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Jason ran down the hall as quietly as he could, avoiding all the squeaky boards, Dick’s voice echoing almost tauntingly behind him.
“Forty seven, forty six, forty five, forty four--”
Damnit, he wanted to yell at Dick to count slower, you cheater but all that yelling would do was give Dick an idea of where he was going, and he needed to hurry up.
“That would be wise, Master Bruce.”
Jason skidded to a stop in front of Bruce’s study and peeked in. Alfred and Bruce were sitting at the desk, and they both looked up.
“Twenty-nine, twenty-eight--”
Jason slipped in through the gap in the door. “Dick’s seeking,” he hissed as he ran around to Bruce, then dove under the desk, jamming himself into a corner behind Bruce’s legs.
“--one. Ready or not, here I come!”
“But do we have to invite the Marches, Alfred?” Bruce asked. Jason could hear a pen tapping the desk.
“I am afraid so, Master Bruce. Now do please stop whining, it is unbecoming of a man your age.”
Jason swallowed a snicker and nudged Bruce’s ankle. Bruce nudged his knee with his socked foot.
“One of these days, Alfred, I’ll convince you.”
“I doubt it. All personal opinions aside, the Marches are an important business connection for Wayne Enterprises and it would be a pity to destroy that.”
“I know, I know. But a man can dream, no?”
Several sets of running footsteps announced the arrival of Jason’s siblings. Jason wished he could tell how many just by the sound. He wanted to know how many of them Dick had found.
“Hiya, Bruce. Alfie,” Dick said. Jason heard the scuff of the door scraping against the carpet.
“Master Dick,” Alfred greeted. “The Howards are currently in China. They won’t be able to attend, but I suppose we must send an invitation so they can send their regrets.”
A pair of socked feet appeared right in front of Jason, and he startled a little, bumping his head against the back of the desk. Cass, who was now leaning against the arm of Bruce’s chair, blinked at him.
His sister was so quiet it was freaky sometimes.
Jason put a finger to his lips, eyes wide. A tiny smile crossed Cass’s face before she turned her attention more fully to Bruce, tugging on his sleeve.
“Jim said he’d had an officer serve papers to James Crown,” Bruce said, as he absently helped Cass scramble into his lap. “He’ll get out of the charges, of course, but...”
Alfred nodded. “Well, Master Bruce, if it’s any consolation it does give us the pleasure of one less stuffy individual.”
“Oh, ew, are you planning a gala or something?” Dick’s jeans-clad legs appeared in front of the desk, followed shortly by the boy’s grinning face. “Found ya, Jay.”
Jason stuck his tongue out and scrambled over Bruce’s legs. Dick stepped back to let Jason pass.
Bruce gave Dick a sympathetic smile. “Unfortunately.”
Tim had settled himself into the other chair across the desk, next to Alfred. “Yeah, I WIN!” Jason crowed, punching the air.
Dick grinned and held out a fist, so Jason bumped it.
“That’s seventy-three. I’m still five ahead though.”
“F--” Alfred raised an eyebrow. “-udgecakes. Just you wait, Dickie.”
Dick turned back to Bruce. “You’re not having it here, are you?”
Bruce furrowed his eyebrows, suddenly looking a little worried. “Well, that was the plan. We usually alternate every year, our family and Aunt Kate’s.”
Dick cartwheeled to the other side of the desk, plopping down next to Tim and pulling the younger boy into his lap. “I’m not going,” he announced.
Tim leaned back into Dick’s arms, watching him and Bruce with wide eyes. Jason scowled. Little parasite.
Bruce just nodded. “Alright. If you don’t want to be there, you can stay upstairs. That’s just fine.”
“Hey,” Jason interrupted, leaning against the arm of Bruce’s chair. “If Dickie doesn’t have to be there, I don’t wanna be there either.” Galas sucked. They were full of rich stuffy people who were too full of themselves and looked at Jason and Dick like they were disease-ridden animals (or some kind of cute animal that Bruce had rescued) instead of just kids.
