The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Chapter 18.2 (rough draft 2)
Half of the upstairs library had, in older times, been used as a schoolroom, and now it was being used for its original purpose once again. John, Peter, and Jack each had a proper desk, and their educational materials were easy to access.
Cassandra gently detached herself to go about her own business, and Bruce worked with the boys on lessons, speech practice, ASL improvement, and occasionally games whenever they looked like they needed a break. Peter and Jack were energetic and in good spirits, especially when they got into the rhythm of earning points that they could periodically exchange for bite-sized treats. Even John, who maintained a sullen undertone toward Bruce, kept forgetting himself and enjoying some of the activities with his brothers.
Late in the afternoon, Dick called. "Hi, Bruce. I made it home okay."
"Good."
"...Are the kids still super-mad at me?"
"Cassandra kept them occupied for a while, and right now we're just finishing up some lessons."
"Think they'll break the phone if I talk to them?"
"We'll see." Bruce switched it to vidchat mode, then looked at the children. They were all watching him intently, their bodies unnaturally still. "Boys, stay calm, or I will turn off the phone." He turned the screen toward them.
"Heeeyyy, baby birds," Dick said sheepishly.
The children complained at him and cried a little and shouted a lot. The conversation ended when Peter threw something at the phone and Bruce managed to snatch it out of the way in time. "That's enough of that."
Tim had returned home from work by then. He, Damian, and Duke were chatting with Cassandra in the living room when Bruce came in with the boys. "Welcome back."
"Hi, Bruce." Tim smiled when the children trotted over to him. "Hi, birds."
"Ttiimmy sllee'py."
"I'm tired, not sleepy. Not quite the same thing."
"You going to catch a nap before patrol?" Duke asked.
"Oh, God, no," Tim groaned. "Way to much work to catch up on for that. I'm probably going to skip dinner, too."
"Timothy," Bruce said sternly.
"I meant skip the dining room; I'll eat, obviously. In my room, so I can keep working."
"Hnn."
Tim soon left, loosening his tie as he went. Bruce handed the children back over to Cassandra and followed, though he made a detour to his study first. He knocked on Tim's door, entered when Tim called, and found his son dressed in a bathrobe and little else, swallowing an energy drink as he sat at his desk surrounded by digital screens.
Tim squinted at Bruce in confusion. "What's the briefcase for?"
"I know you don't want to go anywhere or do anything together or accept any assistance, but this is still your designated night, Tim. I have plenty of my own work and I won't interrupt yours, but if you change your mind at any point, just say the word. For at least the next few hours, you are my highest priority, period."
Tim stared at him. "You're just gonna...sit here. And work on stuff. In my room."
"Unless you'd like to do something else."
"No, it's fine, I mean...do what you want. But seriously, Bruce, I really meant it about giving my night to Damian or Duke, or, sheesh, Cass, now that she's back. Or go play with the birds some more, or do your own thing, I seriously don't care."
"I am doing my own thing," Bruce said stubbornly. "I am choosing to spend time with my seventeen-year-old son, even if that means working silently in each other's presence until you leave for patrol."
"...Fine."
"Fine."
"Sorry I don't have another desk," Tim huffed, turning back to his main computer.
Bruce spread out his stuff on the storage chest at the foot of the bed, pulled over a chair, and got to work.
o.o.o.o.o
Tim had trouble concentrating at first - having Bruce there was weird - but then Alfred came in with a cart full of food for the two of them, and then Tim was mostly focused on trying to get work done and eat without spilling anything on the electronics. By the time he finished most of his plate, he'd found his groove, and when he thought to check the time, he found that nearly two hours had passed in an eyeblink.
Bruce was still there, working quietly. True to his word, he hadn't interrupted even once.
Tim lasted another twenty minutes or so. Then he shoved away from the desk, swiveled his chair to face Bruce, and demanded, "You'd seriously do anything I said I wanted to do? You'd RP with me, or cosplay, or marathon the Rurouni Kenshin movie trilogy with me?"
"Yes," Bruce said, a little defensively. He didn't know what 'RP' was, and he had the general idea that getting involved with cosplay would be even more painful than singing in public, but he'd do it. For Tim. Because he was Tim's father and he loved him and he wanted Timothy to feel loved.
"I'm just kidding, I'm not into cosplay and I haven't RP'd since I was eleven. But, like...you'd come to Blüdhaven with me - in civvies - and photograph the graffiti art on abandoned buildings? You'd help me hack Ra's's-?"
"Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, I would do anything for you." It just came out. He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but now he had, and...he didn't even feel embarrassed about it. He could see little Jack's same wariness and longing in Tim's eyes, and whatever he would say to Jack should be equally acceptable to say to Tim.
"..." Tim abruptly stood, grabbed a book off the shelf, and tossed it at Bruce. Then he flopped back into his chair and picked up his tablet to access a digital copy of the same book. "Chapter 12; skip the intro and the first scene, the second starts about halfway through. You read Dimak's lines, I'm Bean. Dialogue only for now."
They did a sort of reader's theater of Orson Scott Card's Ender's Shadow for nearly an hour. Bruce was somewhat lost, since he'd read the book a long time ago and mostly remembered impressions rather than details, but he quickly saw why the novel appealed to Tim. Like Bean, and like Bruce himself, Timothy Drake had always had an intelligence beyond his years, and it was fun to prove you were smarter than the grown-ups.
