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The Five Times Bruce Tried to Wake Up His Kids, and the One Time He Didn’t
1.
Bruce loved all of his children equally. It was the interfering with their sleep that he loathed, just as equally. Almost all of them were night owls by necessity, with the exception of Duke, Alfred, and Damian. Tim was another exception, but that was because Bruce could count on both hands the times he had actually seen the boy sleep naturally, and during what one would consider to be normal hours.
Bruce himself slept fewer hours, as he grew older. He was able to go out on patrol, wrap up any injuries or cases, make sure his kids were off to bed, then catch a few hours himself before getting up to get Damian off to school.
But today was different, as it wasn’t just Damian who needed to get up at the crack of dawn. At Damian’s request, Dick had signed up to chaperone Damian’s field trip to the Gotham Zoo. While Damian had initially protested that the field trip was childish, and that he shouldn’t be required to go, but when Tim pointed out the benefit of public outings with his classmates in Gotham’s public eye. Tim also pointed out the benefit of seeing the animals in real life for the sake of Damian’s art. Damian acquiesced eventually, only after demanding that Dick chaperone.
Bruce was only mildly dismayed by having Damian pick Dick over him, but Tim once again saved the day by reluctantly inviting Bruce into W.E. for the day.
The point was, Bruce had to wake Dick up. Damian came to the Wayne family with the ability to wake up at six in the morning drilled into him. When he occasionally could be convinced to sleep in, it lasted until six thirty. At least Alfred appreciated the company in the kitchen.
Dick, on the other hand, had never successfully woken up for an alarm in his life. It made his time in school a struggle, but over time, Bruce had grown fond of his time of waking up Dick in the morning, urging him out of bed before meeting him in the kitchen, and trying to keep his head from falling directly into his cereal bowl.
Perhaps Dick had matured, and grown up, in terms of his morning habits, Bruce mused as he approached Dick’s room. But still, the night before, Dick had almost sheepishly asked Bruce to wake him up in the morning.
Bruce had accepted, of course.
Which meant that at 6:15 in the morning, Bruce was slipping into Dick’s room. His heart immediately warmed at the sight of his son starfished across his bed. He was open-mouth snoring, loudly .
Bruce shut the door behind him, and sat on the edge of Dick’s bed. He hardly had two inches to sit, before Dick’s sprawling limbs took up space on the mattress.
“Dick,” Bruce said softly. He would have reached out to brush a hand on his forehead, but that would have forced him to reach halfway across the bed. Instead, he settled a hand on Dick’s wrist.
“Mrph,”
“Dick, it’s time to wake up.”
Dick made another incomprehensible noise, and rolled over, dislodging his arm from Bruce’s grasp.
“Dick,” Bruce felt like he was ten years younger, waking up his only son for school.
How the times have changed.
What hasn’t changed- Bruce reached out again, but this time was slapped away. Dick rolled even further, nearly tipping himself off of the bed.
“Dick. Your brother is going to be waiting for you soon.”
“No,” Dick tried to drag some blankets back over his body, and whined in frustration when the parts that Bruce was sitting on wouldn’t budge. “Evil man. Sleep.”
“It’s time to get up, chum.” Bruce patted Dick’s leg, before standing up. “Need me to turn on the lights?”
“No lights,” Dick moaned. As far as Bruce had seen, Dick had yet to open his eyes. “‘M up. No lights.”
“Are you really up, or are you just saying that?” Bruce asked, standing up.
“I’m up, I prommy.”
“Did you really just say ‘prommy’?”
“Shaddup. I’m up.”
“I had Alfred get you some Captain Crunch. You can get some if you get up.”
Surprisingly, that didn’t make Dick spring up out of bed. He tried to roll over one last time, which resulted in him falling off of the bed with a resounding thunk. Bruce leaned over as best he could. All he could see was the top of Dick’s hair, before the sound of soft snores began to resonate throughout the room.
There was a knock at the door. Before Bruce could say anything, it creaked open, and Damian poked his head in. He was already dressed in his school uniform, an impatient expression on his face.
“Father, what are you doing here?” Damian asked. Bruce shrugged, before putting his hands on his hips.
“Waking up your brother.”
“Does he not possess an alarm clock?”
“He’s getting up,” Bruce said instead of replying to the question. “Right, chum?”
“Bleh.” Dick said, still laying face down on the floor. At least he wasn’t snoring.
“Let’s go get breakfast started, huh, Damian?” Bruce said. Damian cast another suspicious glance at the shadowy corner where Dick was, but walked out of the room. Bruce followed him, pausing only to hit the light switch before closing the door behind him.
