dcmainlybillythoughts

[dcmainlybillythoughts]

<1>. <2>. <3>. <4>.

Bruce blinked, startling out of his book as he felt a familiar presence standing above him as he was laid down comfortably on his couch. Duke was standing above him with a grin on his face, waving down at the man and pulling out his earphones.

“Whoa, sorry B-man, didn’t mean to startle you.” Duke chuckled, holding up a pastry and a cup of coffee as a peace offering.

Bruce chuckled softly and shut his book, getting up from his reclined position on the couch and patting the leather cushion beside him. Duke flopped down beside the man with a small "oomph" and handed over the pastry.

"I thought you were hanging out with your siblings? What are you doing back so early?" Bruce questioned, pulling out a chocolate eclair and raising an eyebrow at Duke.

"Hey, Dick told me they were your favs. If you don't like 'em, blame him and not me. It got a little too crowded at the cafe, so I decided to bounce." Duke shrugged, taking a sip of Bruce's coffee before scrunching his nose in disgust and setting it down. "Gross. I can never understand how you drink black coffee."

"I don't drink it for the taste, only its ability to keep me awake." Bruce chuckled, handing Duke a napkin to wipe his mouth with. "And eclairs? I don't mind. It's more of an inside joke between the two of us."

Duke nodded in understanding, leading the two to sit in silence for a while.

Duke hesitated for a second, turning over what he wanted to say in his head for a bit, before deciding to just spit it out. “You’re a good Dad Bruce. You try… really hard, and I think that’s the most important part of being a good Dad.”

Bruce blinked in confusion, his nose scrunching up as he stared at Duke. “But… I’m not your Dad?” Bruce said slowly as if Duke could somehow forget that little tidbit.

“Yes, I know- ugh” Duke groaned and put his head in his hands. “Fuck, they were right. This is hard…”

“Who was right? About what?”

“Bruce, you dense fool.” Duke shook his head, ignoring the offended expression on Bruce’s face. “You are… a very important parental figure to me. You’re not my Dad, you’re not my mom, but you are important.”

Bruce just chuckled and shook his head, taking another bite of the chocolate eclair. “Alright Sunshine. Whatever you say.”

Duke narrowed his eyes. "You're very important," Duke said again, carefully watching Bruce's facial and body expression. "I, and everyone in this house, care about you. I love you lots, Bruce." No matter what Duke said, Bruce just looked like a single word wasn't getting through to him. Just like the others had said.

"Why don't you believe us when we say we love you?" Duke huffed out in frustration, grabbing what little was left of Bruce's pastry and throwing it down on the coffee table, forcing the older man to actually look at him.

Bruce let out a sigh as he looked Duke in his eyes, searching for something and frowning as if he couldn't find it. "Are... are you having a prank contest with your brothers?" Bruce dug his nails into the palm of his hands as he frowned harder.

“A prank-!”

“Or maybe a competition to see who can pull a reaction out of me?” This was said as Bruce bit the inside of his cheek, chewing on his flesh and letting go just before he started bleeding.

If Duke had longer hair, he’d be pulling it out in frustration. “Bruce-“

“Oh… I understand.” Bruce breathed out quietly, a soft look in his eyes as he gently took Duke’s hand into his own. For a second, Duke naively believed that Bruce did understand. “Duke, I don’t know what may have happened, but no matter what, I’m happy to continue fostering you until you want to leave.”

“Until I want to…?”

“You don’t have to worry about me kicking you out or some other ridiculous notion. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want until you inevitably become sick of me.” Bruce smiled softly, gently patting Duke’s hand. “Jason did the same thing when he was younger, trying to use sweet words as a way to convince me not to ‘return him’. His words, not mine.” Bruce chuckled.

Duke simply just stared at Bruce, unable to come up with a single thing to say.

“I know-“ Bruce let out a harsh huff, his face twisting into the self-deprecating expression that Tim told him to watch out for, “I know that I’m the reason why you’re here in the first place. Why you can’t be with your parents. I know you must resent me for that, you have to hate me.”

Oh.

“And I’m okay with that. I deserve to be hated for taking away your parents.”

Oh no.

“But no matter what, I’m going to love you and see you as one of my own. After all, you fit right in. Everyone in this family has a valid reason to despise me.” Bruce laughed, like it was funny, like somehow Duke was supposed to agree with the bullshit spouting out of his mouth. “It’s a bit cowardly of me to think you’d allow me to love you. Selfish…” Bruce whispered the last word, pulling his hands away and once again digging his nails into the palm of his hand.

And really who was Duke to judge? Wasn’t he even more of a coward by not being able to say a word against Bruce? To comfort this man who so generously decided to open his home, his life, and his love to a stranger?

Duke’s eyes focused on a singular red crimson drop slowly making its way down from Bruce’s clenched fist and splattering on the couch. Alfred would throw a fit later.

He wanted to surge forward, take Bruce’s hand, and stop him from hurting himself any further. But he was stuck. Frozen with the weight of the guilt Bruce has decided to put on his own back.

“You don’t have to bring me pastries and coffee, you don’t have to sit and talk with me, and I especially don’t want you to think that you have to lie and say you love me.” Bruce smiled stiffly, patting Duke once on the back with his other hand and pressing a kiss to his forehead before standing up from the couch.

“Alright Sunshine, I’ve got some work to do in the cave. I’ll see you later?” Bruce nodded, not waiting for an answer before leaving the living room.

Duke blinked and glanced over at the half-eaten eclair before snatching it and shoving the rest in his mouth. “Shit.” Duke cursed, crumbs flying everywhere. “Of course, he blames himself for my parents… I'm a fucking idiot.”

Duke groaned and scrubbed his eyes, willing away the familiar pressure of tears before whipping out his phone and texting the group chat that excluded both Alfred and Bruce.

Gotham’s Nightlight: Guys… I think I made it worse somehow…?

[dcmainlybillythoughts]

<1>. <2>. <3>. <4>.

——

Tim: I have never seen you as an obligation- as a means to an end

Bruce: … Neither have I

——

Bruce slowly sipped his chamomile tea. Alfred had somehow noticed his back flaring up and brewed him a nice cup of tea to help with the inflammation. Bruce had asked for extra honey and sugar, which the older man generously allowed.

“I can feel you staring at me, Tim.” Bruce rumbled, taking another slow sip, making sure not to slurp. Both he and Tim hated the sound of people slurping their drinks; it was horrid. “Drink your tea, sweetheart, it’s good for gut health.”

Tim let out a small hum of acknowledgment but didn’t look away, his own chamomile tea going untouched in his cup.

“Switch?” Tim asked, pushing himself up from the couch he was sprawled out on and carefully bringing his full cup to Bruce. “Want yours.”

Without a second thought, Bruce took Tim’s teacup and placed his own on his son’s saucer, grabbing two more sugar cubes and plopping them in the tea for Tim. “Still hot,” Bruce warned, watching Tim as he took a sip and let out a soft hum, making Bruce smile softly.

The two lapsed into another comfortable silence; the only sound audible in the study was the soft clicking of their teacups every time they set them down on their saucers.

“Hey.” Bruce looked up from the newspaper he was absentmindedly skimming, tilting his head at Tim. “Say I love you.”

Bruce blinked but complied nonetheless. “I love you. A lot. I love you very much, Timmothy.” Bruce stated, his face remaining in a relaxed expression.

