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"Batman! Batman, answer me, are you alright?" Khoa yells, running to the black mass of the bat-shaped cape lying on the broken asphalt. Bruce was hit with a magic spell after which he fell down like a sack of potatoes, seemingly unconscious, but, hopefully, still alive. It took Khoa some time to fight the villain of the day, but in the end, they just disappeared without a trace.
He hates magic.
"Bat-man?" Tiny voice exclaims with genuine terror. Small hands clutch the hem of the cape. "Where?"
What the... "Bruce?" Khoa asks, in doubt. Pointy ears of Bruce's ridiculous cowl peek out of the cape until little fingers clumsily pull it off.
Bruce stares at him, blinking with his huge blue eyes. His sweaty hair sticks to every side, and he rubs his nose with the heel of his hand.
He is unharmed.
The only problem is that he is, approximately, appears to be thirty-something years younger.
Well. Isn't that just great.
"Ah. I see." Khoa says, admittedly flabbergasted. There is a silence after that, with them just staring at each other for a long minute until he breaks it. "I am called Ghost-maker. I will take care of you from now on."
"Ghost-maker?" Bruce repeats with excitement. He tries to get up, but the clothes are big and heavy on him, so he trips and falls. He pays no attention to his unsuccessful attempt, just trying again, his childish mind too focused on Khoa. "Like the Gray Ghost? Do you work on him?" He curiously asks as Khoa extends his hand for him to grab on.
"I don't know who this Gray Ghost you're talking about, young man, but Ghost-maker works on no one. Not even on Batman, no matter what anyone says to you. If anything, he usually pleads for my assistance."
"I'm scared of bats." Bruce shares in an intimate whisper. Khoa takes the heavy armor off him until there is just an undershirt and the leggings.
"Curious." He says.
Bruce looks at him and then ducks his head timidly.
"Mister Ghost-maker, can I please go home? M- My parents probably are worried about me...and Alfred too. He is my butler."
Ah. That answers some questions about his age. At least while Khoa will have a child on his hands, it won't be a constantly sulking child.
"Well. You see, Bruce, your mommy and daddy went away on a vacation," a very long one, "and your butler had to attend a family reunion." Six feet under. "So. They asked me to watch over you."
"You?" Bruce suspiciously squints at him, stepping away a little. That's good. At least he isn't completely trusting random men who hide their faces.
"That's right. I'm a great friend of your father, actually. Thomas is a distinguished man, we studied abroad together for some time." He comes up with a lie effortlessly, as they walk away from the battlefield, hand in hand.
He whispers for Icon to generate an image of him and Thomas Wayne shaking hands, and she displays it, a few seconds later. That seems to be more than enough to win Bruce's favor, and so they head out to the Haunt, accompanied by Bruce's little gasps of awe at everything around him.
Khoa sprawls on the big white couch, limbs heavy and aching, fingers supporting his forehead. He is so fucking tired.
"Usually Alfred dresses me." A baby voice says. Shyly, but rather demandingly. A pair of crystal blue eyes stares at him.
He didn't change at all, did he?
As bossy as ever.
"Ah. Well. I don't see him around, Bruce. Do you?"
Bruce ducks his head with a pout on his little round face. Kicks the floor with his small rosy foot. His hands clutch the white t-shirt, the smallest one Khoa has in his wardrobe. It's probably going to swallow him.
"No." He says in a tiny voice, all gloom and doom.
Khoa needs a drink.
"So, young man, what are you waiting for? The door is right there."
Bruce obediently shuffles in the bedroom, and very quietly closes the door after himself.
"Icon," Khoa mumbles, ignoring her eager yes, sir!, "Download the Gray Ghost show and some educational videos. And a child caretaker protocol. You're going to be a babysitter now."
Icon emotes with a happy face.
"I'm so excited, sir! Children are a wonder of life!"
Khoa squints at her.
