They decide to take an elevator to get up to the Manor.
"It'll be good to figure out stairs sooner than later, but not right now," Tim says, tiredness more than clear on his face.
Bruce doesn't even need to think about it. He nods and splits the others up: Barbara and Dick to the Batcomputer to begin research, Damian and Cass to start getting changed into civilian clothes, Jason and Stephanie to put away the mission supplies. Somewhat selfishly, he reserves bringing Tim and the kids to the Manor for Alfred and himself.
As the others peel away, Sonny cracks another yawn, which sets off Ian and Sandy into yawning along. Char is covering his mouth, but from the way his eyebrows go up, he's yawning too.
"Supper time, clean-up time, and bedtime, then," Tim says with a sense of finality.
"That was precisely my thought process," Alfred says, and he leads the way toward the elevators.
All four kids startle when the elevator doors close behind them and the elevator begins to move. It's as smooth of a journey as Bruce could make it when he put in the elevators, but at this moment, Bruce wishes he could've made it even smoother. That look of fear and uncertainty isn't one Bruce would wish on many people, especially not his grandchildren. Bruce immediately resolves to look into any possible updates to the elevators.
The four kids startle even more visibly when the elevator doors open back up to reveal the Manor.
"This is…" Char says, then he tries again. "This is Wayne Manor?"
"Yeah," Tim says in almost a croak. "We're home."
"Home," Ian repeats happily. "I like that."
"This way to the kitchen, dear children," Alfred says, starting down the hallway.
Tim follows, his four children sticking close, Bruce bringing up the rear.
"Admittedly, I did not prepare for the arrival of five," Alfred says as they walk. "However, I believe what I made in the hope of the arrival of one will suffice."
"Anything you make will do more than just 'suffice,' Alfred," Tim says.
Alfred sniffs but nods.
They make it to the kitchen. Alfred heads for the cupboards, while Tim pulls out one of the stools at the counter, sits on it, and then immediately stands back up again. "See that?"
Bruce frowns, on watch for whatever Tim is pointing out.
"This is a stool," Tim says. "It's for sitting on, like a chair, but there's no back to it, so you have to be careful, okay?"
Oh. Tim is talking to the children. He's… He's explaining what's in the kitchen, because the children have never even seen a stool before. Of course they haven't. There weren't any stools that Bruce could see in that room, in the "Gilded Cage" that was all the children have ever known until now.
Char nods and steps forward, carefully climbing up onto the next stool over. He gives Tim a smile once he's successfully seated.
Sonny and Sandy succeed as well, although Sonny nearly tips his stool over and also nearly gives Bruce a heart attack in the process. (Tim catches Sonny's arm with practiced ease and makes sure he gets on safely.)
Ian, on the other hand, tries to climb onto the stool for several moments, then he climbs back onto the floor and stares at the stool. His lower lip quivers in a pout as he stares up at his brothers and sister seated on their respective stools. Ian declares, "I don't wanna sit on a stool, Dad."
"Don't wanna or can't?" Sandy asks frankly.
"Don't wanna," Ian says with a stubborn pout.
Tim nods. "Okay. Would you want to sit on my lap?"
Ian's pout disappears, replaced by a grin. "Yeah!"
"But I'll have to sit on a stool," Tim says.
Ian nods agreeably, holding up his arms.
Tim scoops him up and climbs onto his own stool.
Bruce watches this entire exchange, amazed at his son as a dad.
Alongside the plates, cups, and pitchers he'd already placed there, Alfred puts onto the counter a large tray of mixed deli meat cuts, cheeses, and crackers, while he says, "As a starter, this should do."
"Looks yummy," Sonny says, wiggling a little on his stool.
"Careful," Tim says. "You don't want to fall off."
"I don't," Sonny agrees, wiggling just the same.
They eat the meats, cheeses, and crackers, then they eat the pasta that follows that, then they eat the fruit pie that follows that in turn. By the time Alfred is clearing the dishes, Ian has his head slumped against Tim's chest, blinking more and more slowly; Sonny and Sandy are half-leaned into each other, propping each other up; and Char is swaying slightly on his stool, jolting back upright every few seconds.
"Bedtime," Tim says quietly but decisively.
"Bedtime," Char sighs in agreement. "Uh-huh."
