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Bruce looked over at his oldest and youngest children with a heavy heart. Dick was passed out on the sofa, thoroughly exhausted after a long day. He looked so casual there, in grey sweats and a blue t-shirt, black hair tousled over his forehead. It had certainly been more than a little draining - both emotionally and physically. And laying on his chest, equally asleep, was an infant Damian, bundled in blankets, so only his tiny little chubby face peaked out. Both looked so peaceful like this, and Bruce couldn't help feeling that this was how they should always be; without stress and worry lines pressed into their too young faces.
Sighing, Bruce took a seat in the armchair opposite them, careful not to disturb the peace. There was no way of knowing how long this would last - Barry promising that he'd set the timelines straight (for they assumed that that was what had caused this whole de-aging situation) as soon as he'd worked out how exactly he'd managed to fuck it up this time in the first place. A lot of fingers had been pointed within the Flash family. And yet, when told the news, Bruce had wondered whether he wanted things to go back to the normal. As of yet, there had been no other dramatic changes - as far as they could tell. But the JLA were still looking into it, so maybe the bad news just hadn't been discovered yet. Because there was always bad news. Because the Batfam could never have anything positive happen in their lives.
Just the day before, Bruce had had the sound of his youngest son's too high pitch screams seared into his memories. Damian had been caught by a villain, after heading out on his own; not an uncommon occurrence since his integration into the family, the kid still believing he didn't need to stand in the shadow of another hero. By the time Batman had caught up to him, said villain had began making good on his threat to break fingers. It was a painful memory, the sound replaying every time he closed his eyes. It made him want to hold onto this small moment of respite all the more dearly. Made him wish that he were the one holding that adorable little drooling form, now. He was sure, in his own reasoning, that the situation (and ones like it) would never have come to pass if he'd been able to look after Damian from the beginning.
He couldn't blame Talia, though. It wasn't her fault that Damian grew up disallowed from knowing his father's identity. That was Ra's doing; never wanting Bruce to have any influence on the boy, for fear he'd convert him to his side. And Bruce supposed, in the end, that Ra's was right. His death (at the hands of Nyssa) had brought Talia the freedom she had long sought after, finally allowing her autonomy over her own life - and that of her son's - allowing her to let him know his father. Bruce's only wish was that something could have been done sooner - for the sake of both his son, the woman he had once loved, and all the others whose lives Ra's tyranny had ruined.
Damian wasn't the only one he wishes he could have known from the off, of course. Although his other kids were not biologically his, he couldn't deny wanting for that to have been the case. A Dick Grayson, who had never watched his parents fall. A Jason Todd, who hadn't been beaten by his own father, or watched his mother slowly fade away. A Tim Drake, who hadn't been ignored by his parents, until they, too, had died. A Cassandra Cain, who had been allowed to be a child, not just a weapon. Bruce often wondered how different their lives would have been if that had been the case, and whether he could have done any better. Maybe he never would have brought them into his crusade at all; none of them needing the symbol of Robin (or, in Cass' case, the Bat).
Suddenly, Damian made a small gurgling sound as he awoke, drawing Bruce from his thoughts. He began to cry at the injustice of his own consciousness only a few moments later, waking Dick with a start. Bruce was on his feet before he knew what he was doing, taking the baby gentle into his arms. Cradling him gently, he began to softly shush the little wailing infant, who's face was all scrunched up and red. He looked more like himself, then - especially wearing the Robin onesie Steph had bought him.
Dick watched in intrigue from the sofa, sitting up slowly, as Bruce began to hum softly to Damian. He recognised the song from his own childhood, and it brought a smile to his lips. It was the same one Bruce had sung to him, too, whenever he'd had a nightmare as a kid - at Dick's request, after his own father had sung it to him as a lullaby. The Man on the Flying Trapeze. With Bruce's deep, yet gentle baritones, it soothed Damian quickly, and his cries began to calm down into little hiccups.
"Baba..." Damian babbly softly.
"I'm here." Bruce promised, heart swelling at the name.
Since Damian had come to live with them, he'd been touching up on his Arabic, having become rusty in his distance from the league. He wasn't the only one, either. As far as he was aware, every member of the family was under threat of the Duolingo owl. Other than Jason, of course, who had still managed to keep up his practice of the language from his five missing years - often utilising it to have private conversations with his littlest brother. Damian always seemed a lot more comfortable using his first language, and they made all the effort they could to accommodate this; to make him feel more at home.
