time discussing logistics about future visits. It was agreed that this time, Diana and Hip would fly to Gotham on a dozen days during vacations sometime in May. By the end of their debate, Diana even considered leaving Hip with Bruce alone for a week or two. It was only conjuncture at this point; she was not eager to part from her little boy, no matter if she trusted his father with his safety.

As they slowly headed back to her apartment, Hip firmly in the middle, holding both hands, Diana felt oddly…content. She liked the domesticity of the situation, the ease she felt around Bruce. His presence, albeit absent, had gradually grown and integrated their little cocoon and now that he was here…his actual presence felt natural. For once, she was part of an ordinary family. Her family. She did not miss her sisters as much, although their absence stung from time to time. For the first time in a century, that afternoon, she felt…whole.

It could not last. By experience, Diana knew Murphy's Law would come around and throw something in their way. Luthor was still a threat, Bruce was still a caped crusader and she a semi-goddess with a duty. Although her priorities had shifted in the past five years, she would not forget the reason why she left Themyscira in the first place.

Fortunately, nothing came to perturb their evening. Diner went smoothly, the dishes were done and Bruce volunteered to put Hippolyte to bed as she would finish tidying up. Diana had just put the last plate in the cupboard when her phone rang.

She sincerely hoped the peacefulness would not break too soon when she picked it up. The number on the screen appeared unfamiliar. For a split second, she thought Luthor was trying to reach her. Then, she reasoned that if said man wanted to make contact, he would use an unregistered number. Mind made up, she answered:

"Diana Prince."

At first, there was only a sharp inhalation, then silence. Diana frowned as the seconds ticked. Had she been wrong? Was this a prank?

"Hello?" she tried again.

"Uh...hello Diana."

The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it. Not a recent acquaintance then, but no older than five years. She had gotten a new phone when Hippolyte was born. There were very few people who had her number and whose contact she did not have in return. Even fewer who would sound this nervous calling her.

"Who is this?" she asked calmly. She searched in the back of her mind who could possibly reach her now, but a myriad of names led to nothing.

"It's Henry. The man you rescued on the shore." Pause. "The man with no home?"

Diana closed her eyes and breathed in and out. She remembered now. She had been renting an isolated house bordering the sea. After a rather rough storm, a man's body had washed the shores. He had been a guest in their house one long month; a friend, though not a confident. A good man. Hippolyte had just started to learn walking. And she had asked him to leave.

"It has been a few years," she acknowledged eventually. She leaned back against the kitchen table, her free hand gently toying with the edge. She needed to hold onto something real, material. The conversation ahead was not one she had anticipated, nor was she looking forward to. "How are you?"

"Good. I'm good, thank you. And you?"

"Better," she replied honestly. When they had spoken over the phone, her feelings had been in tumult, and she had taken her anger out on him. He had caught her off guard with his intentions, and at the time, they had not been well-received. Perhaps his goodwill had irritated her, but he had not deserved her censure.

"And how is Hippolyte?" he went on.

She smiled involuntarily, as she always did when others asked after him.

"He is growing very fast."

"Good, I mean, I'm glad to hear it." He paused again. The hesitation was clear in his tone. She heard the moment he threw all caution to the wind and broached the true subject of his call: "I found out, Diana. My origins. I kept looking after…" he did not say the words, but she could complete the sentence 'after you rejected me'. "You were right, I would have kept looking. I had to know. And I just found out. Diana," he said faster. "Diana, I wish you were there to see what i see."

She replied nothing. The tone of his voice was raw and filled with emotions. Whatever the man had discovered was recent. She wished he hadn't turned to her, although she suspected his reasons. They hadn't parted on bad terms, but she had offered to listen when he needed an ear. Perhaps he had misunderstood her meaning, as his last phone call three years ago had ended on a much sourer tone. Aside from his mother, she was the only being who had confronted him directly about his secret. She, on the other side, hadn't trusted him with hers.

"I am happy for you, Henry," she said quietly.

"Thank you," he replied breathlessly. There was another pause, another subject he was contemplating discussing with her. Diana was almost certain she knew what it was before he spoke again. "Listen, Diana, I know it's been three years. I –I know you moved away, I went back to the house. But…can we meet again?"

She heard the hope, the yearning. She knew he was honest and kind, knew how his difference made him feel lonely. She knew he genuinely cared, which made her next words harder to say –and harder for him to hear:

"I haven't changed my mind, Henry." She hesitated, and added: "I am back with Hippolyte's father."

The silence on the other line spoke of astonishment, unease, and maybe, just maybe a hint of betrayal.

"He is a good man," she went on. "And he loves Hippolyte."

"Hippolyte is easy to love," Henry retorted, somewhat dryly. He sounded wounded.