Dick’s groan of anguish could be heard down the hallway.
2.
Bruce was on his way to his room when he heard it. At first, he thought the low moans were coming from Dick’s room, but when he paused by his eldest’s door, all was quiet. He moved down further, to a room that for years had stayed empty and silent. It still was, for the most part, but every so often, Jason could be convinced to stay the night, after a family dinner, or a movie night.
Tonight was one of those nights, and it took every fiber within Bruce to not poke his head into Jason’s room every five minutes, just to check that he was still there.
Though, Jason’s cut-off shout was more than enough for Bruce to slip through the unlocked door.
The room was dark, but Bruce would still be able to navigate it like the back of his hand. It was Jason’s wish that no one entered his room, and that wish was honored, through both his life and death and then his life again, but that didn’t mean that Bruce didn’t know his own son’s room.
Bruce could try to run his finger along the dresser, find the thick layer of dust, but he was more focused on the boy in the bed.
Jason was twisted up in his sheets, lit only by a thin light of moonlight creeping through the crack in the curtains. His face was smashed into the pillows, the ones that hadn’t yet been thrown to the floor by his thrashing.
“Jaylad,” Bruce said softly, crouching next to the bed. Though he ached to reach out to his son, he held back. Things between them were tenuous, as Bruce suspected that they would be for a while, but it meant that physical contact was discouraged at the moment. “You are having a nightmare. Wake up.”
“No,” Jason said. His eyes were screwed shut. He had one hand fisted underneath the pillow, a lump protruding. A weapon? A gun? Alfred made Jason leave any and all guns in the cave— but it wasn’t impossible to sneak something past him.
Bruce only had a moment to react as Jason swung his arm out. Bruce nearly flinched as Jason aimed at him, his eyes wild, but unseeing.
It took Bruce a moment to register the reality of the scene, but when he did, his shoulders relaxed.
Instead of holding an actual gun, his middle and index fingers were pointed out while his other fingers were curled into his palm. Jason was pointing a finger gun right to Bruce’s head.
Bruce’s heart raced, then subsequently calmed. He reached out and took Jason’s hand within his own, lowering it. Jason didn’t fight, but he also didn’t fully open his eyes.
“Jay. You were having a nightmare.”
“Pow,” Jason muttered, dropping his hand from Bruce’s grip before rubbing at his eyes. “I could have killed you.”
“Sure, Jay.” Bruce let Jason withdraw from him, and sit up. Though he still wanted to gather Jason in his arms, he resisted. “Are you alright?”
“Yup.”
“Do you need anything?”
Privately, Bruce wanted to talk to Jason about his nightmare, and try to lift whatever he could off of his son’s shoulders, but he knew that was unlikely to happen. Progress, though. Jason didn’t immediately kick Bruce out of his room upon waking.
“More sleep.” Jason slanted a single eye open, looking at Bruce. “Why are you here?”
“You were shouting,” Bruce answered honestly.
“And you were just lurking around the corner, like the creeper that you are,” Jason grumbled. Bruce watched as Jason rolled over onto his stomach, but didn’t correct him. “What time is it?”
Bruce checked his watch.
“Three thirty in the morning.”
“Hm. Wake up time, then.” Bruce watched as Jason pushed himself into an upright sitting position. His hair was sticking up in every direction possible, making Bruce have to force the smile off of his face.
“Are you sure? I am going to sleep soon, I don’t think even Alfred is up.”
“Yeah.” Jason replied. He still hadn’t fully met Bruce’s eyes, but was getting out of bed. “I won’t be able to fall asleep. I can just get a head start on breakfast.”
A suggestion lept to Bruce’s lips, but he held back. The balance between them— Bruce was never sure how much weight would make it crumble.
“I could stay up, if you want company. Watch a movie or something.”
The words hung in the empty space between them. Bruce held his breath as Jason finally looked at him, seemingly debating the offer.
Bruce was just about to take it back when Jason spoke up.
“Fine. To the company. But not a movie. You are going to help me make blueberry muffins.”
Bruce, in most cases, was banned from the kitchen, or at least the oven and stove areas. He may have blown up a toaster or two in his recent history. But he nodded, and stepped away so Jason could get out of bed, and brush a hand through his hair. The hand didn’t help the wicked bedhead, but Jason didn’t seem to care.
“You are going to wash the blueberries. And stir when I tell you to.” Jason instructed, leading Bruce out of his bedroom. “And you will stop stirring when I tell you to.”
