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For as long as the League has known Batman, a solid decade by this point, they had learned little to nothing about him outside of his vigilante persona. Now, in a matter of months they had received more information about his personal life than they had in their entire previous relationship.
Clark is only a little bit peeved by this, he swears. Nevertheless, he’s anxious to take advantage of the Bat’s uncharacteristically sharing mood. The rest of the League is too, though they are far less subtle in their attempts.
Diana had been the first to broach the topic. “How old are your boys, Batman?”
He doesn’t look up from his screen as he answers. “Twenties.”
Barry and Hal are exchanging meaningful glances on the other side of the room. Clark ignores their attempts to make eye contact with him by staring intensely at the side of Batman’s head.
“And how old were you when Nightwing was born?” he tries.
“Hn.”
Clark’s shoulders slump as Batman, with the tact of a wrecking ball swinging at a brick wall, ends the conversation. He will not be deterred. This line of questioning is of the utmost importance.
Later in the week the League, sans Batman of course, are sat in Hal’s apartment where they tend to gather outside of their masks. He’s seldom earthside, so the space is far less lived in than the rest of their homes.
Barry is gesticulating wildly as he tries to make his point to Diana. She and J’onn are the only two in opposition to his opinion at the moment, so he’s pulling out his best arguments. “It’s just not safe Diana! Batman is only human.”
“I don’t see why we should doubt his abilities any more now than we did before,” she states calmly, arms crossed over her chest.
Hal leans forward on the edge of his seat, “Humans fall apart as they age. Batman is practically a senior citizen.”
Clark is nodding despite himself. Sure, Batman might have hid things like his name and his family and his age and any other personal information about himself, but they are still friends. He doesn’t want him to pop a hip out of place or anything because of whatever alien decides to take over next.
“I had a thought,” he interjects. “We don’t need to stop him from doing his job, but we can make it easier.”
Now Diana seems to take interest. “How so?”
Clark shrugs. “Maybe just help out where we can? He’s a capable fighter, but we can handle the menial stuff between crises.”
He sees the rest of the League starting to agree with him. He’s glad. Maybe they can make life a little bit easier for their aging friend.
Bruce is confused. Not in a bad way. More in a slightly amused but mainly exasperated kind of way.
The League is acting weird around him. Granted, they’ve been acting weird since they first found out about his kids, but now they have upped the ante. He had been working on a case file in the Watchtower lounge, Barry sitting across from him. Bruce put down his tablet and shifted slightly as if to stand. He let out a quiet, almost imperceptible groan as he did so. Bane had thrown him through a solid wall the night before, and his back wasn’t appreciating it.
Before he had even thought about continuing the motion, Barry was at his side, a hand on his arm. Bruce blinks.
“Did you need something Batman?” Barry asks.
Bruce nods slightly dazed, “I was going to grab a water bottle.”
It’s in his hand and Barry is back in his seat in a split second. Bruce blinks again. “Thank you?”
Barry smiles, self-satisfied. “It’s no trouble.”
Later that evening Bruce is collecting his things to leave for the day. One of his papers slips from his stack and floats to the floor. He mentally prepares himself to force his back into the right position to grab it. Clark appears a moment later and bends to pick it up himself.
Clark is ever the polite farm boy, so Bruce takes it with a small nod of thanks and steps through the zeta.
The small tasks continue to pile up. In a meeting the next week, Diana offers to do the monthly expense recap while he sits in his chair. She delivers it flawlessly, and Bruce appreciates the chance to sit in the audience.
During the cleanup of a mission, a large beam Bruce was about to shift off of the hood of an aggressively honking car is suddenly encased in green and floating away. He looks up to see Hal giving him a solemn nod and flying away.
And Bruce appreciates the kindness. Really, he does. But he’s not entirely sure why the League has decided he needs it.
He makes the mistake of bringing it up to his kids.
“Maybe you look sad,” Tim so helpfully suggests. “It’s kinda your vibe.”
Damian nods in more thoughtful consideration. “It’s possible they have realized your undeniable utility to the team, and are expressing their gratitude.”
Jason snorts. “I like Tim’s idea better.”
The four of them are sweating off a recent workout on a bench in the Cave. They’re the only ones currently home, Duke on day shift and Cass working comms while Barbara takes a much needed vacation. Dick is back in Bludhaven.
Bruce shrugs. Their ideas are as good as any he can come up with.
Suddenly Jason gets a look Bruce isn’t entirely comfortable with. “You know, they did give me a standing invitation. Maybe I can come hang out, get a feel for what’s going on.”
Bruce can think of many things that could go wrong with that idea, but he’s not one to ruin his kids’ mostly harmless fun. He agrees.
Jason is almost giddy with anticipation. He has been enjoying his new status as known by the League. Since they had first met, Jason has only been to the Watchtower a couple more times. He’s not a member, but he helps out when he can and where he’s needed with a few of their larger crises.
This, however, is an opportunity. The League is clearly up to something and they have a less than stellar track record with their assumptions about Jason’s family. So he is planning on taking advantage of it. His father had embarrassed him in front of his idol. Now, he plans to have his own petty revenge.
His first stop is the Watchtower kitchen. Barry is, predictably, digging through the fridge. Jason settles back against the kitchen island and waits. Barry turns and jumps when he sees Jason, snacks falling out of his arms with quiet thumps.
Jason waits silently as Barry composes himself and collects his things. “How’s it going?” he asks when the man is finally situated.
Barry smiles awkwardly. “I’m good, man. Just grabbing a snack.” He takes his own place leaning against the counter behind him.
Jason nods, “That’s good to hear.” He crosses his arms. “Anything new with the team?”
“Just the usual,” Barry says as he takes a bite of an energy bar. “Aliens and villains, you know how it is.”