"His father is easy to love too," she went on, and found herself surprised by her honesty. Bruce was many things, and a random stranger would not say 'easy to love' if asked about him. But she had always been faced with his rawer side, never his persona, and she liked that he let her see him for who he was. She didn't think Bruce himself realized how different, how open he was in her company.

"And does he love you? Does he treat you like you deserve to be treated?" he signed angrily. "You're the one who said it was complicated, but he abandoned you and your son. How can you-"

"That's enough," she snapped. "You have no right to judge when you don't know half of what happened. I'm sorry Henry. You deserve a good woman, but it will not be me."

Even though he spoke no words, she heard his pain in his silence, in the sharp inhalation, the slow exhalation. She could almost picture him with his eyes closed, his jaw tight in anger.

"Is it because of...my thing?" he asked eventually, and his voice sounded so upset…

"Your difference has nothing to do with my choice," she replied gently. "Sometimes people are not compatible. Henry, I am glad to hear you have found what you were looking for, truly."

"But you will not give me a chance to fight for you."

Diana sighed, less unnerved and more resigned. He had been stubborn, she remembered. Gentle, but stubborn. And if she showed the lightest weakness, he would try again.

"Hippolyte's father is who I want," she said eventually. "And I will always listen should you need to talk to someone. But I will not be more than that, not to you."

A small sound made her glance over her shoulder. Bruce watched her with a blank face, standing by the kitchen door. How long has he been there? How much has he heard?

"I see." The man said instead. He sounded bitter now. "I'm sorry for bothering you."

"Henry-"

"I will leave you alone. I did love you Diana. We could have been happy, you, me and Hippolyte. I know we could." Pause. "Sorry, I don't want to sound –it's your choice, I respect it."

"Thank you, Henry. I wish you the best, truly."

"Diana, one last thing." She waited. He breathed in: "My real name. I want you to know, Henry is just and alias. My real name-"

The line cut from his side. Diana put her phone down on the table. She didn't speak a word as Bruce approached and stood inches away from her.

"Who is Henry?" he inquired. His face was sober, although not jealous. Diana couldn't quite read his mood when he shut his emotions down like that, but she was quite certain he was not hostile.

"He's the main character of the story the man with no home," she replied. When he blinked in recognition, she added: "He is someone I met a while back, who needed a friend. He eventually came to want more."

"And you didn't?"

She met his suspicious tone with a thin smile.

"Hip was not yet a year old, I wanted my sweet boy for myself. I didn't have the…I didn't want anyone in my life, I wasn't ready."

"And you are now?"

If Diana hadn't known him better, she would think him highly sarcastic. As it was, she was surprised to see his mask drop briefly –the hint of vulnerability and the same longing she thought she heard in her caller's voice. Somewhat, the realization that he might genuinely want her too made her stomach clamp nervously.

"Henry" or whatever his name "is not Hippolyte's father. He is not aware of who I am either." She met his eyes. "I don't know how much you overheard, but I was sincere when I said you are who I wa-"

Her words were interrupted when he leant forward, brushed her mouth with his own in the gentlest kiss she ever received.

Diana closed her eyes, inhaled gently. When they parted, she opened her eyes again. Bruce looked stiff, closed up and if her instincts didn't fail her, terrified. She cupped his cheek and did not hesitate to initiate the next kiss. As if her gesture had given him a green light, she felt his arms around her waist, pull her closer. The kiss intensified. One hand stood firmly on the small of her waist while the other crept up her back. Her fingers slipped in his hair while another rested over his chest. His heart pounded loudly, perhaps as loudly as hers.

They parted for air, breathing heavily, not releasing each other yet. Her body was humming pleasantly. Their foreheads rested against the other.

"What now?" he asked.

He was aroused, she could feel his reaction. Diana also knew he would immediately get a cold shower should she refuse to go further. In her mind, especially after the previous night, she never doubted they would end up together in some way. She had just not expected him to make a move so fast, nor did she fear what was to come.

"Do you trust me?" she asked instead. He nodded. She stepped back, took his hand and linked their fingers together. "Is it too fast?"

His heated gaze could have set her aflame. He shook his head lightly and squeezed her hand in return.

"You aren't doing this because of Hip?" he inquired quietly.

She looked at their intertwined fingers, felt the strong and yet delicate hold. She looked back into his eyes. Hippolyte would always be part of them, but…

"No, I'm not. Are you?" she asked in return, suddenly fearful of the answer. Bruce was silent a few moments before he shook his head.

"You are who I want too," he echoed quietly, and this time, she smiled.

Son

Hours later, Bruce woke up in an unfamiliar bed –which wasn't unusual given the past ten years, curled around a woman –a little more unusual since he never slept too close to his flings. Then, he noted that said woman was Diana, that his own skin was as bare as hers -very soft and warm and smooth and inviting to something more -which had already happened the past night –and he was not sorry for it.