Bruce timidly comes out of the room. He is so small-sized that the t-shirt is almost like a nightgown on him, which is exactly what they need since it's already midnight. He fidgets with the fabric and sends Khoa a shy glance under his dark eyelashes.
A smirk tugs on Khoa's lips.
"Looking rather dashing, aren't you?"
Khoa says, amused at how strongly Bruce waited for his reaction and how widely he grins when it's positive. "Are you hungry, my little friend?"
"M' not little." Bruce protests, but good-naturedly, waddling to Khoa. His unsocked little feet thump slightly with his steps. "I'm already seven! Father says I'm a big boy now! I even lost almost all of my baby teeth."
"Oh, did you?" Khoa indulges him and gets up, taking Bruce's hand in his. It's like a kitten paw.
Bruce babbles about some random topic that is only cool when you are a little kid while Khoa leads them to the dining room. Icon already has everything prepared - a nutritional and delicious meal, warmed up in the electronic kitchen set. Khoa takes two champagne glasses and fills one of them with milk.
"Bon appetit." He grins, raising his glass.
"Bon apeti!" Bruce parrots, copying him a bit clumsily.
Their glasses pleasantly clink.
"Goodnight, mister Ghost-maker. Thank you for taking care of me while my parents and Alfred are on vacation." Bruce says, polite and nice, sitting in the bed like a perfect aristocratic child from Victorian postcards.
"Minkhoa." Khoa corrects, leaning on the doorway. The kid is growing on him, what can he say. He's cute. Khoa likes cute things. "You can call me Khoa, actually."
"Okay! Mister Khoa." Bruce smiles at him, sleepy and tired, all tucked up in the blanket.
Khoa looks at him for a moment, just standing here and making sure everything is alright, and then turns away.
"Wait!" Bruce shoots, all of a sudden, and gets all nervous. "I. I-I'm usually sleeping with some light...Can I please have some light?"
Khoa wants to tease him but he looks so pitiful and small that there would actually be no pleasure in that.
"If you want, Icon can stay with you. She glows in the dark." He takes pity on the little creature.
"Yes please." Bruce nods.
"Icon, stay with Bruce until the morning. Report if something happens. Read him a book about dinosaurs, - or whatever." He instructs, waving his hand, and Icon's hologram appears floating on the top of the nightstand near the bed. He hears a tiny awed woah before the door closes.
Khoa takes a shower, does his five-step skincare routine, drinks some more champagne, and thinks about what his life is turning into.
Khoa browses the Ghostnet, organizing the files, when Bruce walks to him, dragging a big chair from the kitchen and a tablet with the coloring page from Scooby Doo on it. It all barely fits in his little arms but his face is determined and scrunched up with the effort.
Icon flies around him, helplessly fussing over the child.
"And what do you think you are doing?" Khoa wonders, relaxed in his seat. He scrolls away the gory details of the case because he doesn't need the kid crying on him.
"I'm gonna do work with you!" Bruce proudly declares, climbing on his chair with a huff. "I thought...you are here all alone mister Khoa, and maybe we can sit and work together..."
Khoa looks at Bruce's scribbles in the tablet, and then back at his screen filled with detective work.
"I work alone." He says.
"Oh," Bruce says, his face falling. He squeezes a tablet pen in his little fist and looks down, before looking up a Khoa again. "I can be very quiet! I promise I won't get in your way. Sometimes my dad takes me on the calls with him and I never ever made any trouble. Even when it's scary."
Khoa bites the inside of his cheek, his facial expression unreadable as Bruce stares at him with those big pleading blue eyes.
He finally looks decent, because Khoa ordered him some clothes. It was like dressing up a little pretty doll, or a pet. There is a certain satisfaction in having this level of responsibility and control over something small and cute. Maybe when Bruce returns to himself, Khoa could dress him up too. He already can think of a few things…
"Mister Ghost-maker usually requires complete subordination, Bruce." Icon eagerly explains, "What if I color the book with you? Would you like that?" She tries to soften the blow, but Bruce still looks like a wet puppy under the rain who also got kicked for good measure.