Damian had only started calling him 'Baba' recently - since they'd become a lot closer, since Bruce's return from the grave. And he couldn't deny, he much preferred it. 'Father' had seemed all too formal. Although, the last time Damian had called him Baba was when he was screaming for him, in the clutches of that miscellaneous Gotham villain. The memory quickly wiped the smile from his face, and unconsciously made him hold his son tighter as the tiny child began to drift off again against his shoulder.
"It's a good look on you, B." Dick commented from the sofa, keeping his voice soft.
"Hm?" Bruce hummed.
"Fatherhood." He clarified. "The board are going to love the drool on your shirt."
"You're not looking much better, sport." He indicated to Dick's own top, rocking Damian gently.
"Damn." Dick frowned down at himself. "I need to change."
He hopped to his feet, movements completely soundless. Before he left, he spared a final look at his baby brother; mind following the same path as Bruce's. What if they'd had him from the beginning?
The idea made something stick in his throat. He gave Bruce's shoulder a quick supportive squeeze, before taking his leave before any tears could start falling. It really had been a long day...
***
When Bruce walked past Cass' room, he wasn't expecting to see her and Steph on the floor, legs stretched out with heals touching, getting Damian to walk back and forth between them.
"If he grabs my hair one more time, I might be the one to cry next." Stephanie complained, though was still grinning ear to ear as she held out her hands to steady the child.
"Shouldn't leave it down, then." Cass signed in response, a small smile playing on her lips.
Steph blew a raspberry at her in response, which made Damian giggle to no end.
Officially sent here to collect them all for dinner (as per Alfred's orders), Bruce found himself all too happy to stand back and watch the scene play out a little longer. Damian was waddling back to Cass now. Today, he'd been dressed in a Batman baby grow. A gift from Barbra; who had insisted that it was actually Batgirl. Dick was still complaining that there was no Nightwing merch. Or Flamebird, for that matter. He was still holding out for the day Damian might be his sidekick again.
Or should he say, partner. 'Sidekick' was sure to draw out another screaming match...
Damian stumbled in his haste to reach Cass, and fell into her arms, laughing again. She held him tightly, smiling as she planted a kiss on the crown of his head. Bruce didn't think he'd ever heard his son laugh like that. In fact, he never thought he'd heard him laugh at all - other than the occasional snort of derision. But that didn't count.
"Planning to stand there all day, old man?" Steph asked, drawing him out of his own head before he could get lost.
"Dinners ready." He took that as permission to enter the room, especially with the grabby hands his son was now making at him now he'd spotted him.
He picked Damian up with a groan, solidifying Stephanie's use of 'old man'.
"Great, I'm starving." Steph hopped up easily, holding a hand out to her friend.
Cass let herself be pulled to her feet, linking their fingers together as they followed Bruce out of the room.
"What's Alfred made tonight?" She filled the silence.
"Nothing you'd like - it's got vegetables in it."
"Did he just make a joke?" She mock gasped. "Did Batman just make a joke?"
He ignored her teasing, too busy watching his son chew on his sleeve, and finding the sight all too adorable to want to stop him.
"Good luck." Cass spoke softly.
"What for?" That, at least, caught Bruce off guard.
When Cassandra spoke, everyone listened.
"Insulted Alfred's cooking." She replied, a mischievous glint in her eye.
"God help me" He murmured, realising she was right.
***
Jason tried not to take it too personally that no one expected him to be good with the kid. Red Hood, scourge of the underworld, was not someone you hired to babysit. But after spending so much time playing Uncle Jay to Lian, he had to admit, he was pretty damn good.
"Akhi!" Damian had yelled, running up to him as best he could when he found Jason leaning against the kitchen counter.
Jason had broken in in the hopes of seeing Alfred, trying to acquire a special recipe for date night with Roy. He'd hoped to sneak in and out without making contact with the rest of the family, waiting for the old man to return with his recipe book. It seemed that that plan had already failed horribly. Although, he supposed, this wasn't the worst relative he could have run into.
"Demon baby!" Jason had grinned, scooping up the tiny potato sack of a kid before he could trip over his own feet. "How's baby-hood treating you? Old enough to pay taxes yet?"
Damian laughed, no idea what he was talking about, but finding it incredibly hilarious none the less. He latched onto his index finger with one chubby little hand, and Jason swore he felt his heart grow two sizes.
