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Bruce pressed his palm flat against the desk in front of the computer, angling his elbow at 90 degrees. Taking in a sharp breath, he pushed down just hard enough that his back straightened and pulled away from the seat behind it. He stayed quiet, the subtle creak of the desk the only sound penetrating his breathless corner of the cave.
When the contraction had passed its peak, Bruce exhaled slowly through his nose, cautiously shifting his other hand across the controls as he relaxed back into the chair. The hand he’d pressed against the desk fell lazily to his abdomen, pushing gentle and soothing circles into his straining muscles. He looked at the clock.
11 minutes.
He had been able to convince himself earlier in the day that he wasn’t in labor, and that his and Clark’s son hadn’t decided to make his entrance at what was assuredly the worst possible time...
(Which was an overstatement, Bruce now supposed. It wasn’t like there was a global crisis or like any members of his family and team were in immediate danger. Some of them just weren’t around.)
...It didn’t take long for that facade to fade though, especially when a few hours later, the contractions picked up not only in pace but in strength as well.
They hadn’t been expecting the baby’s arrival for another few weeks at minimum , and so Bruce had assured Clark that now was an acceptable time to engage in some pressing interplanetary politics. He’d been gone for a few days, and likely would be gone for a few days more.
To make matters worse, Bruce’s pregnancy had prevented him from actually leaving the cave in costume for months now, so he had also insisted that Alfred could take a short vacation from his duties at the manor, purchasing him a plane ticket to England to visit his brother, Wilfred. Alfred had hesitated, but was eventually reassured enough by the distance of Bruce’s due date to accept his offer, on the condition that Bruce would call him if anything changed at all in his two-week absence.
A few hours ago, when Bruce had caved and accepted the reality that he’d be delivering a baby relatively soon, it hadn’t even been 24 hours since Alfred left for his plane. He would have only been settling into his hotel room at that point, so Bruce had no intention of calling to give him an update. Undoubtedly, his butler would insist on flying home to assist with the post-delivery as they had planned, but Bruce knew how much he had been looking forward to reconnecting with his family and, baby or not, would not take that away from him now.
Although, when all was said and done, he was sure Alfred would have some choice words for him.
Bruce sighed as the tightness dissipated. It wasn’t that the contractions were overly painful yet; Bruce had fallen from buildings, been stabbed, had innumerable joints dislocated, and had even had his back broken by Bane--he could handle some glorified muscle spasms. Bruce was moreso, at this point, distressed with himself for having insisted that both people he was closest to, and whom he needed most at this particular moment, leave him behind.
It wasn’t necessarily that he didn’t trust himself with the physical support needed during the birthing process. He’d prepared so thoroughly for his delivery that he could dictate every physical, hormonal, and psychological process he was experiencing at the moment, and would experience over the next few hours. Rather, there were two things bothering him about his situation.
The first; he would have no emotional support whatsoever throughout the process, and while Bruce was not an overly emotional person, the disruption in his hormones had made him more apt to seek comfort in others.
Mainly Clark.
The second reason Bruce was distressed was that he knew, of course, that if his boys found out about his predicament, they would drop the important work they were doing in the lab and cancel their patrols, just to take care of him.
As per usual, Bruce knew the mission needed to come first.
He’d be delivering the baby by himself.
And he would be just fine.
Bruce swallowed the concern rising in his throat, shaking his head and pushing up on the arms of his chair. Using the guise of a bathroom break to ensure that none of his four sons were aware of the discomfort he was experiencing, Bruce excused himself.
Both Damian and Tim were in the lab, staring intently through the lens of their respective microscopes at the samples of Bane’s newest venom. Tim and Clark had managed to collect a vial while on patrol one night, and while it hadn’t been pressing at the time, the villain’s latest appearance had placed a much higher priority on it. Both of them merely grunted at his departure, remaining focused on their work.
Jason and Dick were on the mats adjacent to both the lab and where Bruce had been working, training and sparring against one another. It had been the pair of them who had most recently run into Bane, and neither of them had been able to incapacitate him for very long. Superman had come in at the last moment just to get them out of there, and even when he returned to finish the job, he’d had far too difficult a time for the issue of the new venom to be ignored any further.
Bruce was sure, despite the valiant effort his sons had put forth, that both of them were beating themselves (and each other) up for having to be rescued. Neither of them had sustained any significant injuries other than a few deep bruises, which given Bane’s strength and size on a regular day, should have been an accomplishment in itself. But they were Bruce’s boys, and so held themselves to the same regard Bruce had always held himself.
Not wanting to distract them from their work--or draw their attention to the significant drop in his baby bump that he was now noticing--Bruce walked past the two of them without saying a word. He slowly made his way up to the manor, resolving to change into something more loose fitting. If he timed it right, he’d be back at his desk for the next contraction.
Once he was satisfied that the sweater he had chosen adequately covered his descending middle, Bruce waddled his way back to the cave and stopped on the uppermost level. He stifled a laugh as he leaned into the railing, watching Dick swiftly dodge a punch with an elegant roll that had his younger brother cursing under his breath.
They continued to spar as Bruce made his way down the rest of the stairs and to the minifridge in the training area, from which he pulled three bottles of water. Keeping one for himself, he distributed a drink to each of his sons who thanked him.
“If all of this training is about Bane,” Bruce started, putting his free hand instinctively on his hip to support some of the increasingly awkward weight pulling on his ribs. “You can’t blame yourselves for needing assistance. You know Tim and Damian have been analyzing the new strand of venom for several nights, and thus far haven’t found a weakness.”
Jason finished draining his bottle, then shook his head. He tossed the empty bottle to the side and raised his fists again. Dick, too, emptied his bottle and threw it aside before meeting Jay’s gaze.
“He was strong, Bruce,” Jason snarled. “The strongest he’s ever been. So we need to be stronger .”
Bruce stared at the discarded bottles for a moment, temporarily distracted, before responding.
