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"Spoiler, I’ll need you to drop off those samples before you head to the Cave," Oracle says over the private communication channel she opened for Spoiler, Batgirl, and Batman. Tonight, the trio is on a separate mission and Bruce had asked her to open a separate line where they wouldn’t hear the chatter of the rest of the Bats as they patrolled Gotham.
"Sure thing, Mom," Spoiler replies. Bruce is sure Barbara is rolling her eyes at that comment and he knows that she also heard the almost silent giggles coming from Cass.
"Watch it," Barbara warns jokingly. "I don’t know if you’re ready to get on my bad side anytime soon. Besides, if you—"
Before she can finish chastising Steph, Barbara lets out a shriek. Bruce, Steph, and Cass all stop moving, straining to hear what’s going on. Bruce can make out the sounds of Barbara grunting as if trying to move a heavy object. Bruce knows Barbara can defend herself. Despite the struggle he’s hearing over the comms, his immediate concern is in regard to who broke into Oracle’s base, how they got in without her noticing, and if their identities are now compromised.
"Oracle, what’s going on," Bruce growls as he signals to Steph and Cass to keep moving. They need to get to Oracle as quickly as possible.
"Shit, Babs, it’s just me!" Bruce hears a muffled voice say over the comms.
"What the hell, Dick?" Barbara yells, not holding back in her anger. "Why would you sneak up on me like that!"
"Cause I felt like getting beat up?" Bruce can hear his son reply. If he properly interpreted the sounds he heard seconds ago, Barbara managed to flip Dick over her wheelchair after he sneaked up from behind her. He’s probably lying on the floor at her feet. "I thought you knew I was here?"
"Don’t bullshit me, you know my security system announces any arrivals."
"I wanted to see if it was possible to sneak up on you. Are you losing your touch?" Dick admits and Bruce can picture in his head how Dick is probably charmingly grinning at Barbara.
"Are you okay, Oracle?" Batgirl asks through the communication channel.
"Fine, it was just Nightwing being a dick and pulling a Batman on me," Barbara says, reassuring the younger girl.
"It’s not a dick move if it’s funny," Dick says, trying to defend himself. "And what can I say, being able to sneak up on people as effortlessly as Batman can is genetic."
"You’re literally adopted," Barbara growls at him.
"Eh," Dick answers nonchalantly as he takes a seat in one of the nearby chairs.
"Oracle," Bruce says sternly, trying to grab their focus as the two continue to bicker over the comms. "I’m 5 minutes from your base. I’ll deliver the samples; I’m sending Spoiler and Batgirl back to the Cave since they're staying the night to hang out with Red Robin."
"Alright," Barbara agrees, although he can tell she doesn’t seem too pleased about the fact that he’s coming over instead of Steph.
"Tell Nightwing to stay there," he warns. One day he’s going to have an actual heart attack because of his kids.
It’s not lost on him how impressive of a feat sneaking up on Barbara actually is. But he’d never admit it out loud and he isn’t going to encourage this kind of behavior.
As he continues making his way to Oracle's base by way of Gotham’s rooftops, he mentally prepares a list. First things first, he’s going to need to lecture his son about sneaking up on a working Bat, and then he’s going to figure out how Dick disabled Barbara’s security system and get it fixed. And here he thought tonight had actually gone well for once. He could only consider it a punishment for trying to be an optimist like Superman; he just wasn’t cut out for it.
Running into Jason in the Watchtower cafeteria is unexpected. Bruce knows that Jason doesn’t often come to the Watchtower, so his immediate thought process makes him analyze Jason’s body language to see if he’s in any sort of distress. Even if he doesn’t notice anything amiss, he decides it’s best to still talk to Jason and figure out what’s going on.
"Red Hood," he simply says to get Jason’s attention.
Jason lazily turns his head around to look in his direction. He’s currently talking with Green Lantern as they sit at one of the tables in the cafeteria. Jason’s helmet is off, but he’s still wearing his domino mask.
"Batman," Jason replies, not offering any indication as to why he’s here. Bruce doubts Jason trekked it all the way to space to catch up with Hal Jordan.
Bruce isn’t sure if he should pry, even if he wants to know what Jason is doing here since it’s so out of the norm. But he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing and upset him. Jason, of course, immediately picks up on his brief indecisiveness and pounces.
"Don’t worry Old Man, I’m leaving in a few," Jason tells him as he stands up from the chair he was sitting on. He grabs his mug of coffee and walks towards Bruce. "I’m just waiting for Starfire; she was asked to consult for an upcoming mission, and I accompanied her since we had plans for today."
