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Dick sits on the porch swing, trying not to break it. Bruce got it for him last month, so he can enjoy sitting outside while being able to move. It’s normally great, but when he’s particularly restless (or anxious) the temptation to launch himself too hard is strong.
He’s leaving at noon. He’ll be gone for a whole week with the Titans. Bruce woke up early so they could spend the morning together, but Dick hasn’t been able to focus at all.
Maybe dropping a bomb like this on Bruce right before he leaves is the coward’s way out, but Dick was raised by Batman. He prefers to label his plan as strategic.
Of course, it won’t be much of a strategy if he misses his chance entirely, and right now, it’s 11:53.
“Bruce, do you think it matters if people are like, different, or like, do things other people don’t expect if they’re not doing anything that’s like, illegal?” He blurts.
Bruce raises an eyebrow.
“And like, it doesn’t hurt anybody. It’s just not always what people are expecting to see,” Dick amends.
Bruce can clearly tell that this is not some impersonal hypothetical question and the man’s unimpressed stare makes Dick want to hide.
When Bruce speaks, he sounds exhausted. “Dick, who did you prank, what did you do, and how bad did it turn out?”
Dick is sure this is going to be hilarious some day. Right now, he just feels sheepish. “Not like that.”
Bruce blinks and leans forward in his chair. “What’s wrong?”
Dick gets up from the porch swing, unable to stay sitting any longer, and instead starts a series of slow back walkovers from one end of the porch to the other. “Why does something have to be wrong?” It’s probably a little defensive, but Dick’s been trying to have this conversation for half a year, and right now, it’s not going well.
Bruce has the nerve to chuckle. “You seem a little off this morning, chum.”
Dick freezes, toes pointed in the air. “If I wasn’t the Richie Grayson the tabloids want to see, would that be okay?”
Bruce purses his lips. “I need more data than that. That could mean anything from the paparazzi catching you in flip flops and socks to crashing a car seven times. You have to give me more to-”
“I’m bi.”
“-go off of- oh.”
Dick slowly brings himself upright. “Yeah.”
“Well, as long as it’s not the flip flops and socks thing.”
Dick lets out a laugh, along with at least half the anxiety he’s been holding. “Like, I’m not doing anything particular about it right now, but like, I’ve… noticed. And I wanted you to know.”
“I appreciate that, chum.” Bruce smiles and holds out an arm.
By far the most impressive feat on Robin’s resume has been teaching Batman to initiate hugs. He hurries to accept the offer and Bruce pulls him in tight.
Bruce is clearly not mad, but Dick still feels like he needs a little more reassurance. “And you’re like, okay with that?” He fishes.
Bruce studies him a moment before speaking. “Chum, I uh, I’ve had a lot of experiences in my life. I’ve gone to a lot of places, and I’ve gotten to meet and know a lot of people. I’ve always been… open. You can be interested in who you’re interested in, and as long as you’re following reasonable precautions for your physical and emotional health, you can date whoever you want to date.”
Dick grins, limbs feeling looser than they did a minute ago, even through Bruce’s arms definitely seem stiffer. Bruce is clearly a bit awkward and uncomfortable, but his heart’s in the right place and he’s willing to be an ally to Dick.
All in all, this went way better than Dick feared. The awkwardness is likely temporary, and the acceptance is not.
“Thanks B. Ready to walk me downstairs?” Dick asks. Now that he’s not so full of anxiety, he’s starting to feel really excited to zeta to the tower and see his friends.
“Of course,” Bruce responds, without letting Dick go or making any move to head inside the manor. “And you’re alright?”
“Yep!”
“And no flip flops and socks?”
“I make no promises.”
Bruce chuckles, finally letting him go. “And you know that I love you?”
Dick looks up at Bruce and nods, happy and honest. “Yeah! And I love you too!”
Bruce finally starts heading inside and Dick only barely keeps himself from bouncing the whole walk down to the cave. There’s no way he’ll be allowed to go on the mission if he breaks his ankle jumping down the stairs.
The novelty of this stakeout has largely worn off, but Jason is still trying to behave himself so he won’t get sent home early. They’ve been on this rooftop for two hours and no movement from Penguin. At least the weather’s decent and they’re far enough away from anyone that they can talk.
“Hey, B, if you were in charge, how old would you make the law be before kids could drive?” He asks.
Honestly, he’s not that upset about not getting to drive yet, but ever since Dickwing let it slip that he got to drive the Batmobile when he was nine, Jason has considered it his personal honor and duty to annoy Bruce about it as much as humanly possible.
“30.” Bruce deadpans.