“None of us are going,” Dick said. Jason looked at his older brother. Dick had his chin up and his face set in the way he did when he’d decided he was going to be stubborn about something.
Bruce looked a little surprised for just a second.
“They talk too much,” Dick said meaningfully, purposefully jostling Tim in his lap.
Jason raised his eyebrows.
“They do,” Cass agreed.
Bruce’s face softened.
“Okay.” He glanced at Alfred.
“We’ll keep the gala confined to the downstairs level,” Alfred said.
“And you guys don’t have to come down,” Bruce finished.
“Oh, yeah!” Jason cheered. Cass beamed and held up a hand. Jason slapped it hard as he could.
Dick was smiling so hard Jason thought his whole face seemed to glow. “Thanks, Bruce.”
Jason glanced at Tim. The kid just looked really confused and was chewing on his knuckle, watching them all.
Jason didn’t understand the new kid.
Jason and Dick were sitting in the hallway, legs stuck through the bars of the railing to swing over the floor. (Jason had heard that Dick used to perch on top of the railings before Bruce spotted him, had a miniature heart attack, and banned him from ever doing it again.)
The decorators Bruce had hired were bustling about, in and out through the front hall and the big, ornate glass doors that led to the ballroom where Jason had never been except to sock-skate with Dick or blast music and dance with Cass.
“Is it weird that I kinda hate this even though we don’t even have to go?” Jason asked, scowling down the stairs.
A year ago, Jason would never dare voice that kind of thought out loud. Even now, bringing up feelings around Bruce and Alfred felt kinda weird. Dick was different, though. Dick was a sap, and also he didn’t laugh or scold Jason and could relate surprisingly often, so Jason didn’t mind blurting out these things around Dick.
Dick shrugged. “Don’t think so. I kinda hate it too.”
Jason kicked his legs. “This the first time Dad’s had one of these?”
Dick leaned forward, pressing his face against the bars. “First in two years, is all I know.”
“I hate galas. And rich people.”
Dick laughed. “Dad’s rich, Jay,” he said, nudging Jason with his shoulder. “That means we’re rich, too.”
“I hate rich stuffy people,” Jason amended, and Dick laughed again. Jason couldn’t help but grin back.
“What are you guys doing?”
Dick turned towards Tim, who had appeared a few feet away, finger hovering near his lips.
Jason’s smile slipped away, and he glared at the younger boy from behind Dick’s head.
Tim stared steadily back.
“Just watchin’ the decorators, Timmy,” Dick said, and held out an arm. Tim immediately scrambled over, settling down onto the floor and snuggling into Dick’s side as the older boy wrapped an arm around him.
“Bruce hasn’t held a gala in a long time,” Tim said.
“Nope,” Dick agreed, popping the ‘p’. His fingers drummed against Tim’s arm.
“He used to before,” Tim went on. “I wonder why he stopped.”
“I wonder,” Dick said. Jason could hear the fond smile in his voice.
Jason kicked his legs again, hard, and considered leaving. He needed a good enough excuse for Dickie, though. He’d learned not to toss out the first one he came up with a long time ago.
“Alright, kids,” Bruce said, stepping out of his bedroom. He was dressed in a black suit and tie, but he had baby Damian balanced in one arm and was holding Cass’s hand with the other. “Barbara’s babysitting, she’ll be here in an hour.”
Jason scowled. “Babysitting?”
Dick squinted up at Bruce. “You don’t usually get a babysitter,” he noted. True, Bruce usually asked Dick to keep an eye on the younger kids when he had to work at home.
“You’re literally gonna be downstairs,” Jason said, at the same time as Tim asked, “What’s a babysitter?”
Everyone turned to look at Tim. Tim fidgeted and sank against Dick.
“Kinda like a nanny?” Dick offered, giving Tim a squeeze. “Except they only stay for a few hours or so.”