Khoa sighs. Damn Wayne.
"It's okay, Icon. He can sit with me."
Bruce's face lights up with such energy it could probably charge the entire building. Icon emotes with a surprised face and then gives him a smile.
"Of course, Ghostmaker, sir!"
"But, young man," Khoa leans down to fix the slipping sock on one of his wards' knees, "be quiet and don't distract me, understand?" He pats him, satisfied when he fixed his appearance, and presses a finger to his own lips.
Bruce mirrors him, pressing a tiny finger to his mouth as well and nodding very seriously.
Turns out, little Bruce really knows how to behave, unlike the big Bruce. Khoa occasionally checks him with a side eye, but all this time Bruce just very calmly and quietly scribbles on the tablet, sitting here in his overalls and knee socks and a soft white shirt. He swings his short legs back and forth, and out of concentration, he sticks out his tongue.
They work in a comfortable silence, sharing a space together. Khoa almost forgets that Bruce is a child until he hears a loud growling of his companion's stomach, and Bruce looks down, ashamed.
"Why didn't you say that you're hungry?" Khoa asks, raising an eyebrow. He stands up, picks Bruce up from the chair, and then puts him on the floor.
"I didn't want to interrupt, sir." Bruce whimpers apologetically. "I'm sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry for." Khoa effortlessly says, "And there is no need to call me sir."
Bruce glances at him curiously.
"My father says it's how you show respect for the adults. I call him sir too." He shares, no filter at all. Heh. Maybe that's something that Khoa could use.
"Well, I'm not your father, am I?" He says with a teasing smile, and Bruce shakes his head. "I'm more of a friend. Tell me, little Bruce, do you have a lot of friends?"
They walk into the kitchen, and Khoa makes them a snack. Usually, cooking is Bruce's prerogative, but for now, Khoa will do.
"Mhm. I have a best friend, his name's Tommy." Bruce tells him. Thomas Elliott. The Hush. Khoa heard about him, "he can be a little mean to me...but I still like him."
"A little mean?" Khoa asks, biting his sandwich and crossing his legs on the top of the table. Bruce looks at him like he grew a second head, but politely minds his own business.
"Well, he...he sometimes punches me or teases me, or fights over kids...but he is still a good friend," Bruce murmurs, picking at his sandwich. "There is also Zee. She is like a sister to me." Zatanna Zatara. "Um, I also have a cousin, Kate!" Batwoman. "I don't like her that much. She steals away my toys and hides them and calls me a crybaby." He complains, with a pout, and then quickly looks at Khoa, "But I'm not a crybaby, I swear."
"Of course you aren't." Khoa muses. Bruce is too small to understand that he actually means the opposite, so he just smiles like a little idiot.
"Do you have friends?"
"I don't need friends, young man, as I am the Ghost-maker; however, I do have some people I find fascinating."
"Okay." Bruce nods. "But do you have a best friend?" He asks again, a second later.
Khoa blinks at him.
"I do." He honestly answers. "A very dear friend. He is a lot like you, actually."
"Really?" Bruce is all bashful. He softly kicks his legs under the table from excitement. "I wish Tommy was more like you, too..."
Khoa lets out a hum of approval, enjoying the pure awe that Bruce feels towards him. As it should be.
"Why not fight back, when Tommy is being mean?" Khoa asks, throwing an arm on the back of the chair and rocking it back and forth.
Bruce scrunchies his face. "I don't wanna hurt him." He sorrowfully says.
Khoa raises an eyebrow and thinks about his own childhood. He wasn't like little Bruce in the slightest. In fact, he got detention on his second day of first grade for pushing down a boy and taking his toy, and then breaking it in half when the teacher scolded him and demanded to give it back. He still remembers the thrill he felt when the kid cried, and the way his mother pulled hair on her head when she got a school call.
Ah, the simple pleasures of youth.
He doesn't know if he would bully or protect Bruce if they both were kids who met at the elementary school. Probably both.