“They’re calling it Titan,” he said, gesturing toward where Damian and Tim were working silently. “You both know that even Clark struggled to take him down, right? It’s not just a boost of energy he’s getting. Tim thinks this new venom might be replacing if not rewriting the cellular structure of his muscle. The two of you stood no chance against him. He’s not just some guy on steroids anymore. He’s making himself a meta-human.”
At that, Jason cocked his head and swung at Dick, the elder narrowly dodging the attack.
“Just don’t over do it,” Bruce said. His eyes drifted once more to the discarded bottles on the floor. He walked over to them, separating his knees and attempting to bend to pick them up.
“Hey hey hey,” Dick said, leaving Jason to run in and scoop them up. “We were going to pick them up, Bruce. Don’t hurt yourself!”
Bruce grunted, not only with the effort of the maneuver, but also with the feeling of another tightening just above his pelvis. He paused for a moment, not quite bent over but not standing straight either. It was awkward, but he felt like his muscles would tear if he tried to straighten up completely. He had evidently lost track of time, and was thankful his contraction had come at an easily concealable time.
“He’s heavy,” he grunted, pursing his lips and trying to conceal the extent of his discomfort. “Give me a minute…”
Jason was at his side too, then, offering an arm to his adoptive father. “Take it Bruce. You should sit down.”
Bruce shook his head, hand returning to his hip. He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes and praying the sensation would go away. When it did, he gratefully wrapped his arm around Jason’s, and let his sons guide him to the weight bench. They lowered him down, and Bruce hoped they wouldn’t notice how much wider his knees were sitting in order to make room for his belly.
“Thanks. Sorry,” he said, quietly. “It catches me off guard.”
“No problem, old man,” Jason joked. He let go of Bruce’s arm and stood before him. Dick nodded, walking the two bottles to the trash can and returning.
“You never clean up after us, Bruce,” Dick half-chuckled. “8 months pregnant is not the time to suddenly start trying.”
Bruce shook his head, smirking in amusement and confusion. “I felt compelled to pick them up. Seeing them just lying there was making my skin crawl.”
Jason shrugged, flopping himself on the floor in front of Bruce. Dick grabbed two white towels, tossing one at his brother and draping one around his own neck.
“We’ll come with you to the lab,” he said. “Jay and I shouldn’t spar much longer anyway. We’ll have to leave for patrol in a few hours.”
Bruce nodded. “You both look tired. Might not be a bad idea to get some shut eye before you leave.”
“We’re pretty beat,” Dick laughed. “But we’ll be okay.”
“Speak for yourself Dickiebird,” Jason sneered from his spot on the floor. He had spread both of his arms and legs out, and was struggling to keep his eyes open. “I’m not beat yet. I could go all night.”
Bruce and Dick both laughed aloud. “Why don’t you get up and come with us then? Maybe you can run some extra drills before you head out.”
“But I just got down here!” Jay sighed loudly, groaning as he shifted his weight up to his knees and slowly got to his feet. He wiped his forehead, then wrapped his towel around his neck too, offering his arm to Bruce again.
“All night,” Bruce chuckled, brushing off Jason’s arm as the contraction disappeared completely. “My ass.”
-----
After a quick shower, both Jason and Dick reappeared in the lab looking refreshed. Jason went straight to the coffee pot, pouring both he and his brother a full cup.
“That’s probably cold,” Tim said, not looking up from the table. “I made it hours ago.”
Jay shrugged and chugged it down. “It’s not like I’m drinking it for the taste anyway.”
Bruce winced as he settled back into his chair, but none of the boys noticed. They had all gathered by Damian’s microscope. Apparently he’d found something.
“So it is rewriting cellular structure,” Tim sighed, after looking through the lens. “But he still hasn’t figured out a way to make it permanent.”
“Precisely,” Damian said. “It takes approximately 10 minutes to activate in the injectee’s blood stream, at which point they begin to experience rapid muscle expansion. I’d estimate based on Bane’s behaviour that this ‘Titan’ also alters the injectee’s thought processing. They move immediately to violence, as if they have lost their free will.”
"Oh goodie," Dick rolled his eyes. "Even better."
"But if it's enhancing his cells, why do they get so many tears in their skin? Why all the visible tissue and bone?" Tim asked.
“Too much juice.”
Dick was the one with his face at the microscope now. Bruce watched with a mixture of amusement, curiosity, and pride as his boys took turns examining the plate.
“Too much juice?” Jason asked, when it was his turn to look. “Or not enough? You guys said it was rewriting his cellular structure, right? Guy like me has a minimum of 37 trillion cells. A guy like him would have even more, would he not? Maybe it can’t properly enhance all of the cells in his body, and so some of them expand around others, creating visible holes in his flesh and bone.”
Bruce smiled softly to himself. It was easy to forget how intelligent Jay was under his rough and tough exterior.
“That would make sense,” Tim nodded. “But based on how much of an influence this formula has on the user’s cognitive processes, Bane probably can’t take much more than what he’s already on. Especially if he wants to accomplish anything.”
Dick snorted.
“He’s already an absolute moron. He needs to be as much in his right mind as he possibly can be.”
Bruce decided to interject.
“He probably won’t try anything tonight. Nightwing and Hood ran into him just last week; he’d be even more of a moron if he thought going out again so soon was a smart decision. We haven’t had enough time to count him out yet, and he knows it.”
“Should we stay in tonight, then?” Dick asked. “We could work on continuing to analyze Titan.”
Bruce shook his head and laid a hand on his baby bump.
“You know I’m stuck here anyway, so the four of you should go on patrol. Bane or not, you have a duty to Gotham. I’ll start researching as much as I can about this new formula, and hopefully I’ll come up with something that helps us synthesize an antidote. That’s really the key to taking him down, now that he doesn’t have tubes we can just pull out of his head.”
His boys all nodded.
“Patrol it is, then,” Dick said, looking down at his watch. “We’ll leave at 11.”
