The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Chapter 10.2 (rough draft 2)
Duke's 'Dad night' request had been for Bruce to accompany him and his friends to laser tag and pizza (in Blüdhaven, since the only family-friendly entertainment establishment that had so far re-opened in Gotham was a half-rebuilt movie theater).
On the way home, they stopped a couple of minor crimes and then brought some snacks down to the Batcave to relieve Alfred from tech support duty. They spent a few quiet hours occasionally looking up things for the Bats in the field in between keeping an eye on the Robin Monitor and watching the movie queue Duke had put on. Bruce felt strange acting as support rather than an active agent, but role reversals were starting to become his new normal.
"Quiet night," Orphan finally said to the team. "Go sleep, all. Batman, me, enough."
"You sure, Orphan?" Nightwing asked.
"I have other things I can be doing," Red Robin said. "If Orphan and Batboy keep monitoring-"
"BatMAN."
Red Robin continued as if he hadn't even heard Batman's indignant correction. "-then I'm going to head over to-"
"No," Orphan cut in. "Red Robin most."
"You do have further responsibilities in the morning, Red Robin," Bruce pointed out.
"All you," Orphan agreed, "work, birds. Batman, me... ... Don't know word."
"Unattached," Duke supplied. "You two can sleep all day tomorrow; the rest can't."
"Un-a-ttached," Orphan repeated thoughtfully.
"Got it," Nightwing said. "B, I'll grab Red Robin and then start heading back."
"If you can findme!" Red Robin said indignantly, then yelped. There was the sound of a scuffle.
"Red Robin?!" Bruce said urgently.
"Bruce, the trackers," Duke said, pointing to the screen. Bruce saw the cluster of colored dots and relaxed.
"Found him," Orphan said smugly.
Batman's voice was even more smug, drowning out whatever protests Red Robin was making in the background. "Come pick him up from our location, Nightwing."
"On my way~"
Perhaps it was just as well that Tim seemed to have lost (or been relieved of) his comm - his shouting in the background sounded furious.
"I'm going to bed as soon as Nightwing and Red Robin get back," Bruce said, "but Batman, Orphan, don't hesitate to sound the alarm if an emergency crops up later."
"We can handle it, Fath- Agent B."
Bruce leaned back in his chair and glanced at Duke, who looked amused at the usual Bat Family antics but also tired. "You can head up to bed now, if you want."
"Maybe in a minute." Duke yawned, then smiled at his mentor. "Tonight was fun. Thanks, Bruce."
"I enjoyed spending time with you, too."
Soon after Duke left the cave, Nightwing returned with an unconscious Red Robin, whom he carried to the shower area. He set his younger brother on the floor, propping him against the wall, and started to strip him out of his uniform.
"Did you drug him?" Bruce demanded. Although he did approve of the plan to get the workaholic Tim home at a reasonable time (for a Bat), knocking him out was going too far.
"We didn't, actually! Poor baby's exhausted; look at him. He fell asleep before we were halfway home." Dick smiled affectionately. When Bruce moved to take over, Dick backed away and started peeling off his own suit.
Bruce tossed the Red Robin outfit aside and stood up with Tim's arm over his neck. He turned on a stream of warm water and eased the young man into it, which was when Tim came fully awake. "Mmmn...Bruce...?" He looked around blearily. "Damn it."
"He liiives!" Dick cheered.
"Shut up, Dick," Tim mumbled, still resting at least half his weight against his father. "Lemme go, Bruce."
"Can you stand on your own?" Bruce asked skeptically.
"Yes," Tim groused, but paused for a long time before cautiously straightening. Then he just stood there. Dick finished showering and started to dry his hair. Bruce changed out of his wet clothes into dry pajamas. He looked at his son, shook his head, got a large towel, and wrapped Tim in it after shutting off the water. "...Tim," he said after a minute.
"Hmmm?" Tim blinked, then scrunched his face in annoyance as he clutched the towel closer around himself. "'M not Jack. Don't baby me."
"All right," Bruce said, hiding his amusement. Dealing with Tim when he was this tired felt exactly like looking after the young man's six-year-old counterpart. "Should I wait for you in the cave, then?"
"..."
After a moment, Bruce dried off Tim's hair, replaced the towel around his shoulders with a bathrobe, then took the dozing teen's hand and gently led him out to the cave.
Dick, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, was slumped in the chair by the Batcomputer, slowly spinning around and around as he waited for the data transfers from his and Tim's masks to complete.
"Are you cold?" Bruce asked.
"Not enough to get up and find clothes," Dick drawled wearily.
Bruce left Tim standing there, went to get another bathrobe, came back out, then dropped the robe and raced to catch Tim before the teen finished collapsing. Tim blinked up at the ceiling, finding himself half-lying in Bruce's arms. "What are you doing?"
"Taking you to bed," Bruce said, keeping hold on Tim's shoulders as he dipped to sweep up his legs.
"I said don't baby me!" Tim cried, kicking once before abruptly stopping as if he realized how childish it looked. He leaned over Bruce's shoulder, reaching for the computer. "I got reports...!"
"Dick's taking care of the data transfers. You can report in more detail in the morning."
There was no response. Tim had fallen asleep yet again, his head and arm still slumped over Bruce's shoulder. Bruce readjusted him more comfortably, then looked up to find that the screen was displaying two status bars at 100%. "Dick?"
"Huuuuhhh?" Dick mumbled, half-asleep in the chair.
"Leave the rest for the morning. Let's go to bed - I'd help you up, but my hands are full."
