The Consequences of Faking your Death and Vengeful Children
"Ready guys?" Dick looked at all of his siblings, and one honourary sibling. In their football huddle, they nodded solemnly, ready for the monumental task ahead of them. Dick nodded back. "Alright then. Break!"
Stephanie and Jason immediately headed towards the Cave. Tim and Damian headed for the parlour, while Dick and Cass headed for the study. Dick climbed to the highest shelves and started taping the papers he had in his backpack on them, while Cass did the same to Bruce's desk. They were meticulous, making sure every inch was covered. Once she was done with the desk, she started on the chair, then the floor. By the time Dick was most of the way around the room, she'd finished papering the lamp and started on the lower shelves and walls. Finally, they looked at their work, proud as peaches.
Bruce's face. Hundreds and hundreds of the exact same face, Bruce's whenever he looked at one of the kids in exasperation. All printed in greyscale on coloured paper. As a bonus, Cass taped an airhorn under Bruce's seat, while Dick did the same for behind the door. Dick smiled. "Nice. We done here?"
Cass shook her head. She went to a hall closet, grabbing out a large box. Dick nearly fell over laughing at the contents. A computer screen, keyboard, mouse and office phone, all made out of cardboard. "Barbara's contribution. She said she and Dinah had a great time making these."
"Remind me to give them both a hug." Considering Babs was already getting them the footage, this extra was unexpected and very welcome. They quickly stripped the electronics off of Bruce's desk, replacing them with their surprisingly detailed cardboard counterparts. Each item had a bit of yarn sticking out of it, that Dick taped over their respective ports on the computer tower. That finished, they made their way down into the Cave to check on Jason and Steph's progress.
The Batmobile was completely covered in Post It notes. Ones shaped like bats, which Steph had seen online and flipped out over. Steph was busy painting Bruce's fourth contingency suit a bright neon green. Jason was over by the computer, doing something with the keyboard. Something involving damp toilet paper and grass seeds. Cass walked over and sat on the counter, watching him, while Dick admired the lovely job they had done with Bruce's utility belt. It involved a bowl full of jello and the Batcave's blast freezer.
After Jason put the keys back onto the keyboard, Cass asked, "What was that for?"
"In a few days, Bruce will have a small garden growing here." He dusted his hands, then started towards the car. "You have to check this out. It's brilliant." He pointed at the windshield wipers. "Steph put large globs of paint on here. We had to coat them in dark powder so Bruce wouldn't notice, but when he turns on his wipers next, he's going to put a rainbow across his windshield."
"Ooh, nice!" Dick looked at the globs appreciatively. It was true. He hadn't noticed them until he was really close. "You used slow drying paint?" Jason nodded. "How are you going to make him use his wipers?"
"Rigged a water balloon at the Cave's exit. It'll smack into the passenger side, but he'll want to get that off immediately."
Cass reached up to pat Jason on the white streak. "Good job little brother. What else do you have?"
"Nothing really, besides the suits."
"Yeah," Steph called from across the Cavern, "which you promised to help me with! Get the blue paint you nerd!"
Jason gave Dick and Cass a rueful smile and shrugged. "I've been summoned. Better run before she drags you in too."
Dick and Cass made their escape upstairs. Dick kind of wanted to check on Tim and Damian anyways. They'd made leaps in their relationship insofar as neither of them were trying to kill the other, and Tim had deleted his file on how to take down Damian, but it was still rocky.
When they got to the parlour, they hesitated outside the door. Dick didn't know what sort of traps had been laid, so he didn't know how to not spring them. Cass just raised an eyebrow at Dick and knocked lightly on the doorframe.
There was a bit of shuffling, then Tim cracked the door open. "Hey guys! Almost done. Do you wanna see?"
"Don't let Drake take any of the credit." Damian said from his perch on the fifth rung of a ladder. "He is merely executing my plans."
"Oh?" Dick ruffled Damian's hair, pulling back quickly when Damian made a grab at his wrist. "And is he doing a good job?"
Damian scowled. After a moment, he ground out, "It's passable."