Jason grins unnoticed under his helmut as Barry seems to stumble through that last sentence. The hero clearly doesn’t know how to act around Jason. He’s not sure if it’s because of who he is, or who he’s related to.
He decides to hammer it in. “Yeah. Dad and I were just working a case in my territory last week. You’ve really got to let those criminals know who’s boss or they just keep going.”
Barry almost flinches at the word ‘Dad’. Jason only grins wider.
“Speaking of your father,” he starts. “How is he doing?”
Jason is a little bit confused by the turn in the conversation, but he answers truthfully. “He’s doing fine. A little sore from Bane still, but he’s recovering.”
Clark chooses that moment to wander into the kitchen. “That’s good to hear. And it’s good to see you Jason.”
He returns the sentiment. He is about to continue his conversation with the other hero when Clark follows up with, “It’s impressive a man his age is still fighting criminals like that.”
Jason knows for a fact that Bruce is not the oldest hero in the League. Hal just hit forty and Clark and Barry are both brushing it. There is no telling how old Diana and J’onn are. In fact, at thirty-six, Bruce is actually the youngest of the core members. There’s no way he’s telling them that though. This is exactly the kind of golden opportunity he was waiting for.
He nods. “He’s always taken good care of himself. But superheroing is hard on the joints.”
Clark nods very sagely, as if his alien biology would ever allow him to understand the human pains of creaky joints and weakening bones. “We’ve been trying to make things a little bit easier on him lately.”
Jason points an agreeing finger at him. “He mentioned that. And let me tell you, I know my dad. He’ll never show it, but he appreciates all the help he can get.”
From that point on the two try to extract every drop of information they can get from Jason about the Bat. He is more than happy to comply.
“When I was little,” he starts, neglecting to mention that he means fifteen. “Dad would read my books with me and try to do all the character voices.”
“Dad used to cheat at Monopoly against me and my brother because we always beat him.”
“Batman actually calls his car the Batmobile because that’s what Nightwing named it when he was eight.”
He throws in a few age jokes where he can.
“Last week I saw him put salt in his coffee instead of sugar. You know how old people get a little absent-minded.”
“The man cannot stand that I’m finally taller than him. I think he’s just shrinking.”
By the time Jason finishes his little storytelling session, the other two heroes are a bit misty-eyed. He can’t say he’s not a little bit affected himself. It’s been a while since he got the chance to really reminisce. He does love Bruce. He’ll keep that to himself though.
More importantly, the two are now solidly convinced that their teammate is a poor old man who really needs their help.
Clark is more determined than ever to ease the burden on his dark and stormy teammate. The man’s son had shared with them the struggles that his father was facing. If they couldn’t convince him to retire, the least they could do was preserve his health.
The League launches into action. When Batman arrives for meetings, his coffee is waiting on the table (salt free, they make sure) and the presentation is pulled up. He picks up his mug with a frown but drinks it without comment.
They start to anticipate his needs from the desk or the couch as he works on reports. Barry in particular becomes an expert at this task.
Hal is especially good on missions. Batman hasn’t lifted a heavy load in weeks. Everywhere he turns items are floating in a glowing green shell.
Clark starts to slip him brochures from his parents home. Little things like ‘Ten Ways to Keep the Mind Sharp’ and ‘Five Exercises to Increase Mobility’. Batman looks more than a little exasperated at these, but he pockets them anyways.
J’onn is unaware at first of the implications of the Bat’s age, but he takes up the mission with enthusiasm as well. He had been happy to test a range of vitamin rich smoothies for the elderly. One of these finds its way to Batman’s side whenever he spends an extended amount of time on the Watchtower.
Diana is the reason Batman finally breaks.
They are teaming up with the Titans for a new villain. The man has been running around zapping people with time spells. They’re fairly harmless. He’d aged a few people up or down a handful of years, and the spells had faded in a matter of hours without intervention. The only reason the League had been called in was because the wizard was slippery and Beast Boy was already stuck in the tower, a very frustrated and very powerless twelve year old.
Diana’s voice is full of concern as she turns to Batman, “Can you afford to participate in this fight?”
Batman turns slowly toward her from his conversation with Nightwing. “What do you mean?”
“For someone at such an advanced age, is it safe for you to be around a time spell?”
Clark blushes a little at her bluntness, but he can’t help feeling some of the same concern. The man had to be somewhere in his fifties, what with his children both being somewhere in their twenties. He catches Nightwing turning slightly away from them with a hand to his mouth, but he can’t quite interpret it before he is distracted by Batman’s deceptively level, “What?”
Nightwing is giggling quietly.
“She just means that we are concerned about what would happen if you were aged up mid fight,” he tries to explain more gently.
“I got that,” he says. “What I’m confused by is what you mean by ‘advanced age’.”
Barry tries to be diplomatic. “It’s just that you’re getting up there, is all.” Hal nods in agreement.
Batman throws his hands up, which is the most expressive Clark thinks he has ever seen the man. “I’m younger than you both!”
Hal scoffs a little. “You don’t need to lie, Batman. You have two kids in their twenties. You can just sit this one out.”
Batman turns to Nightwing when the man breaks out into full on laughter. “Help me,” he demands.
Nightwing is shaking when he turns to the League. “He’s telling the truth,” he manages to get out between giggles.
Clark can feel his own incredulity breaking into his tone when he asks, “How is that even possible?”
Nightwing lays a hand on his fathers shoulder to support himself as he leans forward, humor still in his tone as he says, “Let’s just say Batman had his own rebellious younger phase.”
Clark hasn’t even had the time to take in that statement when Nightwing follows it up with, “I mean, you should see my youngest brother’s mother.”
He can’t even find it in himself to be shocked anymore.