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Satisfactory Bonding Activities

Summary:

“Look, Dick and I had no idea how to be brothers either," Jason said, "but we made an effort to spend time together. If you and the demon brat aren’t sure where to start, maybe you can decide on some things to kick start these bonding activities.”

“Like what?”

“Hell if I know. Play twister, do an escape room, take over the world, learn to knit, I don’t care. Just pick something you can both agree will keep you busy for an hour or two and it’ll be fine. Now hand me that Molotov, these guys are going down.”

Notes:

Written in one sitting because apparently I can only write in spurts. Huh.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:



It was a truth universally acknowledged that some siblings were better off as strangers--or at the very least, kept separate by a buffer of other family members, obligations, and possibly different houses altogether. At least, that was Tim’s opinion, but despite being the family’s dedicated Boy Genius nobody listened to him when it mattered. Case in point, the family was adamant that he and Damian learned to get along. 

 

Apparently, multiple murder attempts didn’t mean much when their potential friendship would mark the first time the entire family coexisted without some kind of homicidal revenge scheme in the background. It didn’t matter that neither Damian nor Tim wanted to spend more than ten minutes in a room with each other either. They were now everyone’s pet project, and it sucked. 

 

“Like, I’m not saying that I’m not trying, but B has no clue how hard this is,” Tim complained, hanging one-handed from a telephone pole while Red Hood cleaned his gun on a neighboring roof, “we have nothing in common aside from vigilantism, and we aren’t even allowed to patrol together anymore! It’s like B is trying to make this impossible.”

 

“You’re not allowed to work together in costume because last time the two of you teamed up Gotham lost three piers down at the harbor,” Jason said drily, “I’m a bomb expert and even I don’t know how you managed that with only a couple sticks of dynamite. You two are a nightmare with a common goal. Keeping you two apart on the jobs is for the safety of the entire city.”

 

“The docks had poor infrastructure, it wasn’t even hard,” Tim grumbled, “and it’s not like we always blow stuff up on patrol. That’s our hobby.”

 

Jason grunted in agreement. Red Hood and Red Robin tended to leave ash and shrapnel behind--Jason, because he was “sending a message” or whatever, and Tim because he liked any excuse to make as big an explosion as possible. But that was beside the point.

 

“If I can’t have fun with D at night, what are we supposed to do?” he asked, “how do brothers even work ? Maybe I should just go back to living in the penthouse.”

 

Jason was wearing a full-face helmet, but he still managed to convey rolling his eyes to Red Robin. “Hell Tim, I don’t know, maybe you can start by not bitching about it. I don’t care about your drama, just do whatever you did that made us reconcile after all the times I tried to kill you. It’s not like this is your first time forgiving attempted fratricide.”

 

Tim waved him off. “I forgave Damian ages ago. The problem is that now things are awkward and we have nothing in common. How did you and Dick get used to each other?”

 

“Dick had already moved out when B brought me home in his white van,” Jason said, “I only saw him every other week end, if that. I’m not the best person to ask about this.”

 

“Yeah, but you still got along and had inside jokes and all that. And the Batmobile isn’t a white van, by the way.”

 

“I beg to differ. All B had to do was offer me candy and it would have been the most stereotypical kidnapping known to man,” Jason replied, “and seriously, quit whining. There’s a drug deal about to go off in five minutes on 8th and we still need to get into position. Get your act together.”

 

Tim grumbled as he swung off the telephone pole, landing soundlessly on the ground. His cape fanned out behind him like bird wings, epic and sinister. The costume change was so worth it. Too Bad Jason’s new look was stupid, he could’ve been bird themed as well. Now he was the loser who wore a red paint bucket on his head each night. Lame.

 

They vaulted over rooftops and headed for the Narrows. Tim kept complaining under his breath just to annoy Jason. Finally, the Red Hood sighed long-sufferingly and threw him a bone.