Bruce checked his own clock and sighed softly. 8:07. That meant he still had to keep his composure for almost 3 hours before his sons would be gone.
It also meant that he was due for a contraction any minute.
He turned himself back toward the desk, resting his hand on his keyboard and throwing himself into his Titan research. He figured he might as well get started right away, especially if it meant a distraction from the routine tightening in his gut.
An hour passed in relative silence. Tim had gone back to working in the lab, but Damian had made his way to the other side of the cave with Dick and Jason. All three of them were currently restocking their utility belts with fresh batarangs, smoke bombs, and various other gadgets they might need on patrol.
When they had finished, Bruce watched them disappear around the corner toward the car and bikes. Bruce knew each of the three of them put off their vehicle circle checks until they were ready to go out again, just as they did their equipment. Tim had done as much as he could the moment they’d gotten home. He was always the most organized.
Bruce’s suspicions were confirmed when he heard clanking echoing in the cave moments later. He settled back into his chair, clicking away at the keyboard again until he was interrupted by a sharper, stronger tugging.
His voice caught in his throat, making a noise that wasn’t quite a grunt, but was a little more than a sigh. He bit his lip lightly when he heard Tim behind him.
“Bruce?” he asked.
“Tim?” Bruce asked back, trying his best to sound normal. His voice didn’t sound shaky or strained, at least to his own ears.
Evidently it hadn’t to Tim either.
“Nevermind,” his son said, and resumed his tinkering.
The contraction passed and Bruce checked the time again.
Only 9 minutes apart now. He was making progress.
Another hour passed with relative ease, Bruce adjusting quickly to the increased intensity and frequency of his contractions. Tim made little progress in the lab, and the other boys continued to work away on their bikes.
It was just after ten when they came back into Bruce’s area.
“Timmy,” Jason said, ruffling Tim’s hair playfully. “Circle check your bike. We’ll be leaving in less than an hour.”
Tim sighed and stepped back from the table. “Okay. It’s not like I’ve made any progress anyway.”
Bruce pushed against the desk in an effort to turn his chair, about to ask Tim about his work when another contraction cut him off. He’d been okay with the increase in intensity, because he had been able to focus on breathing and stretching in his seat, but thinking about Titan and his sons’ pending patrol had him distracted. This contraction too, he noted, had come quicker than the last.
He grunted loudly, unable to stop himself.
“Okay that’s twice now,” Tim said. “Why are you making weird noises?”
Dick walked closer to him and Bruce forced his face into the usual scowl that was unleashed any and every time he was annoyed with his sons.
“I’m frustrated,” he gritted. “You and Damian haven’t found much information, and neither have I. We need to figure out this Titan business.”
Dick cocked an eyebrow, and Bruce silently hoped his eldest would buy it. As the contraction faded, he turned back to the computer and grunted again, for emphasis.
This seemed to satisfy Dick enough that he let the issue drop. “We’re going to change. If we’re ready a few minutes early, we head out a few minutes early.”
Bruce nodded without looking at Dick, staring at the clock instead. 10:25. He only had to make it a little more than half an hour before they’d be gone.
Unfortunately, that half hour passed dreadfully slowly, as Bruce’s contractions picked up speed yet again. He was down to about 4 minutes between them when the boys came back down, and it was nearly impossible to stay silent now.
He gritted his teeth and pushed up on the desk, his back pulling away from the chair yet again. He breathed slowly and quietly through his nose, trying not to alert the boys. They were chatting loudly, so it worked.
They were completely in costume, masks pulled down and utility belts secured. Jason even had his gloves on, which was usually his last step.
“Bruce,” Dick called as they made their way back toward the bikes. Bruce watched Tim and Damian disappear around the corner. “We’re heading out. Let us know if you find anything useful.”
“Of course,” he said. “But don’t expect anything.”
Dick nodded and began to walk around the corner. Bruce had half turned back to the desk when a contraction came back, once again sharper and quicker than the last one. It caught him off guard again.
“...fucking hell!” he jolted, his hand thumping on the desk as he pushed up again, trying desperately to stretch enough to alleviate the sharp pain in his back. He sucked in another sharp breath, trying to adjust so that he was at the edge of the chair.
That still didn’t help, so he was left panting through the pain for a solid 30 seconds. His brow furrowed as he focused on staying collected, the intense cramping and tugging bordering on intolerable. This contraction was relentless; a full minute long at least and only a little less than 4 minutes after the previous one. He tried spreading his knees and leaning forward a bit, but the confines of his desk chair didn’t give him enough room to straddle his bump.
He was too distracted by the pain to notice Nightwing and Red Hood reapproaching behind him. They took off their masks, revealing concerned eyes and furrowed brows.
Bruce let out a shaky breath as Dick stepped in front of him, squeezing his eyes shut and willing the pain away.
“That wasn’t just frustration, Bruce,” he said, quietly. Bruce could hear Jay shift awkwardly, knowing what Dick was implying. Bruce said nothing, just tightened his eyes and tried pushing up on his hand again. He cursed when it still didn’t help, but relaxed shortly after as the contraction passed.
His mind scrambled for an excuse; anything at all to explain away what was so evidently happening. He should have known he wouldn’t be able to keep this from them; he’d trained them to be detectives. He coached them on looking for suspicious behaviour. And even then, he was pretty sure Bane could figure out what was going on.
Bruce finally conceded when Dick gestured to his sweatpants. A large wet patch was visible down the side of his leg and below his crotch.
“And I’m pretty sure you didn’t just piss yourself backwards, which means that your waters broke.”
Bruce said nothing again, locking his jaw. He tried not to be embarrassed, but his cheeks were hot. He’d been caught, not only in his lie, but also looking like he’d wet his pants.
He knew this was going to happen eventually, but hadn’t thought it would be so early. Maybe he was progressing even faster than he thought. He’d jumped from 8 minutes to 3 in a span of three hours. He wondered how far he was dilated.
