*PLEASE READ THIS CHAPTER ON AO3*
The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
SRD: Seatbelt training ("cars are dangerous" slideshow)
*i REALLY need to gauge the true story flow for this to work, but this is the best i can do for now. I know some readers are getting even more tired of the seatbelt scenes than I am of writing them, but I have to go at the kids' pace, and it just doesn't feel natural to have them skipping straight from hating it to being okay with it.
*alfred and the babies are up early as usual; bruce didn't sleep well because he kept getting up all night to check on all his children; everyone else is sleeping in late
*he's been trying to convince the kids to come to breakfast; they keep huddling in the entryway and look ready to bolt
"Why don't you want to eat?" Bruce finally asked in exasperation, putting down the box of cereal.
"No seatbelts!" Jack demanded, and Peter growled in agreement.
Bruce set his face in his hand, feeling suddenly exhausted. He hadn't even been thinking about seatbelt practice until that moment, and he'd certainly never intended to associate it with breakfast. "All right, look, I'm going to show you something I've been working on." He went to get his laptop.
The boys were picking at plates of food when he came back, but as soon as they saw him, John ducked under the table, Peter grabbed the closest plastic tableware to use as weapons and stood up on his chair, and Jack ran to stand between Bruce and his brothers like a tiny human shield, yelling, "No no no no NO!"
Bruce sat down on the floor and opened the laptop. Jack chirped in cautious interest and crept a little closer.
"Boys, look. Cars are big, heavy machines that can do a lot of damage to a human being if something goes wrong. Things go wrong many times every day." He had tried to pick photographs that struck a balance between destruction and discretion: lots of mangled, shattered vehicles, but no close-ups of corpses.
"Oh no," Jack said softly.
Peter, who'd approached and was staring over Jack's shoulder, asked, "What happened?!"
"The drivers of these cars made a mistake, and the cars hit each other and were destroyed. What do you think happened to the people inside?"
"...Dead."
"Some of them, yes, because they were not wearing their seatbelts."
Peter narrowed his eyes and hissed.
Next was a crudely-animated computer simulation, enough to convey the idea without getting gory. "This is what happens when there's an accident and the people are not wearing seatbelts. There's the impact, and then the person gets flung around. Sometimes he goes right through the windshield - the glass breaks, and all those sharp pieces cut him and hurt him. Then he keeps going, and often he lands so hard that he dies."
"Daddy, dat is... Do nnot llet dem do dat!" Jack cried as Peter touched the crumpled, generically human-shaped form on the screen.
"All right, look. This is what happens when there's an accident and the people are wearing seatbelts. There's the impact...maybe they are a little hurt, but look. They don't go through any windows, they don't hit the ground. They're still alive and protected."
He switched to photos, mostly of people recovering. "This person was not wearing a seatbelt. He is alive, but look how sad and hurt he is. This person was wearing a seatbelt. Her neck was a little sore for a while, but now she is completely recovered and can play with her children, see? This person was not wearing a seatbelt..."
Peter and Jack had a long, twittered conversation, stealing glances at Bruce. John, looking miserable, said nothing, but finally looked at Bruce and signed, "Elephant."
"You want me to fetch Elephant?"
John set his hands on the ground and rested his forehead on them. Bruce went to get the stuffed animal, and John snatched it as soon as it was offered. The boy hugged it tightly and squeezed his eyes shut, trembling a little when Bruce picked him up but not resisting. "Just five seconds, Johnny," Bruce whispered to him, his heart aching. "I will not hurt you."
John did not speak or move. Even after he'd been unbuckled again, he continued to sit there hugging Elephant, though he did open his eyes and relax minutely when Bruce took his own turn being buckled in.
"Daddy tie himself," Jack giggled.
"Whose turn is it next?" Bruce asked.
Peter jumped back, and Jack yelled, "No!"
"All right, well, I'm going to get John's reward, and then maybe you'll have decided by then." He went to the kitchen and then returned to find John still huddled in the car. He offered the choices, and after a moment, John picked a multicolored popsicle. When Bruce had unwrapped it for him, the boy put it into his mouth and tipped to the side. He lay there sucking at the cold sweetness as he continued to clutch Elephant.
"Daddy I wwan't ai ceam!" Jack yelled.
"Ice cream~!" Peter signed.
"If you want ice cream, then put your seatbelt on."
"Nnooo, bu't, bbut Daddy, I, I do nno't wwan't to do da sseatbbe't, an', an' it is ss'cary, Daddy! Hey, llisten to me!"
"I'm listening," Bruce said as he set the timer for Peter, who had sighed very deeply but finally crawled into place to be buckled.
"Be'ccause it mmake ll'il buh, babies ssad, Daddy, oh no!"
"Oh no," Bruce agreed, pulling a basket of distractions out from under the seat and handing some books to Peter.