 

“Look, Dick and I had no idea how to be brothers either, but we made an effort to spend time together. If you and the demon brat aren’t sure where to start, maybe you can decide on some things to kick start these bonding activities.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Hell if I know. Play twister, do an escape room, take over the world, learn to knit, I don’t care. Just pick something you can both agree will keep you busy for an hour or two and it’ll be fine. Now hand me that Molotov, these guys are going down.

 

Tim obediently tossed the homemade explosive to his older brother, watching in delight as it was lit and thrown into the center of the drug deal. Bruce had banned high explosives from Tim’s arsenal (he still had some, but B didn’t know where. World’s greatest detective his eye) so he and Jason had to be more creative with what they used on patrol. DIY bombs were pretty awesome though, and Tim was becoming hooked.

 

When the fight got to the point that he was leaping off the roof and snapping people’s collarbones in half, Tim was in his element. Each duck, twist, and spin came as naturally as breathing. The fight wasn’t challenging enough to turn off his brain though, and he gave Jason’s words a lot of thought. A list of activities didn’t sound bad… maybe they could start with that?





A week later, Tim wandered up from the cave for a snack and ran into the demon brat cough Damian in the kitchen while he was drowning marshmallows in a cup of hot chocolate. 

 

“Hey, perfect timing,” he told the kid, “I need you for something.”

 

Damian squinted at him suspiciously, which, rude . Tim was the least suspicious person in the entire house, he’d done nothing to warrant that look whatsoever. 

 

He set down the CVS receipt he’d written his activity list on and pushed it toward the brat. Then the coffee machine finished brewing and Tim flitted over to grab his beverage.

 

“Everyone is being super annoying about forcing us to get along,” Tim said, drinking straight out of the pot, “like, super annoying. I don’t know about you, but Cass and Bruce have been “hinting” that we need to act like a family for days and it’s driving me crazy.”

 

“I understand the need for camaraderie in order to improve our teamwork,” Damian sniffed, poking the list distrustfully, “but I agree it is aggravating to be forced to interact with you more than necessary.”

 

Tim nodded in sympathy. “Agreed, but they’re not giving up. I figured the best we can do is play along for now, and once we give it the old college try they’ll lighten up and we can go back to normal. I compiled a list of things we can do together to stave off the boredom, and if we can agree on two or three of them we’ll be off to a great start getting our lives back.”

 

Damian wrinkled his nose. “How often will I be forced to do these “bonding” activities with you, Drake? I am a busy person, I do not wish to waste my time on things like Parcheesi.”

 

“Apparently, it’s one of Jason’s favorite games, who knew?” Tim shrugged, trying to get the last of the coffee out of the pot. Sigh time to brew another batch. “I’m thinking twice a week for around an hour. We can do it after you get home from school.”

 

“I suppose that isn’t too much of an infringement upon my schedule,” Damian said, “However I refuse to indulge in any of these infantile games or your ridiculous photography obsession. They are beneath me.”

 

“Okay.” Tim hadn’t expected him to. Half of those activities were long shots and space fillers anyway. “What do you want to do then?”

 

“I don’t suppose there is an animal shelter we can assist?”

 

“Nope. I’m allergic to most pets.”

 

“Tt. Then an art class?”

 

“I took an online profiling course once that did portraiture. It wasn’t bad, but I have trouble focusing on art for long. I usually end up talking people’s ears off.”

 

“I do not wish to put up with your insipid words throughout the day,” Damian scowled, “You have ruined many things for me Drake, but art will not be one of them.”

 

Tim wanted to argue that Damian was the one who’d objectively ruined more things for Tim, up to and including personal property, safety, and quality of life. Not to mention Damian’s new Robin uniform was not nearly as classy as his used to be, which was just a crime. Why mess with perfection?

 

But Tim was turning over a new leaf. He was willing to put up with Damian’s abrasive little attitude for now if it meant getting the other Bats to leave them alone. So instead of taking the easy potshot, he shrugged and started another batch of coffee.

 

“That’s fair, but we have to pick something. I’ll settle for even one item we can agree on. Does anything look tempting?”