“So what,” Dick continued, shrugging emphatically in front of his adopted father. “You were just going to pretend it wasn’t happening? Until you couldn’t hold him in anymore?”
“I was hoping that I could keep my composure until the four of you had left for patrol.”
“And then what?”
“The med bay is almost completely soundproof, and it’s sterile,” Bruce said quietly. “I was going to stay there until he came.”
“Alone,” Jason said, crossing his arms. “Your plan was to hold him in until all of us were out of your way, and then stow yourself away in the bay and just casually push out a fucking baby . Alone.”
“You’re insane,” Dick chuckled, shaking his head. “The bat costume wasn’t enough, you had to one up yourself.”
“What else do you suggest? I can’t exactly waltz into your average doctor. This isn’t your average baby, and I didn’t think you guys would be willing to help me with-”
Dick gawked at him, cutting him off. “Of course we’ll help you, Bruce! Why the hell would you think we wouldn’t help you?”
Bruce sighed.
“I never thought you wouldn’t. I just didn’t think you’d particularly want to. It’s not pretty, childbirth. It’s bloody, and gross, and not to mention all of me will be put on display.” Dick and Jason both made a face, and Bruce gestured vaguely off into the cave. “See?”
“Okay yeah,” Jason said, putting a hand over his eyes. “It’s not exactly how I envisioned spending my Friday night, but we’re also not going to leave you high and dry, Bruce. You can’t actually expect to successfully birth your own baby.”
He winced, balling his hand into a fist and pushing once more against the desk. Considering it hadn’t been helping much the entire night, it must have been instinctual. Like his body wanted him to move away from the pain.“I’ve probably done harder,” he gritted out.
“You sure?” Dick snorted, watching him shift in discomfort.
His derision turned to concern when Bruce moaned lowly.
“You know, we could also call Clark. Or Alfred.”
Bruce cut himself off, shaking his head. “No!”
“Why the hell not?” Jason barked, his hands balling into fists. “That’d be the easiest. And the safest!”
“Alfred won’t get here in time anyway, and Clark is needed where he is,” Bruce gritted out, glaring up at Jason.
“He’s needed here too…”
Dick trailed off when Bruce turned his glare onto him.
“...but not as much as he is on Tamaran and Okaara?”
Bruce grunted and relaxed as the contraction waned. Dick took this as an opportunity. He beckoned Jason over, and the two of them heaved Bruce out of the chair and to his feet. “Stay, Jay. We should help get some of the weight off of him.”
Jason nodded, watching as Dick moved Bruce’s arms so that they were wrapped around Jason’s neck. He had seen Bruce do this with Clark on days when his back was particularly sore. Seeing as it was evident Bruce was laboring in his back, he figured it might help.
Instinctively, Bruce bent his knees slightly, sighing loudly as the shift in position alone alleviated some of the pressure. They stood in silence for a minute.
“Thank you,” Bruce eventually murmured, looking down at his chest. “This helps.”
“Lean on me, old man,” Jason said. “I know I’m not Clark, but I can hold some of your weight at least. Maybe Dickie and I can trade off, if you get too heavy.”
Bruce shook his head at first, but as the next contraction gripped the underside of his belly, he naturally relaxed slightly onto Jason’s shoulders.
“That’s it,” Jason said, swallowing thickly. Bruce knew it was a lot of weight for Jason to bear, but couldn’t bring himself to move. He rocked his hips back and forth slightly as he breathed deeply through the tightness, immensely grateful that the new position allowed him to follow his instincts more acutely.
When it had faded, he eased up on Jason and smiled apologetically.
“Thank you, Jaylad,” he said, dropping his arms a little sheepishly, and reverting to his childhood nickname. “That actually really helped. More than you can even imagine.”
Jason blushed slightly, unaccustomed to praise from the Batman. Even though he was sure it would dissipate when Bruce wasn’t in the throes of labour, he appreciated it nonetheless.
“Don’t mention it. Should we go to the med bay?”
Bruce nodded. “I think I can walk myself though. Could you go get me a few extra pillows? I have a feeling I might need them.”
Jason saluted Bruce to say yes, then took off. Bruce inhaled deeply and made his way to the room where he would be delivering his son. He tried not to feel relieved that Dick and Jason finally knew what was happening. He had no intention of allowing them to help him beyond getting him settled in the med bay. Each of them already had a duty to fulfill that night--to Gotham--and Bruce would not stand for them skipping out.
He just wished Clark could be there with him. His partner would be so disappointed that he missed their child’s birth, but Bruce couldn’t in good conscience call Superman away from his mission. Tamaran and Okaara had been at odds for so long, and despite the efforts of some of the league’s less influential members, nothing had been resolved. Superman, Wonder Woman, and Green Lantern’s presence would hopefully shift the tides enough to spark actual change. Bring peace to two broken worlds.
Bruce stumbled to the edge of the bed in the med bay, hunching over and allowing his belly to hang between his knees again. Couldn’t Diana and Hal handle the situation themselves? Clark could come home, just until the baby was there, and then leave again. It wouldn’t even take him that long.
Bruce grunted, half in pain and half in derision. He knew that he could not selfishly call his partner home.
Bruce’s peace of mind? Or peace for two quarreling nations? It wasn’t even a contest.
He breathed his way through the remainder of the contraction, rocking gently as he had with Jason. It had finished with just enough time for him to climb up onto the edge of the bed when Jason returned with his pillows, trailed closely by Dick, and much to his horror, Tim and Damian. Each of the boys were carrying armfuls of supplies--towels, sheets, sterile bandages, gloves, a kettle and distilled water, some string, a pair of scissors, and a small stack of surgical gowns.
By the time they had found a suitable place for everything, Bruce had managed to pull his legs up onto the bed too, a fresh pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His sweater lay discarded beside him, but beads of sweat still gathered at his temples as he gripped the mattress.
“You should all be on patrol,” he growled under his breath. “I’m fine, I can take it from here.”
“You’re fine,” Jason said, his voice slightly mocking. “ My ass .”