Bruce shook his head slightly, and nodded.
“Don’t see why we need a babysitter, anyways,” Jason muttered, staring down the stairs. “I’ve been lookin’ after myself since I was like four.”
Tim, of all people, made a small sound that sounded too much like Dick when he was agreeing to something.
“Jason...” Bruce started.
“I like Barbara,” Cass interrupted.
“I never said I don’t like Babs, all I’m sayin’ is--”
“Jeez, guys, chill,” Dick said. “If someone else can be in charge of Damian instead of me, I’m all for it.”
Bruce raised an eyebrow at that. Dick grinned and shrugged. “Hey, I don’t mind watchin’ the baby, but I’m not gonna pass up the chance to skip changing diapers and keeping him from crying.”
"Master Bruce!” Alfred called, and Jason pressed his face against the bars to look down at the man standing at the foot of the stairs. “I would appreciate it if you could join me for a few minutes,” he said crisply. Jason figured Bruce was probably supposed to have been down there a long time ago.
“Coming, Alfred,” Bruce said sheepishly, pretty much confirming Jason’s suspicions. “Jay?”
Jason glanced at Tim still pressed against Dick’s side, and held his arms out so that Bruce could lower Damian into his lap.
The baby looked up at him with big green eyes, one already slobbery hand stuffed as far as possible into his mouth.
“Hiya,” Jason said, and Damian smiled, suddenly excited. Jason smiled back a little awkwardly.
“Ughoo,” he said.
“You don’t say.” Jason didn’t really know how to talk to a baby.
“That,” Dick said suddenly. “Was a wonderful development.”
Jason blinked. “What?” Cass and Tim had turned to look at Dick questioningly.
Dick pulled his legs out of the railing and scrambled to his feet, bringing Tim up with him, before putting his hands under Damian’s arms and scooping him out of Jason’s lap. “C’mon,” he said, and started down the hall, Tim close behind.
Jason glanced at Cass. She shrugged, so Jason shrugged back and they headed down the hall.
Dick lay Damian in the middle of his bed, and got his siblings settled at the edge of the bed before he stood in front of them, pacing like some kind of a general out of one of Jason’s mom’s shows.
“Alright,” he said. “What we have here is a prime opportunity.”
“ A what,” Jason said, unimpressed.
His big brother was so dramatic.
Dick scowled. “Sh, let me finish.”
He waved a hand towards the door. “Dad is hosting a gala. A gala full of the richest, snottiest, most stuck-up people I, for one, have ever met.”
Cass was nodding. Jason snorted. “You can say that again.”
Tim was chewing his lip again. “Are they all that bad?”
“Well, not all of them,” Dick amended. “Aunt Kate’s gonna be there, after all. And I don’t know if Mr. Queen is coming but he’s usually pretty cool. But a lot of them are sneaky gossiping—meanies, and I am infinitely happy I don’t have to be down there to hear all the whispering goin’ on.”
“That’s why you were so set on skipping,” Jason said, realization dawning. Well, that much was pretty obvious, but Jason was starting to realize that with Bruce having just recently adopted Tim, all the worst rumors would be circulating again. All the nasty ones about why people thought the wealthy Bruce Wayne would be taking in a bunch of orphan kids alongside the usual speculations on the dangers of taking in a gypsy boy and a street rat.
Dick nodded sharply. “But,” he went on, “They are all right downstairs. And Barbara will be watching Damian.” He looked at them all expectantly.
Cass tilted her head slightly.
“Yeah, we’re gonna need you to be a bit more specific, Dickie.”
Dick huffed. “I’m saying this is the perfect opportunity for a mission.”
Jason felt a grin rising on his face. He hopped off the bed. “Oh, yeah. Count me in.”
Cass jumped off after him. “Mean people,” she said, making a face, then beamed. “Fun. Good idea.”
“You’re going to sneak downstairs,” Tim said, matter-of-factly. Jason rolled his eyes and turned towards him. The kid looked at each of them, eyes huge. “Won’t you get into trouble?”