"Hmn," Bruce grunts in response. He’s glad Jason felt comfortable telling him about his plans, but he isn’t going to push it and ask for more details. He doubts Jason and Kory were planning on having a quiet brunch at a restaurant. And if Roy Harper is involved, like he normally tends to be, Bruce doesn’t want to know what the trio's actual plans are.
While talking, Jason had walked towards him and he’s now standing in front of him. He sips his coffee all the while staring Bruce down. As if he was waiting for Bruce to ask more questions.
"Geez, you’re as tall as Batman now," Hal says as he also stands up from the table he was previously sitting at with Jason. "I know we haven’t seen each other in a while, but what the hell is the Bat feeding you?"
"My growth spurt was fueled by a nefarious pit of Mountain Dew and a need for revenge," Jason deadpans as he takes a comically long sip of his coffee.
Bruce rolls his eyes under his cowl at Jason’s dramatics. Although stunning Hal into silence is a bonus and something he’s proud that Jason has accomplished.
"It’s obviously genetic," Jason finally corrects when Hal doesn’t offer a witty remark of his own.
"Even I know that you’re literally adopted. Nobody is allowed to forget which one of you kids is the actual blood son," Hal finally replies, his brain kicking back into gear.
"Eh," Jason says, shrugging his shoulders at Hal’s comment. "Genetics is in the eye of the beholder," he adds before promptly walking away, most likely in search of Starfire.
Bruce watches as Jason leaves, letting his son’s words sink into him. Although poetically confusing, Jason basically admitted that he considers himself Bruce’s son. It’s not something Bruce hears often. He should be mad at Jason for deciding to drop this bombshell-like admission in front of Hal Jordan no less and immediately walking away afterward. But he finds that he doesn’t care that much.
"Anyone ever told you your kids are weird?" Hal says, pulling Bruce out from his thoughts.
Bruce doesn’t dignify that comment with an answer. He simply glares at Hal before walking off towards his original destination.
"The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree," Bruce hears Hal mumble to himself as he’s exiting the cafeteria. He’s not even mad, because it’s probably the nicest thing Hal Jordan has ever said about him.
Despite it being the weekend, Bruce has been locked in his office all morning, surrounded by an enormous pile of documents he needs to look over and sign before Monday morning. He’d much rather be doing anything else at this moment.
As a punishment for his lack of concentration, he realizes with a start that he’s signed the same document twice. He’s unsure if his lawyers will be willing to accept this copy. He’s already making a mental note to ask his secretary to print a new document for him to sign before his meeting on Monday morning.
Bruce knows he needs a break if he’s going to finish reading through the pile of documents without any other mistakes.
He rolls his large leather chair backward and away from the massive mahogany desk. Although given the sheer volume of pieces of paper, one wouldn’t even be able to tell what kind of wood this desk is made of.
Bruce stands up and carefully stretches his shoulders and neck. Maybe he just needs a coffee. Taking a walk to the kitchen to make it himself will wake him up and help him focus on the task at hand.
As he makes his way from the office to the kitchen, Bruce’s ears pick up on the sound of voices. Some of his kids must be hanging out together nearby.
He doesn’t plan on interrupting them, but he can’t help from overhearing their conversation when his name is thrown into the mix.
"Is Bruce still locked up in his office?" Bruce can hear Duke asking someone who’s in the living room with him.
"Yeah, he’s got a bunch of legal stuff to read through," Tim says, answering Duke’s question. "I offered to help, but he turned me down and said the weekend was created to take time off work... What a hypocrite."
Duke and Tim both chuckle at Tim’s last comment.
"You seriously wanted to work during the one rare time you’re not super busy? I thought you had plans with Conner later today?" Duke continues to question. Bruce had now stopped a small way before the entrance to the living room, shamelessly listening to their conversation.
"It wouldn’t have taken as long if I’d helped Bruce," Tim replies and Bruce believes him. But he’s not backing down from his opinion that his kids need to enjoy their teen and young adult years while they can.
"You’re such a workaholic," Duke says, obviously playfully teasing the older boy.
"I’m pretty sure being a workaholic is the first requirement when it comes to being a Wayne."
"Uh, Tim?" Duke says hesitantly. "You’re literally adopted?"
"Eh," Tim replies casually. "So are you, so you’re just calling the kettle black right now."
Duke can’t help himself from laughing. "Touché."
Bruce can hear the sounds of a video game suddenly blasting from the speakers in the living room. The boys must have paused their game to have their small venting session about Bruce’s work methods. Good, he could use this distraction as an opportunity to walk past without being called out for spying, even if it had been (somewhat) unintentional.