Tim wrinkled his nose at his Dad using his full name, trying to hide the flush on his cheeks from Bruce being able to say the three words so easily, compared to how it was before. “Ew, you full named me.” Tim pouted, hiding a grin behind his teacup as he heard Bruce chuckle lightly.

“Me too, by the way…” Tim set down the teacup, looking into Bruce’s eyes before shifting them to look at his forehead. Much easier than actually looking into his eyes. “I love you lots, Dad.”

This time, Bruce wrinkled his nose in confusion. “Did your brothers put you up to this?”

Bruce’s voice wasn’t accusing, but then again, it never really is when he talks to his children. He always gives them the benefit of the doubt.

Tim scowled, feeling a twinge of embarrassment bubble up in his chest. “No. Why would you think that, Bruce?”

Uh oh, he was back to being Bruce right now. Bruce let out a small huff of air from his nose and folded his hands over one another. “You and your brothers have been acting… strange. Coming here, to me, once a week and interrogating me over… menial topics.”

“Menial?” Tim’s voice took on a sharp edge once he heard the word. “You made Dick cry and Jason looked like he was in fucking shock. Obviously, those conversations were important.” Tim accused, pointing his finger at Bruce.

Bruce blinked, the only sign that would tell he was surprised by the change of tone. “I did no such thing. I have no idea why that happened, and they refused to tell me. You can not blame that on me, I will not allow it.” Bruce asserted.

“You’re supposed to know!” Tim raised his voice.

“How am I supposed to know when no one will tell me?! You guys always get mad at me for ‘snooping’ or ‘going through your business’ on normal days! How am I supposed to know when it’s appropriate?” Bruce struggled not to raise his voice at Tim. He knew Tim would shut down immediately and this… conversation would devolve into a screaming match that would rival the ones with Dick and Jason.

“You told Jason that you think we hate you! How could you do that?!”

Bruce threw his hands up in the air. Fuck! Not this stupid conversation again. Was this the only thing people wanted to talk about in this household?

“When someone says they hate you, you tend to believe that!” Bruce shouted, immediately regretting the action when he saw Tim curl into himself and his face harden.

Bruce let out a shuddering breath and ran a hand through his hair, grateful that he had forgone putting gel into it. He did not need to be overstimulated on top of this talk with Tim.

“I don’t understand why this is a topic of discussion in the household as of late.” Bruce continued quietly. “And I don’t know why you would insert yourself into something like this.”

Tim squinted his eyes, not understanding what the fuck that meant. Before he could ask, Bruce continued speaking.

“Look… I know how this relationship between the two of us officially started. I see you as my son, Tim, one of my own, and I’ll always love you as such.” Bruce reassured, but instead of it making Tim feel better, he felt like he was about to be dropped off into a gaping black hole. “But I know that this,” Bruce gestured between the two of them, “is nothing more than a… responsibility on your part.”

And just like that, the floor was swept out from underneath Tim’s feet.

“What makes you say that?” Tim could feel his lips move and feel the way his vocal cords vibrated to ask the question, but blood rushed through his ears, making everything sound muffled. "What have I done that could possibly make you say that?"

“You came to me because I was a danger to myself, which meant I was a danger to Gotham,” Bruce said matter of factly, like he knew what the fuck he was talking about. “I’m just glad that somewhere along the way you decided to stay with us, even if it wasn’t for me.”

The words leave Tim’s lips before they even have a chance to register in his mind. “But it’s the same for you!”

“The only reason why you took me is because I pestered you so much! And even then, you didn’t want me; Alfred was the one who gave me Robin.” Tim tried to pretend that his voice didn't break in the middle of his sentence, silently glad that Bruce didn't mention it and allowed him to keep his dignity.

Bruce tapped his fingers against the arm of his chair, peeling off the flaking paint and ripping it up into smaller pieces. He would run out of paint soon enough if people kept trying to lie right to his face that they didn't hate him.

“You became Robin not just because Alfred gave it to you, but because you wanted to do good. Because you are good.” Bruce let out a small hum. “If I could go back in time, I would change how our relationship started. How everything started.”

“Change how?”

“I would be better. I would show you that I love you.” Bruce nodded to himself, smiling softly as he turned to Tim. “I would tell you it’s okay to hate me, that you don’t have to pretend that you love me. I already know. Everyone hates me. I also hate myself.”

And truly, what the fuck do you say to that?

Because if Bruce could believe something so… twisted, then how could Tim believe anything that this man in front of him was saying?

How could he believe that Bruce truly loved him if Bruce didn’t believe that Tim loved him?

[dcmainlybillythoughts]

<1>. <2>. <3>. <4>.

——

Dick: Have you ever doubted that I love you?

Bruce: …

——

It wasn’t a fight. At least it didn’t really feel like all those usual fights, and Bruce was pretty sure it wasn’t a fight. But then again, he’s always been wrong in guessing about his children.

Dick seems… distant. Distant but still close. Usually when Dick wants to be distant, he leaves. His children are very good at leaving and not telling him where they are. He always knows, though, he’s Batman.

Bruce doesn’t remember any scathing words being exchanged between them. No heated glares, heavy air, stilted conversations. Nothing that usually promises an argument is to come or has passed without Bruce realizing it.

But for some reason, Dick was still lingering around the hallways. If Bruce turned around, he would see his eldest child standing around the edges, his body tense, and a perturbed expression on his face. Just watching him, waiting for a moment that Bruce was honestly scared to come.

It was starting to worry Bruce. His baby has always been a bright and shining star, even when he doesn’t want to be.

But Bruce also knew that if he tried to pry, he would only push Dick away. After many years of trail and errors, Bruce decided the best course of action would be to let Dick figure it out himself or come to Bruce on his own.

Strangely enough, it didn’t take very long for Dick to come into his study, his face trying and failing to adopt a calm and nonchalant expression as he sat in the edge of his desk.

“Hey B…” Dick said lowly, fiddling with one of the snow globes he had on his desk. Bruce had gotten that specific one from Dick when they first visited Zitka at the zoo when he was nine and Dick had begged to get something from the gift shop.

“Dick.” Bruce nodded, setting down his pen and giving his son his full attention.

Dick let out a shuddering sigh and set down the snow globe. Bruce’s hands twitched with the urge to fix it and set it straight, but then Dick turned the globe and moved it to the exact position that he liked.

Bruce couldn’t help the small twitch of his lips. He was probably being too obvious, Dick most likely remembers the several panic attacks he had when Dick was a child, unable to process and handle when his prized possessions were askew. He worked on it. He's fine now.

“I heard something pretty interesting… from Jay.” Dick started haltingly, his eyes staring deeply into Bruce’s. “You guys had a pretty… deep convo recently… right?”

Bruce felt stupid. A deep conversation? He’s assuming that Dick means an emotionally charged conversation but he truly doesn’t remember anything like that happening recently.

“Okay, okay, I can see you racking your brain, so I’ll just tell you,” Dick said, grabbing his Dad’s hands and holding them in his own. Bruce hadn’t even noticed when he started digging his fingernails into the flesh of his arm, close to drawing blood.

Shit. He always fucking does this. Making Dick worry and take care of him like he was an invalid incompetent manchild.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to it.” Dick murmured causing Bruce to purse his lips together silently. “Seriously, it’s okay B. I know why you are the way you are. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Bruce nodded silently because it was easier to do so than argue why he should’ve already grown out of his childish habits. You’d think having the media point out his self inflected scars when he was 12 would’ve kicked him out of the habit already…

“What was it that you wanted to talk to me about? I don’t remember any particularly deep conversation with Jason.” Bruce rumbled, tilting his head to the side when Dick’s nose scrunched in annoyance.