During their time within the league, they had become very close. Like brothers - despite neither truly knowing who the other was. Although, Jason had inklings. The kid bared so much resemblance to the childhood painting of Bruce, which hang over the mantle in Martha Wayne's study. Just with the addition of Talia's olive skin and pretty Lazarus green eyes.
By the time he met Damian, the boy was four years old, and seemed to wear a perpetual scowl. That also seemed to act as a clue towards his lineage - even if the kid didn't yet know who his father was. It seemed Ra's had disallowed him from learning the truth, until he deemed him worthy. Which was pretty cruel in Jason's opinion (not that he had a great relationship with the man himself at this point).
It was strange, how the pair had been drawn together. Jason had always had a soft spot for kids, even with Damian being just about the biggest brat he'd ever met. But it was almost as though Jay's attitude (his unwillingness to put up with Damian's bullshit) was what had earnt him the kid's respect. He was the only one who didn't lie to Damian, for fear of his family's wrath, should the upmost respect not be shown to the heir of Ra's Al Ghul. Also, Jason would read him stories as he patched him up after particularly harsh training sessions. Books committed to memory, which he himself had read as a kid - once his memories returned to tell them.
Along with tales of Batman and Robin. Imagine Damian's surprise, then, when he finally got to meet his father.
"Oh, thank god." Dick suddenly skidded into the room, face flooding with relief. "I turned my back for two seconds to find Zitka for him, and he disappeared! I swear, we need child gates around this place now that Cass and Steph have been teaching him to walk."
"Or you could keep a better eye on him." Jason commented protectively, sitting Damian more comfortably on his hip.
Dick's mouth fell open, as if he wanted to argue the point, but found he couldn't find the words. It wasn't as if Jason was wrong - even if the words stung.
"I can take him back now." Dick held his hands to him instead.
"No." Jason replied a little too quickly, before correcting, "I mean, I'm okay. I've got him."
"If you're sure?"
"I know you like playing Mom," Jason smiled, trying to draw back on the hostility a little. "But this isn't my first rodeo."
Hating Dick Grayson was something belonging to a fresh-from-the-pit Jason Todd. This was a sparkly new Jason, who tried to get on with his family - which usually involved avoiding them as much as possible. And being as civil as he could manage with them when they couldn't be avoided. Although, Dick was probably (begrudgingly) his favourite.
"Here we are, Master Jason." Alfred entered the room then, recipe book in hand. "You know, you could always invite Mr. Harper here for dinner? We don't bite."
"Well, Damian does." Dick corrected, taking a seat at the central kitchen island beside his brothers.
"We could set up a playdate for Lian and Baby Bat." Jason agreed, tone clear that he had no intention of bringing his boyfriend home to meet the family.
"Sounds like an excellent plan." Alfred pointedly ignored his sarcasm, flicking through the book for the correct page.
It was a book passed down through generations of Pennyworths, recipes added across close to a millennia. Jason's personal favourite was the chocolate orange cake Alfred's mother had added to it. She had very pretty writing.
"You're going to invite them, whether I want you to or not, aren't you?" Jason's lips pressed into a thin line, though couldn't stay so unimpressed for long with Damian wriggling in his arms for attention.
"Of course we are." Dick beamed at the idea of seeing his old friend. "I would have thought you'd known that by now."
***
Tim snapped the picture quietly, knowing it would be excellent leverage when Damian went back to normal. If Damian went back to normal. There still seemed to be no solid answer as to what had caused his transformation - and how exactly to turn him back. And he couldn't deny, he much preferred this version. As of yet, baby Damian hadn't tried to murder him. The worst he'd done is vomit on the Superboy t-shirt Tim had 'acquired' from Conner. Although that, he blamed that on Dick - who had been throwing the kid up in the air, before handing him over to Tim to watch.
Currently, the little bundle of joy was dead asleep, drawl running from the corner of his mouth. Curled around him, was the ginormous form of Titus, who he was using as a pillow. Tim had to admit, it was an utterly adorable sight.
It made the cogs in his mind begin to turn (as if they ever stopped), wondering what it would be like if the kid stayed like this; forced to grow up all over again. Did he have any of Damian's memories, and if not, would he be an entirely different person? Allowed to be a kid, instead of a pawn in Ra's Al Ghul's chess set. And if so, would they finally be able to get along, Tim playing at being a big brother - without the risk of being stabbed for his efforts?