“Shut up, what’s your real answer?” Jason pokes B’s arm.
B sighs heavily. “I suppose circumstances make a difference. I know Clark has talked about all his friends driving early, but in rural Kansas, that’s a very different experience than in Gotham. But it seems better to have one consistent rule.”
Jason perks up. “So if we go visit Uncle Clark, you’ll let me drive?”
“No. I want you to live to see 30, so I’m not going to let you drive at 14.” Bruce snarks.
Jason grins. B is in the perfect mood to tease. “What’s so great about 30? Right now, I’ve got a good English teacher, I’m Robin, and I get to be on the Teen Titans. I can’t be on the team when I’m 30. It’s in the name.”
Bruce’s lips tighten oddly. He’s got that look on his face when he sees the humor, but he also wants to give one of his patented Responsible Dad Lectures.
“You’ve got your whole life, Robin. Whether you continue with this path or not. You can figure out what you want to do with your future, you can get married, have kids, make new friends. Your whole life is ahead of you.”
Even with the cowl, Jason can tell that Bruce’s eyes are sparkling with his visions of Jason’s future. All of a sudden teasing Bruce doesn’t feel as fun.
“What if I don’t?” he asks. “What if I don’t get married and have kids and a white picket fence?”
Jason isn’t even sure what he’s asking. He just knows he hates feeling boxed in. He’s had to listen to tons of kids in fancy gala attire dutifully report their personal spins on the expected path: college, job, marriage, children- in that order, no exceptions.
He doesn’t know if it’s just the elitism that grates at him, the Ivy Leagues and the nepotism and the perfect family portraits. To be fair though, he’d never wanted to be married when he was little either, but it’s not like his parents made it seem like paradise. It’s just that he can picture himself as an adult in an apartment with 2 dogs, or in a house with 6 friends, or still in the Manor with Alfred and Bruce. He can’t really picture himself married.
“Well, I’m not one to talk, I’m still a bachelor.” B smiles, and Jason’s gut settles down.
Bruce puts his hand on Jason’s shoulder in a little side hug that feels like safety. “What matters to me is that you’re happy and healthy. I’ll love you no matter what that looks like.” The white lenses of the cowl bore into Jason, but it doesn’t feel bad.
“Love you too, Dad.”
“Hey B?” Tim blurts.
He’s laying on the floor of the cave with his feet up against Batman’s desk. His laptop is hovering on his lap, pinned into place by hands that aren’t typing as fast as he’d like them to. He and Bruce have been down here working for a few hours, so Alfred will probably be on their case about eating soon.
Alfred already knows.
Everyone already knows.
Tim
knows
Bruce should know.
It will be fine. He knows it will be fine.
It’s just always so easy to imagine himself being held to a different standard.
He’s been telling himself for ages that he’ll tell Bruce ‘soon’, but the thing about ‘soon’ is that it’s always one step ahead.
And now Bruce has paused for half a second between tasks and Tim’s brain has apparently decided this is soon enough.
“Yes?” Bruce’s voice is attentive, even as his eyes settle on the next file.
“I’m bi.” Tim is impressed his voice sounds as casual as it does.
“Oh,” Bruce returns, and Tim doesn’t think it’s fair for Bruce to sound casual. He’s just being a copycat.
“I just, well I wanted you to know. And it just kinda came up with some people and like, I was talking about it with Dick for a bit, but I just, like I know it’s not like a big deal or anything, but like, I wanted to make sure you were in the loop, but it kept accidentally coming up in other situations with other people after Dick and since you and I don’t really talk about our dating lives- which I appreciate and do not want to change, for the love of god please don’t try to talk about dating with me- I thought I’d talk about it on purpose instead.”
Welp. So much for casual.
Bruce tilts his head to the side like the bird he isn’t. “Thank you for telling me. I’m sure Dick told you that it would be okay, and that I would tell you I understand and still love you?”
Tim nods. “Yeah.”
Bruce turns away from his files to look at Tim. “I understand and I still love you.” He says, with an inkling of a smile.
“Love you too.” Tim replies. “And I knew it would be fine.”
“Even so,” Bruce rumbles. “It can take a lot of bravery to talk about it. I’m proud of you.”
Tim feels a pleasant kind of content as he smiles back.
Bruce caps the highlighter in his hand. “Do you want a hug?”
Tim shrugs and almost upsets the delicate laptop balance. “Maybe in a few minutes? I’m really comfy here.”
Bruce smiles and Tim can tell the man isn’t reading a rejection that doesn’t exist into Tim’s request. “Alfred will make us come up for food soon anyway,”
“Indeed, Master Bruce.”