“Of course you don’t, just like Jay said…” Dick huffed under his breath. “Okay, let’s just… blurt it out. Get it over with.”

Dick seemed to try and hype himself up, squeezing Bruce’s hands tightly before releasing and continuing the action a few more times.

“Jason said that you think that we hate you, but like, I really don’t know where that came from, and I’m just super confused because I don’t think I’ve said it that often, and yeah I’ve said it, I probably shouldn’t have, really shouldn’t have since you think that I hate you, well you think that all of us-“

“Chum.” Bruce stopped his son’s rapid word vomit with one word, his eyes crinkled with fondness and amusement as he squeezed Dick’s hands back. “Sweetheart, I didn’t understand a single word you just said. Slow down for me, okay?”

Dick took large gulps of air, his face burning with embarrassment as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Right! Right duh, I just- ugh…”

Bruce absentmindedly trailed his eyes over Dick’s face, so much older than when he had last seen him. Maybe a little gaunt… he’ll make Dick some brownies, the ones he used to make when Dick was smaller. Maybe they could watch a movie later, anything that would get DIck to fall asleep.

“Dad…” Dick breathed softy, making Bruce’s heart race. Uh oh, why was this a Dad moment? Did Dick want something?

“Jason came to me and he told me that… you think that I… we hate you. Do you?”

Bruce let out a confused hum. Was that the important conversation he had? Bruce didn’t feel like it was an important conversation; it had been mostly resolved by the time Jason decided to leave. Well, Bruce felt as though it had been resolved.

“… you said it,” Bruce said slowly. The last time he said that, Jason had gone silent and stared at Bruce with a horrified expression before hugging him. It was a nice hug, so Bruce guessed he had read his second son’s expression wrong, and it was all okay in the end.

“No, B, I could… I could never…” Dick’s throat dried up. Why couldn’t he just force the full sentence out? 'No, I don't hate you.' Why does his tongue feel like it's a million pounds? Why do his lips refuse to move?

Bruce hummed sympathetically and nodded his head, like he understood, like he could sort through the mess in Dick’s mind. Bruce had always had an uncanny way of peering into all of their minds when it was the most jumbled, and yet, he was getting it completely wrong this time.

“It’s okay. I’m not mad. It makes perfect sense.” Bruce nodded, having the fucking audacity to pretend that it did make sense. Like Dick hating him was perfectly normal, like living in a house and caring for people who he thinks hate him is nothing out of the ordinary.

“Wha-? No, Bruce, it’s not supposed to make sense!” Dick ran a hand through his hair, carelessly ripping through the knots and tangles, barely feeling the pain radiating from his scalp. The one in his chest hurt a fuckton more.

Bruce chewed on his lower lip, unable to dig his fingernails into the palm of his hand, he settled for digging the heel of his foot against the dorsum of his other, still bruised painfully from a rough night of crime fighting alone.

“What did I do wrong this time?” Bruce asked, wanting to know why Dick was here and why he seemed so… distraught. Not even angry, which was somehow worse.

He had to have done something wrong, after all, both DIck and Jason had come to him separately to rehash this same old conversation. Something must have happened.

That, for some reason, seemed to be the wrong thing to say.

“Dad, you know we love you… right…?” Dick whispered quietly. “You know that I love you, right?” Dick tried to grin, hoping that he would see his father’s face transform into a smile, to hear his deep chuckle of amusement, to listen to his Dad say ‘yes, of course I know that you love me, that you all love me.’

But it never came.

Bruce was quiet. No he was completely silent, staring at his son with a truly baffled expression that Dick has only seen very few times in his life. Like the words coming out of his son’s mouth were such an obvious lie, and he was trying to figure out why he was lying right to his face. Like Dick's love was such an unreachable object for him that there was no way he could already have it.

No no no no no no-

“Dad-!” Dick choked on a sudden sob, forcefully tearing its way out of his throat without his permission. “Please! Tati please! You have to know that I love you!”

Bruce swallowed and slowly extracted his hands from Dick’s grip, well, he tried to. Dick held on tight, steadfastly refusing to let go. “Dick, sweetheart, let me get you a cup of water. I don’t know why you’re crying, but I promise we can figure it out together. I’ll be right back, I swear.” Bruce said, his voice giving away how stressed he was in this situation.

Dick desperately clawed at his Dad’s hands, trying to stop him from leaving, but somehow Bruce escaped his hold. He always escapes his grasp.

As Bruce quickly fled the room, Dick slid down off Bruce’s desk and onto the floor, curling up into hisself. Trying to hide away from the shame and horror that was threatening to explode from his body.

How could this have happened? When had he stopped telling his Dad that he loved him? When had Bruce stopped believing him?

Dick tugged harshly on his hair and wailed, waiting for Bruce to come back.

[dcmainlybillythoughts]

<1>. <2>. <3>. <4>.

Bruce doesn’t know why Jason is mad at him. At this point, it seems to be an everyday thing.

Jason successfully integrates his way back into the family, making it possible for him to hang out with his brothers without being coerced by anyone. He comes and goes as he pleases and struts around the manor like it’s his home again.

Bruce couldn’t be happier.

So why is his second/third oldest mad at him? It seems like nowadays Jason gets mad at Bruce for breathing the wrong way, or walking too slow, or something completely nonsensical.

It all comes to a head when Jason confronts him in his office when Bruce was just finishing up some paperwork.

“What the fuck is your actual fucking problem?” Jason hissed angrily, slamming his fist down on Bruce’s mahogany table.

Bruce distantly hopes that it won’t leave a mark, but for now, he’s more focused on why his son is swearing at him.

“Hello Jason.” Bruce decides to start, giving him a second to collect his thoughts and mentally see if he’s done anything lately. “I’m afraid I don’t understand-“

“Bullshit! Absolute fucking bullshit!” Jason spat, cutting Bruce off.

Bruce’s eyebrows wrinkled slightly at the many curses directed at him. It’s not like he wasn’t used to it; Gotham is his home, but he just doesn’t know why.

“When was the last time you fucking talked to me?” Jason questioned, rounding the desk and jabbing a finger in Bruce’s shoulder.

This causes Bruce to blink, somehow even more confused than before. “I don’t understand. I’m talking to you right now. And we spoke yesterday.”

“No, you walked into the room looking for Golden Boy, saw me and said some fake ass greeting before turning and basically running away!” Jason swung his hands around, making Bruce lean back in his chair to avoid getting hit. “Why are you avoiding me? I thought… I thought you had forgiven me and stuff…”

“What? Of course I have! You’re always welcome here!”

“Then why are you avoiding me? You don’t invite me places, y-you barely speak to me nowadays…”

Bruce picked at the peeling arm of his swivel chair, peeling off a small portion of the black paint and ripping it into smaller pieces before dropping it on the ground. Alfred would probably make him clean it up. “I’m giving you space.”

Jason blinked, looking down at Bruce in confusion. “Space? Why are you giving me space- so much space? You're never fucking around anymore!”

“Well… because you hate me?”

“What..?”

“You told me…” Bruce says slowly, barely stopping himself from scratching at his arm in the tense silence, a habit Alfred made sure he broke. “You’ve told me multiple times how you hate me… and that I’m not your Dad.”

Jason gaped at Bruce, taking a moment to sit on the edge of Bruce’s desk, running a hand down his face. “Fuck Bruce! I-I wasn’t- ugh! I wasn’t being fucking serious!”