"Well. You have to start prioritizing yourself someday." Khoa hums, and he thinks about his, adult Bruce, who still didn't learn this one of the most basic survival skills, though he admittedly didn't have any problems hitting people back now.
"But. If he gives you any trouble, just say that the Ghost-maker is keeping an eye on him." That is also true. Khoa keeps tabs on every criminal that has a special interest in Bruce (and that is too much of them to his liking, although he can understand the reason), especially now, when they finally operate together. He's been waiting to get his hands on most of them.
Or, swords, to be more specific.
Bruce just smiles and nods shyly, ducking his head
He is out in the field, fighting in a deadly dance with a company of assassins under the pale moon, when Icon alarms him.
"There are no traces of intruders, sir, and I checked every possible threat - the Haunt is uncompromised. But Bruce was screaming and now he is crying and his heart rate is too high for a child. I can't calm him down, Sir, and I don't know what to do!"
Khoa purses his lips when one of his opponents manages to make a blow, using his distracted state.
"Ladies and gentlemen and everyone between or beyond, that was quite entertaining, but I'm afraid I'm needed somewhere else at the moment." He explains, pointing his blades at the target. "I advise you to give up willingly because I don't have time for playing games."
"Will you shut up and fight already?" One of them grits through the teeth.
Khoa inclines his head slightly, measuring the assassin up and determining his weak points.
"Icon, if Batman will be bitching about it later, show him that I actually gave them a way out first."
"Of course, Ghost-maker, sir." She says, and he starts his deadly hunt.
"What's wrong? Why aren't you sleeping, child?"
"I-I...I had a nightmare. There was a monster. And I-I miss my parents…"
"Bruce. Honestly, you are seven years old. When I was your age, I was able to take care of myself and I certainly didn't cry for my mommy and daddy every night."
"I'm sorry." Bruce sniffs, hiding his face in his knees again, curled up in a little ball of misery.
Khoa crosses his hands, frowning.
"Sir...If you excuse me...I think children need positive skin contact. The information I gathered says that you should enforce some positive touches and gentling, especially with a high sensitive child like Bruce-"
Khoa waves her off, despite internely admitting that she is, of course, right as always. That's what Khoa created her for, after all.
He sighs, taking off his helmet, blindfold, and gloves, and comes closer to the little whimpering ball on the bed.
Icon approvingly nods, encouraging, and he sighs again, sitting down. Bed sags over his weight, and Bruce looks at him over his shoulder. Usually, kids look ugly when they cry, but he just looks like a gothic little cherub with his wet eyelashes and pink round cheeks.
Khoa awkwardly pats his shoulder, keeping a tasteful moderate distance. It seems to be working, as Bruce's sniffs gradually decrease, and he stops shaking so much.
"There, there," Khoa says.
Welp. Crisis seems to be averted, and he finally can come back to the business, because crime never takes any cry breaks. But little Bruce seems to have other plans for him, and he pounces at Khoa with a hug, making him freeze for a second.
"I love you." He says, with the open innocence of a child, wrapping his arms around Khoas's torso and pressing his small head to his chest, unaware of the effect he has on him.
He and Bruce never touched the subject of the L word. Khoa already had a hard time finding his footing with him. No other person ever made him feel like this, so Bruce was his first, was his last, and was his only. It left him in a confusing predicament of inexperience, that he finds barely tolerable, highly irritating, and, frankly, insulting.
Technically, psychopathy is a spectrum. It is not unheard of for a psychopath to experience lo-... experience some common human feelings. Khoa had enough self-reflection and meditation to figure himself out.
He isn't sure what exactly he is feeling, but he is aware that Bruce is his Achilles heel. His only vulnerability.
"Why dad and mom don't call?" Bruce whispers in the darkness. Khoa blinks, realizing how drowsy he feels. "Did they forget about me?"
Little Bruce is all small and harmless, and Khoa puts his arm around him. He is so fragile and defenseless under his touch.