Tim and Bruce both jump.
“And if you and Master Timothy would like your share of the garlic bread, I must recommend that you make your way upstairs in a timely fashion.”
Cass brings things to Bruce when they don’t make sense. The invitation doesn’t make sense. Cass settles next to Bruce on the couch, pulls the invitation out, and hands it to him.
“What’s this?” He asks. His head tilts like surprised, confused.
Cass points to it.
He looks over it and frowns. “Yes, there’s a lot of big words here” Bruce nods. “ It says:
Mr. Bradford Alexander French and Mrs. Iris Cordilia French, cordially invite Mr. Bruce Wayne, Mr. Richard Grayson, Mr. Timothy Drake-Wayne, Miss Cassandra Wayne, and Mr. Damian Wayne to our 25th annual gala for the benefit of Gotham Children’s Hospital on the fifth of-
What?”
Cass points more insistently so he won’t keep wasting his words where they don’t matter.
Bruce looks confused. “Miss Cassandra Wayne?”
Cass taps on all the Mr. words and then again at the Miss. that none of the other family members have.
“That says Mister and then the one next to it says Miss.” Bruce explains.
Cass wants to roll her eyes. Cass knows that . “Why?”
Bruce sits up a little straighter, his body full of curiosity as it is every time Cass gives him words. “Why what?”
“Not same.”
“Oh um.. Because you’re the only girl,” Bruce explains.
This time Cass does roll their eyes. Cass may never get used to how everyone relies on nothing but words all day long to communicate.
“Do my words have to be not same?” Cass asks.
The second later, Cass hears Alfred in her head correct to ‘Not the same, Miss Cassandra,’ but head-Alfred is easy to ignore.
Bruce’s body says surprised. “No. You can choose what words fit for you.”
Cass nods. “Okay. Next time.”
Bruce is trying to look like he isn’t confused. “Next time?”
“Same.” Cass nods.
“You want Mr. next time?” He clarifies.
Cass nods, smiling.
“The next gala is actually ours to host, I can change the invitations before they get sent out. Is there a different name you’d want?” He holds out his words like they’re breakable. Like they could shatter and cut Cassandra if he isn’t careful.
Cass shakes their head, scrunching her nose. Cass has the best name, there’s no way that’s going to change.
Bruce nods, and speaks slowly. “Do you feel like a girl, or like something else, or is that not really something you’re sure of yet? You don’t have to be a girl.”
Cass shrugs, but it’s clear by his face, he’s going to need talking to understand.
Ugh. Fine.
“Girl is okay.”
“But you don’t like Miss?” He clarifies.
“Miss is okay.” Cass shrugs. “I like all words, not just one.”
Cass can see before he opens his mouth what’s coming. Cass gives Bruce glare that’s half serious and holds up 3 fingers.
He reconsiders his words.
“Is this just for Miss and Mr., or is it also for words like ‘he’, ‘she’, and ‘they’?” He asks.
Cass tucks one finger down and says “All.”
He looks at the remaining two fingers for several seconds. “Is this something to keep between us, or do you want other people to know, or do you want certain people to know?”
“Don’t care!” Cass shrugs, putting down another finger.
“Does it bother you when I call you things like ‘Princess’ and other words like that? Would it be better to switch that around?” he asks.
Cass lets the final finger drop. This question actually does take a little thinking. “Princes is what you say and it’s always good. Miss is Alfred’s word and it’s always good. Girls night is with Steph and Babs and it’s always good. All the other words and people can be any.”
Bruce nods seriously. “Can I have one more question?”
Every damn time.
What Bruce doesn’t know is that Cass secretly budgeted him five. Cass holds up two more fingers.
“Thank you. Is there anything else we can do to support you and help you feel comfortable?” He leans forward, studying them.
She shakes their head. “No. It’s a small deal, not a big deal.” Cass says, his voice honest.
“Well, let me know if that changes. No matter how big or small a deal it is, we’re on your side and helping you feel comfortable and happy matters.” He says seriously, while he watches that final finger, in contemplation. He hates wasting fingers.
Bruce takes a breath and smiles at Cass. “Do you want a hug?”
Cass drops their last finger as she leans over and hugs his dad.
And three weeks later when Babs is impressed at the coding Bruce did to randomize Cass’s pronouns in the Batcomputer, Cass smiles all day long.
Duke and Damian nod to each other before walking into Bruce’s office. The siblings agreed on this three days ago, picked a time two days ago, and made a game plan yesterday.
Today is the day to actually do it.