Bruce squints, his eyes darting around Jason's angry and confused expression.

“But… you said it? Why would you say that if you didn’t mean it?” Bruce asked quietly, his chest tightening like it does when he wants to cry.

He hasn’t felt this way in a long time. At least, not so strongly. The kind of feeling that you get when you know everyone around you understands something that you can’t. Why would Jason say something he didn’t mean?

Why did Bruce have to be so fucking stupid. He's supposed to be the world's greatest detective, so why does he always have a hard time deciphering what people mean? Especially his children.

“I don’t understand,” Bruce repeated, his eyes stinging as he flapped his hands before drumming them softly on the arm of his swivel chair, trying to calm himself down. “You’ve said it. You say it all the time.”

“Bruce-“

“All of you say it! You say that you hate me, so you hate me!” Bruce insisted, no longer looking at Jason, the study felt significantly smaller now. “Why would you say it if you don’t mean it? Why would you say something so mean?”

“… Dad…” Jason whispered softly, slowly taking Bruce’s hands in his own. Bruce hadn’t even noticed that his fingernails were painfully digging into the palm of his hand, leaving angry red half moons.

“Dad, if you think that we hate you, then why…?” Jason gestures widely, pointing at nothing in particular yet everything at the same time. “Why do you do this for us? Why are you still here?”

Bruce tilted his head in confusion. Not a single second of this conversation has made any sense to him but he knows this part, it is woven into the very fabric of his being. “Because I love you. I love all of you.”

[dcmainlybillythoughts]

Tim: so you grew up with Jason in the league, right? what was that like?

Damian: one time we were training on the outskirts of the compound together when I was around, like, nine, and I told him ‘Todd we need to take a break so I can use the bathroom’

Tim:

Damian: and Todd went ‘shit man, I need to piss too, let’s just go here in our clothes. we can just piss our pants.’

Tim:

Damian: and I was nine and had been raised to trust him with my life. and he went ‘im pissing right now, i’m going’ and i panicked and said ‘oh um- ok i’m going too!’

Tim:

Damian: and i was nine. and i wet myself. and Todd was sixteen, and he looked me directly in the eye and went ‘i didn’t actually go’.

Tim:

Damian: and then he told my grandfather i was incontinent.

Tim:

Damian: that’s what growing up with Todd was like, Drake. that’s what it was like.

Tim:

Jason: *collapsed on the floor nearby, wheezing silently through tears*

[dcmainlybillythoughts]

Try again tomorrow.

Prev post

-

The next morning, no one hears from Bruce.

Not a word in the group chat. No check-in on patrol reports.

The silence is… odd.

But not alarming. Not yet.

Tim notices first. The data feed from the manor’s security AI is static. No logs since the night before. No signs of movement in the house.

He thinks it’s a glitch.

He refreshes. Nothing.

He tries to ping the Cave. No response.

Jason is the one who says it out loud. "Something's wrong."

-

They arrive together.

The manor feels like a mausoleum.

Dark. Still. Heavy with a quiet that feels wrong.

“Bruce?” Dick calls. His voice echoes off the walls.

Nothing answers.

The cave is cold. Empty.

The kitchen—untouched. Plates still in the dishwasher. The lights Alfred used to leave on for comfort are all off. No hum of the fridge. No warmth.

Upstairs, the hallway to Bruce’s room feels like it’s stretching forever.

Jason gets there first.

He knocks once.

Then again, harder.

“Bruce?”

Nothing.

He pushes the door open.

The air inside is still. Not peaceful. Not quiet.

Still.

Bruce is lying on the bed, just as he did the night before. Phone screen dark beside him. One arm resting loosely over his chest. He looks like he might just be sleeping.

But his chest doesn’t rise.

And the room is far, far too cold.

-

“Tim,” Jason says (who's screaming?), voice raw. “Call someone.”

Tim’s already frozen in the doorway. Dick is at the foot of the bed, shaking his head in disbelief, eyes already glassy.

“No,” Damian whispers. He’s across the room in two seconds. “No—no, Father.”

He grabs Bruce’s wrist. Shakes his shoulder. Presses his fingers hard against his pulse point. “Wake up. Wake up. I’m not done yelling at you.”

Cass kneels beside him and gently pulls his hand away.

Damian doesn’t stop shaking. Doesn’t stop begging.

“Wake up. You do not get to do this. You do not get to leave me too. You promised. Richard, why is he not waking up-?”

-

The room is quiet, except for the beeping of Tim’s phone as he dials emergency, and Dick’s ragged breathing as he presses his head to his dad's chest.

Duke is throwing up in the bathroom down the hall, Steph gagging on the floor outside Bruces bedroom.

Jason stands in the corner, eyes wide and terrified. He can't breathe whycan'thebreathe-

Cass curls up next to her dad.

-

The funeral is small.

Closed casket. The media calls it sudden. Unexpected. A loss to Gotham.

None of them speak at the podium. Not one of them can.

They just sit in the front row, silent.

Damian doesn’t cry, but his eyes never leave the ground.

Dick breaks down in the car on the way home and almost drives it of a bridge.

Jason doesn't leave his grave for 3 days.

Duke starts packing his things, he'll have to go back to foster care.

Cass starts sleeping in his bedroom.

Stephanie goes radio silent.

Tim keeps checking Bruce's last location on his tracker, as if it’ll change.

It doesn’t.

-

The photo from Dick’s post still lives in the group chat.

They don’t delete it.

But none of them ever look at it again.

-

Back at the manor, the lights stay off.

The hall Bruce once walked through is full of shadows now. His chair at the dining table stays empty. The suit in the cave gathers dust.

And in his desk drawer, hidden under old mission reports and paperweights and cracked reading glasses—

Is a sticky note.

It just says:

“Try again tomorrow.”

But he didn’t get the chance.

[dcmainlybillythoughts]

conversations overheard through the batkid com lines pt 2

*Damian and Jason, four hours into a stakeout*

Damian: Jay, hand me the mango pieces.

Jason: *plastic crinkling* ayyy, I’m Jason again!

Damian: *snorts*

Jason: what was with that, by the way? I just showed up in Gotham and found you referring to everyone like they’re your professor. Like, that’s not a ‘you’ thing, I don’t know why you started doing that.

*audible chewing noises*

Damian: do you want the genuine honest answer?

Jason: please god do tell

Damian: so- and you aren’t allowed to laugh. but when I first came to Gotham and I showed up at the manor, father obviously had to give me a tour of the place, right?

Jason: yeah.

Damian: and they wanted to do a DNA test to check that my mother wasn’t pulling a fast one by claiming my birthright, so the first place he showed me was the cave, which was also where Tim was.

Jason: *hums*

Damian: and you know that place- the first time you went to the cave, it was wild, right?

Jason: oh, like walking into the tardis for the first time. insane.

Damian: exactly. all high-tech and shit, and I’d just come from the desert compound I’d spent my entire life in- like, my first time going into the kitchen at the manor I saw Alfred loading the dishwasher and my first thought was ‘oh my god what the fuck kind of machine is that-‘

Jason: *abrupt cackle*

Damian: -so the fucking cave for the first time? as a little desert-boy ten year old? I was a little distracted,

Jason, chuckling slightly: ok, fair,

Damian: and so I’m zoned the fuck out, looking around this cave and not paying attention to anything father’s saying, and then I finally tune back in just to hear the words ‘-ackson drake’ while he like, tries to introduce me to Tim.