Damian grumbles then, waking up from his nap. He rubs his eyes tiredly, a deep frown on his face. Tim can't help but note how much he looked like Bruce in that moment; both of them even scowling the same. He'd practically perfected the Batman glare, within the first year of his life.
Tim had been told that it was his turn to take Titus for a walk, now that his little brother was no longer quite capable. He was beginning to wonder how that was going to work - taking the dog without disturbing Damian. A sure fire way to set off a temper tantrum. So at least, with the baby now awake, that was one problem sorted. Or so he thought...
Picking Damian up like a live grenade, Tim dressed him in his outside clothes, and strapped him into the buggy Jason brought over. Somehow, even after working out Batman's secret identity, fighting countless bad guys, and losing both his parents, Tim was sure this was the hardest thing he's ever done. Damian seems to be prepared to wail and fight his way through the whole proceedings, making him wish he hadn't made the decision to bring the kid on the walk.
However, as he stepped away for just a moment to wind his own scarf round his neck, the sobs began to taper off. Looking over to see what had finally caused Damian to blessedly calm down, Tim laughed as he watched Titus lick the tears and snot from the babies face. It was frankly quite gross, but he made sure to snap a picture to send to the Batfam groupchat. Even if he was likely to get into trouble with Alfred for letting it happen. Damian would scream when he saw it, when he went back to normal.
If.
Tim then headed out into the cold, buggy in one hand, iced coffee in the other. Probably not appropriate for the freezing weather, but Dick had brought some special caramel coffee over, which had always been his favourite.
Titus roamed free through the manor grounds, bounding through piles of Autumn leaves, and kicking them up into flurries. He didn't need his lead, considering they wouldn't be leaving the property. Damian wasn't allowed out in public, for fear of the press getting wind of this mystery new kid in Bruce Wayne's care. No one wanted to have to explain what had happened - not that they could.
They did a few laps of the several acre garden, avoiding the boundaries which backed onto the old Drake property. Half way round, Damian began wriggling for freedom, and Tim released him. They walked hand in hand together through the golden leaves, Damian excited by a squirrel in one of the towering trees. With a lack of adult conversation, it allowed Tim time to think, and he found himself reflecting on the fact that this was the longest he and Damian had gone without arguing. He really hoped that when/if things went back to normal, they might be able to keep this up.
Although, he had a feeling he wouldn't be able to keep himself from commenting on Damian's little froggy boots...
***
Damian settled happily into Babs lap, allowing her to hand him slices of the tangerine Alfred had given her. He chewed noisily, managing to make a mess of his hands and face. The hands, in particular, were a concern. They were very sticky, and he kept balling them in her t-shirt.
"Hey!" Dick complained, handing her a tissue. "Is that my top?"
"Well, I knew better than to wear one of mine when visiting Baby Bat, here" She put on the usual voice with which one talks to an infant, making Damian cackle with laughter.
It made both of them smile. Dick, in particular, who didn't know if he'd ever get used to that sound from his brother.
They were sat together in one of the sitting rooms; Barbara in her chair, Dick Cross legged on the floor before her. He was eating his own tangerine - making a lot less of a mess of it than his tiny brother. He couldn't even stay angry at the state of his t-shirt, with one look at that chubby, happy face. With his rosy cheeks and Button nose, he was just about the cutest kid either of them had ever seen (although they may have been a little biased).
"Do you think we'll be good?" Babs asked suddenly. "As parents one day, I mean?"
The question would have caught him off guard - if he hadn't been thinking about it a lot himself, as of late. Looking after the baby had certainly brought up a lot of emotions.
"I think you'll be amazing." Bruce announced from the doorway, having just arrived. "You've had an incredible teacher after all. And by that, I mean Alfred of course."
The couple laughed, despite themselves, causing Damian to join in, without even knowing what he was laughing at. Had a habit of doing that, and it was very cute. It was such a merry sound, which seemed to fill the whole house.
"I don't know, B." Dick smiled up at him warmly. "You're not too bad yourself."
Despite their rocky history, and the humour the words held, Bruce could tell he really meant it. And he couldn't help feeling relieved at Dick's approval. He had really never been a great parent - but his heart was in the right place, and he never stopped trying. He just wished there hadn't been so many failures before he grew into the man he was now.