Bruce rolled his eyes at his second eldest, annoyed by Jason’s smart retaliation to his earlier comment. Dick slapped his brother lightly on the shoulder.
“Tim,” Dick said. “You and Damian can go on patrol. Jason and I will stay with Bruce.”
Damian needed no further prompting, just simply stood and left the room. He didn’t even say anything to Bruce, which may have been for the best. He could feel the beginnings of the next contraction.
“Are you sure?” Tim said, casting a worried glance at Bruce. “I can stay, just in case.”
“We’ll be fine, kid,” Jason nodded. “Dickie and I will take care of him, don’t worry.”
“Go with them,” Bruce said, nodding at Jason and Dick. He bunched his hands in the sheets, his voice nearly catching in his throat. “I can take care of myself.”
They all ignored him.
“Be safe. Call us here if you need help. If grumpy over here doesn’t want us with him right now, we’ll keep working on Titan.”
Tim was about to leave, but Dick caught him.
“Oh, Tim,” he said. “You won’t forget to... look into that...case for me, right?”
They both looked at Bruce, but he was lost in a contraction.
“Don’t worry Dick, it’s priority number one.”
“Good luck,” Jay added.
Tim nodded.
“You too.”
-----
“Seriously. Go on patrol. Now.”
Jason continued tapping away at his game. Bruce was beginning to feel irritated, a bit by the lingering presence of Red Hood and Nightwing, but a lot by the cartoon growls and explosions coming from Jason’s phone.
“Nope,” Jason replied. He pulled back on the slingshot again, launching his ammo across the screen and cheering triumphantly when the exploding egg made contact with its target. “Die you stupid fucking pigs!”
“Do you have to play that goddamn game,” Bruce mumbled, pushing himself up to a sitting position as Dick came through the door with a glass of water for him.
“Are you kidding, B?” he laughed. “Angry Bird. That basically sums up Jason’s life.”
“It’s Angry Birds , you prat,” Jay snorted. “And it sums up all of our lives.Throwing ourselves headfirst into danger to take down power hungry pigs. Gotham’s finest.”
Bruce rolled his eyes and accepted the water gratefully. He had time for a few sips before he was handing it back to Dick.
“Time it, Jason,” Dick instructed, not taking his eyes off of Bruce.
“On it.”
His brother put down his phone and picked up Bruce’s, starting the stopwatch.
Bruce had been enduring most of his contractions laying down, the stretch of laying on his back actually somewhat effective at relieving the pain. It was like it was shifting; gravitating from sharpness in the base of his spine to a more centralized ache in his pelvis. The ache was deep though, and in the last half hour had started to feel like there was progress being made.
Bruce hissed through his teeth, pressing his palm into his stomach. Dick continued to watch him, and it took a considerable amount of willpower for Bruce not to snap at him. He kept his composure though, and when the contraction waned, was pleased to hear that he was progressing. His contractions were now only 2 minutes apart and approximately a minute long each.
“It’s not going to be much longer now,” Bruce said, his brow furrowed. “I should think about getting changed.”
Jason stood up and promptly left the med bay, having no interest in remaining. Dick nodded and cleared his throat.
“Do you...need help?” he asked. Bruce shook his head.
“If you hand me a gown, I can get into it myself.”
As soon as Dick was out of the room, Bruce sighed. He looked down at the thin fabric in his hands.
This is really happening , he thought to himself. He carefully scooted to the edge of the bed, standing up cautiously. He dropped his pants easily, kicking them under the bed. If he left them out in the open, Dick would surely pick them up. Frankly, it didn’t really matter if they laid on the floor, so might as well get them out of the way.
Apparently his nesting instinct had passed as quickly as it had come.
His boxers followed, and he promptly wrapped the thin white gown around his body. Alfred had deliberately ordered a few gowns that were a size too large, in case Bruce had wanted to labour in various parts of the house. That way he could walk around without having to kick everyone out.
He was grateful for the full coverage now; especially when a particularly nasty contraction took him by surprise and he yelped in pain.
Dick came running in, a panic stricken Jason following right behind him.
“‘M fine,” Bruce grunted, leaning over the bed. “Time, Jay.”
Jason grabbed Bruce’s phone and clicked the stopwatch.
“Still 2,” he murmured. Bruce nodded. Realistically, it wasn’t going to change drastically from one contraction to the next now that he was transitioning, but he could hope. This was supposed to be the hardest part, and all he could do was pray it would pass quickly.
------
It didn’t pass quickly.
But it didn’t last as long as it could have either.
Dick and Jason took turns sitting in the room with him, despite the fact that each contraction caused him to pull further into himself and away from his sons. His focus was entirely on breathing through each pain, trying to envision the baby moving down and out. Down and out.
Trying to envision the look on Clark’s face when he came home from his mission. Not the angry or disappointed Clark that would surely be hidden underneath layers of concern and relief, but the excited Clark. The smitten Clark. The man he loved and whose child he had carried for 8 months. The man who he so desperately wished could be here with him.
“Clark…” he moaned, curling in on himself with the next wave of pain, tears threatening to fall down his bright pink cheeks. “Clark…”
Bruce vaguely heard the door to the medbay open and shut. “Clark…”
The contraction eased up, and Bruce wiped at his eyes. He pulled himself up to a standing position and leaned over on the bed. He bent his knees slightly and began rocking his hips again, desperately hoping something closer to his original position would alleviate some of his discomfort.
It didn’t, really, and the pull of the next contraction had him choking out Clark’s name again. He took a deep breath in and was about to blow it out through his teeth when there was a sharp, wrenching pain that almost pulled him to his knees, followed immediately by an urge to push.
A very strong urge.
“Dick!” Bruce yelled, trying to hide the panic in his voice. “Jason!”
He heard movement outside of the room, and suddenly felt immensely grateful that his sons had not listened to him.
What was he thinking? Having this baby alone?
He groaned and called out again.