"'ll jus' sleep here..."
"You'll regret it when you get a crick in your neck and come down with a cold."
Dick dragged himself out of the chair and started trudging upstairs after Bruce, yawning. As Bruce carried Tim to his room and laid him down, Dick crawled under the covers on the other side of the bed. "Are you going to sleep in here?"
"Tired," Dick mumbled.
"I doubt Tim will object, but go brush your teeth first. There's still blood on them from that hit you took earlier."
"Don't wannaaaaa," Dick whined, as if he was eight years old again.
"I'll bring your toothbrush, and some clothes."
"Nnnnnnnnnnuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhh."
"Sshh, don't wake him up."
"Alien inv'sion couldn' wake 'im up righ' now," Dick slurred, already drifting off. Bruce went to get his things, came back and prodded him awake again, bundled him into the bathroom, and stood over him to make sure he brushed his teeth. Just like with Tim, he felt exactly like he was dealing with his son's nine-year-old counterpart rather than an alleged full-grown adult. "Do you slack off like this in Blüdhaven, too?"
"Leave me alone, Mom," Dick groaned through a mouthful of toothpaste. He did, however, give Bruce a hug before collapsing back into bed. Bruce made sure he was asleep before pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, then to Tim's. Then he went to his own room, brushed his teeth so as not to be a hypocrite, checked the Robin Monitor one last time, then lay down and closed his eyes.
Tired as he was, he had trouble sleeping. He woke up several times within the space of half an hour. The third time he did, automatically checking the monitor, he shot upright: John, Peter, and Jack were gone. 'That's it,' he thought as he scrambled out of bed, 'they're going back to sleeping in my room.' Where was his phone? 'Trackers, trackers, where are their trackers...'
All three dots were clustered in the kitchen, and Bruce exhaled in relief that the children were still in the house. He strode to the kitchen and snapped on the lights.
The children stared at him through the open pantry door, wide-eyed, their hands and mouths filled with cookies. As Bruce approached, the older two hastily swallowed what they'd eaten and cringed down into the far corners of the pantry. Jack had simply looked sheepish at first, but when he saw how afraid his brothers were, he grew frightened as well and backed away. "Angry?"
"No." Bruce crouched down so he didn't tower over them so much. "I'm not angry, you're not in trouble, and none of you are going to be punished. You'll skip dessert next time, because you had your sweets now instead, but you're not in trouble." He held out his hand. "Jack, come here."
"Don't hurt me."
"I won't."
Jack took a step forward, but John whistled fearfully and seized his ankle.
Bruce tried backing out of the doorway so they wouldn't feel so cornered. "John, Peter, are you still hungry? You can't have anymore cookies, but I can give you something else to eat, if you'd like."
They stared at him.
"Angry?" Jack asked again, uncertainly.
"No. Jack, come here. I won't hurt you. I'm not angry."
The child hesitated, then tugged his foot free of John, who whimpered and covered his head. Bruce did not reach out, waiting patiently until Jack had edged all the way up to him before he put his arms around the boy and lifted him up onto his hip. "Did you like those cookies?" he murmured.
"Yyesss," Jack whispered back.
"Alfred makes good ones. But you can only have them after dinner, do you understand? Not in the middle of the night."
"Ssorry, Ddaddy."
"It's all right. You'll do better next time." Jack shyly hid his face against the side of Bruce's neck. Bruce glanced toward the pantry and reached out again. "John. Peter. Come here, please."
After a long pause, Peter edged out of the pantry and circled around the kitchen, keeping a healthy distance between himself and Bruce. "Bad boys! You angry!"
"No. I'm not angry, and you are good boys. I want you to come with me so that I can take you back to bed. You're going to go back to sleeping in my room."
"Give me Trick Brother."
"No. I'm happy holding him, and he's happy to be held. He is safe. You don't need to protect him from me."
Jack turned his head to share a long, inscrutable look with his brother.
John crept out of the pantry. "Angry?"
"No. Come here, John. I won't hurt you."
"Tie us, hit us?"
"No, never. Never, John."
"Sorry!"
"It's all right. You're not in trouble."
John approached slowly and took hold of Jack's foot instead of Bruce's hand. He shuffled after when Bruce started heading back to the family's wing, and Peter trailed behind. "We're going to sleep in my room," Bruce said again. "You will keep your bedroom during the daytime, but at night, you're going to sleep in my room for a little longer, so I can make sure you're safe."
As soon as he opened the door, John and Peter rushed to their nest that was still in the corner and hid under the blankets at the farthest end. Jack squirmed to be put down, then trotted over as well, climbed onto the mattress, and laid himself over his brothers.
"I'll be right back." Bruce fetched some books and toys and Jack's phone from their room, so that they could stay quietly occupied during 'guard duty' or if they rose for the day earlier than he did. He read Green Eggs and Ham to them, which seemed to calm the older boys a bit. They eventually emerged from the blankets so they could see the pictures. "All right. I'm going to go back to bed now. Try to sleep."
"Good night," Jack signed.
"Good night." Bruce hesitated, then remembered what he had resolved. "I...I love you."
"Love you," Jack replied, as his brothers huddled warily behind him.
TBC
A/N: I'm not really sure how the Bats work overall - there are so dang many of them now, and some that I don't know much about, and I can't recall ever seeing all of them work together on a regular basis. I'm going to assume that they work in teams or as individuals, that the core/primary team is Bruce, Dick (when he's in Gotham), Tim, Damian, and (in this fic) Cass, and that individuals from different teams might or might not interact with each other on any given night.