The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Chapter 18.8 (rough draft 2)
When Bruce went to check on Alfred again, he found that John had curled up with his grandfather and refused to be dislodged. The rest of the afternoon passed quietly, and Bruce took the opportunity to work with the younger children on lessons for an hour before dinner.
An hour before the usual dinnertime, that is. He was startled when Tim came striding into the room and slapped a thick file folder on the desk in front of him. "Sign those. All of them. Read them or don't, but every single one NEEDS to have your signature on it before I leave for work tomorrow." Tim absently but affectionately rested his arms around Jack and Peter, whose eyes were lit up with pleasure as they tugged at him. "Also, since I'm the one who's been breadwinning all day, make me dinner."
Considering how many times Bruce had seen Alfred sick in bed by now, it was unbelievable how often he kept forgetting that there were things he needed to remember to do when that there wasn't a butler to do them. "I'm not...the best chef..."
"Yeah, yeah, I know all the 'Bruce nearly burned down the kitchen' stories," Tim said dismissively. "You can still help." He clapped his hands smartly. "Birds! Come learn how to give massages to very tired people!" The children eagerly scampered after him.
In the living room, Tim did some demonstrations, then lay facedown on the carpet. Jack and Peter, uncertainly at first, started pushing on his back. His relieved groans alarmed them at first, but when he managed to reassure them that he liked it and wasn't hurt, they made a game out of which one could force the most interesting noises out of Timmy with their hands. It had to be hands, because, "OW! No no no, don't stand on me, you fat babies are too heavy for that. Hands only." Peter was the one who first thought of sitting on him. "Oof. Oh, that feels good. Okay, hands and butts only. Uurrggkhh, yes, perfect."
Meanwhile, making dinner was another round of muddling through food preparation, now without Duke's comparative expertise to guide them. Damian, complaining about there not being any options for a hot vegetarian meal, put together another salad. Bruce was not allowed to touch the stove, but that only left Cassandra to do the food heating. She pulled random leftovers out of the refrigerator and set them on the counter, stared at them for a minute, then shrugged and started prying lids off, dropping everything together in a pot to warm up.
"Cassandra, I don't think...gravy and spaghetti go together..."
When dinner was ready, Bruce scooped the most edible parts of it into a bowl to take to Alfred. Then he dragged a screaming, struggling John away from the butler's bed and was relieved when John calmed down on the way to the dining room.
Dinner was fairly quiet. Tim and Damian's usual exchange of insults was relaxed and almost amiable, the children were getting slightly better at maneuvering their utensils, and Bruce and Cassandra were just happy to be surrounded by family, even if it was incomplete.
When Bruce checked on his butler again afterward, he found that Alfred hadn't been able to keep down most of his meal (Bruce guiltily hoped that was just because of the illness and not because he and his children were such horrendous cooks). Since he was busy cleaning up and caring for Alfred, Tim volunteered to help the children get ready for bed. Bruce was just setting down a clean bucket in case Alfred needed to throw up again, when Jack came dashing into the room, followed by the other birds.
"DADDY! DADDY! DADDY!"
"Sssshh, Jack! You're bothering Alfred!"
Alfred murmured something too faint to hear.
Tim poked his head in. "Sorry, they ran off before I could-"
"Daddy!" Jack stage-whispered. "LllllOOK!" He ran to Alfred's bathroom and shut himself inside it. There was a pause. Then the doorknob started rattling, and after a long moment, the door burst open and Jack leaped out of it. "crow~~~!" he exclaimed, looking immensely proud of himself.
Bruce stared in confusion. "That's...very good, Ja-"
He came to the realization at the same time Tim said, "I don't think they knew how to open doors before."
Come to think of it, Bruce couldn't recall a single instance of John, Peter, or Jack operating a doorknob or handle before this moment - they had either passed through already-opened doors or waited for an adult to open the door for them.
Bruce looked at John and Peter. Both of them were staring at their little brother with dumbfounded expressions. Bruce looked at Tim. He could tell that the same 'Oh, crap' thought that was passing through his own mind was now passing through Tim's. If ignorance had been the only thing preventing the children from leaving the bedroom while Bruce slept, or going outdoors without supervision...
"Daddy?" Jack was starting to look anxious and unsure.
Bruce couldn't discourage him from opening doors. It was an extremely basic life skill, and he didn't want the birds to think they had to hide their newfound ability. "Good job, Jack," he praised. "That's very good."
Jack beamed again. Peter burst into amazed birdsong, and John shifted in agitation.
