Between Bruce and Batman, neither were particularly good with people. But, of the two of them, Bruce was better. However, Bruce was not better at seven in the morning after a long night of patrol.

"Master Bruce, the Justice League is here."

Oh crap.

Bruce got dressed haphazardly before going downstairs.

When he opened it, the entire justice league stood before him.

"Good Afternoon, Bruce." Said Clark Kent.

Bruce gave a nod. "Clark."

Bruce looked to Alfred in silent command to remove the highchair. Alfred obeyed.

"What's this about?" he asked.

"Joker." Said Clark. Bruce nodded, and led them inside.

The next two hours passed by in a blur that Bruce couldn't quite comprehend. He wasn't awake enough to argue with them. At some point, their conversation turned toward more neutral topics. Bruce's thoughts soon turned to his son, and he realized he had to get them to leave- and fast.

Before he could react on it, Dick awoke. He instantly sensed it, as if an alarm had gone off in his head.

"I'll be back." He said, quickly.

He went upstairs to find his son wide awake. Smiling, he picked Dick up and set him on the changing table. Dick looked up blearily as Bruce changed him.

"Daddy?" Dick asked, surprised.

"Hmm?"

"Up?"

"No Dickie, Uncle Clark, Auntie Diana, and the rest of the league are downstairs."

He dressed his son quickly.

"Do you want to play in here?"

"I want Daddy pway with me."

"Daddy has friends over, Dickie. You have to wait." He said in a sad voice. Dick's face crumpled. He began to whine softly, and Bruce was quick to start hushing him. When his whines escalated to whimpers, Bruce sat in the rocking chair, singing softly,

"Hush little baby don't say a word.

Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird

And if that mockingbird won't sing,

Papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring

And if that diamond ring turns brass,

Papa's gonna buy you a looking glass

And if that looking glass gets broke,

Papa's gonna buy you a billy goat

And if that billy goat won't pull,

Papa's gonna buy you a cart and bull

And if that cart and bull fall down,

You'll still be the sweetest little baby in town."

While singing to his son, Bruce didn't realize that the justice league was standing in the doorway. He gathered his strength and stood with his son in his arms, still clinging to his shirt even in sleep. He laid him in the crib as gently as humanly possible, and gave a small peck on the forehead. He raised the crib bar and went to the door to see the League standing there. He continued on, stopping for just one moment to take one last look at his sleeping son.

When Bruce reached the bottom step of the grand staircase, he was bombarded by a barrage of questions and confused looks. Clark, of course, was the first to pipe up.

"What on earth-" He began, but was interrupted by Bruce.

"Allow me to explain." He said. They were silent as he explained the concept.

"I talked to Dick's psychologist who suggested that he may be using this as an escape from the trauma of his parents death. Considering some of the other options he had, this was the safest coping skill. So I looked into it and, deciding Dick could do much worse, jumped on board. It gives him a sense of security, and it gives me a chance to get in on years missed." As he said that last bit, he looked to Flash, who nodded in understanding. He would never get those early years with his nephew that he dreamed of. They all nodded their understanding and agreed to keep the secret.

Bruce decided to take his son downstairs. He had to trust them, and know his trust was well placed. Dick laid in Bruce's lap, tired from the lullaby. He cuddled up against Bruce and blocked out the rest of the world.

Clark Kent was a man of news, and a man of action. Therefore, when there was a situation placed before him where he could not take any action, he was very nonplussed about it. He was pointedly aware that the current situation had to be one of non-action, but one of forced normalcy and seemingly non-judgemental remarks. It was the kind of situation that would have normally made him grind his teeth, but when he saw Dick in that Red footed sleeper cuddling up to his adoptive father, he simply couldn't find a reason to complain.

Diana looked at the situation and saw the predicament in a way that only a woman could. She saw the tenderness between father and son and instantaneously knew that Bruce was (as always) doing the right thing. This bond forged at the time of Dick's adoption, carried and reinforced over the years had been strengthened by this, of that she was sure. She smiled at Dick hiding by burying his face into his father's shoulder. She saw it somewhat as Dick being a drowning man and Bruce being his life raft. He needed his father to fulfill these needs, or else he'd never grow up to be a well adjusted adult. It was a simple, logical process that made complete sense to her.

And then there was Barry.

Barry Allen had taken his own nephew under his wing as Kid Flash. He couldn't help but wonder what he would do if he were in Bruce's situation. Would he cater to his nephew's needs? He liked to think he would have the integrity to say he would, yet the thought lacked conviction. He knew that in reality he would never be asked such a question, so the choice simply didn't matter, but to him it was a sort of internal dilemma. Would have the guts, smarts, and wits to take this challenge on?

It was a question that would haunt him late into the night.

The League talked for a few hours about crimes, villains, and politics. Finally, Clark decided it was time for the league to get back. They shook hands and promised to swing by to see Dick soon.

Bruce, with a sigh, shut the door and leaned against it.

There was no place like being home alone. Well, almost alone.