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Bruce sighs.
He’s a billionaire, he’s a vigilante, and he’s the father of far too many children. And currently, fifty percent of them aren't paying attention. Dick, he could understand. He’s currently drawing shapes on the table, but that boy could not stay still for his life. They say you can take the boy out of the circus, but not the circus out of the boy. No, no one says that. Jason says that. And Bruce, apparently.
Tim’s smart, a great detective. One that rivals even the great Bruce Wayne a.k.a Batman. It doesn’t help that Timothy has an unhealthy caffeine addiction and aversion to sleep. It also doesn’t help that he’s head over heels in love with solving unsolved cases. Tim not paying attention and reading over cases has a forty-four percent chance of happening. Which he is doing now, his head bent over a tablet.
Now, the only odd one out from the trio is Bruce’s youngest and only blood child. Damian. Ever since he first arrived from the League of Assassins, he’s listened to Bruce with an uncanny focus. Damian is a trained soldier, born to follow orders. The only time Bruce would ever catch the newest Robin spacing out is when he’s running low on sleep, or if he’s planning some petty revenge plan. Yet, here he is, leaning back on his chair, staring at nothing as Jason and Stephanie make faces at each other.
Raising an eyebrow, Bruce shares a look with Barbara. Shrugging, Barbara goes back to her tablet. At least he knows she’s working on her mission. Until someone else.
Leaning back in his own chair, he scans his tablet, deciding it’d be easier to give Damian his mission first. Out of all his children, Damian has the best memory, and only needs his mission explained once.
“Robin!”
And instead of Damian’s eyes snapping to Bruce, it’s Dick and Tim’s.
Closing his eyes, Bruce runs a palm over his face. Or, more accurately, his mask.
Dick stares at Tim, the corner of his lips lifting into a faint smirk. “Did you just…”
Making a face, Tim resorts back, “You also reacted, genius.”
Narrowing his eyes, Dick’s face sours. “Well, I was Robin longer than you,” he throws his hands up. “It’s normal.”
“Oh?” Tim raises his eyebrows, placing his tablet down. A dangerous sign, coming from someone who is glued to his tablet 24/7. “Should I start calling you ‘Boy Wonder’ again?”
Bruce faintly registers Jason cackling as he takes a generous sip of his coffee. Is eleven pm too late for caffeine?
Laughing, Dick stands up. “Joke on you,” he exclaims. “I am still being called ‘The Boy Wonder'!”
Tim stays silent for a second. Before turning his head to the rest of the table. “You know what’s the funniest thing in this situation?”
Still cackling, Jason wipes his eyes, gasping for air, trying to calm his laughter. Glancing at his brother, Dick asks, “What?”
Smirking at Bruce, Tim points to Damian, who is still staring into space. “Robin,” he pauses, “didn’t even react.”
Whirling around, Dick knocks his chair over. “What?!” He gasps. “Robin!”
And finally, Damian snaps back into reality. Turning his eyes on Dick, Damian scoffs. “What?”
Jason laughs so hard he falls off his chair. Barbara somehow had time to take out her phone, recording as her shoulder shook with silent laughter. Stephanie in no better condition.
Rolling his eyes, Tim clicks his tongue. Something he picked up from Damian, no doubt. “Of course he reacts when his Batman calls him.”
Looking up, Bruce inhales deeply. “Robin.”
“Yes, Batman?”
“Please pay attention during the mission assignment.”
Damian nods, but doesn’t respond.
Scanning over the table, Bruce takes in the various states of amusement in his children. As an experienced parent, he knows they’re not going to get anything done.
“You’re dismissed.”
Jason’s eyes light up, pushing off the floor, making a beeline for the door.
Clearing his throat, Bruce continues. “And, for the time being, we’re using names in the Batcave.”
A chorus of mixed agreement echoes back.
Leaning his elbows on the table, Bruce lets his head hang between his hands.
“Why did I decide to be a parent?”