Dick waved a hand. “They’ll never realize it was us,” he promised. “C’mon, Tim, you gotta help us.”
Tim chewed his lip.
“Unless you’re too chicken,” Jason said. Dick kicked him.
“Ouch!” Jason jumped away, rubbing his leg.
Cass slapped them both in the back of the head (standing on her toes). “Be nice.”
Jason looked at Dick and stuck his tongue out. Dick ignored him.
“You don’t have to,” Dick said to Tim. “But it’ll be fun. And Cass is right, these guys deserve a prank or two. They’re rich and snotty and they love spreading nasty rumors about people and Bruce says half the time they donate at the charity galas is just to look good.”
“You sure we won’t get into trouble?”
“I promise you won’t get in trouble, Tim,” Dick said, and Jason snorted.
“Just lettin’ ya know, if you decide to take all the blame I’m not bailing you out.”
Dick elbowed him.
“Okay,” Tim said, and Dick whooped.
Cass was beaming.
Jason rolled his eyes. Overdramatic, all of them.
“I just want to let you know that I am not happy with this arrangement,” Jason said.
Tim, pressed next to him where they were hiding behind one of the large vases in the front hall, just said, “Okay.”
Jason stared at him. “Really?”
Tim shrugged. “Dick wanted to be with Cass. Damian’s a baby, and we’re not telling Barbara. It’s not your fault you got stuck with me.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Sorry.”
“For what?”
“For...saying that?”
“Saying what?” Tim just blinked at him, and Jason huffed. “I don’t get you, kid.”
Tim turned away, chewing his lip. “Look,” he said.
Jason watched as another pair of guests arrived, taking off their coats and handing them to the man at the door. “What?”
“That’s Lincoln March.”
“Who the who now.”
“Lincoln March. Wasn’t Bruce saying he didn’t want to invite the Marches?”
Jason pursed his lips. On the one hand, he didn’t want to go straight for the guy Tim pointed out. On the other, the jacket-guy was still carrying the coats and this was too good an opportunity to miss.
Following jacket-man and slipping a few sticky cherry tarts into March’s pockets wouldn’t be hard. “Well, kid, guess we’ve got our first target.”
Jason had never realized Tim was sneaky.
Over the past half-hour, they had:
Strategically placed a napkin on the floor (Tim’s idea) to trip Janet Stewart (Jason’s target), who’d once loudly compared the circus to a zoo right within Dick’s hearing.
Slipped an olive into a drink-that-definitely-didn't-go-with-olives (Jason’s idea. It looked too orange for olives) that had been left on a table for a moment by Roberta Crowley, who wrote the gossip columns that often featured the steadily growing Wayne family (Tim’s target). (The look on her face as she took a sip confirmed Jason’s suspicions that it was definitely not-an-olive drink. The fact that the particular olive had been stolen from an appetizer tray probably helped.)
Hid underneath a table while Aunt Kate and Bruce stood in the corner two feet away, complaining to each other about their guests.
Dumped the contents of a jam tart in front of a table right as James Woodruff (stupid rich powerful racist, or so Jason had heard) stepped right into it and was making sticky jam tracks with his squelchy shoes before the other guests started tittering.
They made a surprisingly good team, Jason realized.
They’d also seen evidence of Dick and Cass’s pranks. Calvin Downing (who’d once whispered of Cass, “Oh dear, she can’t speak? How savage will these children Brucie takes in get?”) was attempting to convince someone that yes, his pocket kerchief had always been the same dark red as the wine being served, no, it wasn’t white earlier this evening, yes, he was sure.
All the chocolate eclairs were missing. Jason was not sure who exactly they were trying to annoy, but it must have been Dick and Cass because there had been a huge stack of chocolate eclairs at the table five minutes ago.