He ran his hand over her shoulder just because he could, followed the line of her ribs, the curve of her abdomen, slid down her stomach and trailed up to her chest. His fingers came in contact with one of her round breasts, cupped it gently and ran a thumb over her nipple. He felt the shift in her breathing pattern, felt her tense slightly before relaxing, probably remembering who she was with.

"Morning," Bruce whispered in the nape of her neck and dropped a kiss at the top of her spine. The responding shiver didn't go unnoticed.

"Morning," she replied and shifted around. He had to release her so she could face him.

"Rough night?" he inquired, the corner of his lips twisting upwards.

"Somewhat," she replied seriously, but the humor in her eyes was unmistakable. Fuck, he could stare at that face for hours. She was rested now, smiling at him like they had all the time in the world, not like he was supposed to jump back on the plane the next morning. She reached out and cupped his cheek. "Don't think too hard Bruce. We're fine."

He didn't reply, merely nodded. He didn't want to leave her bed. He wanted to roll her over, take her until she gasped his name again and again, just to silence her with his mouth. He wanted-

She suddenly stood up and reached for a nightgown lying on the floor. Bruce only stared in puzzlement as she hastily slipped her nightdress on.

"Put on your boxers," she ordered hurriedly.

"Uh?"

"Hip joins me in bed around eight on Saturdays and he is very punctual," she went on. The clock showed seven fifty. He cursed and reached for the fabric on the floor. He'd barely snuck it on that a knock was heard on the door. Diana sneaked back into bed, grinning when she called: "Come in my love."

Hippolyte opened the door, frowned at the sight of his mother sharing the bed with someone. His eyes stopped on Bruce and widened almost comically. When nobody moved, Diana renewed her encouragement:

"Come, my love," she repeated. Hippolyte didn't bulge. She added: "Hip, you know Mister Bruce. Don't be scared."

The child hesitated a few seconds longer, then taking comfort in his mother's words, stepped forward. He jumped on the bottom of the bed, squirmed in the middle of the two and gave Bruce a small glare to indicate his displeasure. Bruce was suddenly reminded of how everyone 'aww-ed' when he tried to look intimidating at the tender age of five and understood their reaction; Hippolyte was too darn cute to be scary.

"Did you sleep well?" Diana inquired.

"Yes mother," he replied shortly. "Did you?"

"Yes I did," she said.

"You slept well even though you jumped all night on the bed?" he questioned suspiciously. The two adults exchanged a wary glance. Hippolyte's voice grew into a whisper: "Mother, why is Mister Bruce almost naked?"

"Bruce forgot his PJs," she replied naturally.

"But his clothes are all over the floor," the boy complained, as if it was his room that had turned into a mess. "You're not very tidy, are you?" he asked, addressing Bruce for the first time.

"I have my moments," Bruce admitted. Hippolyte pouted and his eyes stopped on his chest. The bare chest covered with scars of all sizes, some more recent than others, curtsy of his latest nightly escapade.

"Wow," the little boy whistled and stared at a particularly impressive leftover of Bane's. "This one is huge."

"Hippolyte," Diana said warningly. "What did I say about people and their injuries?"

"Do not stare and ask without permission," he repeated and looked up to Bruce. "Can I touch them?"

Bruce hesitated a brief moment. Much to his relief, Hippolyte actually waited for his approval. He steeled himself and nodded. His small hand felt cold and cool on his skin. The child's touch was careful and cautious, as if he was afraid the wounds would reopen. The awe on his face was puzzling, as if he couldn't make up his mind on whether he should be impressed or sad. After a while, Hippolyte lifted his head and crossed his gaze. Neither said a thing for a moment. Then, out of the blue, Hippolyte hugged him. Bruce tensed, glanced at Diana in confusion. She looked a little sad, but proud.

"You are very brave mister Bruce," Hippolyte said eventually. "Don't move, I'll make the breakfast."

"Hip," Diana started. "You can't even reach the sink."

"I have a stool and I am five now," he shot back, crawling down the mattress and taking off without another word. Before shutting the door, he glared at them one last time and pointed his finger at them accusingly: "I will do the breakfast. Do not move."

And he then departed. Bruce stared at the door, still trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

"One of his friends was an old veteran," Diana explained softly. "He died not so long ago." She traced the same scar Hippolyte had. "Hip mentioned he had this big injury during the war, and that François believed scars proved bravery." She looked back at him. "You just got promoted in his esteem."

"That is nice to hear," he replied drawly and couldn't help but ask: "Have I grown in your esteem?"

She bit her lower lip, her eyes drifting at his chest again. Then, she surprised him by leaning forward and kissing his cheek.