 

There were a few minutes of silence as Tim watched the water boil and Damian scowled over the list. The house was startlingly quiet. Everyone was either on patrol or in bed aside from them. It made Tim relax, even with the absurd amount of coffee inside him.

 

Finally, when the second brew was done, Damian cleared his throat. Tim wandered over, nursing the coffeepot in his arms like it was an infant. Damian pointed down at the list.

 

“This one appears to be an acceptable bonding activity,” he said imperiously. 

 

Tim glanced at the receipt and blinked. He’d put that one down as a joke (thanks Jason) but if Damian actually wanted to do it…

 

He set the coffee pot down and hummed. “We might need permission for that one, honestly, but I’m down. If we left Bruce know in advance he can’t complain, right?”

 

Damian nodded decisively. “Of course, although I see no reason why he would refuse. It is an admirable goal.”

 

Tim gulped more coffee. Admirable was a strong word, he would have said “challenging” or “fun,” but potato potahto. If they were both down to do it that was good enough for him. 

 

“Sweet, let’s go see what the big Bat thinks then,” he said.

 

“Right now?”

 

“The sooner we just this approved the sooner we can ignore each other again.”

 

“A good point Drake. It seems you do possess the occasional brain cell.”

 

“Haha demon brat, very funny. Come on, I think B is home tonight.”

 

Tim swigged the last of the coffee and put the empty pot down. His brain was buzzing with energy, and Damian’s preferred activity was starting to catch his interest as well. All cylinders were firing as he considered the best way to go about it. He was actually… kind of excited?

 

Damian dragged him up to Bruce’s room, and for the first time Tim considered that this bonding thing might not be too bad, all things considered. 

 

Huh.





Bruce was the best detective in the world, but even he had blind spots. Tonight, the blind spot happened to be a concussion, two broken ribs, and enough painkillers to have him seeing new colors. He wasn’t at his best, and being woken in the middle of the night by two of his sons left him disoriented and confused. 

 

To be fair, if he hadn’t been operating with less than three hours of sleep while on drugs, he probably would have said no to them, but he wasn’t exactly coherent at the time. 

 

“Dami and I have decided to start a project together,” the Tim-shaped shadow near the door said, “you’ve been weird about personal safety and “common sense” since getting lost in time, so we wanted to let you know first in case you had a problem with it.”

 

“Indeed. We will not bring disgrace to our family name, nor receive injury on our quest!” The itty-bitty murder blob in the corner of his eye added proudly.

 

Just seeing his two hallucinated sons together put a smile on Bruce’s face. He’d been so upset when he came back from his time adventure and realized they didn’t get along. Tim and Damian were two of his favorites (right along with Dick and Jason and Steph and Cass and Babs and Alfred and Duke and--) and he wanted them to be able to stay in the same room without trying to kill each other. And it was working! His boys were finally friends!

 

“B, you okay? You’re crying. Should we get Alfred to up the dosage?”

 

“No, I’m fine,” he said. The world was spinning slightly, his eyes stung and it felt like an army of gnomes was excavating his brain, but he was fine. He couldn’t remember being happier actually. “You and Dami have fun with that, okay?”

 

“Wait, you’re agreeing, just like that?”

 

“I trust you, Tim,” he said, closing his eyes. Huh, that made the spinning stop. Awesome.

 

Tim got really quiet, which would have been concerning except that Bruce knew it was his natural state. Tim thought so hard that he forgot the outside world existed, it was an adorable quirk. Damian did it too, even though he refused to admit it. 

 

“Okay… that’s good to know.”

 

“Stop being sentimental Drake, obviously Father holds you in high regard. It is one of his personal failings. Now come, he needs his rest. We can report back to him once we’ve completed our mission.”

 

Wow, Damian was so smart. How did he know Bruce was tired? Maybe he had two genius detectives? He better keep quiet about that. Ra’s would be so jealous if he found out.

 

The little Damian-blob grabbed the Tim-shadow and started pulling him out of the room. 

 

“Oh, right. See you later B,” Tim said, “feel better.”

