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 5: Dinner with the Boys
Dinner that night at Wayne Manor was a quiet one, something Bruce didn't fail to notice.
"So," he said, attempting to break the silence, "how did your day go today, boys?"
"Okay," all three answered at the same time.
He raised an eyebrow. "So it was a just another day, huh?" he asked. "Dick?"
His oldest son stared into his eye with a level stare, something he'd taught him to do years ago when he didn't really want someone to see what he was thinking. "School's school, Bruce," he told him, shrugging.
He nodded, and looked at his middle son. "What about you, Jason?" he asked.
Jason's stare was defiant, as always. "A few teachers busted my chops," he told him, sneering. "Nothing new there, Pops."
"Uh huh," Bruce said, "maybe if you'd listen to them once and awhile—heaven forbid even show them some respect—they wouldn't have to 'bust your chops' as you put."
Jason snorted. "What-ever," he said, and looked back down at his food.
Bruce felt anger rise to the surface and he really wanted to haul the boy into his study for a "chat" with his father's paddle for his disrespect, but pushed it away. He remembered Leslie telling him that of all of them, Jason was the one who needed to be understood the most—not yelled at or punished—as he was the one most likely to develop anger issues.
He certainly has those, he thought to himself.
Sighing, he looked at Tim. "What about you, son?" he asked. "Everything go okay today?"
For all the training he'd had, Tim still wasn't very good a hiding his feelings from anyone—especially his father. He usually gave himself away when he was trying to lie. Usually, his eyes twitched or he pulled at his left ear when agitated or nervous—just as he had started to do when Bruce started asking about their days.
"Uh," he said, his eyes wide, "my day went okay, too. Went to class, went to lunch, w-went to gym. Y'know, the usual." He smiled, but there was no amusement in it.
"I see," Bruce said, concerned for there was something obviously happening at school that Tim did not want him to know about. His sons really didn't give him enough credit sometimes.
Dick pushed his plate away and stood up. "I'm done," he announced, "I'm heading out."
Bruce raised an eyebrow at him. "What about patrol tonight?" he asked, crossing his arms. All of them knew how he felt about patrol.
Dick shrugged. "Sorry, Dad," he told him, "but Babs needs help with her college applications and I promised to give her a hand. Later." With that, he grabbed his helmet and was out the door before anyone could say anything.
After he was gone, Jason stood up also. "May I be excused?" he asked, surprising his father.
"You going to head down to the Cave?" Bruce asked him, curious.
"No," Jason said, shrugging. "Sorry, Dad, but like I said some teachers chewed me out for sloppy homework and stuff. They all assigned some just to see how I'd do. You always tell us school work comes first—even before patrol."
Bruce nodded. Yes, he always did tell them that. "Very well," he said, "go on upstairs and get started." The boy hurried out the door very quickly.
Bruce sighed, discouraged. His boys seemed to be growing further and further apart, from each other and especially from him.
"I guess it's just you and me tonight," Tim said, smiling, "huh, Dad?"
Bruce looked at him warily. "Not tonight, son," he told him. "I'm afraid I'll have to go in alone."
"Why?" Tim asked, his eyes showing his hurt feelings.
"Because," Bruce explained to him, "Gordon got wind of a rave happening tonight where some possible drug dealers are going to be—preying on the kids at the party. I'm going in undercover as Matches Malone to try and sniff them out."
"You were going to take Dick and Jason with you," Tim told him, pouting a little bit.
"Yes," Bruce said, evenly, "because they are both the same age as the kids that are going to be at this rave tonight. I'm afraid, son, you'd stick out quite a bit."
Tim sighed. "I guess you're right," he said, pushing his plate away. "You think Alfred would like to play chess tonight?"
Bruce smiled. "Why don't you go ask him and see," he told him, encouragingly. All three boys viewed his old friend as a grandfather—one that could be strict but also ready to listen to anything they had to complain about, even when it was good ole dad. Alfred how no qualms whatsoever telling the boys all about his teenage years, much to his dismay.
Tim nodded and hopped up from the table. He hurried to find their trusty butler, who was more than likely in the study resting his tired bones. That's what he usually did after he'd prepared dinner for them. Bruce had tried to get him to seat down and eat with them, as a member of the family, but the old coot was too set in his confounded "gentlemen's gentleman" ways that he said it would be improper.
Sometimes I wish I could use Dad's paddle on him, he thought with a smirk, He certainly never hesitated to use it on me when I was being stubborn.
Getting their dirty plates, he took them to the sink and set them in. Alfred would more than likely rope Tim into helping wash them—to get to the chess game faster, or so he'd tell the boy—so he knew there was nothing stopping him from heading on down to the cave.
Tonight, he wouldn't be dressed as Batman—but he'd still be the Dark Knight, nonetheless. A determined glint filled his eyes as he descended down into the dark underground cavern that sometimes felt more like home than the mansion above it did.
He had a rave to attend, and little did he know but he wasn't the only member of the Wayne family going to be in attendance as well.
TBC…