The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Chapter 4.1 (rough draft 2)

The next day, after a breakfast that involved much sign language, Dick took the Robins back out to play, and workers arrived for the next round of repairs. About midmorning, Bruce received a text from his eldest son:

come out to my location. bring dami

Since Bruce's phone contained various tracking and alert programs, he already knew what had happened. "Damian, come with me."

"Why?"

"Business."

The pouting look left the boy's face, and he promptly abandoned the worker he'd been annoying. "Downstairs?"

"No, I'll show you."

When they headed out past the backyard, Damian pulled back suspiciously. "You're not tricking me into monstersitting, are you?"

"No. They'll be there, but I'm not going to make you deal with them. There's something you'll want to see that coincidentally happens to be where they are."

"What is it?"

"Just please let it be a surprise, Damian. It's a nice one, I promise."

Damian grumbled, but resumed hiking after his father. They crossed the yard and the gardens and started making their way through the trees. Just as they reached the first clearing, Damian heard a rushing sound.

"GENTLE!" someone shouted urgently, and then Damian was tackled to the ground by something that felt the opposite of gentle, but, in hindsight, could have caused much more damage than a bruise or two.

"DAMIAAAAN!"

"Kent! Get off me, you fool!" Damian shouted, trying to sound angry but unable to make his face stop beaming as he was super-glomped by his best friend. Jon had just barely started pulling back when Titus romped over to join in the enthusiastic greeting. "Titus! Stop! What is wrong with you both?!"

Their fathers stood nearby, watching fondly. Clark, who was holding a delighted-looking John, stepped close and set a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "I meant to come check on you sooner, but Metropolis has been a mess. I mean, I know Gotham got it even worse, but...uh...yeah. Wanted to see how you were doing, and Jon's been pretty anxious about Damian."

"We're fine," Bruce murmured, glancing over at his other children. Dick and Duke were successfully keeping the younger Robins distracted from pouncing on Damian as well. "...More fine than I expected to be."

"You look better than I expected you to be." Clark struggled to keep supporting John as the boy started climbing over his shoulder like a cat. "Still an exhausted mess, mind you, but a weirdly happy exhausted mess. It's the kids, right? You always do seem brighter with children around."

"John, stop that." By this time, the boy was upside-down as he inspected Superman's cape, and Clark looked a little nervous as he tried to keep hold of his legs. Bruce pulled the child away entirely and set him on his feet. John screeched in angry protest, but Bruce kept his arms wrapped firmly around his shoulders.

"Even these kids," Clark added in a murmur, gently brushing his knuckle across a slightly stiff cheek and an elfin ear. John grabbed his hands and started manipulating them into ASL signs. Clark let him, raising his gaze to meet Bruce's again. "Are you okay?"

"Sometimes they...hint, and it makes me sick. But overall..." John cooed happily, leaning back against his father as he continued to play with Clark's hands. "They're children who need help. And...I have to help. And it's worth it." He looked out at Damian, who was whooping as Jon zoomed around the clearing with him; Dick, who was singing and dancing his heart out among the wildflowers; Duke, laughing at his exuberance; Peter and Jack, shrieking and hopping and signing in excitement. "It's all worth it."

John broke away and ran to his fellow Robins. A few minutes later, as Bruce was gathering up scattered toys, he heard, "Hey, Bruce, watch this!"

Briefly flashbacking to all the times Dick as a child had called those exact words to him, Bruce turned to look.

What he saw was Superman floating in midair, in an exaggerated casual lounging pose, as Dick did energetic pull-ups on his outstretched arm. "...Six! Seven! Eight! Nine...!"

Bruce thought blankly, 'Why.'

Then Dick yelped, and his controlled grip turned to clinging when Clark startled. Both craned to look over Clark's shoulder, and saw that Peter had jumped high enough to grab the cape and was now clambering up it. John was already rushing to join in. Minutes later, Superman was serving as a midair jungle gym for three of Bruce's children.

"Bruce, help?" Clark called tentatively. Dick, now laughing as he hung upside-down from Clark's still outstretched arm, was being useless. Bruce sighed and went to rescue his friend.

Clark stayed for about an hour, then rose into the air to head to Metropolis, saying that he'd be back in the evening to pick up Jon.

"Bring Lois," Bruce said. "You can all stay for dinner." Clark beamed at him.

The Robins gobbled up new ASL words all morning. They seemed to have trouble with complicated concepts, but the buildup of their basic, everyday vocabulary was a delight to them and a relief to their caretakers.