“Alright,” Bruce agreed. Now that Jason was in front of him, he didn’t have to cover up his smile, and it stayed there, the entire walk down to the kitchen.
3.
All of Bruce’s kids had varying relationships with sleep. Some (Dick) had to be dragged kicking and screaming from bed, while others (Tim) had to be dragged kicking and screaming to bed. Out of all of them, Duke was perhaps the most regimented when it came to sleep. As his patrol shifts were different from the rest of them, he slept throughout most of the night, and got up in the early morning, usually just after Damian had left for school. Him and Bruce would occasionally discuss the options in the fruit bowl that morning, in the quiet moments.
While Duke loved to stay up for a movie night, or battle Jason in some video game for hours on end, he was the first to go to bed out of the crew. Bruce honestly admired his sense of responsibility when it came to good sleeping habits. He wished the rest of his kids would follow suit, one day.
It had been months after Duke had moved in that he had confided in Bruce his struggles with sleep. It was something to do with his light sensitivity, yet another element of his meta powers that Bruce struggled to understand. Even when Duke closed his eyes, he saw light.
So Bruce did what he knew best. He threw money at the problem. He got blackout curtains installed in Duke’s room, low light lamps that could be adjusted on a slider, and the finest sleep eye mask that money could buy- it was weighted, which was not a thing that Bruce had even known had existed until he had Googled it. Dick was insanely jealous of the latter, but Bruce insisted that if Dick got one of his own, it would be even more impossible to wake the boy up.
Duke had politely thanked Bruce for the new sleep aids, with manners so kind that it would have made Alfred weep. After a few more weeks, Duke admitted that his sleep had gotten better, but only slightly. Bruce had offered to take him to a sleep doctor, but Duke had declined, saying that he would be alright.
Bruce privately worried, but Duke promised that if he was truly lacking sleep, he would come to Bruce for assistance. Bruce hoped that he actually would.
Knowing all of this, it drove a knife into Bruce’s heart when he did have to wake up the boy. This was one of those unfortunate circumstances.
But, when it was thirty minutes until Duke usually left for school, and he still hadn’t appeared in the kitchen, Alfred had urged him to go check.
“Your children, for as advanced as they are in technology, can forget the simple things like setting an alarm,” Alfred had muttered, half out loud, but more to himself. Bruce just grunted, for he had messed up one of his own phone alarms just a few days ago, hitting PM instead of AM, which led to an unpleasant surprise at five in the evening.
Bruce gently knocked at the door, and when there was no response, he opened the door. He winced at the sliver of light that crept in, but before he could shut the door behind him, a pillow hit his face.
Bruce made a small noise of surprise as the pillow bounced off of his face, and hit the ground. He looked at it, before looking at Duke.
Instead of seeing Duke, he saw another pillow headed straight for him. This time, at least he had a precious moment to duck.
“Go away,” Duke grumbled.
“Duke-” Bruce barely managed to get out before Duke scrambled upright in bed.
Duke shoved the eye mask onto his forehead, and his face had fallen into a look of horror.
“Oh my god, I thought you were Jason, so I-” Right. Seeing through walls was a thing that Duke was occasionally capable of.
“Threw a pillow at me?” Bruce said dryly. Duke rubbed at his face, shoving the eye mask off entirely.
“I am so sorry, B. You guys have similar builds, kind of, and I just saw you through the wall, and I-”
“Duke,” Bruce cut off. He bent down to pick up the pillows, handing them back to Duke. “It’s alright. You usually leave for school soon, I just wanted to see if you were up.”
“I’m up, sorry, yeah.”
“Did you get any sleep?” Bruce couldn’t help but ask. The room was still entirely dark, and he couldn’t accurately read Duke’s face. Duke nodded, and then shrugged. “Okay. Do you want to go to school today? You can take a day off.” Bruce knew that Duke knew this, he knew that Duke was essentially an adult, but the father in him couldn’t resist.
“Yeah. I’ll just go to bed earlier.” Duke pushed the sheets off of him. “Sorry again about the pillows.”
“I think I can handle having a few pillows tossed at me,” Bruce replied.
“Good. Need to keep the old man on his toes.”
Duke froze the moment after the words had left his mouth, looking cautiously at Bruce. Bruce couldn’t help but smile- while he wasn’t a fan of the constant ribbing he got from his kids, it was a sign that Duke was getting more comfortable in the family.
