Batman
"My Three Sons: Batman Style"
Summary: Bruce tackles raising three sons: Dick, Jason, and Tim.
Author's Note(s): For the purpose of this story: 1) Jason Todd did not die. He, like his older brother Dick, outgrew the Robin persona and created his own: Talon. His costume is black, except for three red slashes across his chest. 2) Dick is eighteen, Jason is fifteen, and Tim is twelve. 3) Barbara didn't become Oracle, was never shot, and chose to make herself into a new crime fighter called Kestrel. 4) Cassie Cain lives with Babs and Commisioner Gordon rather than Bruce. She's Batgirl. 5) The two girls are the same age as Dick and Tim.
Warning: This story will contain the corporal punishment of teenagers—even an eighteen year old—and adolescents. If this bothers you, DO NOT READ OR REVIEW THIS STORY. YOU HAVE BEEN PROPERLY WARNED!!
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just wrote this story for the fun of it.
Chapter 3: Breakfast with the Boys
The next morning, at Wayne Manor, Bruce Wayne awoke at his usual time just after sunrise. He showered, shaved, and got dressed in one of his usual business suits. He then headed down to breakfast.
Downstairs he automatically by-passed the formal dinning room, which was only ever used during dinner parties or special occasions, and headed into the kitchen to join his already up and dressed sons at the small, round, family table that was there. The same table, Bruce had eaten at every morning as far back as he could remember and now his sons ate at it, too.
Alfred, his foster father/butler, was of course busy scurrying around the kitchen getting things ready for his four "Masters", titles Bruce and all his boys had repeatedly tried to get him to stop using but to no avail, before they left for work and school. The moment he Bruce entered the kitchen a newspaper was promptly delivered into his hands.
"Thank you, Alfred," he smiled at his old friend.
Alfred nodded back. "Of course, Master Bruce," he said. "I trust you slept well."
Bruce nodded. "Actually," he said, "I did."
"Good," the butler said, and then scurried back to check on the muffins he had in the oven. Bruce went and joined his boys at the table. The moment he sat down at plate of eggs, toast, and a cup of coffee was sat in front of him.
As he started eating, he gazed at each of them in turn. Dick, at eighteen, was a senior in high-school who had let his hair grow out to shoulder-length recently and kept it tied back into a tail during the day. He wore a white t-shirt, black jeans, and both black motorcycle jacket and boots. He was serious, yet had a wry sense of humor at times, and straight forwardness he'd learned from adopted father.
Bruce felt a strong sense of paternal pride in the fact that he had helped shape the young eight year old boy who had come into his care ten years before after the death of his circus performer parents.
Jason, at fifteen, was going through a rebellious stage at the moment and it showed in not only his poor grades but also his hair and clothing. His hair spiked up with gel and wearing jeans with holes all in them, he also wore dark sunglasses and a blue jean jacket. Bruce strongly disapproved of the look, which only seemed to make his middle child that more gung-ho to wear it.
Typical teenager, Bruce thought grinning. Jason had come to him after the then twelve year old boy had had a run in the nefarious Two-Face. The slit-personality driven mad-man had killed the boy's hood father and would have killed the son as well had it not been for Batman and the newly christened fifteen year old Nightwing. They had rescued him and he after learning about who they truly were became convinced he'd make the perfect Robin—a mantle he had worn until just recently.
Tim, the youngest, who sat eating a bowl of cereal in a white t-shirt and blue jeans, had been the son of wealthy socialite Jack Drake and his wife. Jack, an old school chum of Bruce's, and a frequent golfing buddy had named him the boy's godfather in the event something happened to him and his wife. That something had been a car crash two years ago when Tim had been ten years old. Bruce not only took him in, but also legally adopted him giving him the Wayne name.
In fact, he had given each of the boys his name; Dick's full name was now: Richard Grayson Wayne; Jason's was Jason Todd Wayne; and Tim's was Timothy Drake Wayne.
"So," he said, speaking to his sons, "anything interesting going to happen today at school?"
All three rolled their eyes at him. "Yeah," Jason spoke up, smirking, "I intend to sleep."
Bruce rolled his eyes at him. "Besides that," he said, glaring at his middle son.
Dick shrugged. "We have mid-terms coming up," he said, "but that's not a problem. Babs is gonna help me study." He smiled, as thoughts of his girlfriend and fellow crime fighter Barbara Gordon flitted into his mind.
Bruce grinned. "Just make sure that's all you do together," he warned him, smirking.
Dick smirked back. "Of course," he said, innocently. "What else would we do?"
"Uh huh," Bruce said, giving him a look, "I'm sure I'd rather not know."
Dick blushed and found his eggs very interesting all of a sudden.
"What about you, Tim?" he asked the youngest boy, who happened to be sitting directly in across from him at the table.
The boy swallowed his mouthful of Cheerios and shrugged. "Not much," he said. "I think we're going to dissect a frog in science. That'll probably be cool."
"I bet Cass is just gonna love that," Jason joked. "I bet she's seen her share of blood and guts before!" He chuckled, while his little brother glared at him.
"Jason," Bruce said, warningly. "That's enough."
Twelve year old Cassandra Cain was the daughter of an infamous assassin and as such was skilled in just about ever martial art known to man. She had spent her entire life in silence, until the Batman had foiled one of her father's attempted missions and he had fled the city without her. Taken in by Commissioner James Gordon, she now lived with him and his daughter Barbara. She had also taken up the mantle of Batgirl, since Barbara had fashioned herself a new identity: Kestrel.
"What?" Jason asked, innocently. "I'm just saying'." He smirked, knowing how much it annoyed his father.
"Well," Bruce said, raising an eyebrow at him, "I'm just saying, cut it out and eat your breakfast. Now."
Jason nodded. "Yes, sir," he said, the smug smile disappearing from his face and he went back to eating his breakfast.
Fifteen minutes later, all four of them were finished and Alfred cleared away their dishes.
Dick was up out of his seat and headed for the back door. "Well, I'll see you all later," he said, grabbing his motorcycle keys from the rack at the door. "I have to pick up Babs."
"Drive carefully, Master Dick," Alfred warned him, sternly.
"Sure thing, Alfred," Dick promised. "Don't I always?"
"No," Bruce answered, "but you'd better."
Dick saluted. "Later," he said, grinning and was out the door before anything else could be said. A few minutes later the sound of a motorcycle revving to life was heard and the squeal of tires came next.
"I really must speak to him about that," Alfred said, frowning.
"I will," Bruce said, standing up. "Come on, boys, go grab your school books and let's hit the road. I have a meeting with the board to get to."
Jason and Tim grabbed their backpacks, which Alfred always sat by the backdoor every morning, and headed out to the Rolls Royce parked just outside. Bruce grabbed his briefcase and joined them. Alfred, after removing his apron and putting on his jacket and bowler came last. He got in, started the car and headed out of the driveway of Wayne Manor.
It looked like it was going to be a fairly typical day in the lives of Bruce Wayne and his boys.
Of course, appearances always do have a way of being deceiving.
TBC…