 

“We will do the family name proud and take over the world in your honor,” Damian said, “you have our vow!”

 

“I love you too Dami, Tim,” Bruce slurred, waving absently, “have fun.”

 

The door clicked shut and his hallucinated sons vanished. Bruce fell back against his pillows and sighed. He liked seeing them together, maybe he could get them to come back? If only real-Tim and real-Damian were so willing to hang out, his life would be a lot less stressful. They could have activities too! Yeah, just like the fake ones who were…. Um… what had they said they were doing again? Well, it couldn’t have been important.

 

He mentally shrugged and went back to basking in the possibility that all his sons would finally stop trying to kill one another. It was a great dream to have and the drugs only made it better. He fell asleep with a smile on his face and had no idea the monster he’d just unleashed on the world.





There was a reason Tim and Damian were banned from working together on patrol. It was simple; both of them were extremely competent but lacked any sense of proportion. Individually, their refusal to back down or compromise could be managed--Tim’s plans were always complicated and morally gray, but he’d alter them upon request, and Damian’s ruthlessness in combat could be countered with a teammate there to stop him from maiming anyone too badly.

 

Tim wasn’t allowed to be that teammate because surprisingly, for a genius, he had no idea what constituted an appropriate response to any given crime. Jason had been prone to breaking bones when he felt like people deserved it, but Tim… well, Tim was the kid who stalked Batman for years to get pictures, tried to create a blood transfusion made of coffee, and kept a “worst injury” scoreboard in his room he was trying to best without actually dying. (it was hard to top the spleen, but he was determined to try). Tim was a weird kid at best, and a messed up one on average. He was not the person one asked to stop a baby assassin from cutting someone’s hand off, because Tim’s priority was always how to complete the mission in the most efficient way possible. Without someone to act as his moral compass, this meant he started making villain-level plots very quickly, with all the gleefulness of a Gotham Rogue.

 

(there was a Reddit thread compiling Red Robin’s villain moments that all the other Bats occasionally looked at, because it was validating to know that they weren’t the only ones to realize that if Tim had had a slightly different childhood obsession he’d fit right in with E Nygma and the other rogues.)

 

All this is to say that when Damian had a bad idea, Tim was right along with him giving the thumbs up and enabling him. Likewise, when Tim wanted to do something morally bankrupt Damian saw no reason not to help.

 

The exploded harbor, several million dollars of property damage, and the emotional trauma of the entire household during their last caper meant there was now a strict separation policy in place so such things never happened again.

 

If the Waynes had been more observant, they would have realized that Tim and Damian’s ambivalence toward each other in civilian form was the only thing keeping them safe from even worse incidents. But hindsight was 20/20…





Their first hint that something had changed was that Damian and Tim were talking now. Not often, but sometimes they’d open a private comm line during patrol to say random stuff to each other (Babs said it was in the league dialect so she had no idea what) or be found loitering in the halls together before dinner scribbling notes on napkins.

 

Jason was suspicious at first, but when Tim said it was their “bonding time” he backed off. It seemed the baby birds had taken his list thing seriously, which was… flattering but creepy. How the hell did Bruce always manage to find the most poorly socialized children for his brood? Their “bonding time” seemed to be sitting around in dark hallways whispering creepily to each other for hours, or speaking that weird league dialect on patrol (Jason refused to listen in, too many bad memories), and hissing at anyone who came too close. This. This was why Jason moved out and started bombing drug cartels. He hated being the normal one here.



 

Dick was ecstatic when Dami told him he and Tim were working on a project together. In Dami-speak that meant they were basically best friends (right?). Now, none of his brothers were trying to kill each other like human-shaped cuckoo birds. It was enough for him to wipe a proud tear from his eye and call Kori to brag.

 

His ex was a little confused about the fact that his family was usually homicidal, but he told her it was perfectly normal for them.

 

“None of the TVs shows I’ve seen have had that be an acceptable family dynamic,” she said slowly, “are you sure, Dick?”