“I’ll think about how to implement pillow throwing into our training.” Bruce said seriously. He creaked the door open again behind him, taking a step out. “If you need more rest-”
“B, I know.” Duke said, pushing himself out of bed.
“We still have some of the blueberry muffins that Jason made-”
“I will throw another pillow at you if you continue.” Duke cut him off again. Bruce nodded tersely, and forced himself to leave the doorway.
“Message received.”
4.
Bruce himself was dozing, when a sharp pain in his gut brought him back to awareness. A snore cut off halfway in his throat as he blinked, trying to gather his bearings. He was in the living room, the TV was playing a sci-fi movie that looked like it was made in the 80s, and he was surrounded by his children.
Tim, expectedly, was wide awake, and watching the movie with raptured attention. Damian was on top of Dick who was sleeping in the armchair to Bruce’s left. As a bright shot in the movie lit up the room, Bruce noticed the white fur of Alfred the Cat in Damian’s lap, who also looked like he was sleeping.
Jason was leaning against the base of the couch, his head resting against Cass’s knees as she braided his hair— or attempted to, it seemed like. Neither of them seemed overly concerned with the events of the movie, or the fact that every twist that Cass made in Jason’s hair unraveled the moment she let it go.
The most (literal) pressing presence was on top of Bruce’s chest. He looked down. Or at least, he tried to, but got a face full of blond hair.
Unable to help it, Bruce sneezed. Stephanie was always experimenting with new shampoos, a process she had painstakingly explained to Bruce the last time they had patrolled together, and it seemed as if she had moved onto the men’s shampoo stage of her experiment.
Patchouli filled his nose, but when he tried to lift his arms to brush Steph’s hair out of his face, he found that he couldn’t.
Bruce took a moment to take stock of what was happening. Steph had apparently fallen asleep leaning against Bruce, but over time had fallen completely over Bruce. She wasn’t quite in his lap, but sprawled out against his chest, effectively trapping him completely.
Jason glanced up at Bruce when he sneezed.
“Have you always snored, or was that just something that started when you became a dad?”
His voice was soft so he didn’t disturb his siblings, but enough to make both Tim and Cass give a soft snort of amusement.
“I-” Bruce tried to start, but Steph adjusted herself on his chest, throwing a pointed elbow into his stomach. “Oof.”
If Dick was an octopus, Stephanie was an eel. She was just as willing to wrap herself around someone, and was impossible to get off.
“Nice knowing ya, B.” Jason said next. “Steph is like a literal leech. She can be worse than Dickie sometimes.”
“Shut up,” Tim hissed, eyes still glued to the TV. “This is the best part.”
“This is David Lynch’s Dune,” Jason shot back. “There are no good parts.”
“Oh, and I’m sure you loved the new version so much with Timothy Chamalama—” Tim started, clearly gearing up for an argument.
“It’s Timothée Chalamet, you know that you absolute heathen, and just so you know, I did like the new version better! It was perfectly cast, and the music was expertly composed—”
Every day his kids found new things to argue about. Bruce wanted to find it within himself to be impressed, but couldn’t.
“Hush,” Cass interrupted, settling them both.
“Steph,” Bruce wheezed, still struggling to get air into his lungs on account of the girl’s entire weight resting on top of him. “Move, please.”
Stephanie gave no sign of having heard him. Instead, she shifted once again, this time hitting Bruce’s chin with the top of her head, and digging her other elbow into Bruce’s thigh.
To the other side of Bruce, Duke had his head slumped against a pillow, and was scrolling through his phone. His eyes lifted and met Bruce’s when Bruce looked at him.
“Nope,” Duke said, before Bruce could even ask for help. “The last time I woke Stephanie up she told me that she would delete my latest Elden Ring save. I’m not risking that for anything. Get Tim to help you.”
Before Bruce could even turn his pleading eyes to Tim, the boy was objecting.
“Does ‘this is the best part’ mean nothing to you people?”
“Shaadup,” Stephanie mumbled, her face pressed into Bruce’s chest. “Sleepy time.”
“Steph,” Bruce tried to say gently. He lifted his arms, forcing Stephanie to move at least somewhat. Stephanie grumbled the entire way, but before he could safely shove her off, she moved so she was fully sitting on his lap, and snoring into his ear.
While this situation wasn’t necessarily ideal, it was better than all of her boney limbs digging into every soft part of Bruce.
Bruce sighed, resting his hands on her back. Steph hummed contentedly, and Bruce sent a prayer that she wouldn’t drool on his shoulder.