Duke doesn’t want to be shown up by the youngest kid in the family. Damian doesn’t want to be shown up by anyone.
Go time.
They walk as one, sitting across from Bruce’s desk. Bruce is clearly doing his best to look open, friendly, and not worried. He looks guarded and worried, but he’s clearly trying not to.
“I suppose you’re wondering why we requested this meeting,” Damian begins.
Duke fights to keep a straight face.
“You know you can just come talk to me if you need to, right? You don’t need to have it on a calendar,” Bruce’s voice is gentle, and just a touch confused and concerned.
“We know, we just figured it’d be easier if we planned on a time, instead of just springing it on you,” Duke adds, because that sounds more normal than ‘we didn’t want to give ourselves the option of chickening out’.
Duke had gone to Damian for advice. He’d tried to feel out whether Bruce would be upset if he painted his nails. He’d half expected Damian to mock him.
Instead, the two had stayed up for hours talking.
“Okay” Bruce nods slowly. “What would you like to talk about?”
“Father, I wish to inform you that I require an update to the Batcomputer files” Damian says smoothly.
Duke finds himself a little relieved to not be going first.
“Oh?” Bruce looks like he’s fighting between finding the situation funny and having no idea how serious this might turn out to be. Like he’s reserving mirth until he deems it safe.
Damian hesitates. Through this whole process, Damian has been the one charging ahead, and Duke has felt caught up in the whirlwind. Now Damian actually looks like a kid.
Duke leans over to knock their knees together, a tiny gesture of ‘I’m here.’
Damian smiles back and Duke is so glad they decided not to do this alone.
“Father, I know that I used to be proud to be your only blood son.” Damian states.
Bruce’s eyes widen in surprise and confusion and a laugh bursts out of Duke before he can stop it.
“You don’t have another surprise kid,” Duke promises.
Damian glares at the interruption, until the meaning is processed and he gives a sharp nod. “Correct.”
Bruce relaxes, trying not to look like he’s relaxing. “I see. Continue?”
“I no longer consider myself in that way,” Damian announces, tone solemn. “This family is not about heirs and succession. Having a place here is not something inherited, nor is something earned, it is given. Freely. I belong here and the others do too. Even Todd.”
Duke snorts. Jason dyed Titus eyebrows with blue food coloring, and he’s currently sitting at the top of Damian's shit list.
“I’m so proud of you, Damian,” Bruce smiles.
“Also, I’m not your son,” Damian responds bluntly.
Again, Duke watches as Bruce’s mind swirls with thoughts of DNA tests, cloning, shapeshifters, and Al Ghuls. Again, it’s funny as hell. Duke does manage to keep in the laugh this time though.
“I wish to have my files updated to ‘he’ and ‘they’ in the Batcomputer, and to have neutral terms used to describe familial relationships towards me.” Damian states, talking like he’s giving an offer in a board meeting. “If that is acceptable.”
Again, Bruce relaxes, but this time he’s not trying to hide it.
“Of course it’s acceptable, Damian. You aren’t the only one here to use multiple pronouns, and it is always your right to be who you are.” Bruce pauses for a beat. “Do you still want to use the name Damian?”
“Yes Father. I only wish to make the changes I’ve requested, nothing more for the moment. I will keep you informed of any new developments. I also plan on sending a memo to everyone else after I talk to Richard.”
Bruce stands up and walks towards his youngest. “You know Dick will accept you and love you, right?”
“I’m aware,” Damian replies.
“Is there anything I can do to help or support you?” Bruce asks, opening his arm a little bit in a silent offer.
“Not at the moment. I am, however, aware that being hugged is the traditional response to coming out, and I will allow it.”
Damian steps into his Father’s arms and Bruce holds his child.
“I love you.”
“Thank you, Father.”
Duke waits until Damian pulls away and sits down to ruin the moment with a little teasing. “You just wanted a hug.”
“Preposterous.” Damian snips, lips twitching in a smile.
Bruce’s eyes settle on Duke. “Was there something you wanted to talk about as well?”
Even though Bruce is standing, Duke doesn’t feel half as intimidated as he did a few minutes ago. “Well, I was just going to get a pedicure with my friends this weekend and I kind of wanted to make sure you knew in case anyone said anything.” Duke says, with only a little self-consciousness.
Between the paparazzi, the need for secret identities, the gossip at galas, and the infighting at the Gotham Academy PTA, telling Bruce about breaking gender norms directly seems preferable to having the man hear it second hand.
“That sounds fun,” Bruce offers, and Duke can picture him using CTRL+F in his mind to search for the best follow up questions.