As he makes his way to the kitchen, he can’t help but notice a pattern. He suddenly isn’t sure if he likes how alike he and all his children are.
Bruce is sitting at the computer in the Cave, looking over some files Barbara has sent him. It’s an analysis of the samples he had dropped off a couple of nights ago. As always, Barbara’s report is thorough and perfectly organized. She’s also offered her own opinions on how to resolve everything.
He’ll need to finish suiting up soon if he wants to leave for patrol at his regular time. But there’s still one thing he wants to check before heading out for the night. He’ll just have to have a shorter warm-up stretch for tonight.
Cass and Damian, who will be out patrolling Gotham with him tonight, have already been warming up for the past thirty minutes. The two had begun with simple stretches, but not too long after, Bruce heard them start sparring.
Before, he used to worry about those two facing off without any referees, especially since Damian didn’t take well to losing and had a hard time admitting that, despite all his training, Cass was a better fighter than he was. But Damian has matured a lot since coming to live with him. He’s also developed a lot more technical skills. Anytime Batgirl and Robin face-off, it’s an interesting and talented match. But Bruce trusts them to not cross any lines. After all, it’s only supposed to be a warm-up before heading out for patrol.
As he searches his computer for the information he wants to check, he decides to listen to their match, trying to determine what the outcome might be. But to his surprise, they seem to have finished and are now idly chatting while they wait for him to announce their departure.
"Little brother... Can you give me advice?" Cass timidly asks; Bruce has to strain to hear her words.
Damian’s hesitation to respond can only mean he’s been taken by surprise by Cass’s question. But he must have nodded because the young woman has resumed talking.
"How did you convince Bruce... How do you ask to keep animals you find?"
"You found an injured animal?" Damian questions instead of answering Cass’s query. Bruce isn’t surprised that Damian’s first priority is the safety of whichever animal Cass wants to take in.
Cass must have indicated that she did find an animal because Damian doesn’t waste time in launching into a prepared speech.
"You’ll need to make sure you have all the proper supplies and food to take care of the animal—" he starts, but he’s briefly interrupted by Cass.
"A snake," she replies.
"Right, I know a good veterinarian we can visit, a medical examination is always a good precaution," Damian continues. "If you’re worried that Gordon won't want you to keep the snake in her apartment, we shall set it up in secret. Once she sees they’re cared for and loved, she’ll be at a loss to find a legitimate argument as to why you shouldn’t adopt the snake."
"Yes," Cass answers enthusiastically. "Will you help?"
"Tt, of course," Damian replies as if the idea of him offering all the information and advice and then not helping execute the plan was preposterous. "I have had much practice and I’ve never failed."
"Thank you," Cass tells him, grateful to have Damian on her side.
"What kind of snake is it?" Damian asks and Bruce can feel the love for all creatures radiating off his son.
"A big one," she says, clearly unsure of the species. "Abandoned in a sewer. I found it in a small aquarium after fighting Killer Croc last night."
Damian grunts in frustration at the situation Cass is describing. "Probably an uneducated owner that thought having a large snake would be cool without realizing the money, time, space, and resources needed to properly care for such a majestic creature."
"Yes," Cass agrees.
"You’re far better suited to be a guardian to the snake," Damian offers. Bruce recognizes this as his son’s way of complimenting Cass. He clearly trusts her to be able to convince Barbara to let the snake stay with them as well as to be able to help the reptile thrive.
"I want to adopt it," she reassures her younger brother. "Like Bruce? I think it might be a genetic trait," Cass says quietly.
"Tt, only I can claim that as a legitimate excuse. You are adopted," Damian replies briskly.
"Eh," she answers in response.
This isn’t the first time he’s heard his kids say something similar in the past week. How are they all clones of him? Has he been parenting them wrong? Probably, the panicking part of his brain suggests.
Meanwhile, the other part of Bruce’s brain just wants to laugh at this interaction, but he forces himself to continue working. They can’t know he’s been listening in the entire time. And if he warns Barbara that a quote, “large snake,” is coming her way, Damian and Cass will automatically know who sold them out. Instead, he closes the folders he was looking at and stands up from his chair. The sudden movement grabs his kids’ attention; their conversation comes to a close. But Bruce knows it’ll continue later when he’s not there.
"Be ready to leave in five minutes," Bruce declares as he walks off to the locker room to finish getting dressed in his gear. Right now, he needs to focus on patrol and not his unintentional influence on his children.