"You and Dad will make great grandparents." Barbra added, passing Damian another segment.
He held onto her finger after accepting it, and she couldn't find it in her heart to complain about his sticky hands anymore.
They all watched the child for a moment, thinking about a tiny little Gordon-Grayson. A little girl or boy, just as tiny - with Barbara's hair, and Dick's eyes.
Dick had decided, long ago, that he never wanted children. Not with his lifestyle. But now, as he watched Damien reach up for Bab's glasses, smearing juice from his tangerine all over the lenses and making her giggle prettily, he wasn't so sure...
***
Alfred settled the sleeping baby in his crib oh-so gently, before pulling his blanket up to his chest. It was superman themed. A gift from Uncle Clark, which had once belonged to his own son, who was already beginning to miss his best friend.
The butler had began reading a bedtime story to him - The Colour of Magic, stolen from Jason's own personal collection - which Damian had drifted off to before he'd even reached the end of the second page. It had been a long day for the kid, being passed from relative to relative like the present in pass the parcel. It had been amusing to watch who his favourites were, too; exactly the same as with the more grown up, 11 year old Damian. Dick and Bruce, being the most obvious. Alfred was perceptive like that.
He paused there, leaning against the side of the crib. For a moment, he could pretend that he was some 30-40 years younger, and it was a baby Bruce in the crib before him. In fact, when the man himself appeared beside him a moment later, he almost called him Thomas.
"It's been a long time since you've had to care for someone so young." Bruce noted, as if he could read Alfred's thoughts.
"Indeed." He replied quietly, trying to ignore the dampness of his own eyes.
"Thank you. For looking after all of us." Bruce whispered, for fear of waking his son. "I know it's never been easy."
"No," He agreed, accepting the tissue his son figure passed him discreetly. "But I wouldn't trade these years for the world."
They fell into companionable silence then, which both often found most comfortable. It was a state hard to come by, in a house full of kids. And yet, both would agree that they would take the screaming and the laughter over the haunting silence which had once lingered like fog over Wayne Manor.
"I'll let you have a moment." Alfred went to take his leave.
"No." Bruce stopped him quietly with a gentle hand on his arm. "Stay."
He knew that Alfred deserved this moment as much as he did. He may have been Damian's Dad, but Al was his Grandfather.
Alfred nodded, settling down again, allowing a small, "Thank you, my boy." In return.
***
Barry had figured it out, and the fingers were finally pointed in the right direction (Bart). Although no one was ever explicitly named and blamed. And the catch had been found, too - because of course there always was one. And if they wanted Damian to stay this way - innocent and small - then Talia had to die. Apparently, in a world where Bruce raised his child from birth, she had turned against her father earlier (without her sister's backing), and neither she, nor Ra's had survived the price. Her life wasn't a price any of them were willing to pay - even if Talia may have happily given it for her child, in return for his safety from her father. But of course, she wasn't around to ask.
However, the Batfam were allowed one more day with their tiny little bundle of joy, almost to say goodbye. And they spent it together as a family (which had resulted in a fair amount of drama, but nothing which lasted after a withering look from Alfred). By the end of it, they all bundled together into the home cinema room within the manor, deciding to spend their last evening as a family movie night. Dick had even managed to win at choosing the film - in part, due to Damian's support. The kid was suddenly a fan of anything with elephants in it, since Zitka had quickly became his favourite toy. He held her tightly in his lap, chewing one ear as he made himself comfortable in Bruce's arms.
Tonight, they'd be watching Dumbo.
Alfred had the armchair in the corner, by the door - allowing him to do his knitting in peace. Also to fetch snacks in case they ran out of their huge quantities of popcorn and milkshakes. Tim, Steph, and Cass were huddled up together on one sofa, under a blanket, spilling more and more popcorn each time Steph readjusted her position between them. Jason sat on the floor, with Roy's arm over his shoulder, and Lian in his lap, like their own little family unit. Bruce, as the patriarch, sat on his own sofa in the centre of the room, with Babs on one side of him, and Dick on the other, who stuck his feet up on surrogate father's lap.
Dick and Bruce spent almost the entirety of the movie watching Damian - save for when Baby of Mine began to play, and their eyes got glassy. It had been Mary's lullaby to Dick, which Bruce had heard him hum to Damian on more than one occasion. It caused the child to drift off now, eyelashes fluttering.
By the time he woke up, everything was back to normal...