Jason: *slowly starts laughing again*

Damian, raising his voice to be heard over Jason’s increasing beats of laughter: -and so I’m fucking standing there, ten years old, no clue what this kid’s first name is, and everybody’s looking at me like I’m supposed to be the one fucking talking right now, and ALL I can think of is my mother, who before she shipped me off to Gotham completely alone kept fucking telling me ‘Damian you have to be strong and show that you deserve to be the Batman’s blood son. show no weakness and take the mantle you were born to have; show no fucking hesitance.’, so I’M panicking,

Jason, still cackling: *a clap* NO I DO- I DO REMEMBER, LIKE, BACK IN THE LEAGUE-, holy shit back in the league when your only coping mechanism for not knowing the fuck was going on around you, was literally just to pretend you knew what the fuck was going on around you and bullshit till you make it,

Damian: WELL IT WAS LIKE THE ONLY FUCKING THING MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME-

Jason, through tears: -that’s why I didn’t say shit when I came back to Gotham and found you fucking, doing all this blood son bullshit! You started calling me Todd and speaking in old english and I was just like ‘bless him he’s terrified, just leave him be’

Damian: *cackles* and I did- I did appreciate you going along with it, because back when this happened I panicked and just started calling Tim ‘Drake’ because I was too embarrassed to ask him for his first name, and then by the time I heard somebody else call him Tim in passing, everybody had just assumed this was a thing I did. and I was too socially awkward to clear it up and switch back, so I just had to stick to Drake.

Jason: *wheeze* a-and Grayson?

Damian: well at first I just went along with the surname thing out of awkwardness, but then I’d gone too deep and I had no way out- AND THEN- and then Batman fucking died-

Jason: *wheeze*

Damian: -and I went from being parented by the gymnastics version of the dark lord to being gentle-parented by fucking Nightwing-

Jason, choking: holy- holy shit-

Damian: do you know what it’s like to go from *gruff voice* ‘Damian we don’t fucking kill, give me the katana or I’ll put you in Arkham’ to *high pitched, sweet voice* ‘oh hey Dames, obviously I can’t stop you from killing but I really would appreciate it if we discussed all our options and came to a mature decision together on what’s best in this scenario-‘

Jason: *crying, silent wheezes*

Damian: so DURING all this I’m trying to subtly switch back to using peoples actual names, except it fucking backfired because people just assumed I was calling Richard Richard because we had that special parental mentor bond, and Tim had pissed off to- whatever he was doing in the desert for six months- getting a hysterectomy or whatever the fuck happened-

Jason, amused: hysterectomy- he lost a spleen, Dames

Damian: well whatever happened he wasn’t AROUND for me to shift to calling him Tim! and when father was back I’d made no progress and was back to square one, except this time I was stuck calling one brother Richard and the other Drake!

Jason, still laughing: and this is where I came in?

Damian: I felt BAD! I’d already taken Robin from the guy, I didn’t want him to feel like he was lesser of a brother to me than Richard. So I demoted you to Todd so he wouldn’t feel alone.

Jason: very thoughtful.

Jason: we should probably get you a therapist, dude. I think everybody forgets that when you showed up you were literally just a very confused immigrant child with no experience of normal social interaction apart from me at the league.

Damian: oh I was like, 60% into an anxiety attack consistently for the first two years I was in the city.

Jason: *snorts*

Damian: the first time I was left alone with Tim we were in the kitchen and he said ‘do you want wifi?’ and, y’no, coming from the league, barely any tech and the only normality was the concept of fighting to the death over everything, MY instinctual ten-year-old thought was ‘oh shit, wifi must be slang for brawl here, we’re about to fight’-

Jason: *laughter* you’re fucking kidding

Damian: -so I’m like, so be it, and I say ‘come on then’ and get ready to start punching, only for him to turn around and grab a piece of card stuck to the fridge and hold it out to me,

Jason: *cackles*

Damian: and he goes ‘here’s the password so you can connect, I’m assuming you have a phone or something’-which I fucking didn’t by the way, my mother gave me a shitty flip-phone to call her in emergencies but it didn’t use wifi-, and he’s holding it out to me and I had to like, subtly shift my posture out of the defensive position I’d been in-,

Jason, delirious from laughter: this is the fucking best. thing.

Damian: -and I take it from him, and he gives me this weird look like he has no idea how to communicate with me, and I was just like ‘shit I might have to kill this one, it’s the only way to get out of this interaction’.

Jason: *wheeze* if we go through the timeline, every murder attempt on Tim’s life has just been an occasion where you’ve felt socially awkward and didn’t see any other way out of conversation,

Damian: pretty much, yeah. I should have been on xanax for those first few years.

Jason: stories from your first years in Gotham are my favourite thing in the world.

*a few silent beats*

Tim: are you telling me I’ve been stuck as Drake for YEARS all because Damian’s fucking scared of social interaction?!

*crashing sound*

Jason: HOLY FUCK-

Damian: OH MY GOD I FORGOT WE WERE CONNECTED TO THE MAIN LINE-

[dcmainlybillythoughts]

We all know everybody has Dick's name in their phones as a crude penis joke. Don't lie.

Well I'm sitting here eating a pickle and wondering:

[dcmainlybillythoughts]

WARNING: organ trafficking stuff

Sequel to this post

Also inspiration from this fic

[dcmainlybillythoughts]

Head cannon that Tim is a snacker he can never just eat three meals he’ll have snacks throughout the day. He’ll be sitting in a Spinny chair with Ramen noodles and chopsticks. Or he’ll be sitting on the floor with a piece of fruit.

Struggles with eating on a regular basis eating a snack when it gets hungry is a better solution than trying to keep up with time (time blindness). This way Tim gets the nutrition he needs while also being able to focus on casework and schoolwork (when he was still in school).

[dcmainlybillythoughts]

Billy is just staring at him the moment the imposter walks in. His eyes blow wide and he almost drops the plate of birthday cake in his hands as he looks the Captain Imposter up and down.

Eventually Billy starts making a face. A face that makes it look like he's about to cry.

Bruce: Do you like it? I wanted your birthday to be special, do you like it?

Turns out those tears were tears of laughter as Billy suddenly doubles over, unable to hold in his laughter any longer. Somebody snatches his plate from him so he doesn't drop it as he continues to laugh hysterically.

Bruce is just standing there confused now, he's never had that reaction before. Eventually Billy calms himself down enough to actually speak though.

Billy: What the fuck is Superman doing here? Where'd he even get my suit??

The boy continues to laugh, not realizing what he just said. Both his first cuss word around the Waynes and his slip up about his identity.

He wanted to be polite and just smile and act grateful but he just couldn't hold it in. That disguise might fool most people, but to Billy, Clark just looked so unnatural in the Captain Marvel suit. Whether it be because Billy knew that Captain Marvel couldn't be in the same room as him or just because he knew the difference between his and Superman's bodies, there wasn't any fooling him.

Captain Imposter WIP

Bruce Wayne is a billionaire, a well-known one at that. He should be able to get whatever he wants, whenever he wants. Whether it was for him or anyone in his household, gods know he can afford it. He always gets his way somehow. Which is why he feels like tearing his hair out trying to plan this birthday party.

Everything was perfect… except for one thing,

One person.

Captain fucking Marvel.

His new kid, Billy, was obsessed with him. It was no surprise to him that Billy's favorite hero just so happens to be the one from his hometown. A hero who was also in the Justice League.