 

“Of course. You can’t believe everything you see on TV Kori,” he tutted, “I’ll admit it hasn’t been an ideal situation, but all those hard feelings are going away! There haven’t been any knife fights in a week. They’re maturing so much and I couldn’t be happier.”

 

“Riiiight.” 

 

She still didn’t sound convinced, but Dick was the resident human here, which meant he pulled rank. He called all his other teammates to brag as well, gushing about his adorable little brothers. He was so happy they were finally getting along that he literally didn’t question why they were suddenly so friendly with each other.

 



Babs had questions though. Mostly about the weird paper trails on Damian’s accounts. Offshore stuff in the middle east, mostly, along with donations to companies that didn’t exist for programs that were complete fiction. 

 

“I think he’s doing something shady, B,” she said, “we’ll have to keep an eye on him.”

 

“I’ll put Tim on it. He’s an expert in white-collar crime, he’ll know how to trace these things,” Bruce said, “hopefully Damian isn’t being scammed or anything.”

 

Barbara pursed her lips, a little annoyed. She was the best hacker in the group, but Bruce was right. She was better at breaking walls and hacking cameras. Tim was better with deductive reasoning and knowing what money movements meant in the big picture. Still, getting this handed off was annoying because the genius was good enough at computer stuff to cover his trails, which she’d be cut out of the investigation completely.

 

She waited two weeks for him to get back to her, but all she got was a text saying it “wasn’t a big deal, chill out. Let him life his life.” Which, first of all, meant nothing, and secondly was annoying. Dumb kid and his horrible communication skills. 

 

She hacked into his computer in revenge, but all she found was 9 GB of files in Arabic that she couldn’t translate. Tim had used that stupid league dialect to get around her software again, and all she got out of it was a string of nonsense. 

 

…It was the same dialect that Damian spoke fluently and wrote his journals in. It was also used in the locations some of those offshore accounts were held.

 

Barbara sipped her coffee and debated how involved she wanted to get. If it was Damian and Tim working together she had a duty to interfere foe sanity of the world… but so far she only had speculation and gut instinct. Even accounting for the fact that neither had ever failed her in the past, it was still enough for plausible deniability. If she stopped here, she wouldn’t be responsible for anything else that happened down the road.

 

She nodded to herself and deleted the evidence she’d accumulated from Tim’s PC. She didn’t become the world’s best hacker by sticking her nose into places it didn’t belong… OK, she did, but that didn’t make her stupid. She wasn’t paid nearly enough to deal with Tim and Damian again. Not in this lifetime.





Duke yawned as he stumbled down the hall, blinking sleep from his eyes. It was 5 AM and duty called, but it was taking all his energy to drag himself to the kitchen for wake-up juice. Even though he was a morning person, it didn’t mean he was instantly energized every morning (last night’s Smash tournament had gone later than he’d expected). He was tired enough that he almost wished he was with the night crew just so he could go back to bed.

 

“--don’t see why we can’t just kill them,” a haughty, imperious voice hissed, making Duke pause.

 

“We’ve been through his Damian, we can’t create a power vacuum. That’s literally the main reason half these groups fail--they assume that power comes from the absence of opponents rather than the leverage of existing ones.”

 

Duke peered through the library’s door and saw Tim and Damian sitting by the fireplace. The logs had burned down to cinders and there were scattered papers written in their funky little code scattered everywhere. Tim was surrounded by a circle of empty coffee pots like some modern version of a fairy circle, and Damian was doodling on his tablet while wearing silk PJs.

 

“Blackmail isn’t going to work for everybody. At some point, we’ll have to take drastic measures,” the eleven-year-old said, “it is only logical to cull the seeds of rebellion before they are sown.”

 

“Pesticide, got it,” Tim muttered, jotting that down on a pi chart, “we’ll put that in our contingency folder.”

 

“No, fool, put it in the active plan file! We need to incorporate it now in order for it to be effective.”

 

“But pesticide isn’t for people, it’s for plants…”

 

“Tt, you’ve had too much caffeine, it is inhibiting your abilities. We will reconvene after you’ve had an acceptable nap. You will remember what metaphors are by then.”