At last, Tim set the tablet aside and rubbed at his eyes. Then he gave Bruce a small smile and murmured, "Thanks for not letting me give away my Dad Night."
Bruce smiled back. "It's a good book." He made a mental note to re-read from the beginning.
"I'd...better start getting ready for patrol." Both of them stood and cleaned up, shuffling papers together and putting electronics to sleep. Then they sort of awkwardly started to exit the room together. Tim paused before reaching the door, and after a silent moment, Bruce put an arm around him. Tim hugged him back. "Thanks, Dad," he whispered, then hurried away.
Bruce was smiling as he went in search of his birds, who turned out to be pestering their older siblings as they got ready for patrol.
"Nno! Bba-duh mmakk!" Peter insisted, pulling the domino mask away from Damian's face before he'd even finished putting it on.
"Stop that, Todd! I need it if you're not going to let me use the cowl!"
"Hhuu'tt, Ddami! Hhu'tt yyou!"
"It does not hurt. Let go."
In the practice area, John was rather violently swinging on a trapeze bar, crowing loudly.
"We go, he is angry," Cassandra explained ruefully to Bruce as she pulled on her gloves.
"Daddy!" Jack insisted, pulling on Bruce's shirt, "Daddy ssay s'tto'pp! Say Ccassie Ddami pllay wif us mmore! More!"
"Jack," Bruce said, picking him up, "even if they did stay home tonight, they can't play with you anymore. It's time for bed."
"No! No no no no no no no," Jack whined, lightly beating his fists against Bruce.
Bruce ignored him and called, "Peter, leave Damian alone, it's time to get ready for bed. John, do you need help getting down?"
John slid off the bar and just dropped, not making any attempt to land carefully. Bruce put down Jack and rushed over.
John was rolling on the trampoline beneath the trapeze bars, humming in displeasure. He rolled away from Bruce's reaching hands. "John."
Chasing down a rebellious nine-year-old on a trampoline was one of the weirder adventures in Bruce's child-rearing experience; even Dick had never done this to him. By the time he managed to catch John, the boy's malicious giggling had turned to Joker laughter. "John, please."
John stretched out in Bruce's hold, arms spread wide, head tipped back so far he was looking upside-down, and sang a gush of birdsong that had the cadence of a smug villainous monologue.
Tim had already left, and Damian was waiting impatiently for Cassandra. She had just been about to get in the Batmobile beside him, but she paused. She marched over to the trampoline. "NO ONE WILL DIE."
John snapped upright and twisted around in Bruce's arms to stare at her.
"Bruce-him does not Laugh, so why do you Laugh?"
"...He will Laugh."
"He does not Laugh NOW, so you must not Laugh now."
John went relaxed and demure and coolly polite. "Yes."
She gestured in warning. "We will talk when I come back."
"You will not come back."
"If I do not come back, you will do what you want. If I come back, we will talk."
At last, John's expression crumbled into something more genuine. "Cccasssiie," he whimpered. His reaching hands begged her to stay. "Nnoo. Ppeess. Nno!"
She kissed him. "I love you." She gestured sternly at Bruce. "Be kind to my precious one." She looked at the younger birds and opened her palms from her heart toward them. "You have my love."
They copied her sadly.
She stepped back, bowed to the cave in general, then returned to Damian.
"Finally, Cassandra! The night awaits!"
When they left, Bruce exhaled and cautiously let go of John, who flopped onto the surface of the trampoline. "John, it's time for you and your brothers to go upstairs and get ready for bed."
John squirmed off the trampoline with exaggerated slowness and clumsiness, then trudged along when Bruce went up to the computer bank where Duke was sitting. "Is Alfred not down yet?"
"He said he was on his way," Duke replied. "But he has to help you with the kids first, right?"
"Think you can hold the fort by yourself for a while?"
"Yeah. Patrol's usually pretty quiet at first, anyway."
"Yes. You'll do fine." Duke had plenty of experience doing tech support and could now work the quieter nights by himself, but he still usually had Alfred, Bruce, or Tim supervising. This time, when Bruce and the birds went upstairs, Duke would be alone in the cave (except for Bat-Cow, who was dozing in her enclosure). "I'll go check on Alfred. Call me if you need anything."
"Right."
Bruce called Alfred, frowned at the lethargic tone of his butler's promise to join him momentarily, and led the children to their room. Alfred arrived a minute later, looking tired and pale.
"Alfred? Are you feeling all right?"
"Just slightly under the weather, sir, but I-" He sighed a little as Bruce felt his forehead.
"Do me a favor and go take your temperature."
"I already have. ...It's very low."
"You're coming down with something," Bruce stated, sounding more matter-of-fact than he felt.
"Probably just a minor bug, nothing to worry about." He still looked tired enough to be depressed.
"Alfred, I've got the kids, and Duke's got the cave; I'll be on standby for him. Go on to bed."
Alfred hesitated.
"I don't want the kids to catch anything from you," Bruce tried.
Alfred raised an eyebrow at him, but finally assented and shuffled off, his shoulders sagging as he allowed himself to give in to his fatigue.
TBC