Sandy groans, but she straightens up and makes Sonny straighten up in turn.
Ian just mumbles something into Tim's shirt.
"I know, buddy," Tim says soothingly. "It's okay. We're going to sleep really soon."
Ian yawns and mumbles something else that goes up in tone at the end like a question.
Tim smiles a little. "And we're going to wake up tomorrow at home too."
"Good," Ian says, made just barely discernible by the way he tilts his head back so he can look up at Tim. Then his head tilts forward into Tim's chest again with a quiet thud.
Tim huffs a laugh. He gets down off of his stool, holding Ian on his hip with one arm as he reaches out with the other arm to steady Sandy as she turns to climb down too.
Bruce steps forward and offers Sandy his hand.
Sandy looks at his hand, then up at him, then over at Tim.
"You can take it," Tim says. "That's Grandpa, remember? He wants to help you."
Sandy turns back toward Bruce, squinting at him as if deciding whether to trust him.
Carefully, Bruce gives her his most open stance: shoulders down and back, feet slightly spread, one hand loose by his side, the other hand still out to her. He gives her his softest smile too, but that doesn't take much effort. He wants her to trust him. He wants so very badly for them all to trust him.
Finally, Sandy looks down at Bruce's hand again. She reaches out and takes it.
Bruce helps her down onto the floor, then he does the same with Sonny, who takes only a quick glance at Tim before grabbing Bruce's hand.
Once they're on the floor, Bruce turns toward Char, but Char is already on the floor and watching Bruce.
Bruce gives Char a soft smile. "Ready for bedtime, then."
"Yes," Char says, turning toward Tim. "Where are we sleeping, Dad?"
Tim falters, opening and closing his mouth.
"I took the liberty of freshening up your old room, master Tim," Alfred says after a moment. "All of the guest suites are usable as well for the young ones, although perhaps a bit distant from yours."
Tim nods slowly. "Would it be okay if… I think we'd do better all together in one of the guest suites, if that's all right."
Alfred nods back. "Of course. The master guest suite does have the largest bed, if you wish to sleep as one."
"We probably do," Tim says.
"I shall bring some suitable clothing and toiletries from storage once you are settled, then," Alfred says.
"I can get them settled," Bruce says in a rush.
Alfred pauses, then he nods again. "Of course. I will meet you there."
Alfred heads out of the kitchen, and just like that, it's just Bruce and his son and his grandchildren, and it's something he never thought he would have, and it's more precious than he could have ever believed, despite everything that led to it.
Bruce shakes his head, clearing away the thought as best he can. "Okay. This way."
Bruce leads the way to the master guest suite, looking back at every step.
And at every step, Tim is following him, Char trailing slightly behind, Sonny and Sandy strolling along on either side, Ian curled up in Tim's arms. At every step, they're all still there, even though every time Bruce looks forward to make sure he doesn't run into a wall, Bruce half-expects them to disappear by the time he looks back again, like some kind of dream.
When Bruce opens the door to the master guest suite, Sandy runs in, throwing herself on the bed. "It's huge!"
"It's huge," Sonny says with agreed awe, walking around the sides of it before flopping down.
"Take a minute to rest," Tim tells them. "We should get changed before bed, and it is a shower night, and-"
"Do we gotta?" Sonny asks.
Tim hesitates.
As he sits on the edge of the bed, Char yawns loudly, setting off all three of his siblings, even Ian peeking out from Tim's arms with barely-open eyes and yawning.
"We'll see," Tim says, sitting next to Char on the bed. More quietly, he repeats to himself, "We'll see."
Bruce hovers in the doorway, watching Tim and the kids slowly melt against the bed. After just a minute or two, all five sets of eyes are closed.
Bruce takes a step back, meaning to close the door behind him and makes sure Alfred lets them sleep.
Then Tim sits up a little. His eyes are bleary with near-sleep, his shoulders slumped and his hair already a bit mussed. But he watches Bruce, and he says quietly, "Thanks."
"No need to thank me," Bruce says just as quietly.
"I love you, Dad," Tim says, easily, simply, as if it's something he always knew he would get to say again.
"I love you too, Tim," Bruce says, his heart aching and breaking and healing and soaring in equal measures. "Good night. See you in the morning."
Tim cracks a grin as he settles back down into the bed and closes his eyes again. "See you in the morning."