The pair are sitting in Clark’s small apartment in Metropolis, which is a rare occurrence. Between their normal day jobs and their missions with the League or the time they spend protecting their own cities, Bruce and Clark don’t often get to spend time alone. It’s always easier for Clark to just fly to the Manor, but that offers the possibility of being interrupted by one of the kids.
Their original plan for this particular Sunday afternoon was to laze about and spend time together until Clark cooked them dinner. Bruce would then leave afterward for patrol back in Gotham.
Not that Clark was expecting the afternoon to lead to sex; it’s just normally what happens when they know the chances of being interrupted are slim. So instead, when Bruce audibly sighs in frustration, Clark knows something is wrong and this won’t be a normal afternoon.
"Bruce?" Clark asks, unable to keep the concern out of his voice. Bruce doesn’t usually let Clark know something is wrong; Clark must normally deduce it based on body language and tone.
Bruce doesn’t answer, instead, he sighs again. Clark can tell Bruce is searching for the right words for whatever he’s about to tell Clark. So, Clark gently guides his partner towards the couch, directing Bruce to sit down beside him.
"Do you want to talk about something?" Clark finally asks, deciding Bruce might need the extra hand to get the ball rolling.
"It’s the kids," he simply says, not offering more information just yet. It’s not unusual for Bruce to be at odds with something one of the kids has said or done. But once again, Clark has become somewhat of a professional at picking up on those specific signals. And right now, Bruce doesn’t seem angry at any of them.
"Are they hurt?" Clark asks grasping at straws for what could be wrong.
"No," Bruce says, sighing again. He’s quiet for a while and Clark gives him the time he needs. But suddenly, Bruce’s body tenses as he abruptly stands up from the couch. "Never mind; I’m just being stupid."
"I doubt that very much," Clark tries to reassure the man as he walks towards the small kitchen. "Something is clearly bothering you."
"Have I become a predictable stereotype?"
"I’m not sure how to answer that... Can you be a bit more specific?" Clark says honestly.
"It’s just that my children keep comparing themselves to me and the only traits they’ve mentioned is that I’m a sneaky, tall man who’s a workaholic with an adoption addiction."
Clark takes a moment to absorb what he’s just heard. Bruce also seems like he needs time to collect his thoughts. Even if he willingly confessed, he looks surprised that he actually voiced his concerns.
"Why is it bad that they’re like you? Most parents are happy to have things in common or similar personalities to their kids," Clark presses on. Maybe playing devil’s advocate will help him better understand why Bruce is so panicked.
"They complain all the time how I’m too sneaky, I work too hard and I’m strict, but then they do it and seem proud that they’re like me!"
"I think you’re overthinking and overanalyzing this. You know they love you; it’s all in good fun they’re saying those things," the Kryptonian tries desperately to reassure him. Bruce is in Batman mode when he should just be taking this as a dad who has a large litter of teenagers and young adults who are most likely just messing with him.
Bruce, who has now walked into the kitchen, starts rummaging through the cupboards. He finds two mugs and some tea bags. Another sign Bruce is stressed; he normally drinks coffee. He’s now rummaging for a kettle, an item most Americans don’t have. Which, granted, Clark doesn’t have either, but he has a good excuse. He normally just boils his water with his heat vision.
Clark walks up behind Bruce and reaches past him to grab a saucepan. He fills it with water and hands it to Bruce so he can boil it on the stove. That way, Bruce can still keep himself occupied while he digests everything Clark has just said.
Clark also doesn’t miss the way Bruce judges Clark's tea choice and supplies; it’s clearly not up to his standards. This gets him thinking about where Bruce learned his tea-making habits.
"I thought only Alfred and other British people drank tea in the afternoon?" Clark jokes, trying to diffuse the tension and calm his partner.
"It’s genetic," Bruce says absentmindedly as if he didn't quite hear the joke Clark was making.
It takes a lot of strength for Clark to hold back the comment he’s thinking of. Is Bruce even aware that he’s just done the exact same thing his children have been doing as of late?
But Clark can pass up the chance for a quick jab if it means Bruce can happily declare his love for his father figure.
Instead, Clark just fondly stares at Bruce as he continues to properly prepare the tea.
"What?" Bruce asks as he feels Clark’s gaze lingering on him.
"Nothing, I just love you," the Kryptonian says, offering Bruce a gentle smile.
Bruce’s eyes narrow in suspicion because of the sudden change in topic. But after searching Clark’s body language and analyzing his tone, he puts away his detective skills.
"So do I, Kal," he admits. "Now get over here before your tea gets cold."
Clark chuckles as he makes his way towards Bruce.