"My thing, mine, mine," Peter said every time someone got too close to the toy truck he was filling with leaves.

"I love you!" John told Dick again and again.

"Awwww, Johnny, I love you, too!"

"I love you," the boy said to Duke, and to Jack, and to Peter, and to Titus. The dog licked him in the face. "crow!"

"Wet," Dick laughed, signing as he spoke. "The dog's tongue is wet."

"Wet tongue!"

"Tree, sky, flower, leaf, boy," Jack practiced intently. "I want, mine, no, yes, wait. Hello, goodbye, stop, come here, go away."

"How does he remember so many new ones?" Duke marveled.

Dick ruffled Jack's hair affectionately. "Timmy's a genius no matter what universe he's from."

"Ttmmm?"

"Jack."

"Jj'kk." Then with his hand, "Me."

A little before noon, Dick clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. "Heeeeyyy, baby birds! Time for lunch, let's head back to the house!"

"crow?"

"Lunch. Lunch. We are going to the house to eat lunch."

"Lunch house lunch!"

Alfred had been busy with the contractors all morning, so lunch was simply sandwiches. Now that the Robins could communicate better, Bruce was raising the bar on the requirements for earning food.

Since John's speech was the most impaired, he was allowed to get away with simply signing, "Please give me food" for each morsel.

Jack didn't seem to mind much that he was now required to ask for each morsel specifically, and in both languages. "Please give me milk. Mmm...mmmii'kk, ppeess."

"Good job, Jack. You can have some more milk."

Peter loved signing, but was outraged that he was still required, not just to ask verbally, but to enunciate better as well. "Please give me food!"

Bruce put a token, fingerprint-sized piece of bread on his plate for the ASL, but the boy hadn't earned a full morsel. He prompted yet again, "'Food, please.'"

"Ffoo'peez!"

"Fooddd, pllease."

"FFOO'PEEZ!"

"Try again. Foodddd-"

"FFOOOOOOOODD!" Peter screamed, launching himself at Bruce so hard that he knocked the chair over and sent them both crashing to the floor.

By the time a gate notification popped up on Bruce's phone, he was alone in the kitchen with the children, nearing the end of their meal. The others had all long since finished eating, and Dick was taking a break. Bruce tapped at the screen to show the front gate's main camera view of the person who had just requested admittance and was whitelisted on the facial recognition software. "Lucius."

"Bruce."

"Make sure no one follows you in. Should I send Alfred?"

"Maybe you'd better," Lucius said, glancing over his shoulder at the paparazzi, Internet amateurs, and crazies who'd been camped outside the estate, all eager to get post-apocalypse material on Bruce Wayne.

Eventually, Lucius was ushered into the kitchen. John and Jack immediately trotted over to investigate the newcomer, as Peter retreated warily behind the island.

Bruce hurried to keep the boys from getting too grabby. "Boys, this is Lucius. Lucius. Say hello."

"Hello," they both signed.

"Good. John, can you say his name? Lucius. Luuuciuus."

"...cooooo," John tried.

"We'll work on that," Bruce murmured sadly. He noticed Jack picking at Lucius's coat, and tugged the boy away. "Jack, don't touch without permission. Can you say hello to Lucius? Say 'hello' with your mouth." Belatedly, he realized he should probably be teaching the boys to call him 'Mr. Fox,' but it was too late now.

"Hhhh," Jack said, watching Bruce sign the word again.

"'Hello, Lucius.'"

"Hh...hhhhhellllllloo..."

"Luuucius."

"Uhlllloossha!" Peter suddenly shouted. "Oossha!"

"Oops-" Bruce hastily started searching for a treat.

"OOSSHA! OOSSHA!"

"I'm getting it, Peter, I'm getting it, just hold on-" The only reward he could produce on such short notice was a handful of Dick's cereal, which Peter snatched out of his palm and retreated back to his hiding place to eat. Bruce picked up the dropped pieces of cereal, since he had discovered the hard way that the boys would eat any food they found on the floor.

"H'lllo Oossha, h'llo Oosha!" Jack said anxiously, and was rewarded with a handful of cereal as well.

"Hello?" John signed in confusion, then beamed when he got a treat, too, mostly so he wouldn't be left out.

"Sorry," Bruce said to Lucius, looking harassed. "Peter needs motivation to practice speaking."

"I can see now why you've been staying home all week," Lucius remarked.

