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.

(AN—This chapter contains spanking. Don't like, don't read.)

Chapter 8: Too Old (II)

Bruce made his way up to Jason's bedroom and found the teenager sitting on his bed, dressed only in pajama bottoms (his usual night wear), and listening to a CD.

Upon seeing his father, Jason removed the headphones with a wince. "No paddle?" he asked, sighing.

"No paddle," Bruce said, coming over and sitting on the bed beside him.

Jason sighed. "Aren't I too old to be turned across your knee?" he asked, hopefully.

Bruce grinned. "Was Dick too old for the paddle?" he asked, smirking.

"No," Jason replied, mournfully.

"There's your answer," his father told him.

The boy nodded. "All right," he said, "let's get it over with then."

Bruce shook his head. "Not just yet," he said. "I want to talk first."

Jason rolled his eyes, crossed his arms, and leaned back. His very pose the picture perfect teenage rebel. "Go ahead," he said, "lecture away."

Bruce raised an eyebrow at him. "That's what I want to talk about," he said. "Jason, we've always seen things differently and you've always had a little bit of an attitude—but lately, it's getting out of hand, son, and I want to know why?"

The teenager just looked off to the side, his jaw setting stubbornly.

Bruce reached over and turned his head back toward him. "Son," he said, firmly. "Talk to me."

Jason jerked his head out of his hold. "Am I your son?" he asked, scornfully. "Because I thought only Dick was."

"What?" Bruce asked, puzzled. "Why would you say that?"

"Because," Jason growled, "it's always about Dick! Dick is your heir, Dick gets to be Batman after you, and Dick gets all the praise! I don't mean to go all Jan Brady here, but it's always Dick! Dick! Dick!"

"Dick is also the one with all the responsibility," Bruce reminded him, sternly. "He doesn't like it any better than you do, believe me, but of the three of you he is the one I know I can depend on to take my place when it's time for me step down—or if something happens to me."

Despite his anger, Jason winced at that. Bruce dying in the line of duty was a very big possibility and it was also one he didn't want to think about. "What about me?" he asked. "Why couldn't I take your place?"

"Because," Bruce told him, "despite your tough guy persona you try to pull off, you care too much."

"What?" Jason asked, uncertainly.

Bruce sighed. "You let your emotions make your decisions for you, Jason," he told him, "and that isn't necessarily a bad thing—but it is a dangerous thing when you're a crime fighter. Take the other night? You rushed in trying because you were excited about busting the Scarecrow, and it could have gone badly—very badly—if we hadn't taken them by surprise."

"I knew what I was doing," Jason defended himself. "You're always so cautious…"

"I'm cautious for a reason, son," Bruce told him, "because I have three very important reasons not to get myself killed."

Jason looked down, uncomfortable. "I'm sorry," he said, after a moment.

"Jason," Bruce said, reaching over and lifting his chin, "no matter what, though, I don't love Dick or Tim any more than I love you. You are all three my sons—true, none of you came from my body—but that makes you even more special. I chose you three for who you all were and I love you for that reason, too. I am very proud of each of you. Please, try and remember that even when I don't say it. Okay?"

Jason nodded. "All right," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I will…Dad."

Bruce smiled. "Good," he said, but then turned stern, "but now, young man, we have to deal with tonight little escapade."

Jason smirked. "Leave it to you to turn the tables on an emotional moment," he said, shaking his head.

Bruce nodded, grinning. "C'mere," he said, taking hold of the boy's arm and guiding him face down over his lap.

"Uh," Jason said, glancing back, "down?"

Bruce nodded. "Down," he said, and promptly pulled the boy's pajama bottoms down along with his briefs.

"This is totaling embarrassing," Jason groaned.

Bruce chuckled. "It ain't exactly a picnic for me either," he told him, raising his hand back.

Bringing it down over the exposed behind, he began spanking in an even rhythm spreading out the smacks over both cheeks until they were both a decent shade of pink.

Jason bit his lip as the heat in his rear end increased with each smack. This wasn't his first time in this position and it probably wouldn't be his last, but that didn't mean it still didn't hurt.

After about thirty swats, his behind felt like it was on fire and he couldn't take anymore.

"Dad," he gasped, trying hard to hold back the tears, "please."

Bruce knew he'd had enough and delivered one final smack that was just a bit stronger than the last as a last reminder to the boy to stay out of trouble in the future. He then pulled his pajama pants back into place and let him off his lap.

Jason rubbed at his eyes, trying to get the tears out of them. He didn't want his dad to see him crying.

Bruce grinned, stood up, and pulled the boy into a hug. "I know it hurts," he told him, "but it'll pass."

Jason leaned into his father. "Easy for you to say," he grumbled, reaching back to rub his behind.

"Hey," Bruce told him, "be glad I'm not Alfred. He'd have laid into with a wooden spoon."

Jason grinned. "Speaking from personal experience, are we?" he asked, smirking.

"Let's just say," Bruce said, reaching back to rub his own behind, "I know exactly how you feel right now."

Jason laughed at that. "Nice to know you aren't perfect," he told him.

Bruce reached out and ruffled his hair. "No one's perfect, son," he told him, "not even me. I'm hard on you boys, the girls, and myself because I'm trying to keep us all alive."

"I know," his son told him, "and I'm sorry for being just pain in the ass lately."

"Watch your language, young man," Bruce told him, smiling, "and it's okay. Teenagers are supposed to be pains in the ass. Right now, there's one pain I know that needs to be in bed."

Jason nodded. "Sure thing, Pops," he told him, climbing into bed and rolling over on his stomach. "Night."

"Good night, son," Bruce told him, shutting out his light and closing the door.

Turning around, he practically barreled into Tim.

"Now," he asked, "what are you doing up, young man?"

TBC…