The room settled into silence once again. Duke went back to scrolling through his phone, and Jason dropped his head back onto Cass’s knees, letting her try to slick his hair up into a mohawk. Dick and Damian (and Alfred the Cat) all continued to sleep peacefully.
Bruce made a valiant effort to pay attention to the movie, but was soon distracted by an urgent need.
Bruce had to go to the bathroom, and soon.
He sighed out loud, trying to get anyone to take pity on him, but everyone steadfastly ignored him.
He tried to visualize a desert, dry and desolate. It didn’t help.
“Steph. I have to get up,” he said softly into her ear. However she was sprawled against him was putting a lot of weight directly onto his bladder. “Stephanie.”
He shook her shoulder, before trying to push her off of him entirely.
“Fuck you,” Stephanie garbled. Her eyes were still shut, and if anything, she was clinging tighter around Bruce’s neck, so Bruce guessed that she was still asleep.
Bruce turned to his only other option, who was glued to the TV.
“Tim.”
“No.”
“Tim.” Bruce tried again. Tim still did not look at him.
“No.”
“Tim, I’ll—” Bruce paused as he tried to think of a bargaining chip that would actually convince him. “I’ll get Alfred to stop hiding your coffee for a day.”
That , at least, got Tim’s attention. He still had his eyes glued to the TV, but Tim’s shoulders lowered, and his back leaned closer to Bruce.
“A week.”
“Two days,” Bruce countered.
“Five.”
“Three.”
“Four.”
“Three, and I won’t tell him about the coffee machine at W.E.”
Tim finally turned to look at him, scowling.
“Fine. Poke her in the side.”
Bruce complied. He grunted as the poke in Stephanie’s side caused her to knee him in the gut.
“Steph, I heard someone saying that Fall Out Boy hasn’t put out a good album since From Under the Cork Tree.”
Bruce had to jerk his head back to avoid Stephanie’s head connecting with his chin. Her eyes were wide, and she was scrambling so frantically to get off of Bruce’s lap, Bruce got smacked in the face once or twice.
“Who said that? I’ll kill them- have they not listened to Folie a Duex? Mania? I’ll fucking kill them-”
“Language,” Bruce said halfheartedly. Bruce couldn’t really bring himself to care though, as Stephanie squirmed off of his lap, and onto the floor. He stood up immediately, carefully stepping Stephanie, who was still cursing, and threatening this invisible person.
As he passed by Tim, he mouthed thank you . Tim tore his eyes away from the TV to nod at Bruce, before grabbing Stephanie by the arm and pulling her beside him.
“No one said that. You don’t need to kill anyone.” Tim assured Stephanie. Stephanie, who was still ranting, laid her head on Tim’s shoulder, and almost immediately fell asleep again.
Bruce rushed down the hallway, hearing Jason distantly laugh at him.
Whatever— Jason didn’t have to deal with Stephanie falling asleep on him tonight, he wouldn’t understand.
5.
“I hate you. You are the worst.”
“I know.” Bruce said, fiddling with the monitors.
Tim, who was currently wrapped in a thousand blankets (courtesy of Dick), sipped angrily at his juice box (courtesy of Steph) while glaring at Bruce. His concussion (courtesy of one of Croc’s goons, who has since been arrested) was more than mild, which meant that Tim had to be monitored, and woken up every hour to make sure it wouldn’t get any more severe. Dr. Leslie, who was consulted over the phone, said to bring him in if it got worse, but that Tim was fine as long as someone sat with him.
This meant that Bruce had to wake Tim up every hour. This was an unusual situation, and one that Bruce loathed. Every moment that Tim was asleep Bruce considered to be a win in general, but now he was the one who was actively impeding his son from rest.
Tim was grouchy from not only lack of sleep, but from lack of coffee, and the coddling that Dick had put him through before Alfred had chased the eldest boy from the cave.
“At least let me look at my laptop, there are cases-” Tim’s plea was cut off by Bruce giving him a look. “You are the worst.”
“So you’ve said,” Bruce replied dryly.
“I’m going to put whoopee cushions in all of your chairs.”
“Okay.”
“And put hair dye in your shampoo.”
“Sure.”
“And steal your black hair dye, so you can’t cover up your grays.”
“ Hey. ” Bruce protested, dropping his hand from the machine monitoring Tim’s heartbeat. Tim was still scowling at him when Bruce turned.
“Actually, if I have to hear anyone call you a silver fox I might die, so I won’t do that.” Tim pointed a finger at him. “And don’t stop dying your hair just so ladies call you a silver fox.”
