Chapter Text
Chipped nail polish, pink lemonade, hair dye and clippings were scattered across the patio table. Looking over the mess his children had made, Bruce Wayne sighed, exhausted. It had been a long day in early June and the billionaire was worn out from running after his eight kids. Add to that the fact that he had a date tonight and it was a recipe for near disaster. He loved his kids but they sure were a handful. Just a few hours ago, Barbra and Stephanie were gathered around the patio table giggling over a teen magazine and painting each other’s nails. It wasn’t until after they’d run inside after Tim had bumped into Barbara’s arm spinning in circles effectively smudging the purple polish she was applying to Stephanie’s pinky, that Bruce had found out the girls had dyed their brother’s hair. Bruce had hurried after the girls as they ran through the kitchen and up the stairs chasing the 12-year-old and called after them not to run in the house, scream or chase their brother. That was when he’d stumbled across Jason with a new white streak in his pushed back fringe. It stood out like a sore thumb against his jet black hair and the 14-year-old tried to hide it but that only made the new dye job more obvious to his father. Then Bruce chased after his older daughters, with 3-year-old Damien on his hip reprimanding the teens for dying Jason’s hair without permission. After he reached the girls, Tim was hiding under his own bed with a girl on either side trying to force him out.
“Girls, leave your brother alone,” Bruce scolded. “And who gave you permission to dye Jason’s hair white?!”
“Alfred,” both girls answered in unison, innocent smiles on their faces.
The man in question chose that moment to walk past the room, and deposit Jason in the doorway. “I did no such thing, Master Bruce,” the butler scoffed, exasperated.
The single father turned to his daughters with a pointed glare. Both of their faces turned to look at the floor. Tim crawled out from under the end of the bed and hid from the girls behind Bruce. Jason snickered as he leaned against the doorframe and was instantly smacked lightly across the back of his head by Alfred before the butler wandered away with a basket of laundry on his hip.
“You both know better than that,” Bruce reprimanded. “You should have asked me. And you, Jason,” the 32-year-old huffed, not looking at his difficult son. “You didn’t have permission either. And if I find out that you tricked the girls by telling them Alfred gave you permission to dye your hair, you’re gonna be grounded way longer than just the next two weeks.”
“What,” the fourteen-year-old squawked. “That’s not fair. They did all the dyeing!”
“And they will be sufficiently punished for it,” Bruce sighed, Damien giggling on his hip. The girls looked up at their father and nodded in reply to the raise of his dark eyebrow as he silently asked them if Jason had tricked them. “But you, Jason, tricked them. Especially Barabra. You know she wouldn’t have participated in this if you didn’t. Why didn’t you just ask me?”
Bruce turned to his son, tired and not ready for another fight. The 14-year-old frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. The young teen was always in a fight. Whether it was at school, with a neighbor kid or his own father. He was a troublemaker and Bruce hoped it was just a phase. Alfred was sure that it wasn’t.
“You would have said no,” Jason pouted, as Bruce waved the girls out of the room. Tim flinched away from his sisters as they walked around their father to the door. Once gone, Bruce ruffled Tim’s hair and moved for the exit himself. He paused at the door and lifted Jason’s chin up, brushing his thumb across the teen’s cheek.
“I might have surprised you,” he smiled, kindly. “But you didn’t give me the chance.” Then he was out of the room and moved down the hall to Barb’s room where he took her phone, computer and grounded her for three days. Farther on down the hallway, he took Steph’s tablet, sketchbook and grounded her for three as well.
He checked in on Cassandra across the hall from Steph and found her playing dolls with Duke, signing back and forth. He smiled at the pair before he continued on down the hall. He passed Duke’s room and flicked off the lightswitch his newest son had left on. Then he moved on to Dick’s room. His oldest was laid across his bed, feet swinging back and forth in the air and scrolling on his laptop. He looked up when Bruce leaned against the doorframe and smiled.
“You see Jason’s hair yet,” he asked, smile turning to a smirk.
“Oh, yeah,” Bruce laughed. “He tricked Barb and Steph that Alfred gave him the go-ahead. I grounded all three. The girls for the next three and Jason for the next two. Not for the dye, but for the lie.”
Dick laughed at his father’s lame rhyme. He shook his head at the antics of his siblings. Damien giggled with his older brother, tiny hands reaching out for the 16-year-old gymnast. Without any fuss he hopped up from his bed and walked over to tickle his youngest sibling. The baby squealed in glee. He loved his big brother. Dick grinned at the contagious laughter. The 16-year-old was always an easy going kid and Bruce couldn’t have asked for a better kid to have as his first child. It was when he’d brought in the others that he started to lose sleep.
After a brief cuddle session between Dick and Damien, Bruce took the toddler to his room and got him ready for bed. He’d have to be down before Bruce could leave for his date. He was almost dreaded to go. With eight kids all under the age of 17, he didn’t get much free time. And now that summer had officially started, it was going to be worse. Only a week into summer vacation and he’d already grounded three kids in one day and had to Google how to get hair dye out of wicker. Chances weren’t likely that it’d come out; the longer it sat, the longer it’d stay the website had said. That didn’t bode well for his patio furniture. Bruce sank down into the rocking chair with Damien’s favorite book, Good Night Moon. The 3-year-old wouldn’t go to sleep without it. Bruce had it practically memorized. If it weren’t for the fact that the baby wanted to see the pictures as his father read to him, Bruce wouldn’t even bother with the book at all.
Halfway through the story, Cassandra wandered in and placed her little hand on her father’s arm where it rested on the chair. He paused his reading, Damien already almost asleep, to look at her. She held her hands out to him in a way that meant she wanted to be held. He bent down to scoop her up into his lap, jostling the baby in the process. Damien started to fuss but Bruce’s voice continuing the reading settled him down quickly.
Cassandra rested her head against her father’s chest. It was one of her favorite things to do. The doctors said that it helped her to feel him speaking when his hands were busy. At 6 years old, she was very smart for her age. The rumbling of Bruce’s chest had been soothing to the rest of his kids when they were younger but it meant something different to the deaf kindergartner. She would be starting first grade in the fall and Bruce was worried about how she’d do in a regular school. Alfred and the doctors both agreed that she should at least get the chance to go to a normal school before they looked into deaf education. Ever since they’d found out she was deaf versus her siblings who were not, Bruce had been fretting about how she’d communicate, how she’d learn to communicate. He’d taken it upon himself to sign up for ASL classes so that he could teach her. He knew a little from his childhood, and Alfred, but not enough to teach a child how to use it. After his classes had ended, he set about teaching the rest of his kids ASL.
Barbra and Tim took to it easily. Jason was petulant as always but picked it up pretty quickly. Dick and Stephanie struggled with it. And Duke was still learning but a quick study. More than once Bruce had caught the 9-year-old watching tutorials on YouTube via his tablet. It warmed his heart that his kids tried so hard to make their youngest sister fit in.