They’d been watching for their next mark when one guy stepped on some lady’s dress. Jason snorted. Loretta Cross would’ve been a good target considering Jason remembered her being one of the whisperers, but it seemed she’d already had her embarrassing moment as she scrambled to catch her footing whilst the guy tried to help and only succeeded in making it all harder.
Jason heard a soft click next to him. He glanced over to find Tim holding a small, silver, boxy camera.
Jason stared. A digital camera. “Bruce got you a camera?”
Tim’s face turned red. “No,” he said. “It was Dad’s, but he didn’t used to use it so I did.”
Jason blinked. “Oh.” He wasn’t really sure what to say after that. Sure, his dad was dead, too, but he’d never really liked the guy much anyways.
He’d wondered, sometimes. Especially on the nights Dickie woke up crying because he’d just seen his parents falling again.
Mom, though...that was different.
“So, whatcha doin’ with it?” he asked instead.
Tim smiled.
“When people go to galas,” Tim started, “They try really hard to look good. They don’t want to look ugly or clumsy or bored. Sometimes,” he added, suddenly reflective, “I’m not even sure they want to look like humans.”
Jason stared out into the mass of expensive suits and flashy gowns. Fake, he remembered Cass whispering, the first, last, and only time Bruce had taken her with him. “Huh. Deep.”
“Anyways,” Tim said brightly. “We might not be able to use them right now, but Bruce doesn’t do galas anymore, right? So we’ll have something for later.”
Jason felt a smile rising on his face. He reached over and ruffled the kid’s hair, ignoring the startled squeak. “I like the way you think, kid.”
They’d been hiding behind a curtain in the hall outside the ballroom (the one that connected to the kitchens and bathrooms) in front of a fake window Jason had never ceased to make fun of, taking pictures of a very obviously drunk (but trying to hide it) man when it happened.
Said very drunk man, stumbling a little too close for Jason’s comfort, tripped over his own feet and dropped the glass he was holding.
It shattered loudly against the floor, pieces of glass falling away from the crash center.
Jason couldn’t help the little yelp he let out. It sounded a little louder than made sense before he realized Tim, pressed hard against the wall and clutching the camera to his chest, had yelped as well.
“Oh, no,” the man moaned, backing away. “Oh, no oh no.” He glanced at the glass, at the doors leading back to the ballroom. “Oh god.”
He shoved his hands through his hair, glancing around, and started to walk away.
Jason grabbed Tim’s arms and rose into a crouch, ready to make a run for it, when the guy suddenly turned around and walked back, still muttering to himself.
Jason froze.
The moment the man turned around Jason moved, dragging Tim along for two seconds before the younger boy managed to scramble to his feet, and they ran down the hall until they reached the door at the very end. Jason yanked at the door that hid the back staircase upstairs.
It was locked.
“Damn it,” he growled, and glanced at Tim.
Tim looked back solemnly. “Ready?”
Jason took a deep breath. Curtains, tablecloths, maybe the kitchens. It’ll be risky, but we can do it. “Ready.”
And so they started back down the hall, flitting from behind curtains to under tablecloths. Jason kept repeating their emergency strategy in his head.
Dick’s idea, and the reason he’d taken Cass and paired Jason up with Tim. If they got caught, the older kid was escorting the little one downstairs to get the stuffie they’d forgotten in the shoe closet.
Yes, they had four stuffies stuffed into the shoe closet. Probably wouldn’t actually convince Bruce and Alfred but hey, that’s why it was important not to get caught.
Jason felt like he didn’t breathe until they’d gotten back to the main staircase. Tim was breathing deeply next to him.
“You good?” Jason asked as they trudged up the staircase.
Tim just nodded.
Jason, eying him sideways, gave him a once-over.
And froze as his eyes caught the light glinting off something on Tim’s knee.
“Ohcrapohcrapohcrap--” Jason muttered, panicked and a little floundering. Tim looked down at his knee.
There was a curved piece of glass stuck inside Tim’s knee. A big one.