“Is this it, Bruce?” Dick said, walking into the room. Jason caught the door and stepped in behind him.
Bruce didn’t say anything, just blew slowly through the contraction. All of his concentration was accounted for at that moment, mentally struggling to overcome the physical pain his body was enduring.
His legs were shaking slightly, involuntarily, and despite their immense strength.
Jason pulled him away from the bed, hooking his elbows under Bruce’s arms and grunting slightly when his father figure immediately dropped some of his weight on him. He moaned lowly, rocking his hips back and forth again.
When the contraction was gone, Jason helped Bruce up onto the bed again, this time on his hands and knees. Bruce shifted cautiously to the front of the bed, pulling down the support bar he and Alfred had installed months ago.
Bruce winced as he felt the beginning of a contraction building in his lower abdomen. He gripped the bar and pulled himself up to a kneeling position, grunting with the effort. A loud humming noise came from the main room in the cave, catching Dick and Jason’s attention.
This time, Bruce didn’t register the opening and closing of the med bay doors. He hung from the bar, clenching his eyes shut and holding his breath. He didn’t even know if he had begun to push, really, he was simply following his body’s instincts.
He gasped when he ran out of air, sucking a deep breath and bearing down again. A hand rested on the small of his back, rubbing gentle yet firm circles into the straining muscle. It was another technique Clark had used, specifically when Bruce’s back pain was keeping him awake.
“I’ve gotta push!” Bruce said, breathlessly, more for his own sake than for Dick or Jason, acknowledging what he was already doing. “Fuck, I’m pushing, Dick! Jason!”
He pushed, not really sure if either of his sons had acknowledged him. He was still gripping the support bar as he began bearing down. The hand continued to rub gentle circles into his back, and Bruce would have been moaning in relief had he not been holding his breath in concentration.
This massage technique had been so helpful throughout the whole pregnancy. It was special too, reserved only for when he and Clark were in bed, which, Bruce belatedly realized, meant that neither Dick nor Jason would know the spot that helped the most.
“You're just starting to push now?” A smooth, calm voice said from beside him. “Thank Rao, Bruce. That means I haven’t missed the whole thing...”
Bruce's heart lurched, a wave of relief crashing over him as he turned toward his partner.
“Clark,” Bruce croaked, mentally cursing the hormones coursing through him, making him sob his name. “Clark…”
“I’m here, B,” Clark said, pressing a gentle kiss to Bruce’s temple. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I wish you would have called me, but it sounds like you’ve been so strong on your own. So so strong.”
Bruce whimpered. His voice sounded pathetic in his own ears, but he didn’t care. Clark was here and giving him encouraging kisses, and he was pushing. It was almost over and he wasn’t going to be alone.
And he wasn’t going to scar his children either, at least not anymore than he already had.
“Jesus fuck,” Bruce breathed as the next contraction started. The contractions were positively tearing through his abdomen now that he was pushing; lessening in frequency, but gaining significant intensity. More sweat droplets were forming on his face as he inhaled as deeply as he could and pushed.
His forearms shook with the force of the push and of his grip on the bar. As his strength waned, he let out an unflattering grunt. Pulling himself up and rocking slightly for a moment, he breathed deeply again and then dropped into another push.
It was almost a relief; the pressure on his pelvis alleviated slightly as he forced the baby downward. As quickly as it had come, the contraction let up again.
Bruce pulled up again for a moment. He drew in a shaky breath and tucked his chin to his chest this time, pushing with all of the power he could muster. He counted to ten in his head, exhaled, inhaled, and went again. Another grunt escaped his lips after the second push; it sort of came out sounding like the word “ten.” Clark picked up on it, and started counting for him on the next contraction.
“I don’t know if this is working, Clark,” he almost sobbed as he collapsed again. “I can’t tell if he’s moving.”
“Let me check, B,” Clark said, gently. “Can I check and see if I can see him?”
Bruce nodded, inhaling sharply and once again bearing down. This time, a moan was pulled from his lips partway through the push, the force of his muscles contracting drawing his body lower to the bed. He panted for a few moments, grabbing the bar again and pulling himself back up into a kneel. He threw his head back as he pushed with everything he didn’t know he had.
This time, he felt a difference. Another pressure appeared, this one mixed with a burning sensation. He panted again, grunting as he felt the baby’s head slide back in just slightly.
“God damnit,” he growled. “God fucking damnit that hurts.”
“Two steps forward, one step back,” Clark laughed gently, tapping Bruce’s back reassuringly. “I think you’re doing it though, Bruce. Does it feel like he’s coming?”
Bruce grunted in acknowledgement, too busy bearing down through the next contraction to properly answer. Sweat was pouring down the sides of his face now, his cheeks beet red from repeatedly holding his breath.
This round of pushes made significantly more progress, bringing the baby’s head right to Bruce’s opening. Clark cheered from behind him.
“I think he’s crowning! I’m pretty sure I just saw his head!”
Bruce stopped pushing for a second, reaching cautiously to feel what was happening.
“Is that him?” Bruce asked, pressing his forehead against the cool wall and almost laughing. He kept his eyes closed, but continued to talk. “I think I can feel him.”
Bruce was pulled back into a contraction. Push. Breathe. Push. Breathe.
“That’s it, B,” Clark murmured, rubbing his hand along Bruce’s back. “You absolute warrior, you.” Bruce groaned and grunted through the remainder of the contraction. Clark, having seen every part of him already, peeked down to get another idea of Bruce’s progress. “Oh he’s so so close. You’re so strong and brave, Bruce. You’re doing so well!”
Bruce’s legs began to shake again, and Clark sped to the head of the bed.
“Do you want to hold me instead of the bar?”
Bruce nodded, tugging at the sleeves of the gown he was still in. Clark smiled and stepped back just far enough to strip Bruce of the last of his clothes. When he was finally free of the suffocating clothing, he sighed in relief. Clark helped him shift until he could slide in behind him, and Bruce sighed again, leaning forward into his husband’s arms.