“Hm,”
“Fuck you.” Tim finished with. He took another aggressive sip of his juice box, slurping when it emptied. Tim then tossed it in Bruce’s direction. Bruce let the box hit his face without complaint. It was the least that he could do. “You’re boring. What will we even talk about, if we can’t watch TV.”
“I’m sure we can find something to talk about. We could even just sit in silence.”
“This is my villain origin story,”
This time, Bruce sighed heavily. They were the only ones in the cave, after everyone else had been sent to bed by Alfred.
They did sit in silence, for a few moments. Out of respect for Tim, Bruce didn’t pull out his own phone or laptop, though just sitting here idly was slightly killing him. There were reports to write, patrols to map out, he had information about cases that he needed to cross-reference—
“Tim,” Bruce snapped. Tim, who’s head had been slowly slumping over as his eyes slid shut, jerked upright suddenly.
“Fuuuck,” Tim moaned. “My head.”
“I know, bud.” Bruce sympathized. “Need another ice pack?” Tim shook his head.
“Tell me about what games you are playing.” Bruce found himself asking. Tim’s scowl dropped for a brief moment to look surprised, the same look that he got on his face anytime Bruce asked him about things that weren’t patrol or work related. It was a nasty leftover from Jack and Janet’s upbringing, one that Bruce had still been unable to rid Tim of. “I know Duke is playing something with rings. Are you playing that?”
“Elden Ring you mean?” Tim asked. He stuck out a single hand of his blanket cocoon. Bruce picked up another juice box and shoved the straw in before handing it to Tim. “I’m not playing that. Like, sometimes I’ll watch him play, the bosses look cool, but there’s so much going on that I don’t think I would enjoy playing it myself.”
“So what are you playing, then?” Tim took a long sip of juice.
“Skyward Sword, on an emulator.” In Bruce’s head, there was a tiny Bruce chanting “be supportive!”, so Bruce tried to express that on his face through the confusion.
Tim took mercy on Bruce, and immediately explained.
“It’s a Legend of Zelda game. With the little blond dude?”
“Ah. Yes.” Bruce said, pretending as if he knew what any of those words meant. “Zelda is the little blond dude?”
Tim smiled at him, though he wasn’t sure why.
“Sure. Zelda is a little blond dude, too.”
“And the sword is…” Bruce trailed off, hoping Tim would pick it up.
“The sword belongs to Link, who is arguably the main little blond dude. And he’s going on this whole adventure to save Zelda, who is bound to this time traveling prophecy.”
“Does Zelda have a sword?”
“No, Zelda does not have a sword.”
Bruce tried to think of all that he had gleaned about video games from raising all of his children. All in all, it wasn’t much.
“Is this related to that racing game.”
Tim burst into laughter, before immediately grabbing at his head.
“Ow, fuck, B, don’t make me laugh. I have a concussion!” Tim complained, as if Bruce had forgotten their whole reason for being there.
“It was a genuine question!” Bruce insisted, but he reached into the mini-freezer they kept by the med bay for this exact reason. Tim took the ice pack that Bruce held out to him, and pressed it against his forehead.
“No, it’s not like the racing game. In this game you just play as one person, and only one person can play it at a time. You run around and solve puzzles and beat up bad guys.” He slid the ice pack just enough off of his face to squint an eye at Bruce. “You might like it. Link isn’t dressed up as a bat, but his sword talks to him.”
“Oh, well if his sword talks to him, then I’m all in,” Bruce replied dryly. “Have you played it before?”
“Yeah, when I was a kid. But I’m trying to get Dami into the Legend of Zelda games since it’s my duty as an older brother, so I’m playing it again.”
“That’s kind of you.” Bruce said, but that only made Tim roll his eyes. “Maybe you could show me this Zelda, one day.”
“You will think it’s boring.” Tim said quickly, putting the ice pack back over his face.
“That doesn’t really matter.” Perhaps this was the chance to change Tim’s mind about how parents should interact with their children. “You are my kid, and I want to know about the things that interest you. So if you don’t think it’s boring, then I won’t.”
“That’s really not how that works.”
“When he was a kid, Dick made me sit through every single Harry Potter movie.” Bruce countered. Tim snorted, the sound slightly muffled through the gel ice.
“Of course he did.”
“I helped Jay practice for his class’s production of Othello by playing every character other than Iago, because he wanted to play that role."
“Even the girl roles?"
Bruce scoffed, in mock offense. "I'll have you know I played an excellent Desdemona."