"I already told you, Bruce, you are a good man and I am glad you are his father." She pulled back, meeting his eyes with a tenderness he swore he had never seen before. "You have nothing to prove to me."

He wondered if she could hear how loudly his heart was pounding. He hurriedly tried to focus on something more trivial, that would distract him from the feelings he was not used to deal with swirling in his mind.

"Is it safe to let him prepare the breakfast?"

Diana chuckled and rolled her eyes.

"His vision of a breakfast is cereals, an apple, and orange juice. He is too small to reach the bowls though." She paused, waited a few seconds, and schooled her expression when her bedroom door creaked open again.

"Mother, I can't reach the milk," Hippolyte's frustrated tune almost made Bruce cackle –Diana shoved her elbow in his sides to keep him from doing so.

"Bruce and I will be up in a minute, my love," she said lightly. She kissed his cheek, he would bet on impulse, and left the bed. Bruce followed suit. His suitcase had been brought into Diana's room when Nadia had occupied the guest room, so he put his pjs on before heading downstairs. Hippolyte was running around the kitchen, taking charge with useless orders, while his mother set the table. He looked at the two. A feeling he hadn't sensed in a while–ever since his parents' death, if he were honest -grew in his chest. He was no more just content. He was happy.

Hippolyte ran past him. In a playful mood, Bruce caught him mid step and hoisted him up. The boy shrieked in surprise, then in delight as the man threw him over his shoulder and kept walking to the kitchen table. Diana smiled, bemused.

"Put me down!" Hip protested, his legs kicking in the wild. Both parents could hear the giggles he was trying to tune down. "Mister Bruce! put me down!"

Bruce complied, but settled the boy on a chair instead of the ground.

"Don't run around the kitchen, Hip," he said as he pulled his own chair to sit. Hip pulled his tongue. Bruce frowned and growled in return. The boy looked over to his mother and said pleadingly:

"Mother?"

Her answer was a serene smile and a bowl of cereals with milk set in front of him.

"Listen to Bruce, he is right."

The boy dug into his breakfast reluctantly. Bruce was served a coffee –same as Diana, and ate some leftover cake from the previous day.

"When is Mister Bruce leaving?" Hippolyte asked, his mouth full of cereals.

"Are you tired of me already?" Bruce retorted half-jokingly. The little boy shook his head –and he felt oddly relieved.

"His plane is tomorrow morning, my love. I will drive him at the airport after dropping you off to school," Diana replied for him. Upon the saddest puppy look even, she added: "It's only for a short time; you will see him in May." He peeked up at that. "I have to meet with Mr. Berne to clear my schedule, but we will be flying to visit Bruce."

Comforted by her words, Hippolyte resumed eating his breakfast happily. Bruce also realized his cheeks were hurting as he had rarely smiled so widely in the past decade.

Son

It wasn't until the late morning that Diana had to leave briefly. A phone call from Nadia –who had moved her fridge to reach Samira's hamster but could not retrieve it –had her reluctantly depart, only for an hour top. Bruce and Hippolyte were left to their own device, which thrilled the boy as he determinedly pulled out the case containing his construction blocks.

Bruce, having at least doubled its content with his birthday gifts, was immediately required to help. Hippolyte pointed a picture and declared he wanted to build 'that thing' -which turned out to be the Tower Bridge of London. They had been at it for forty minutes –between Hip's overly complicated explanation on why they had to separate the red cubes from the blue ones and not mix them together because it was all wrong, accidental moves that made their pseudo tower crumble before it went too high, and occasional rants about random affairs –when Bruce started to realize the little boy seemed a little…off.

Even though he mostly knew his son through the phone, he had enough experience with people in general to understand what was not said. Hippolyte was not an adult with dozens of layers, but he was pretty tough to read sometimes. Still, Bruce thought he could spot a subdue temper, especially coming from someone as energetic as Hip.

"Tell me, is something wrong?" he asked the boy eventually. They had finally achieved to construct the intended building with a striking resemblance to the original.

"No," Hip replied, and the tone of his voice said everything. Bruce put in review the things that had happened over the two past days and started with the most obvious:

"Are you thinking of the mad man?" His son blinked at him owlishly. Apparently not. "Is it because I was with Diana this morning?"

The boy blinked twice and looked down at the ground. Something was bothering him seriously, and Bruce genuinely hoped they would solve the matter quickly. He didn't want to leave on bad terms with Hip. Perhaps he had gone too fast with Diana, perhaps they should be discreet for a time. If Hip couldn't get used to the idea that he had a more important role in his life, albeit from a distance…

"Mister Bruce?" Hippolyte whispered after a while.

Bruce studied the behavior, his tiny teeth biting his lower lip nervously.

"Yes Hip?"

Confused blue eyes met his, and his question echoed like thunder in the small bedroom.

"Are you my father?"