Unlike other parents, who get their children a random person to show up in a costume, the real Captain Marvel could be guaranteed to come to this birthday party, Bruce will make sure of it. Bruce was always determined to make his kids’ first birthday with him absolutely perfect. And Billy was the sweetest of them all. He deserved nothing less.

He can actually make this happen.

He would’ve made this happen.

It shouldn't have been hard to do. In fact, it should have been the easiest part to do in all the party planning. The Captain was always delighted to be invited to places, especially birthday parties. The one time Batman asks for a favor from Captain Marvel, the man who says yes to everything, he had been told no.

No?

No.

Maybe he will get a random person to show up in Captain Marvel’s costume. Billy is still too young to tell the difference, right?

“Clark, are you doing anything this Saturday?”

----------

Billy can’t help it if his merch is just that good. The red-white-gold color scheme is just pure perfection. Ask Barry, he’ll tell you the same thing.

[dcmainlybillythoughts]

"nobody cares about tim drake--" LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER

I CARE ABOUT TIM DRAKE. I DO. LOOK AT HIM AND TELL ME YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT HIM

[dcmainlybillythoughts]

I want a season 1 yj fic where no one on the team knows who Batman and Robin are behind the masks. Wally is friends with Robin, but he only knows him as Robin, and he’s never seen him without the mask or without his sunglasses.

And Dick thinks they’re all friends. Sure, they don’t know his name or half of his life, but they know him. He thinks of them as some of his best friends. He doesn’t actually have a whole lot of friends. He has Barbara, but she doesn’t know about Robin. And he has Bette, but she’s his cousin, so she doesn’t really count.

So when he walks into the lounge area in Mount Justice one day and hears most of the team talking shit about Dick Grayson, who was just shown on TV with Bruce Wayne because there was a big charity gala last night, he’s trying so hard not to get upset. Because they’re making fun of him. They’re talking shit about him. They don’t even know Dick Grayson, but they’re saying such mean things about him.

“I’ve seen him around school, he’s such a snob,” Artemis complains. “His hair is always gelled so obnoxiously and his uniform is always perfect, and,” she snorts, “he’s captain of the mathletes. What a dork.”

Alfred insists on his uniform always being perfectly ironed and his shirt being tucked in. He gets the longest lectures whenever he gets a detention or a pink slip for his uniform being out of line.

And Bruce has been doing Dick’s hair before school since Dick started going to school. He’d been so nervous the first time, because he was eight and he’d been homeschooled in the circus and he’d never been to a real school before, so Bruce did Dick’s hair just like his, and it made him feel so much better. Dick does his own hair mostly now that he’s older, but he mostly sticks with how Bruce first showed him. It’s easy. It’s a classic style. It makes him feel a little less nervous.

And who cares if he’s captain of the mathletes? Bruce insists it will look good on college applications. You can never start preparing too early. Plus, Gotham Academy is full of nerds, it’s far from the dorkiest club on campus. He’s mostly only on the team because his math teacher insisted.

He’s lingering in the hallway, just before the doorway to the lounge, leaning against the wall as he listens in on their conversation.

“He’s obviously a publicity stunt,” Wally snorts, and Dick can hear him stuffing chips in his mouth. “Was Bruce Wayne getting bad press when he first adopted him or something? I always thought it was weird he just plucked a kid from out of nowhere.”

“I thought he was from the circus?” Conner asks, but he actually sounds confused, curious.

The question only makes Wally and Artemis laugh louder, and even M’gann is giggling now. Dick feels like his heart just dropped into his stomach.

“The whole thing is so weird,” Artemis laughs. “Bruce Wayne takes him out like he’s some sort of little accessory, it’s so weird.”

“They are a pretty weird pair, aren’t they?” Wally laughs.

“I mean, the kid seems like a pain in the ass,” Artemis says, and Dick can just tell from the way she says it that she’s smirking. “I don’t know if I’d feel that bad if their whole father-son schtick was all for the camera. Brucie probably treats him like a toy he can just put back on the shelf when he’s done playing with him. He’s probably nothing but a charity case.”

Dick can hear someone pushing Artemis into the side of the couch, but he can tell they’re still all laughing and joking around. Dick feels like his breath is caught in his throat.

“That’s a horrible thing to say,” Conner says.

“Oh, come on, Conner,” Artemis huffs. “I’m only kidding.”

“It’s not something to kid about,” Conner says. “He’s a real person. They’re both real people. You know nothing about them.”

“I know that he struts around school like he owns the place!”

“Does he really?” M’gann gasps.

He can hear Artemis, Wally, and M’gann all continuing to gossip together, to laugh about his photos that Artemis is pulling up on her phone. He can hear Conner mutter something about them being childish, and then get up towards the kitchen area.

The hand on his shoulder startles him, and he’s so mad at himself for not hearing Kaldur walking up behind him.

“Robin, is everything alright?” Kaldur asks, and his voice is so gentle, so concerned.

“M’fine,” Dick chokes out. “M’just, I - I’m gonna go, actually. Can’t stay for training today.”

“Are you not feeling well?”

“Just…feeling a little sick. I’ll be fine.”

Conner has since walked into the hallway too, and he’s looking at Dick all concerned now too. But Dick feels like everything is too hot and he can’t breathe right and he’s suddenly so upset, and he can’t stay here anymore knowing that half of his friends are sitting just a few feet away, making fun of him.

Dick rushes back home, and he finds Bruce sitting in his office going over some WE paperwork. Bruce is surprised he’s home so soon, but holds onto Dick tightly when he falls into his lap.

“What’s wrong?” Bruce asks, squeezing Dick tight. “Did something happen at training? Are you hurt?”

“People are mean,” Dick mumbles into Bruce’s shoulder. “They were watching something about the gala from last night. Didn’t wanna stick around.”

“Oh, Dickie,” Bruce sighs, because this isn’t exactly the first time Dick has heard people he thinks are his friends talking about him behind his back, even if this is the first time it’s people who don’t realize they know him talking about him.

“They called me a publicity stunt,” Dick says, pressing himself closer to Bruce. “And a charity case.”

“You aren’t either of those things,” Bruce says, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. “You’re my son, no matter what anyone else says.”

“I know.”

Bruce sighs again, resting his cheek on top of Dick’s head. They’re both quiet for a moment, Bruce swiveling side to side in the chair a bit.

“I know it’s difficult,” Bruce tells him. “But how about I put these papers away, and we go watch a movie before Alfred has dinner ready?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Or we can go down to the cave and we can train a bit, if you’d rather do that?”

“I kinda wanna hit something,” Dick mumbles. “But can we watch a movie after dinner?”

“We’ll do whatever you want, chum.”

Dick continues to cling to Bruce while he straightens up his desk, but he hops up and rushes over to the clock to go down to the cave. Black Canary eventually calls the cave to ask Batman if Robin is alright, because she missed him at training and no one could tell her why he left, but he just tells her that Robin wanted to train with him today.

Later that night after dinner, Dick is cuddled up next to Bruce in his favorite family room, a movie playing in the background, and Dick falls asleep like that. Bruce doesn’t disturb him. They both end up falling asleep on the couch, and Bruce decides to take the next day off and to keep Dick home from school so they can spend the day together.

[dcmainlybillythoughts]

Adding on to Tawky Tawny being Billy's giant pet tiger, Damian would totally be jealous. Like absolutely filled with envy.

He's heard reports of a giant tiger just strolling through Fawcett and needs to have it. When he goes to Fawcett for a little investigating, he gets more or less the same responses from people: "Ohhhh you mean Tawky! Yeah, that's Billy's tiger!"