Okay, it was probably like, the size of a penny, but it was stuck in Tim, and there was dark red blood smudging all over the glass and sluggishly dripping down his leg--
“Oh,” Tim said. And stopped, sat down on the steps, reached down and pulled the glass out.
“What the fuck,” Jason cried, glancing around for something he could slap onto the cut until he could get a bandage.
“It’s okay,” Tim said. “It wasn’t very deep.”
Jason shoved his hands into his pockets, found a napkin, and, shrugging, pulled it out and pressed it against Tim’s knee. It immediately soaked through with blood and Jason winced as he felt it against his fingers.
Tim made a disgusted, horrified face. “Did that have your boogers on it?”
“Shouldn’t you be freaking out just a little bit more?” Jason asked. A little hysterically.
Tim blinked at him. “It’s just a cut, Jason.”
“Jason! Tim!” Jason glanced back. Dick and Cass were pressed into the shadowed alcove right next to the stairs. Dick leaned up on his toes. “What are you doing?”
“Tim got hurt,” Jason said.
In a moment, Dick had somehow managed to scramble up the wall high enough to grab the stair railing and flip himself over it, landing on the step below Jason and Tim and crouching down.
“It’s just a little cut,” Tim said.
Dick gently moved Jason’s hand away, then lifted the napkin. “Oh, no, Robin,” he whispered, then held out the bloody napkin to Jason.
Jason backed away a little. “I’m not touching that,” he said. He was distantly aware that’s what he’d been doing all this time, and when he glanced down at his hands there was blood on them and they were shaking a little.
This was stupid. Jason had seen blood before. Had gotten blood all over his hands, before, just like this, pressing a wet napkin to his mom’s skin.
Dick looked up, eyes wide. “Jay?” Tim was watching him too.
Now the kid looked scared.
Cass caught his hand and squeezed.
Jason squeezed back, then took a deep breath and lifted his chin. “Gimme that,” he said, snatching the bloody napkin from Dick’s hand and balling it into a fist.
Dick gave him one last worried glance, then scooped Tim up off the stairs. “C’mon, someone’s definitely heard us by now.”
With that, the three of them scrambled up the stairs.
“Where have you guys been?” Barbara demanded from the door of Damian’s nursery as Dick swept past with Tim. “You guys weren’t supposed to be downstairs.”
“It’s fine, Babs, we were just in and out, nobody even knows we were there,” Dick said as he pushed open the bathroom door and walked inside, setting Tim down on the counter.
Jason ducked in after him, dumping the napkin in his hand into the trash can.
“I don’t really find that reassuring—what happened?”
Jason turned on the sink and started washing his hands. Dick leaned in next to him, shoved a paper towel under the stream, and went back to Tim.
Tim looked more confused than a five-year-old should at that moment. “It’s just a scrape.”
Jason looked up from the sink. “It’s big and it’s bleeding,” he said. He glanced at the doorway. Cass was hiding behind Barbara.
Jason blinked.
She looked confused and worried and a little scared all at the same time.
She stayed there, small and quiet in the doorway, as Barbara stepped into the bathroom and got the first-aid kit down from the highest shelf in the wall alcove, setting it down on the counter and opening it. Dick reached over and grabbed an alcohol wipe.
“I’m gonna wipe it down, but it’s gonna sting a bit, okay Timmy?”
“I know,” Tim said, his confusion falling away to annoyance. It wasn’t much better, Jason thought. “It’s just a scrape, Dick, it’s not a big deal. I’ve gotten bigger hurts before.”
Dick paused ripping open the little packet. He glanced at Jason, and then Barbara, the look on his face a little helpless.
Jason opened his eyes as big as they could go and made a face. He didn’t know what to do.
Thankfully, Barbara stepped forward. “We’re just worried, Tim. We don’t like seeing you get hurt. Even if it’s just a little bit.”
Tim was chewing his lip again. “Oh.” He sounded...surprised.