“Still Duke. Still He/Him. I guess it’s not even really a big deal, I’ve just been wanting to play around a little more with my clothes and my hair and stuff,” He shrugs.
Bruce steps around Damian’s chair towards Duke. “It’s as big of a deal or as small of a deal as you want it to be. If it’s significant to you, it’s significant to me. If you want it to feel casual, then I’ll support you quietly. But you don’t need to hit any standards, or terms, or actions for this to be important.”
Duke hadn’t even realized until the words were said that he needed to hear them. The truth is, this does feel big to him. It feels brave and creative and important and vulnerable. Without meaning to though, he’s been comparing himself to Damian, to everyone really.
“It’s important,” Duke says honestly. “I don’t really have more to say about it, but I do want to tell you about it because it’s important to me.”
Bruce holds out his arms and Duke takes the hug before Bruce can open his mouth to offer it.
“I love you, Duke.”
“Love you too. C’mon, Dami. Group hug!”
“Ugh, fine.”
It’s taken almost two weeks to get everyone together in one place, so the “Happy Pride Month Gifts” are more like “Happy July Gifts”, but Bruce is excited to give them anyways. He’s managed to make it through dinner before passing them out.
“They’re late, but you still need to hydrate,” Bruce announces. “Happy Pride Month.”
He reaches into the bag he’s kept tucked under the table for the whole meal, feeling pleasantly nostalgic for the year Dick made him dress up as Santa Claus.
The first one his hand finds is the 40oz hot/cold travel mug with the bi flag.
“Tim,” He passes it to his surprised son.
“Thanks Bruce,” The boy replies, inspecting the lid.
Dick gets the bi flag colors on a tumbler with a crazy straw. Damian gets the nonbinary flag with their glass bottle, while Cass has been favoring a trans flag to go with their fliptop. Duke has been liking a simple rainbow recently and his aluminum bottle has a backpack clip. Jason’s ace flag is a tiny border around the bottom edge of his silicone-capped bottle.
The kids are happily comparing with one another and talking, and Bruce feels so grateful to be here with them. When Alfred comes out bearing a tray they all nudge each other, and perk up and laugh.
Alfred’s new tea set just came in this morning. Eleven cups, each representing a stripe in the pride progress flag surround a teapot that says ‘Respect Existence Or Expect Resistance’.
Jason lets out a whoop of approval.
“Did you just put random things on yours, Dad?” Dick asks.
Bruce looks down at the lightweight plastic bottle in his hand, confused. “No, these are mine.”
“Yours?” Cass asks, tilting his head.
“Father, explain.” Damian adds.
“This is the nonbinary flag, this is the demisexual flag, and this is the pansexual flag.” Bruce explains to his youngest.
“Wait, is this why you wanted us all together?” Jason asks.
“Yes,” Bruce confirms. “To give you your water bottles.”
“And come out?” Dick asks.
Bruce looks to Alfred for explanation, but it seems this time the butler is equally surprised.
“You already knew,” Bruce reminds the kids.
With the looks they all give each other, it doesn’t take a detective to see that apparently isn’t true, but just in case there was any confusion, Jason pipes up “Like fuck we did!”
Bruce looks at his oldest. “I told you when you were little I’ve always been open. I’m open to being with people of any gender. Tim, when we talked I said I understood. And Jason, we talked forever ago about how we both didn’t really see the need to be with a partner as the only way to be happy. And then after Cass and I talked, I wrote those programs for pronouns, and Damian and I use he and they and Cass uses everything. You all seemed like you talked to each other about all this and supported each other, so I guess I just figured you’d all heard from one another.”
There’s 10 seconds of silence before the floodgates open.
“You didn’t say anything like that!”
“That was one conversation before I died!”
“We don’t have a hive mind!”
“Even if you did tell us, we wouldn’t out you”
“How did I miss that? I look at the files all the time, how did I miss that?”
“So wait, is he (or they) early to come out or late?”
“You don’t say he or they, you pick one”
“I know that!”
“Do you want one of the bracelets like this one?”
“We should get matching family tattoos”
“Absolutely not.”
“I feel like I’m having a stroke. How did I miss that?”
“Well dad, I think you should know that we still love you. You didn’t raise a bunch of homophobes.”
Bruce can’t stop smiling. Apparently, even with continuous miscommunication, the kids all grew up feeling supported and loved.
Duke speaks up, a little louder than the chatter of side conversations that have emerged. “Hey Bruce, do you want a hug?”
Keeping his footing with a wall of children pressing around him on all sides is a bit of a challenge, but Bruce couldn’t be more proud.