"Be'ccause, Daddy, llook, no *gwah gwah* ccar be'ccause it be ssafe hh, here in hhouse!"
"This is practice, Jack. If you practice wearing a seatbelt in the garage where it's safe, then you will also be safe when the car is driving on the roads with other cars."
The timer went off. Peter threw the books aside, made wild grabby hands at the cooler, and cheered happily when he was given his treat. To Bruce's surprise and amusement, the boy actually forgot he was still wearing the seatbelt until he'd finished gobbling his ice cream sandwich and tried to get up. He started to scream.
"Push, Peter, remember? Right here, this button, push and it will come off."
After some fighting with the buckle, Peter sprang free and scrambled out of the car. He looked around wildly, then glared at Bruce and demanded, "ICE CREAM."
"You want another ice cream for wearing the seatbelt longer than you had to?"
"ICE CREAM."
"How about chips?"
Peter eyed the offered alternative, then made grabby hands.
"Nnooo, Daddy, it is nno't Jjackie's tturn!"
"Come here, Jack."
"No, be'ccause, llisten, Daddy, mmaybe, mmaybe I do nno't wuh, wann't ai ceam, bbe'ccause it ccooold, Daddy, oh no, whha't I hhaffa do t' ggetta b'eak 'rroun' hhere, man...!"
The little boy babbled and protested the entire time he had his turn, right up until he was offered his reward, upon which his demeanor abruptly changed and he cheered, "Yyaaayy, ggoo'd jjob, Jackie, ggoo'd jjob!"
"Good job, Jackie," Bruce murmured, watching the child eat his ice cream. He looked at the oldest bird. "John, when are you going to come out of the car?"
"Every morning, tie birds, good job, ice cream. Every morning."
"Good job putting words together, but this is 'every morning.' "
"Every morning," John repeated, using the new sign rather than the ones for 'every' and 'morning.'
"It won't be forever, John, it's just until you can endure the seatbelts during normal car rides. Then we can stop with the practice, when you're able to handle it for real."
"You tie birds but do not hurt them. Why?"
"Why do you think, John?"
"Why?" John demanded, narrowing his eyes.
"I don't hurt you because I love you, and because it's wrong to hurt children."
"Again."
Bruce briefly closed his eyes. "I love you. It's wrong to hurt people. The Man Who Laughs was wrong to hurt you. I love you and will never hurt you."
"Give me ice cream."
"I already did."
"Sing."
"I will if you come out of the car."
*i think i kind of meant the following scene, which i wrote a long time ago, to go after a seatbelt session, but it doesn't really work here. i have to either do major repairs on the transition or relocate the scene
*in the living room with the whole family now
"Ii ssssorry I mmmayyyy-"
"Later, John, not now," Bruce said, gently trying to unhook the child's fingers from his shirt.
John simply gripped tighter and started yanking. "II SSORRY I MMAY-"
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Other than the initial surprise, Bruce's other children were dead silent throughout the song, their attention riveted. When he reached the end, Dick and Duke cheered; Tim was exclaiming faintly, "What just happened?!" and Jason was back to child-friendly swearing.
"What the heck, Bruce! What was that?! You can sing?!"
Bruce couldn't think of anything to say, so he said nothing and looked stony.
"He used to sing to me when I was little," Dick spoke up. "Maybe he decided I got too old after a while."
"He sings to John every day," Duke added.
"Oh!" Jason yelled in a mixture of playfulness and indignation, "OH, so you'll sing to Dick and the birds, but not to me, is that it?"
"Jason-"
"I knew it! You really don't love me as much as them," Jason finished, a huge grin hiding a bit of real hurt.
Bruce sighed internally. He knew exactly what he was about to get himself into, because Jason would absolutely call his bluff if he wasn't sincere, but...it was worth it. After all the ways he had failed his second child, this was something he could give. "Would you like me to sing to you, Jason?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in challenge.
Jason's answering grin was sharp. "I dare you."
"What would you like me to sing?"
"Doesn't matter," Jason said, looking skeptical. "Anything."
"I got it, I got it," Dick said eagerly, shoving his phone at Bruce.
Bruce looked at the sheet music with lyrics he was being presented with. " 'Firework'?" he read from the top. It looked vaguely familiar; he'd probably come across it at some point, either during pop culture research or overhearing one of Dick's playlists.
"Pffft, there's no way," Jason scoffed dismissively. "Bruce is physically incapable of singing Katy Perry even if he had a gun to his head."
Bruce was starting to feel insulted. He actually wanted to prove Jason wrong now.
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The next bit was drowned out by the boys' laughter, but they soon shushed each other.
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"It's fine," Jason mumbled, waving his hand.
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Everyone listened in total silence as Bruce continued, broken only by a couple of them chuckling quietly when Bruce felt compelled to replace words like 'gotta' with 'have to.'