"Alas, they are busy. And besides. It's been only a few days, my melancholic little friend." Khoa ruffles Bruce's soft mop of curls. "Your emotional state would improve if you learned how to be less dependent on them. They're not here. I am."
That's a good message to put into Bruce's head. The more dependent he is on Khoa, the better.
"Oh, yes, yes, of course." Chirps Bruce. "I just...I just wish to talk with them, for a bit." His voice sounds squashed because he rests his cheek on Khoa's chest. "Don't you get lonely? You and Icon live all alone."
"No. I do not. I am extremely self-sufficient."
Bruce sniffs and gives him a blank stare.
"Meaning independent." Khoa cues.
"Ooh." Bruce nods. His big eyes are half-lidded, and his tiny shoulders are slumped down. He's sleepy but probably will refuse to admit that, just like the Big Bruce would.
"How about instead of reading some boring books, I will tell you the grand adventures and victories of Ghost-maker? How he saved countless people, how he won against all the odds, how he destroyed all his enemies?"
"Uh Uh! Please." Bruce happily agrees. "But will the story have a dinosaur? I would like to hear about dinosaurs." He seriously adds.
"Hm." Khoa squints at him and thinks. Bruce wiggles in his hold a bit, to get more comfortable. "It will have a giant alligator. Now. Shush it and listen."
The next day, Khoa returns from work to find his little friend idly playing under the feet of the giant Spinosaurus, fussing with the car toys Khoa got him - custom-themed after Ghost-racer and Batmobile. Bruce jumps when he sees him, and a sunny grin blooms on his face, making it look more round and chubby.
"Mister Khoa!" He happily squeaks, like he hasn't seen Khoa in months instead of merely several hours.
Khoa throws his blades up into the air, and they fall into the sheath with a pleasant click, magnetized.
"Bonjour, petit homme." Khoa smirks, taking his helmet off. Bruce hugs his leg with both of his tiny arms for a greeting. Khoa gives him a few distracted pats, before reaching his smartphone from the hidden pocket. "There is someone who would like to talk to you."
Bruce looks up at him with a surprise on his face, until he sees the screen. Then, he lets out an excited gasp.
"Daddy!" His chubby hands try to reach for the phone, and Khoa gives it to him, already tuning the talk out and marching to the showers, pleased with himself. During the night, Icon scanned all the archives about Thomas and Martha Wayne to create an AI video chat based on their appearance and personalities.
Just something to lessen Khoa's babysitting headache.
It took Khoa a week and a half to admit that the spell wasn't likely to dissolve by itself, and so he had to initiate plan B.
Zatanna.
Her initial friendliness as he requested her assistance changed into a heavy dislike when he named himself and then into serious eagerness when he said that it was not him who needed her help but the Bat of Gotham.
So. Here they are.
Bruce, standing behind him and clutching his cape timidly; Khoa, with a wide stance in front of him, assertive and at ease as ever.
"Ghost-maker." A melodic voice says. Her blue eyes are set on him and her lips are pursed. "What happened?"
"Bruce," Khoa says, with a sigh. "We talked about it, young man. Where are your manners? Greet the lady."
Zattana's eyes widen when Bruce shyly steps forward and lifts his face. He still holds Khoa's cape, probably intimidated by the old wooden interior of the house, of the weird artifacts and magical curiosities. Even the little things that are collected here have a story, power, energy.
"Hello. I'm Bruce. Nice to meet you." Bruce offers with a hint of a smile.
"Oh...Bruce..." Zatanna whispers, and a shadow of memories glides over her pleasant face. She presses her hand to her mouth, and turns away for a second, collecting herself. Thankfully, she does it quickly, before Khoa could get irritated. He saw more than enough tears this week and was at his limit.
"Welcome in." She smiles, hopping off the counter and walking up to them. Her heels click on the varnished wooden floor, and her long black hair sways from side to side.
"Well, since the pleasantries are over, let's skip to the business -"
"How are you doing, Bruce?" She interrupts, lowering down to be on the same level as the boy. "Does he treat you well?"