"That sounds like torture.”
“To some, yes, but it was time I got to spend with my kids. I appreciate that in any form that I get it in.”
“Sometimes, you are aggressively optimistic. I need you to realize that the glass is half empty.”
“Sure it is. Ready to take some painkillers?” Bruce changed the subject, grabbing for the bottle that Alfred had left out.
“Fuck yes,” Tim hissed, dropping the ice pack and reaching out with his hands.
“I’ll let you go to bed soon, alright?” Bruce said as Tim swallowed two pills with what was left in his juice box. “So tell me about this Zelda character. Why doesn’t she get a talking sword?”
+1
For just this once, Bruce was grateful for his children’s incapability of waking up. If anyone was awake right now, he could kiss any peace that he had in his day to day life goodbye.
He couldn’t stop himself from tiptoeing through the main hallway. The house was so usually full of noise, that every creaking floorboard seemed deafening in the quiet night.
Beside him, Selina snickered behind her hand.
“Are you really sneaking through your own home?”
If he wasn’t so genuinely worried about his kids waking up, Bruce might have flushed.
“I wonder if the other ladies who have come home with Brucie Wayne might have snuck through, just like this,” Selina mused. She was holding her high heels in one hand, and wandered over to a shelf filled with various knick-knacks. Once again, if Bruce wasn’t solely focused on being quiet, he would have objected to his date pocketing a small figurine of bird encased in gold.
“Careful,” Bruce said instead, grabbing Selina by the waist and pulling her to his side. She glanced down at the dog toy she had nearly stepped on. Instead of pulling away from Bruce, she dropped her face into his shoulder, just hardly muffling her laughter.
“If any of the kids wake up, run for my room.” Bruce instructed.
“I’ve met your children, repeatedly,” Selina pointed out. “It’s not like I’m a stranger. Or are you ashamed of me?”
Bruce glanced at her, but she was smiling.
“Not ashamed. Just not looking to give my kids any reason to make fun of me.”
“Aw,” Selina said. She pet the side of Bruce’s face gently. “I’m sure they will find more reasons, with or without me.”
They had reached the staircase to the family wing without incident. Bruce took a moment to hold Selina even closer, pressing his mouth against her ear.
“I could never be ashamed— I don’t know if I’ve already said this, but you look magnificent tonight.”
Selina preened.
“You may have mentioned it before, but you are welcome to say it again.” They both knew that when Bruce picked her up for their date, it had taken Bruce a full three minutes to recover his words to voice how beautiful Selina looked. Her black dress was nearly skin tight, and had an exposed back that dropped down to her waist. The jewels hanging off of her neck could very well have been stolen, but Bruce couldn’t find it within himself to care.
“You look absolutely stunning,” Bruce said again. “Be careful of the third step up— it creaks no matter how you step on it.”
Selina leaned away from the embrace with a teasing grin.
“Is that a challenge?”
Before he could respond, Selina was darting up the stairs, not making a single noise. Bruce was quick to follow her. Though Selina was much lighter, Bruce had the advantage of having lived in this house his whole life— he knew which boards would creak under his feet and which wouldn’t. He made it to the top of the stairs only a few seconds after Selina, without making a sound.
Now all they had to do was get to the end of the hallway— past all of his children’s rooms, where they were supposed to be sleeping soundly. Jason probably wasn’t in, and it was a fifty fifty chance if Dick was. Cass, Duke, Tim and Damian were in their rooms though, at least they were supposed to be. Bruce hadn’t advertised the fact that he was going on a date tonight, because he knew that it would likely result in him taking Selina home, and as much as he didn’t want to subject her to the teasing of his children, he more-so didn’t want to experience the teasing himself.
“Quiet,” he said to Selina, who only giggled softly. She took his hand and led him down the hallway, knowing where his room was.
“I’m not making a sound,” Selina hissed back playfully. “Cats are stealthy, don’t you know?”
“Don’t I know that-” Bruce started to say, but was cut off by someone clearing their throat.
Both Bruce and Selina froze, as Damian blocked their path down the hallway. His arms were crossed, but the intimidating figure he was trying to pose was cut down by his matching pajama set.
“Oh shit,” Selina whispered, before jumping behind Bruce.
“Dami,” Bruce said in surprise. “What are you doing up?”
“Father,” Damian greeted, not dropping his hands, or ending his glare. “Miss Kyle.”
“Hi Damian,” Selina said softly, still hiding behind Bruce.
“It’s two in the morning,” Bruce tried to distract Damian. “You should be asleep.”