Tim just rolled his eyes and pointed above the doorframe. "We figured that you four would be doing big and flashy, so we decided to do something small that would really ruin Bruce's day." A bucket was balanced precariously on a little metal shelf above the door. "That's a combination of cold instant coffee, glitter, and soy sauce."
"Nice one." Cass stood under and a little to the side of the contraption. "Will it go off if I stand under it?"
"Nope. That's the best part." Tim fished into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a doomsday remote. It even had a little plastic cover over the switch. "We didn't want to hit one of us by accident, so it'll only fall when we hit this." He tilted it so Cass and Dick could see, blushing a bit when the cover flipped open. "The cover is a bit loose. Which is fine, it's just there so I don't hit it accidentally when it's in my pocket." With that, he flipped the cover over and shoved the remote back in his pocket.
"Good thinking." Dick ruffled Tim's hair this time, leaving his hand on Tim's head for a moment before dropping it. Sometimes Tim needed reassurances that Dick still loved him, even months after Bruce had returned.
Which is what this was about, naturally. This was the first day that all of them had been together, and not busy with a crisis in Gotham. So, naturally, they were expressing their frustration with Bruce fake dying on them with some semi-harmless pranks. Steph had suggested it, her initial reasoning being, "He doesn't get to copy me, I faked my death first."
Speaking of. She and Jason walked through the door, whatever paint they'd had on their faces and clothes carefully washed out. Tim reached over and grabbed at a piece of paint that had gotten stuck in Steph's hair.
"So, when do the fireworks go off?" Jason threw himself into a chair, pulling a book out of an inside pocket and flipping through the pages.
Dick took a seat opposite Jason, on the couch, pulling Damian and Tim down to sit on either side of him. Steph and Cass took the other couch. "Bruce gets home in twenty minutes, if that's what you mean. We just have to make sure he comes here first. Steph, what do you have there?"
"The soap from Bruce's shower." Steph held up the bar and waggled it. Then, she pulled a bottle of clear nail polish from her pocket and opened it. "Brand new, Alfred just put it in this morning. So, of course, I have to mess with it." Carefully, she started applying the nail polish to the soap. "Once this baby is dry, it's going right back in. Let's see Bruce wash off whatever concoction Tim and Dami whipped up now."
Jason smiled and held up his hand for a high five, which Steph did not leave him hanging on. "You're my favourite." Cass tossed a slipper at him, which he blocked with his book. "Sorry, second favourite. No offense Steph."
"Nah, it's cool. Being second to Cass is being about a million tiers above anyone else."
Everyone considered this, then nodded. Then froze as they heard the sound of tires in the driveway. "Bruce is home!" Dick cried out. Finally! He raced to the window to watch as Bruce and Alfred started up the walkway.
"Drake, I wish to press the button."
"What? No, I did all the set up."
Uh oh. Dick turned away from the window, dread settling in his gut.
"I made the plans for it. And it was me who prepared the bucket, in case you've forgotten." Tim had the remote out and held high above his head. Damian was standing about an inch away, standing on his tip toes to try and reach it.
"Guys," Dick made his way away from the window. "Can't you just both push the button?"
Damian and Tim both looked at him like he was crazy. "It's a small button Dick," Tim said slowly, enunciating each word with care.
"Yes, and I should get to press it!" Damian reached a little higher, overbalanced, and fell into Tim, sending them both to the ground. Tim's back smacked rather forcefully against the front of Steph and Cass's couch, with Damian practically in his lap. After a moment of recovery, they started shouting at each other.
"Give it here Drake!"
"No way! I did most of the work you brat!"
"Sharing is caring Drake!"
"Get your own button!"
(In the hallway, Bruce listened to the racket in the parlour. He had been looking forward to relaxing in his favourite chair, as he did most days after coming home from the office, but there would be no relaxation if all of his kids were arguing in there. "Alfred, I hate to ask, but can you keep them from breaking anything? I'm going to go take a nap before patrol."
"Of course Master Bruce." Alfred knew exactly how exhausting dealing with the board members was. Almost half as exhausting as dealing with Bruce on any given day. He went to the kitchen for some refreshments, hoping to cool whatever tempers had flared in the parlour.)