Damian instantly tracks this Billy, he refuses to acknowledge his last name, and demands to see the tiger. Billy, who is very confused and slightly scared, explains that he can't show him because he doesn't know where Tawky is. This ticks Damian off, cause how can you not keep track of a giant tiger. And Billy has to explain to him that Tawky just comes and gos as he pleases, he doesn't have control over him and he wouldn't want to either, because that wouldn't be very nice.

Damian refuses to leave until he meets Tawky. Which irritates Billy because he's got work to do, both normal civilian work and superhero work. He does his best to lose the kid, but the peace doesn't last long before Damian drops down in front of him. Billy is starting to wonder if this kid put a tracker on him.

It gets closer to the end of the day and Billy's frustration is on the brink of boiling over. He just wants to get back to his apartment and curl up next to Tawky. However, Damian is still following him.

Billy: Don't you have a family and home you should be getting back to. Damian: Tt' like your one to talk, we've been running around this whole city all day. And by the looks of it, I don't think you've got a home to get to either.** Billy: *face becoming all screwed up and red* Bet your parents are relieved you're not home, finally some peace and quiet without an evil brat like you around. Damian: *fists beginning to clench at his sides and glaring angrily at Billy* I am willing to say the same about "your" tiger. He hasn't shown all day, seems like he's taking a much needed break away from you! Billy: Then why are you still here! If you think Tawky is avoiding me, then I should be the last person to bother! **Damian didn't mean to come off as rude, he was concerned just didn't know how to express it. And Billy spoke out of defensiveness.

The argument continues to escalate to the point both boys are grappling with each other on the ground. They are interrupted by something pulling Billy away from Damian. Tawky stands over Damian with Billy held in his mouth by the boy's red sweater.

Tawky licks both the boys faces and hands, healing the scratches and bruises that they had inflicted on one another. They sit there on the side walk, it's night and the street is mostly desolate besides a few cars that drive by every now and then. Tawky curls around the two of the, forcing them to sit against one another.

Finally Damian breaks the silence, apologizing for what he said and for following Billy around all day. Billy forgives him and apologizes as well for what he said.

Billy: *slightly turning his head towards Damian* I'm sorry for calling you 'an evil brat', I don't actually think that. Damian: *huffs and continues to look straight ahead at the road* Not like you know me enough to come to that conclusion. Billy: *turning his head more towards Damian now* You don't think your a bad person, do you? 'Cause your not. Damian: *his eyebrows pinch together as he glares at the floor* Of course not, I have more pride than that! *voice becomes slightly softer* It's just that you don't know me enough to believe otherwise. Billy: *leans back into Tawky more, now looking straight ahead as well* I know that Tawny doesn't behave like this with bad people. And I trust his instincts.

Damian doesn't saying anything after that and neither does Billy. They sit their for a while, relaxing against Tawky Tawny's warm, soft body. Eventually a fancy car stops in front of them. Instinctually, Billy grabs Damian's arm and goes to book it. Only to be stopped by Damian who tells him its alright. Hesitantly, Billy lets go of Damian and watch as the window lowers to reveal an old man in a suit and a much younger man wearing much more casual clothes.

Dick: *sticking half his body out the window, with a clearly concerned expression on his face* Dami! Oh my God! We've been looking all over for you bud! What are you doing here? *looks behind Damian and a little boy and giant tiger* . . . actually, never mind. I think I just answered my own question. Damian: *arms crossed and rolling his eyes* Cease your needless worry, I have everything under control. Dick: *eyes hopping from Damian, Billy, and Tawky very quickly* Look, Dami, I'm very happy that your making friends, but let's be more careful. *speaking in a quieter tone* This is cap's terf, and we need to respect that. Damian: Tt' Oh please, I didn't see the walking light bulb at all today. Billy frowns at that, Damian didn't see him because he was stopping Billy from doing his job. Billy's just lucky that nothing really happened, though he is sad he couldn't help his community out more. Billy: You probably didn't seem him cause you were too busy stalking me! Dick: *glares down at his little brother, Alfred can be heard huffing a laugh behind him* Damian! Damian: *face beginning to redden* I was not stalking you! I was looking for Tawny and you just happened to be my best lead! Dick: *groans with his head in his hands* Dami, please, this is not how you make friends. Damian: *face becoming even redder* He is not my friend! Billy: *pouting a bit* hey Alfred: *a small smile on his face* Well Master Damian, would your 'not-friend' like a ride home? Billy: No! Damian: Yes. Billy: *looking at Damian with a shocked face, then back at Alfred* No, it's alright, for real! I have Tawky to walk me home, so I'll be more than fine! Damian: He left. Billy: *turns to look behind him and is met with an empty sidewalk* Goddammit! *looks up to the sky and screams* TRAITOR!

Billy, reluctantly, let's them drop him off in front of Freddy's house. It's gonna take longer for him to walk to his apartment, but it should be able to fool them. As long as Damian doesn't say anything, which he's not willing to bet on.

Finally they drive off and Billy makes his way back to his apartment where he finds Tawky curled up on his mattress. Too tired to even be upset, Billy squishes himself against Tawky's belly and goes to sleep.

[dcmainlybillythoughts]

Silly little sort of crack idea for the Justice League who still don’t know who Batman is behind the mask. Like they know nothing about him. A lot of them think he’s a Creature of some sort. They certainly don’t know anything about Dick/Robin, either. But he keeps leaving meetings early or abruptly or just straight up not showing up because, “I have more important obligations.”

So they spy on him. It’s the obvious solution. Because what if he’s really a villain of some sort? Gotham is crazy, they wouldn’t put it past someone from Gotham to pretend to be a hero for some crazy, convoluted plan.

And what they find shocks all of them. Because maybe they snuck a bug on Batman, and it only picks up audio. Batman had just left a meeting early. Again. With no real explanation as to why.

First, they hear mostly static. The sound of since rustling as he moves. Then actual bat noises start echoing, and Barry is convinced that Batman just turned into a bunch of bats.

But then they hear a a tiny little voice shouting, “B! We’re gonna be late!” followed by the sound of something colliding with Batman.

And then Batman chuckles. It scares the crap out of all of them. They didn’t think Batman could have emotions outside of anger and annoyance.

“I know, chum, I’m sorry.”

“You said your dumb meetings were only supposed to be two hours!”

“They are,” Batman huffs. “Flash likes to chitchat.”

Barry scoffs. What’s wrong with chit chatting!

“We’re gonna be late!” the child’s voice whines. “I don’t wanna get in trouble!”

“Alright, alright,” Batman laughs. “We’re leaving now, let’s go. Do you have all your gear together?”

“It’s already in the car!” the child huffs. “Let’s go!”

The noise that follows is muffled, and they can tell that Batman has changed out of his gear and they’re now in a car, driving in the road. The radio is playing, and it’s causing some static in the feed.

“And you promise you won’t yell this time?” the boy’s voice whines.

“So long as they don’t make any shit calls this time,” Batman scoffs.

“Language, sir,” another voice says, and they hear the child giggling.

Hal asks the others if Batman has a henchman. They all shush him so they can keep listening.

The noise that follows soon after is full of other people talking, shouting, and loudspeaker announcements. Everything is muffled together, it’s hard to make out what exactly is being said. But one thing becomes very clear.

Batman is coaching a little league game.

And he’s getting very heated about it.