“One could say the same of you,” Damian retorted. “But here you are, sneaking around.”
Bruce briefly considered pointing out that he was sneaking around in his own house, not to mention he was a grown man, but something told him that Damian wouldn’t react very well to that.
“Damian, please go to bed.” Bruce said instead. Damian lowered his eyebrows, squinting at Bruce.
“I was, ” Damian started icily. “But I heard you two stumbling through the house.”
Bruce, who had just taken an immense amount of care to make sure he and Selina were as quiet as possible, decided to let that one slide. He approached Damian, hands outreached. Damian continued to glare, but he allowed Bruce to place a hand on his back and guide him back to his room.
Titus was at the foot of the bed, snoring heavily. Alfred the cat was sitting on a pillow, blinking sleepily as Bruce and Damian entered the room.
Damian, without verbal complaint, got back into bed. Bruce helped pull the blankets up to his chin, and scratched at Titus’s ear.
“We will be quiet. I promise.”
“This is what adults do, after meeting to share information?” Damian asked. “I assume you did not go on patrol in such an outfit.”
Bruce held back a sigh, but sat on the edge of Damian’s bed. Alfred glared at him as the bed shifted slightly.
“We were not sharing information, or on patrol. We were on a date. To answer your question, yes. Sometimes when a date goes well, adults will go with each other to one’s home, where they will spend the night.”
Bruce could almost hear Selina snickering outside the door, but he ignored her.
“What do you—” Damian started to ask, but was cut off by Alfred getting up only to plop himself down on top of Damian’s chest. “Fine. Goodnight, father. Tell Miss Kyle I said goodnight as well. Also tell her to put back whatever she has stolen from the household. I expect to see you both for breakfast.”
“Of course, bud.” Bruce replied, knowing fully well that he had just dodged a bullet. He pressed a hand on Damian’s head (his youngest was not one for a goodnight forehead kiss), and nodded solemnly. “We will see you in the morning. Have a good night.”
Bruce quietly shut the door behind him. Selina was standing where he had left her, a hand clamped over her mouth as her shoulders with laughter.
“Was he about to ask-”
“I can only hope not.” Bruce replied tiredly. “Come on.”
This time Selina let Bruce lead him to his room. He couldn’t help but mark the closed doors that they passed— Damian’s, Duke’s, Tim’s, Cass’s, and soft music playing from Dick’s room indicated that he had stopped by to spend the night.
As he entered his bedroom, Bruce felt a calm feeling settle over him. Most of his kids were in bed, safe, asleep. Those who he didn’t have in the house had recently checked in via group chat, Jason with a bunch of middle finger emojis, Stephanie and Babs sending selfies of them trying out new face masks together. His kids were safe. They were (mostly) asleep, and content.
“What’s Alfred making for breakfast?” Selina asked, as she slunk into the ensuite bathroom. The light flicked on, so Bruce settled himself on the bed so he could unbutton his dress shirt while Selina washed off her makeup.
“Hopefully something that will distract Damian enough so I don’t have to explain sex to my ten year old son over breakfast.”
Selina laughed, and Bruce couldn’t help but grin. “Let’s just hope we are lucky enough to sleep in.”
“Lucky, yes,” Selina purred. Bruce heard the sound of a zipper, and the rustle of her dress hitting the floor. “Why don’t we- how did Damian put it? Share some information,”
“That was terrible,” Bruce groaned, but couldn’t rid his face of the smile. “If his brothers find out about that, he’s going to be teased for the rest of his life,”
“Aw, it’s good for brothers to tease. It’s how they show that they love each other.”
“Hm.”
Whatever Bruce was going to say next was interrupted by Selina coming out of the bathroom, approaching him. He took another deep breath to center himself. His kids were okay. Everything was as it should be.
“You are a good dad,” Selina said, sitting down on his lap. She undid the last few of his buttons before pushing his shirt off. “Your kids love you. The teasing is how they show it.”
“The only thing to do now is to not wake anyone else up,” Bruce replied. Selina arched a single eyebrow.
“The only thing to do?”
“Yes, the only thing to do.”
“I’m sure I can think of something else we can do to fill our time with.”
“Oh really?”
“Is that a challenge, Mister Wayne?”
“Perhaps, Miss Kyle,”
As Selina pushed him down onto the bed, Bruce half hoped that she wasn’t fully up to the challenge, at least the bit about waking anyone else up. As much as he loves his kids, he loves them the tiniest amount more when they are all sleeping peacefully.