Cass darted forward suddenly, throwing her arms around Tim’s legs (with Tim sitting up on the counter, they were about all she could reach) and hugging tightly.
“Love you,” she said. “Brother.”
Tim awkwardly patted the back of her head. “Oh. Um. I love you guys, too.”
Jason kinda wanted to cry, now.
Damian made a whining sound from outside the door, the one he made when he was on the verge of waking up. Barbara glanced behind her, then back at the four of them gathered at the bathroom counter.
“I’ve got this, Barbara,” Dick said softly.
Barbara still looked torn, but Damian started crying, so she nodded. “I’ll be right back,” she said, and ducked out.
Dick was uncharacteristically quiet as he finished cleaning the cut and put a bandage on Tim’s knee. Once he was done, he pressed a kiss against Tim’s forehead and picked him up off the counter.
“So, how’s a movie sound?”
“Not another Disney princess one,” Jason begged, grabbing the kit Dick had left on the counter and shoving it back into the alcove. They’d need to come up with a reason that Tim had a bloody slash across his knee.
Cassandra stuck a tongue out at him, then grabbed onto Dick’s elbow, starting to pull him out of the bathroom. “Mulan.”
“Casssss, I will do anything, please,” Jason said, trailing after them.
Dick smiled. “How ‘bout we let Timmy choose?”
Cass and Jason both immediately looked to Tim.
Mulan, Cass mouthed.
Jason shook his head frantically, eyes wide.
Tim squirmed a little uncomfortably. “Um. How about you decide, Dick?”
Dick grinned. “Ratatouille.”
Jason snorted. “Really, Dick?”
Dick shrugged. “Well, we’ve never seen it before, so that makes it kinda even, right?”
Cass glanced at Jason. Jason looked back.
Cass shrugged.
“Sounds fair,” Jason agreed.
“I’ve got eclairs, too,” Dick added, and Jason looked at him disbelievingly.
“Where?”
“I do,” Dick insisted.
“Yum,” Cass agreed.
“Why did you take all the eclairs, anyways?” Tim asked suddenly, and Dick laughed.
“Oh man, you should have seen...”
Bruce and Kate found them in the living room when they came up hours later. Barbara had put Damian in his cradle and dragged the cradle into the movie room before helping Jason make popcorn, and Dick and Cass had gathered up all their fleece blankets (they had at least one each).
The kids were still small enough that they’d easily managed to pile together into the nest of blankets in the middle of the couch; Tim in Dick’s lap with his head and shoulders hanging off the older boy’s arm, Jason stretched out with his head leaning against Dick’s shoulder, and Cass squeezed into a ball between the two oldest boys.
Barbara sat to Dick’s other side, one arm over the boy’s shoulders and one foot absently rocking Damian’s cradle, eyes half closed as she watched the credits roll across the screen.
“Hey, Barbara,” Kate said brightly.
Bruce offered the girl a tired smile. “Thanks for watching Damian, Barbara.”
Barbara smiled back, starting to disentangle herself from the other kids. “Any time. Damian’s a sweetheart.”
Bruce’s smile grew a little wider. “Glad to hear it.”
Kate laughed. “Just wait til he gets older and the others corrupt him.”
Alfred cleared his throat from the doorway, and all three turned his way.
“If I may suggest so, Miss Barbara, it’s time you gathered your things. It’s awful late. I shall drive you home.”
“Thanks, Alfred,” Barbara said, finally standing and stretching.
Bruce turned to Alfred, eyebrows furrowed. “Alfred, I can drive Barbara. It’s been a long...night.”
Kate chuckled. “No kidding.” She sat down in an armchair and started pulling bobby pins out of her hair (she’d already dumped her heels at the top of the stairs.) “I’m spending the night, if you hadn’t realized already.”
“Of course, Miss Katherine. And nonsense, Master Bruce, I will drive Miss Barbara whilst you situate your children in an actual bed.”