Dick poked his head into the room. "Everything okay in here?"

"Dd'kkk!"

"[big chirp-chirp]!"

"Play!"

Dick went down laughing as he was tackled by the whole flock of Robins.

"Dick, can you take them outside again?"

Once Bruce and Lucius were alone, they sat down at the kitchen table with cups of coffee, and Lucius started pulling folders and packets out of his briefcase. "We've been making do without you so far, especially now that Tim is on the scene, but these are things that really do need to be signed by you in person."

Bruce spent the next hour reading, signing, and chatting with his old friend in between.

"Tim's told me a bit about your latest ones."

"I honestly don't do it on purpose, Lucius. They just...come to me."

"They seem like more of a handful than your older kids ever were. ...I bet you're not getting much sleep these days." Lucius's voice was as careful as Jim Gordon's had been.

Bruce shook his head. "No more night parties for me, at least for a while."

"Hmm." Lucius now looked sympathetic. "Have you heard from Batman since the crisis? Rumors are going around that he's dead."

"Not dead," Bruce said in a very low voice, his eyes on the document currently in his hands. "Tired." He set the document down, rubbed at his face, then rested his forehead on his hands for a while. Finally he looked up and said, "Which of these documents has not been read by either you or Tim?"

"Bruce, I never bring anything for you to sign that I haven't personally vetted. There are a couple that Tim didn't have time to do more than glance at, though." He started shifting a stack, but Bruce set out a hand to stop him.

"I trust you, Lucius. You do far more to run this company than I do, anyway." He went through the rest of the documents quickly, skimming instead of reading, and signed off on each.

That evening, between all the guests, the Robins, and the sheer number of people present, dinner was a lively affair. They had to eat in the dining room despite the fact that it wasn't, as Alfred fretted, 'presentable' yet, but no one else seemed to mind.

Afterward, Jon begged his parents to let him spend the night, but Bruce saw the strained looks on Clark's and Lois's faces, and made up an excuse so they wouldn't have to. He knew that after what they had recently been through, the thought of splitting up the family overnight was too painful. "If all three of you would like to stay, though, you're welcome to. We have a few habitable guest rooms now."

"I've got work in the morning," Lois said apologetically.

"Awww," Jon pouted. "Well, then can Damian come spend the night with us?"

Now it was Clark's turn to make excuses on his friend's behalf, but before he could speak, Damian stepped close to his father. "Afraid not, Kent. Unfortunately, I have obligations here I can't abandon, so a night away from home is out of the question."

Bruce, knowing that the real reason Damian was reluctant to leave home was the same reason he'd temporarily left the Teen Titans, set a hand on his son's shoulder. Damian leaned into him. 'I don't want you out of my sight, either, kiddo.'

Jon's face fell. "Really?"

"You'll see him again soon," Lois said soothingly. "You can visit again in a few days, and Damian, you and your dad are always welcome to our home."

"Yes, I know."

A little later, after the Kents had left and Bruce was about to start getting the children ready for bed, Dick pulled him aside. "Soooo, hey, Dad."

Bruce read the look on his face, and his heart sank. "You're leaving, too."

"I'll come visit every week," Dick promised. "Maybe more. I just... I can't get Blüdhaven out of my mind, and I really miss my friends-"

"I know. I know, Dick. I told Jason I wouldn't keep him here against his will, and that goes for you, too."

"Jay wasn't your star birdsitter, though," Dick said sympathetically.

"...Yes," Bruce said, his tone defeated.

"You'll manage. You're their dad, too, and this isn't exactly your first rodeo."

"They're not like you and the others. I made mistakes with you all, but I never... I never treated any of you like he treated them, they look at me and they see him, I want to murder him-"

"Bruce," Dick said softly.

Bruce looked back at him. 'Don't leave,' he thought.

Dick leaned to hug him, and they held each other for a long time. He finally pulled back and said, "One more night, then I'll probably take off after breakfast."

"I suppose Alfred and Damian will have to handle the contractors without me."

"I think two control freaks driving the workers crazy are enough. The kids need you more."

'I need you.' But that was not what Dick needed to hear right now, so he didn't say it.

TBC

A/N: In all the canon I've seen, everyone always just walks up the mansion's front steps and rings the doorbell, but I think that's ridiculous. In real life, much, much less wealthy people than Bruce Wayne (and much, much less paranoid people than Batman) have a vetting system in place at their outer gates, so random people can't just stroll in.