“What about Tamaran?” Bruce asked into Clark’s chest. “You shouldn’t have left.”
“We were just finishing up, Bruce,” Clark said softly. “Tamaran and Okaara signed a treaty earlier this evening. Their peace has been restored. I was planning on coming home tonight anyway. I could have been home an hour ago, if I had known I needed to be.”
Bruce tried not to sob, just pushing his face into Clark’s chest even more forcefully.
“But it doesn’t matter now, right?” Clark encouraged. “You’ve been so strong on your own, and I’m here now to help you through the rest of this. You’re so close now. I love you so much.”
Bruce nodded into Clark, the best response he could muster in the current situation. He moaned gently with the start of another contraction, pulling himself impossibly closer to Clark’s chest and bearing down again. Clark counted, quietly and close to his ear, holding him securely as he lost himself in the effort.
An involuntary shout at the apex of the push told both Bruce and Clark that he was really crowning now. Another push, somehow both painful and relieving, brought the baby’s head into the world. Clark laughed lightly, pressing their foreheads together.
“One more, B,” he encouraged. Clark allowed Bruce to entangle their hands, unflinching as Bruce gripped his love with all of his might. The heightened pain returned just for a moment, before Bruce’s body was flooded with sweet relief.
As soon as he felt their baby leave him, he dropped his hips, ignoring the pain to turn and lay back slightly. He felt Clark move out from behind him, his husband’s chest replaced quickly by a stack of pillows.
He reached as if to grab their son, but Clark had evidently beaten him to it, pulling the now wailing child up over Bruce’s stomach and laying him gently on his bare chest.
“Rao,” Clark breathed, reaching mindlessly for a towel. As he laid it over Bruce, he watched his husband’s face shift from distress to absolute devotion, staring down at the tiny infant now pressed to his chest. They both worked to clean their child’s face and body, gently but firmly finishing his welcome into the world.
“Rao, Bruce,” Clark gasped again. “You did it.”
Bruce couldn’t speak, so he simply nodded, his eyes never leaving their brand new baby boy. Clark pressed another kiss to Bruce’s forehead, then joined his husband in admiring their son.
“Look at him,” Bruce whispered after a few minutes. “Look at him, Clark.”
“I can’t stop looking, B,” Clark laughed softly. It came out more as a squeak, and Bruce realized belatedly that Clark was crying. He pried his eyes away from the baby in his arms to meet Clark’s gaze.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you so much. Look at his little face.”
Clark pressed a kiss to Bruce’s lips and half sobbed half laughed as he looked back down at their son.
“I know, B. He’s beautiful.”
“He’s perfect ,” Bruce said. “I was scared I wouldn’t fall in love with him, Clark.”
Clark smiled softly.
“I wasn’t.”
Bruce shook his head.
“Just look at him, Clark. How could I not be smitten?”
Clark smiled apologetically when Bruce grunted softly a few moments later. He took the baby from him, then, laying him on a blanket on the med bay bench. Bruce instructed him to grab a plastic sheet and lay it at the foot of the bed, so he did, watching over their son as his husband delivered the afterbirth and discarded it himself.
“Ow,” Bruce said, when he was done and laying back down. “That...wasn’t fun.”
“I believe it.”
“I’m glad you made it back.”
“I wish you had called me sooner.”
“Do we have to-”
“No,” Clark conceded, pulling their son back into his arms and bringing him closer to Bruce with a gentle smile. “We will eventually, believe me. I have lots to say. But, not right now, at least. For now, let’s just take this all in.”
“I wholeheartedly agree,” Bruce sighed. “But we should tell the boys.”
-----
Jason was sprawled out on one of the lab benches, still tapping away at the birds on his phone. Dick couldn’t keep still, pacing anxiously back and forth.
“How are you so relaxed, Littlewing?” Dick scoffed, “I didn’t think he’d be in as much pain as he was. Is. ”
Jason shrugged. “What did you expect? Isn’t childbirth supposed to be the single most painful thing in the world?”
Dick glared at him, shuddering slightly and balling his hands into fists at the sound of Bruce’s groans from the other room. “Isn’t that room supposed to be soundproof?”
Jay shrugged again and continued playing his game. “Bruce did say it was almost soundproof, not entirely.” Dick shook his head and resumed pacing.
A few more minutes passed before they heard another pained cry from the other room, this one louder and more urgent. Dick stopped in his tracks and Jason tensed significantly, the regular tapping of his fingers against his phone coming to an abrupt stop.
Moments later, the groans and cries were replaced by a loud wail, too high-pitched to be coming from Bruce. Both boys sagged in relief and waited, listening for any other clues as to what was going on.
When the crying ceased, Dick walked over to the lab bench, pulling himself up onto it next to Jason and exhaling loudly. His exhale turned into a low chuckle of disbelief.
“He’s here,” Dick said, turning to Jay. He was surprised to see his younger brother sitting attentively now, trembling.
“Thank fuck,” Jason muttered, shaking his head. “God I was so fucking stressed.”
Dick blinked at him, unsure what to even say.
“I don’t even like Angry Birds, Dickie!” Jason groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “I just couldn’t stand sitting there watching and listening to him in pain like that!”
Dick’s features softened, and he smiled gently at his younger brother. “It’s okay Jason, you’re allowed to have been worried about him. Shit, I was too. But it sounds like he’s okay now.”
As if on cue, the door to the medbay opened and Clark stepped out, flushed and shaky, but with the dopiest, most genuine smile Dick and Jason had ever seen on him.
“He’s here, and he’s healthy, and Bruce is doing really well, all things considered.”
Dick and Jason both jumped to their feet and walked to Clark. Dick wrapped Clark in a hug immediately, thumping him on the back in congratulations. Jason stuck out a hand as if to shake Clark’s, but Clark pulled Jason in for a hug too. Jason grunted, uncomfortably wrapping his arms around the older man’s shoulders.
“Congrats, C,” he said, giving Dick a look that said what the hell is this?