Bruce turned back to the pile of children and chuckled fondly as he knelt over them, reaching out to run a hand through Dick’s hair. Dick breathed in deeply, shifted Tim a little in his arms, but settled again without waiting. “I think you’ll be hosting the next few years of galas, Kate. That was the last time for me, at least until these little devils are a little older.”
Barbara winced. “I’m really sorry about that.”
Kate laughed loudly while Bruce just shook his head. “It’s fine, Barbara, you were watching Damian—and believe me, I know what they’re like.”
Barbara smiled sheepishly. “Oh, yeah, you should know. Tim cut his knee on a piece of glass.”
Bruce looked worried, and she quickly added, “Dick cleaned it up and bandaged it, it wasn’t too bad but it was bleeding a lot. Tim was a little, well.” She rubbed her arms a little nervously. “He wasn’t very worried. Said he’d hurt himself worse before. And...he didn’t really get why everyone was so worried. About him.”
Bruce walked over to put a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you, Barbara. Tim’s...not exactly had the best people looking after him. But he’ll be okay. We’re all going to do our best.”
Barbara gave him a small smile and nodded.
“Well,” Alfred said, “Shall we head out, Miss Barbara?”
Babs nodded, then glanced back one last time.
“Good night, Bruce. Miss Kane.”
“Kate,” Kate called from the armchair she’d settled into sideways, as Bruce said, “Night, Barbara.”
Bruce studied the pile of kids again, trying to figure out which one he could extricate first.
“Good luck,” Kate snorted from the chair, letting her head fall back over the arm of her chair and closing her eyes.
Bruce scowled at her. “Not going to help, Kate?”
Kate waved a hand at him. “They’re your kids.”
“I thought you were the cool aunt.”
Kate just hummed.
Bruce gave up, looking over the kids again and funally decided Jason was his best bet. But as soon as he’d started to move him away, Cass jerked awake, jostling Dick, who blinked his eyes open blearily.
Tim snuffled but slept on.
“Bruce?” Dick muttered, shifting Tim’s head up so he was more securely situated against his shoulder, and rubbing his eyes.
Jason stirred. “Whatever it was, it wasn’ me,” he muttered, and slipped out of Bruce’s grip to lay back down on the sofa.
Bruce sighed, still smiling. “Yeah, it’s me kiddo. Time to get to bed.”
Dick yawned. “Can’t we just sleep here tonight?”
“Aunt Kate,” Cass added. Bruce glanced back, and sure enough, Kate’s eyes were still closed and she was breathing evenly. When he turned back, both his awake children were looking at him with big, pleading eyes.
Bruce melted.
“Alright,” he said. “Just for tonight.”
Dick beamed at him, then slipped down to lay in the opposite direction as Jason, top of his head pressed against Jason’s and Tim still held securely against him. Cass scrambled over Jason to squeeze between him and the back of the couch.
Bruce shook his head and reached for the blankets tangled around them.
By the time Bruce had smoothed out the blankets and tucked them in, they were fast asleep again.
He walked over to the armchair and nudged Kate. “You might want to change out of that.”
Kate threw an arm over her eyes. “Maybe,” she muttered.
Bruce shrugged. “It’s up to you. I’m going to bed.”
He could hear Kate muttering and shuffling as he turned off the television, turned on a small lamp as a nightlight, and considered the bowls and plates on the floor before deciding he’d convince Alfred they could deal with them tomorrow instead. He lifted Damian out of the cradle, and smiled down at him as the baby snuggled into his arms.
Sometimes he couldn’t believe these five beautiful children were his.
It was wonderful and terrifying all at once.
Kate staggered after him as he started to walk out of the room.
“Night, Bruce,” she mumbled when he paused at the doorway, shuffling past him.
“Night, Kate,” Bruce called back. He glanced back at his four children sleeping peacefully on the sofa, then turned and headed for his own bed.
Time to get some sleep before the little whirlwinds stormed his bedroom in the morning.