Steph and Cass were still occupied with their bar of soap, barely giving them a glance. Jason still had his book open and covering his face, but his eyes kept peeking out over the top. Clearly, if Dick wanted this resolved, he would have to do it himself.
He was halfway to the couch when the door opened. Tim, startled, dropped his arm half an inch. The cover had flipped open, and the exposed button jammed itself unceremoniously on Damian's middle finger. There was a beep, then metal scraping against metal, the platform smacking into the wall, and the bucket landing directly on Alfred's head.
The room was silent.
Alfred stood for a moment in the doorway, a drink tray in one hand, the contents of which were now ruined by a coffee/soy sauce/glitter sludge. Tim was frozen solid. Damian bolted, running behind Dick for cover. Cass and Steph were looking at Alfred in horror. Jason was trying to disappear behind his book.
Dick swallowed – once, twice – before speaking. He was the oldest, it was his job to take responsibility. "Sorry Alfred. That was supposed to have hit Bruce." As soon as he said it, he knew it was a bad idea.
The look Alfred had on his face as he removed the bucket was one that promised retribution. Then, he placed the bucket on the floor, and the look was gone by the time he had straightened up. "It shouldn't have hit anyone, Master Dick. I expect you to clean all of this up within the hour. All of you. I'm off to go see what other chores I can assign you." And with that, Alfred left.
"Well," Jason slammed his book closed with a bang. "Time to leave Gotham. It was nice knowing you folks. I'll rinse the bucket." And then he left, grabbing the bucket on his way out.
Of course, that was the one thing that was possible to do outside. Luckily, most of the coffee/soy/glitter mixture had landed on Alfred, leaving just a few puddles to deal with for the rest of them. Dick wiped most of it off the hardwood with a napkin, throwing it in the bag Damian held oped for him. Steph wiped the floor down with a cloth, Cass sprayed it with hardwood polish, which Tim then worked into the floor with another cloth.
"Jason had the right idea though." Steph tossed her cloth back in the bucket. "We should probably leave before Bruce finds out about the other stuff."
"Oh yeah." Tim shuddered a bit. "We might have to clean it."
"So making Alfred clean it is better?" Dick raised an eyebrow.
Cass smiled. "Alfred won't. If Bruce wants to be the night, he's going to have to clean his own suits."
The rest of them nodded. "Need help getting that bar of soap into Bruce's bathroom?" Dick offered.
"Heck yeah." Steph picked up her now-dry soap and made for the stair case.
(Hours later, Bruce stared in silent shock at his cave. And he'd thought the study had been bad. His first six suits, old models that he'd retired but held onto for nostalgia/back ups, had been painted. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, from oldest to most recent. His current suit was a travesty of neon, a rainbow from left to right. The Batmobile was covered in Post Its. Bat shaped Post Its. He really hoped they would come off, because he didn't really have time to pull them all off individually. Thankfully, his kids had left the windshield uncovered.
With a sigh, he reached into the very back of his cotton-ball-filled locker, opening the secret panel that was his actual suit backup. After Alfred had declared, all those years ago, that he wouldn't scrub a single fleck of paint out of Bruce's suit until he learned to control his child, Bruce had learned to keep a secret spare.
With a sigh, he did some quick checking on the Batcomputer, noting a slight sluggishness to the keys. He'd have to check that at some point, but it was not a big enough hindrance to worry him for now. Once he had the information necessary for tonight's patrol, he pulled up his cowl and jumped in the Batmobile.
On his way out of the Cave, a water balloon, a black one hanging on a string, smacked against his windshield. With another sigh, he turned on the windshield wipers.)
AN: Today's prompt is Shenanigans! Ah, poor Bruce. Alfred is definitely making him clean this all up, especially once all the Batkids leave the country.
The only prank I thought of was painting the Batsuits rainbow. All the rest were Googled, except for the bucket which my lovely beta Arrowcomix thought of. Find the fanart that inspired this fic on tumblr!
Read and enjoy! Loxie out!