"Uh Uh." Bruce eagerly nods. "Mister Khoa is taking care of me since my parents are away." He helpfully offers.
Very true, little Bruce.
Khoa has been doing that for at least twenty years.
"Alright. That's good to hear." Zattana gently coos and pats Bruce's head. Khoa swallows a sudden feeling of annoyance at her touch.
"Bruce, why don't you go sit with the Icon while adults discuss boring adult things?" He waves his hand, "Icon, be a dear, watch over our little friend."
"My pleasure, sir!"
"But I don't wanna sit alone." Bruce pouts. Then he looks at the Icon with a guilty expression on his face. "Sorry, I didn't mean that."
"How about you get some cookies with tea?" Zattana boops Bruce's nose, and he giggles. "Sounds good?"
"No. He already breached the limit of sweets today." Khoa crosses arms on his chest. Little Bruce shoots him a betrayed glare.
Like Khoa didn't spoil him with indulgences all day long.
"I think a few cookies wouldn't hurt." Zatanna raises her eyebrow. "Besides, I have a book with magical stories in it - having something sweet to munch on is required to read it!"
"You mourn him." Khoa notes. Zatanna is focused on Bruce, her eyes misty and mind far away.
"I have a lot of ghosts here, in the walls of my house. But this is the ghost from my own past..." She murmurs. "We used to spend a lot of time together, as kids. Our fathers were friends. Seeing Bruce like this, how innocent he was before the tragedy, it's..." Her voice breaks just lightly; she takes a shaky breath. Khoa inclines his head to the side, learning her reaction. "Forgive me."
"He changed less than I would expect." He notes.
"I guess so, in a way." She agrees. They watch Bruce softly laugh when the book illustration brusts up with magic, and sends miniature constellations of stars dancing around him. Icon emotes with a little dance, to Bruce's utter joy. Dressed in the clothes that Khoa picked him, he himself looks like a little prince from the fairytale.
"But don't think you're off the hook now. I'm still mad at you, Ghost-maker. If you could see how absolutely heartbroken Bruce was when he came from Canada..."
Ah. So this is the problem. Khoa already half expected that she was one of the women he never called back and forgot about.
Yet, that perks his curiosity. There is something so gratifying in fact that he affected Bruce as much as Bruce affected him.
"Was he?" He asks, hiding the pleased tone from his voice.
"Of course he was! How could you betray him? Don't think that just because you come twenty years later and save him a few times you are forgiven for making him even more scared of trusting others than he already was."
"Come, now. Would you prefer he would stay the naive ingénue and trust someone who would take advantage of that? Doubt it."
Does Khoa regret the way things went?
He does.
He amused himself with wondering about that, a few times. Would Bruce come with him to fight crime together, if the Canada incident didn't happen? Would he be more dependent on Khoa? How things would have gone if Khoa's actions hadn't taught him an important lesson of not carrying your heart on your sleeve?
Bruce was so open and lively before the cold snow of Canada. You could read all of his emotions on his pretty stupid face. He wasn't as closed off as he was after. Some parts of Khoa missed it, of course. How Bruce giggled at his jokes. How he cried in the night when the nightmares caught up on him, how he needed reassurances after. How he looked up at Khoa, awed, with those ridiculously blue doe eyes…
But it happened how it happened.
"I don't think breaking his heart was necessary to get him careful." She glares. Then sighs. "Well. It's no use crying over spilled milk...Let me see what I can do with the situation at hand."
They look at Bruce again, to find him snoring softly, his little head lolled to the side, hands barely holding the big book he was reading. Icon accompanies him, having a row of Z's flying over her face.
"Did you... drugged him?" Khoa raises his eyebrow. He already made Bruce have a nap today, so it's really doubtful that the little man would sleep again of his own volition.
"Magical herbs in his tea." Zatanna smiles apologetically, shrugging a little. "He always had anxiety. I don't want to freak him out with the spells - he would think he did something wrong."