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Jason turned away, took a Rubik's Cube out of his pocket, and unhurriedly started working at it, his face impassive. Most of his siblings continued to watch Bruce, spellbound.
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Halfway through, Jason had gone still, face completely turned away, tense muscles belying his casual pose. It was pretty obvious Bat body language for "Don't look at me until I stop crying," but no one called him out on it, even Damian (though that could have been because Damian was intently preoccupied with his phone).
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When he finished, his face was warm. Jason still hadn't moved, but the others all burst into cheers. Bruce wasn't quite sure whether it was encouragement for exhibiting vulnerability or genuine approval of his performance.
Damian was now insistently pushing his phone at Bruce. "This one, Father! I want this one."
Bruce stared at the new set of sheet music. He hadn't intended to sing for anyone other than Jason, but it wouldn't be fair if he refused. " 'Tavalodet Mobarak'?"
Damian lifted his chin imperiously. "I've been living with a proper family for three years now, but no one has yet wished me a proper birthday."
"What are you talking about?!" Dick yelped. "I know we screwed up this year, but we threw you parties the other times!"
"I am not faulting the parties. But that song, Richard! 'Happy Birthday To You' is a substanceless piece of garbage; I want a real birthday song! Everyone but Pennyworth owes me for my thirteenth birthday, anyway. And I want..." A lull fell as everyone curiously watched the sudden pensive expression on his face. "We went to Tehran once...when I was still with the League, we passed by a birthday celebration. There were so many guests, and everyone looked so happy..."
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Damian's resulting smile was huge, and made everything worthwhile. Then Jason, who had recovered now that the spotlight was off him, actually joined in. Although his Persian wasn't fluent, he did know most of the song. Dick started to clap in time to the beat, and almost everyone joined in. Even the children, excited by the family's high spirits, began to dance, hopping and spinning.
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"Whoooooo!" everyone shouted, the rhythmic clapping turning to applause.
"crow! crow!" the birds shouted, for once in excitement rather than fear or anger.
"My turn, my turn, my turn!" Dick finally exclaimed, presenting Bruce with his song request.
Bruce resigned himself to his fate and dutifully sang "*title*" to his eldest, who beamed the entire time, even in the moments when tears shone in his eyes.
"Me," Cassandra said next, proudly. "Any, any."
So Bruce sang her "*title*," and then he turned expectantly to Tim.
Timothy, who had been watching the entire time with great amusement and interest, looked surprised. "Oh - no, I'm fine."
There was a collective outcry. "Oh come ooooooonn, Tim!"
"BRUCE is gonna SING FOR YOU!"
"Really, I'm good. It's nice listening to all of them, I don't need one for myself."
"Don't you want one for yourself?"
"Even if I did, I can't think of any songs!"
Dick thrust his phone at Bruce. "Sing this for Timmy."
Bruce scanned quickly over the lyrics and approved. "*lyrics*..."
Tim's don't-look-at-me-cry pose was more subtle than Jason's, at least at first. By the end of it, he was fighting back tears in Bruce's arms (not very successfully), with Jack patting his head and Jason sitting supportively nearby, as Dick and Damian argued about respect for people's feelings.
"You'd be crying, too, if you were in his place!"
"I've experienced far worse trauma than him and I am perfectly capable of keeping my composure!"
"If I had an entire day to list everything wrong with that sentence-"
"Hey," Duke interrupted, "Tim's not crying anymore, and it's my turn."
Tim was, in fact, looking very fed up *idk what to write here*
Bruce looked at the new song selection and sighed.
"What?" Duke teased, "I'm not your real kid, so I don't get a song? Ohhhh, I see how it is."
Bruce raised an eyebrow and started to sing, doing his best to make the piece sound remotely musical. Duke laughed and settled back to listen in appreciation.
*except i decided after initially drafting this to avoid heavy metal so now what do i doooo for duke's song...*
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Alfred smiled and came to sit on a couch. They watched each other as Bruce sang, Alfred occasionally mouthing the words, both of them remembering faraway, golden days when Martha Wayne had once sung for her family.
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The song came to a close. Bruce's entire family was quiet, relaxed and heavy-lidded like they were drugged.
Alfred finally murmured, "It is certainly good to hear you sing, my boy."
Bruce couldn't even remember now why he'd been so adamant to keep his music to himself all these years. He enjoyed singing for his family. And they enjoyed being sung to - not a single one of them had left the room, as they would certainly have done if they'd had enough.
"For my next birthday," Dick said dreamily, "I want Dad to sing to me in front of aaaaall my friends."
Bruce still had limits. "No."
xXx
A/N: I have not read fanfiction on this site for a very long time, but yesterday I did, and left a couple of reviews. 24 hours later, those reviews have still not showed up, so I guess FFN is eating reviews now. *sigh* Yet more reason to loathe this awful site.