“Congratulations, Clark,” Dick agreed, chuckling at Jason. “Can we see Bruce?”
Clark nodded.
“Absolutely. Just give us a few minutes though. He literally just came out like 5 minutes ago, so Bruce is still not...presentable.”
Jason made a face and Clark disappeared into the med bay again.
It was almost half an hour before Clark came back. By that time, Tim and Damian had returned from patrol, and both were relieved to discover they had missed all of the dirty work.
“Tim, Damian, you can come see them too,” Clark said with a wide smile, gesturing to the doors now opened behind him. “Bruce is very tired, and the baby is sleeping, so just don’t be too rowdy or anything. Not that you would be.”
The boys had never seen Bruce so tired, and that was saying something given his tendency to stay up all night fighting crime. He had dark circles under his eyes, which were a little puffy, as if he’d been crying. He probably had.
He was sitting shirtless on the bed, propped up against a pile of pillows with his head lolled slightly to the side, staring down at a small green bundle in his arms.
“Holy shit,” Jason swore quietly. “That’s a baby alright.”
Clark snorted, and Bruce lifted his eyes in a playfully judgmental glare.
“Very astute, Jason,” he said. “I seem to have taught you well.”
“Shut up, old man,” Jay replied, walking around the bed to Bruce’s side. Considering Jay was the son Bruce tended to butt heads with most, he was very willing to approach his father figure and his new little brother. Bruce moved the blanket gently away from the baby’s face.
“He looks like you,” Jason said, looking from the baby up to Bruce. “Is that even possible? He’s less than an hour old.”
“He does, doesn’t he?” Clark smiled, fondly. “I noticed it too, first thing.”
Tim and Dick also approached the bedside, peering down at the new baby and agreeing that he did, in fact, look like the spitting image of Bruce.
Damian stayed farther back, and refused when Bruce beckoned him toward them. “I’m content to remain here, father.”
“You’ll have to meet him sometime, Damian,” Bruce said, shaking his head.
Dick walked back to where Damian stood and clapped him on the back.
“Don’t worry, Bruce. Damian’s just pissy that he’s no longer the only blood son .”
Damian shook Dick off and grunted in a manner that confirmed he was correct. “I’ll still be the first!” He added, sharply.
“Can I hold him?” Tim asked quietly. He and Jay were still right beside Bruce. Clark stepped forward and helped Bruce situate the baby in Tim’s waiting arms. Tim was skinny but strong, and though it took him a moment or two to adjust to the baby’s weight, he eventually became more comfortable with him.
Until he woke up.
It started with a few squeaks and some shuffling, but quickly progressed into full on wailing and made all of Tim’s muscles tense up. He looked down at the new baby, a flash of panic in his eyes, then quickly turned to Jason. Without asking, and much too quickly for Jay to object, Tim lifted the green bundle into Jason’s arms.
Bruce chuckled slightly when his second eldest began to protest, but cut himself off with a gentle “oh my god.” As soon as he had landed in Jason’s arms, his squeaks and cries quieted, not disappearing entirely, but reduced significantly to short and curious whimpers. Clark and Bruce watched fondly as Jason offered the tiny infant his index finger, smiling broadly when he accepted it with a determined little squeeze.
“Damian took to me,” Dick said, ruffling Damian’s hair and putting a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “But it looks like this one’s all yours, Littlewing.”
Jason smiled softly, gently shaking his head. He looked up at Clark. "Wait, have you named him? I don’t know what to call him.”
“Jon,” Clark said, smiling. “Jonathan Thomas.”
Jason smiled back.
“Dick got a Little D. I guess I'll get a Little J.”
Bruce laughed at this, holding up his arms to take Jon back from his older brother. “Looks like you will, Jaylad.”
“Okay but that means you have to have another one!” Tim said, crossing his arms in a bit of a huff. “If both Dick and Jason get a younger brother to mentor, I need one too!”
“And you have to name him something that starts with a “T,” apparently,” Dick laughed.
“I just finished having this one, Tim,” Bruce said. Jason had given Jonathan back to him, so he had resumed staring down at the infant’s face. “I won’t be thinking about another for quite some time. If ever, really.”
“Sorry bud,” Clark smiled apologetically.
Tim shrugged as Bruce yawned loudly. Clark put a hand on his partner’s shoulder, and looked around at their boys.
“Bruce should get some rest. So should Jon and I, and all of you. Thank you for all that you did tonight, guys. Helping Bruce and helping Gotham. You all did good work.”
The boys mumbled to themselves as they left, Clark turning back to the bed to kiss Bruce on the forehead.
They stayed quiet for a moment, both of them just admiring the baby and each other. Suddenly though, the quiet was interrupted by Clark’s chuckle.
“What?” Bruce asked, yawning again. “What’s so funny?”
Clark shook his head.
“They’re talking about another baby. They’re sitting in the library, all four of them, talking about what we’ll name the next one.”
Bruce snorted.
“What do they suggest?”
“Dick has suggested Tim 2, which is obviously a no...Jason is on about Thor, after the god, I guess. Damian’s just thrown in Titus, but that sounds more like a dog name than a baby name.”
Bruce chuckled, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He felt Clark gently pull Jonathan from his arms, but was too tired to protest. The blanket was being pulled up over his body when Clark let out a quizzical noise.
“Hm,” he said, knitting his brow. “That one’s a maybe…”
Bruce grunted, and Clark kissed his forehead. He heard him kiss Jon’s forehead too before he laid him down on the bench again. Carefully, his partner slid into the bed beside him, wrapping his arms gently around Bruce’s torso and leaning into his shoulder.
“If we did have another,” Clark said. “Tim has suggested Terrence. Apparently it means gracious and good.”
Bruce sighed softly, a gentle smile on his lips. “We could call him Terry…” Clark pressed a kiss to his temple and Bruce’s eyelids got significantly heavier as he was dragged closer to unconsciousness. “Hypothetically….of course…”