"Boys, we are disturbing Alfred. Tim, could you look after them until I finish up in here?"
"Yeah, but I have to start getting ready for patrol soon. Speaking of which, are you doing tech support tonight? Duke just got back a minute ago, but I don't know if he's ready yet for an entire night on his own."
It was a difficult evening. Bruce, in addition to worrying about Alfred, could not get the children to sleep. No matter how much he read or sang to them, they remained keyed up and talkative, and the younger two would not even stay in bed. "Fine. Maybe you'll be able to work off some energy in the cave."
Keeping one eye and ear on Alfred's Robin Monitor and on Duke working at the Batcomputer, Bruce put the children through an obstacle course, upping the difficulty level after each success. John worked at it quietly but doggedly, showing no sign of tiring. Peter and Jack only seemed to get more energetic rather than less.
"crow! Ii wwwinn!"
"HA HA HA Daddy, ffinish ffinish ffinish~!"
Bruce considered drugging them, but decided that would make him a bad parent and saved the idea as a last resort. "Boys, come over here, let me show you how to brush the cow."
It was nearly midnight by the time the kids started getting drowsy. That was also about when Duke, who'd just gotten a call from Leslie's clinic about her longer-than-expected absence and had to assure them that she wasn't hurt or kidnapped, started getting very busy on the computer. "I'll be down again as soon as I can," Bruce promised. He herded the sleepy children upstairs and got them settled on their mattress in his room. He trained a Robin Monitor on them and, when he was sure they were asleep except for John, who'd taken first watch, he went back downstairs.
"Oh, geez, I'm so glad you're here," Duke said. "My hacking still sucks, and they need access to the security cameras in one of those fancy offices that just got rebuilt."
At 2:00 a.m., Bruce dragged himself away from the computer, guiltily realizing that it had been way too long since he'd checked the Robin Monitors. Alfred seemed to be sleeping all right, but the children's bed was empty. Bruce swore explosively and leaped up, barely remembering to bark out an explanation to Duke before he raced back up to the house.
The birds were, thankfully, still in the master suite, but all three were wide awake, practicing with the bathroom door. When Bruce came in, Jack was twittering bossily as John struggled to turn the knob.
"Boys."
They all froze and stared at him.
"You need to be sleeping. You can practice with doors tomorrow, but right now, it is nighttime and you need to sleep."
John hurried to the bed and lay down and shut his eyes, his whole body tense. The younger ones completely ignored instructions.
"Bboose! Ii ggoo-duh!" Peter shut the bathroom door, then struggled with the knob until he managed to turn it far enough that the door swung open again. "crow~!"
"Yes, good job, Peter. Now go lie down and I'll read you another book, but only if you go to sleep afterward." He had to fetch some fresh books from the children's room. When he came back, he was horrified to find that they'd gone raiding his bookshelves. Right before his eyes, Peter's little hands accidentally creased a page as he showed something to his brothers.
"Boys, no!" Bruce rushed to rescue the books. There was some shrieking protest before he hurriedly pushed the books he had brought toward the boys. "These are your books, these are the ones you can read as much as you want." He carefully gathered up the older copies. "These are your Grandmother and Grandfather Wayne's books. I am going to put them away so they'll be safe, and we will read your books instead."
He was halfway through Dr. Seuss's One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish when he heard Duke say frantically in the commline, "Bruce! A little help...?!"
Bruce mentally swore again. "Boys, we have to finish this later. We are going back to the cave."
At four in the morning, John and Peter were sprawled together in a practice mat nest as Jack sat beside them, crying because he was exhausted but refused to lie down. Things had settled down in the city, but now Alfred was moaning on the Robin Monitor.
"Duke, see if you can get Jack to sleep," Bruce said in exasperation. "I have to tend to Alfred."
At five in the morning, Bruce came trudging into his room. He laid the unconscious Jack on his own bed and then flopped down beside him, falling asleep instantly. Cassandra, who had carried Peter to the Robins' nest after patrol, curled up next to him to sleep. Tim settled John down with them and then stood there for a while, swaying a bit, seriously considering going to sleep in Bruce's room as well.
Eventually, he managed to turn and shuffle out, but couldn't make it all the way to his room. He ended up detouring into Dick's room, which was closer to the master suite, and collapsing on the bed. Damian was so tired that he didn't remember going to bed after he'd let Titus out to pee. Leslie was still fast asleep in the guest room, so exhausted that she'd barely stirred in fourteen hours.
The sun rose on a very quiet mansion that morning.
TBC