“YOU CALL THAT A STRIKE?”

“HE WAS SAFE! THAT WASN’T AN OUT! NO, NO, THIS INNING IS NOT OVER.”

“OH COME ON, HE TAGGED HIM! THAT KID’S OUT!”

“GET YOUR FUCKIN’ EYES CHECKED, BLUE!”

They hear Batman get ejected. From a little league game. They hear grumbling to himself as he watches from the car in the parking lot.

Then they hear the same little boy whining and complaining when the door opens again an hour later and he slumps into the car.

“You promised you wouldn’t yell!”

“I wouldn’t have had to yell if the umpires opened their damn eyes!”

“Language like that is what got you thrown out of the game, sir. Again.”

“It’s only happened twice!”

“It’s only the fifth game of the season!” the little boy whines. “And you promised me ice cream if we won.”

“Did you win?”

“Duh,” the boy scoffs. “9 to 3!”

“Attaboy,” Batman says, and he sounds so proud.

They stop listening then, because one thing has become very clear. Batman is a dad. And he’s constantly leaving meetings early because of obligations to his kid. And suddenly they all feel like assholes.

A couple months later, they’re all introduced to a little boy called Robin. And they can’t figure out how Batman’s son is so cute and sweet. But they absolutely can tell he’s Batman’s, because he’s also scary as shit.

[dcmainlybillythoughts]

The one where Dick has zero concept of how the average person lives

I want a fic where Dick just has absolutely no concept how the average person lives. He went from being raised in a circus to being raised in a manor by a billionaire. His concept of what is expensive and what is totally normal is completely skewed. That whole meme where someone thinks a banana costs $10? He really does think a single banana is $10. He thinks fresh fruit in general is ridiculously expensive; it's a luxury. He just thinks Alfred keeps so much of it in the manor because Bruce is rich. He'll eat a single strawberry and think, "Wow, this is the life."

At the same time, he thinks having expensive suits/clothes is totally normal. His family's circus costumes were some of the most expensive items they owned because it was essential to their act. Similarly, he thinks Bruce spends a fortune on all his suits and clothes for galas and events because it's part of being CEO of Wayne Enterprises. Their Batman and Robin costumes are expensive because it's part of their job. Clothes are super important. Doesn't everyone spend $45 on a plain T-shirt? His Gotham Academy uniform alone is stupid expensive, and that's just for school, every student wears the same thing.

He doesn't think his top of line fancy as hell cell phone is expensive because Bruce gets them through WE. They're basically free. Dick gets a new prototype phone like twice a year. Never mind that Bruce owns WE, that's irrelevant. It's an essential item in this day and age. It can't be that expensive.

So when the young justice team is hanging out at Mount Justice and Wally complains about his phone being old and not working right or not holding a charge the same anymore, Robin barely looks up from his phone and shrugs, saying in a nonchalant tone, "Dude just get a new one then."

"Oh yeah, let me just go get a brand new phone," Wally mocks, scoffing. The sarcasm goes completely over his head.

"B gets me a new phone all time. Just ask your dad, dude."

Everyone stares at him. Even Conner, who somehow knows more about things like this than Dick does. Cadmus psychic education was good for something, apparently.

When Dick looks up, he's confused about why everyone is staring at him.

"What, dude?" he asks, not understanding why Wally is making so many faces at him.

"You are so stupid sometimes," is all Wally says.

"What?" Dick asks again. Then he sits up, a frown on his face. "What's that supposed to mean!"

"It means you have no idea how a normal person lives," Wally jokes.

"That's not true!"

"It's totally true."

"Rob, dude," Wally says slowly, gently, as if Robin is a dumb little child. "Yesterday, you called M'gann outrageous for using raspberries in one of her dessert recipes."

"She used the whole container of them!" Robin defends himself, his voice getting a bit higher. "For a tart she didn't know she'd even like!"

"Robin," Wally says slowly, folding his hands, "how much do you think a box of raspberries costs?"

Robin shakes his head, looking offended.

"I dunno, but it's expensive!"

"But getting multiple new phones a year isn't?" Wally scoffs.

"They're essential!"

"A brand new phone is not essential!"

"It can't cost that much!" Robin argues. "You're so full of shit, Wally, you're just being mean to me!"

"You're literally wearing a designer jacket right now," Wally points out, tugging at Robin's jacket. Robin pulls away from him with an even more dramatic frown.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Robin whines.

"It means you're a snob," Artemis snorts.

"I am not!"

"You have a brand new WayneTech phone that only came out on the market like a month ago," Artemis tells him, "and you're wearing a jacket that's more expensive than one of my textbooks for school."

"It's a book, how expensive can it be?" Robin scrunches his nose up, not understanding the argument she's making. They go to the same school anyway (not that Artemis knows that). It's a textbook. It can't be that expensive. He remembers buying plenty of books with his parents, and his mom always encouraged him to get several at a time. The fact that they were pre-owned and came from a bin had nothing to do with it, obviously. Books are practically free. Artemis is just being annoying.

Artemis just lets out a laugh, shaking her head at him.

"Robbie, dude, my best friend," Wally laughs, sitting down on the couch next to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Who buys your clothes?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Robin whines. When Wally pokes at him and insists he just answer the question, Robin pouts. "Agent A buys them."

"Who goes grocery shopping?"

"Agent A."

"Who pays your school fees?"

"B."

"Who pays for your phone?"

"B."

"Do you actually know how much anything costs?"

Dick blinks behind the dark sunglasses he's wearing, tilting his head at Wally. He looks around and sees how the whole team is staring at him, amusement clear on all their faces, and he frowns at all of them.

"I'm thirteen!" he whines. "I'm not supposed to pay for my own shit! You're all so mean to me!"

He pushes Wally off of him and stomps out of the room, ignoring the way they start laughing and how he hears Artemis mention something about him being spoiled. He's not spoiled. There's no way.

He ends up going back to the batcave, and he finds Bruce sitting at the batcomputer, trying to figure out the link between a recent case and an old one they'd solved months ago. Dick drags his feet the entire way over to him, groaning and whining as he drapes across Bruce's lap dramatically. Bruce just chuckles, patting Dick's back, but letting him have his dramatic moment without interruption. When Dick turns to look at Bruce with a pout on his face, Bruce just raises an eyebrow at him.

"Am I spoiled?"

Bruce chuckles again, a little smile on his face. He pinches one of Dick's cheeks and laughs when Dick whines and swats his hand away.

"Maybe a little bit," Bruce admits. "But it's fine."

"Wally says I have no idea how normal people live."

"That might be true," Bruce says with a shrug, going back to patting Dick's back. "You went from one extreme to the other. But I don't think it's anything to be concerned about."

"The team was being mean to me for it!"

"Meh," Bruce hums, not looking bothered, "fuck 'em then."

Dick snorts, and Bruce looks down to smile at him, then they both look around to make sure Alfred wasn't around to hear Bruce swear. Alfred should still be upstairs preparing dinner. They're in the clear.

"Wally's phone is old and sucks," Dick mutters to Bruce.

"I'll give one to Barry to give him," Bruce says easily.

They're both quiet for a moment, Dick still draped over Bruce's lap, Bruce still looking through old case files. Finally, Dick looks up at Bruce and asks, "B, how much does a banana cost?"

"I dunno," Bruce shrugs. "Ten bucks?"

Dick nods his head. Good, good. They're in agreement. It must be right.

[dcmainlybillythoughts]

Hair gel 😅

I got the idea from twitter 🕺