"Ah," Khoa says, rubbing the chin area of his helmet. Maybe he could steal some of these magical herbs for later. "So, how are we doing it?"
"Hmm. Well, at first, I guess we should take off his clothes and wrap him in a blanket. I'm not really thrilled about having butt-naked Bruce on my couch."
That's on you, Khoa thinks.
Having butt-naked (adult) Bruce on his couch would statistically improve his day.
Khoa helps to hold little Bruce, modestly glancing away as Zatanna pills Bruce from his blue overalls and Peter pan-collared shirt, and then carefully tucks him in a blanket.
She cups Bruce's round cheek, when they are done, while Khoa stands behind like a guardian angel.
"I'm gonna miss him." She says.
Khoa wouldn't. Because this Bruce won't disappear completely once they are done. He is always here.
She chants the magic spell - something poetic and mystical and on the language Khoa actually doesn't operate, for a change - and there is a shimmering blue sparkle dancing around Bruce's tiny form, and a glowing light coming from within him, softly illuminating the brown dimness of the room.
Soon enough, Khoa sees the sharp but delicate familiarity of a dear face. Subtle stubble on his jawline, crowfeet at the edge of his closed eyes. He'd been missing that weary tiredness in his pretty features. Bruce's head is lulled to the side, and his lips are slightly parted, and Khoa is over the possibility of kissing this stubborn and soft mouth again.
Bruce makes a quiet grunt, curling further to himself in his sleep, his naked shoulder covered in a web of scars flashing under the slipped blanket with milky paleness. Khoa takes a second to appreciate the beauty of Bruce's strong body.
Bruce's eyelashes flutter, and he blinks, awakening. He sniffs quietly and rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand, a bit uncoordinated. There is a little chocolate crumble on his cheek.
"There you are," Khoa says, all but pleased, not really caring to hide the warmth of his voice from Zatanna.
Bruce glances at him, in a way that makes Khoa immediately tense up to observe him. It's not the eyes of a haunted and plagued by darkness boy - not the eyes of his Bruce. It's the eyes of a boy who never had to experience all that. He seems to still be seven years old, mentally.
"Something's wrong." He quietly accuses Zatanna, hands on his hips. She bites her lip nervously and fidgets with the magic wand. Bruce faintly murmurs something about naps, blinking the sleep away and grabbing the fairytale book in his hands again.
"Did you finish your adult talk?" He asks, looking up at them innocently, when he realizes that they surrounded him. The tone of his voice is more airy, more docile than it should be.
Zatanna quickly glances at Khoa, before elegantly sitting on the couch near Bruce. She carefully looks him up and down.
"Yes, sweetheart." She says, reassuring. Bruce gives her a sleepy smile, as she gently cleans his face. "How do you feel?"
"I-. I..." Bruce strutters, suddenly, frowning. Flinches, like he is going to faint. His whole body shudders, and he grabs his head, long pale fingers hiding his face from their view. "Uh."
"What is happening?" Khoa snaps, stepping closer.
Zatanna wraps her arm over Bruce's shaking shoulders, as he starts to breathe too quickly.
"I think...I think he's remembering." She whispers.
Ah.
Dammit.
Bruce curls into a tight ball; the fairytale book falls on the ground with a loud thumb, closing up, like a symbol of a lost childhood.
Bruce lets out a broken cry of pain, sharp and distressed, turning into a keening sob. He sounds like an injured animal.
He must remember everything at once.
Zatanna looks pained and unsure, and it seems like Khoa is the only competent person here.
"Bruce. Let it go. You've been through it once and survived. You can do it again." Khoa says, a matter of factly, lowering to one knee beside him, to have a better look at Bruce's face. "It's all over now. Time to overcome your past. Breathe."
Khoa pries the pale hand away; Bruce looks at him, lost and pathetically vulnerable; tear streaks running on his cheeks, eyelashes clumped together.
He shudders, makes a little noise in his throat, and falls into Khoa's arms, hiding his face in his shoulder. Khoa awkwardly stiffs. This certainly isn't how he usually pictures a handful of half-naked, teary-eyed Bruce in his arms.
Sighing, he wraps a reassuring hand around him, successfully pretending that Zatanna doesn't look at him with a curious surprise on her face.
What would Bruce even do without him?
Khoa wakes up when his hand curls up on nothingness instead of the delicate curve of Bruce's tempting waist. He blinks, still half asleep, and stretches, taking all the bed space to himself. Seems like his restless troublemaker is up to something again. Always needs Khoa to coax him to get some sleep…
He drinks some sparkling water from the bedside table and jumps off the bed.
"Icon. Give me the location of our friend."
"Bruce is browsing your system, sir!" She cheers. A central room, then. "He is investigating the Thomas Wayne AI chat that you asked me to create."
Ah. Of course. What else Bruce would do firsthand than this when he is himself again.
Well. After receiving a great dick from Khoa.
Khoa steps into the central room, curious. Indeed, Bruce is curled up here, sitting on Khoa's chair, one leg pulled up to his chest. His hair sticks to every side after their lovemaking and a short session of sleep, his long eyelashes cast shadows on his lovely face that is illuminated by the giant screen.
"There you are," Khoa says. Then he looks at the screen. "Are you deleting it?"
"It feels wrong not to," Bruce murmurs, his voice is soft with a melancholic serenity. "Like I'm betraying real him."
"Hm," Khoa says.
He stands near Bruce, and they both watch the files being erased.
"Seems like I'm destined to lose as many fathers this year as I can. Flashpoint universe Batman, Alfred, your program..." He lowers his head on his knee, exposing the vulnerability of his pale neck that is covered in hickeys and bite marks; some of the stay locks fall on his forehead. He looks beautiful, and Khoa's hand reaches out to give him a gentle caress, like an owner with an especially cutely behaving pet.
"Which was very sweet of you to do." Bruce continues and looks up at Khoa under his lashes. "You took good care of me. Thank you, Khoa...you are surprisingly not bad with children."
"I am great at everything, Bruce," Khoa says, pointedly not mentioning the failure of the Phantom-one project. That's irrelevant. "Besides, you should know by now. I always take good care of what's mine."
Bruce just leans to his touch instead of answering. They share a moment of silence.
"Don't you ever..." Bruce murmurs, "Miss them? You parents?"
"Pfft. Ghost-maker doesn't miss anyone."
"Not Ghost-maker. Minkhoa Khan."
Sigh.
"I am not as sappy as you, Bruce. I willingly left the parental nest to start my grand adventure of crime fighting at the age of nine. I never really needed them and I never was a pitiful little boy who constantly requires someone to fuss over him."
Bruce rolls his eyes at the jab but doesn't move away.
"Were they...cruel to you?" He asks quietly.
"They were average." Khoa shrugs, making a face. That was their main crime. "Just regular parents. I guess I was closer to my mother than to my father - she was that timid, anxious type. Couldn't understand why their son is so different - dragged me to therapists, because I was causing trouble in school." He scratches the stubble on his chin, reminiscing. It's not like he had any bad feelings about his childhood and avoided thinking about it.
It was just a pretty boring time.
"My mother was worried about me too when I was still scared of darkness at eight and didn't have any friends in school." Bruce smiles softly.
"Kid me would bully kid you so hard." Khoa grins, lopsided, tugging him closer, and pinches Bruce's cheek. Bruce scrunchies his nose, like a disgruntled kitten. "I can imagine your crying little baby face. All teared up and miserable."
He squeezes Bruce's cheeks in his hand, shaking him a little, enjoying the smushed chubby look it gives him. Bruce simply bites him to set himself free.
"You would have to get in the line. I was fairly easy to bully." He says, licking up the damage he's done to Khoa's skin.
"Hmm." Khoa purrs. "Dear Bruce. I would eliminate all the threats. You are mine alone to bully."