 

“No, I’m fine--Dami!”

 

Duke backed away from the doors as both boys started wrestling over a coffee pot. It was mostly dregs, but that didn’t stop Tim from trying to chug it. Damian made a disgusting sound, then went for his practice sword. 

 

It didn’t have a sharp edge, Tim would be fine. And Duke really, really didn’t want to know what they’d been talking about.

 

He was on the day shift. Not his circus, not his monkeys. Bruce could deal with this. 





Tim crawled into the upstairs bathroom’s air vent and wriggled his way into the attic, completely silent and deadly, aside from the occasional sneeze. Once he arrived at the rendezvous he set up his laptop and paper files, blowing into a tissue to get the dust in his lungs out. Damian appeared minutes later, looking smug.

 

“You know, we literally live here, we don’t have to meet in places like this,” Tim said.

 

“And risk being observed again? A true warrior knows how to plan for failure. Here nobody will eavesdrop on us. We have the advantage.”

 

Time nudged the stack of magazines by his hip. “Yeah, and about thirty years worth of Better Homes and Gardens. I don’t think Alfred’s been up here since Bruce still had parents.”

 

“The magazines will make excellent kindling should we need to burn evidence.”

 

Tim smiled. “Okay, you’re speaking my language. That sounds fun. Robin, report.”

 

Damian coughed and steepled his fingers like a crooked businessman before he began listing all the blackmail the two of them had gathered over the school year. Tim had realized early on that taking over the world was a job best done by delegating, so in true Drake fashion, he’d gone about doing that in the most underhanded way possible. 

 

Some people were too powerful to blackmail right off the bat (Lex Luthor wasn’t someone Tim wanted to cross without allies, for example) but after years of crime fighting, Tim knew which buttons to press. The people he could influence had grudges against people like Lex, which meant there was a built-in safety net for when those clashes happened. With Damian’s latest report, phase one was already complete. If they played their cards right, they’d have the underworld in their pockets by the end of the month--maybe faster, if they got lucky. 

 

“I still don’t see why we’re leaving the Justice League out of this,” Damian said, “Hal Jordan would be pathetically easy to bend to our will, along with that Fish Man from Atlantis. Would it not be smarter to make them into our pawns as well?”

 

Tim grabbed some fruit snacks out of his back and handed them to Damian, then grabbed a granola bar for himself. They munched on their respective snacks for a moment, then he answered.

 

“The Justice League isn’t really important,” he said, “they operate on a galactic scale and keep the worst threats from us. If we got rid of them we'd have to worry about people like Darkseid showing up. Plus, statistics have shown that villains who challenge them lose, like, pretty much all the time.”

 

“I am sure we are up for the challenge. After all, Father bested them without lifting a finger. If one has the right plan it would be child’s play to make them ours.”

 

Tim hummed in agreement. B’s contingencies were a legend in the JLA. After the first scare where everyone had nearly been murdered by them, they were under much better lock and key, but Tim could probably access them. Hell, if he wanted he could probably make his own. But that brought up the next problem with tackling them.

 

“The JLA is Bruce’s thing,” he told Damian, “I know he’s like, super invested in us, but he literally has to go to space and fight aliens to get a break from family drama. He probably wouldn’t be happy if we messed with his friend group.”

 

Damian popped another yellow fruit snack into his mouth. Seriously, what was wrong with this kid? Who liked the yellow ones? “Father considers them friends?”

 

Tim shrugged, drawing a decapitated version of Ra’s in the margins of his notes. “He spends twenty hours a week with them going over protocol and updating their software. Last month he even gave a safety inspection on Wonder Woman’s jet and did a debriefing on electrical usage in the watchtower.”

 

Damian crumpled the fruit snack wrapper, looking mortified. “He never gives me lectures on optimizing utilities, this is outrageous! It’s unfair!”

 

“I know! Thank you for understanding,” Tim said, “I haven’t gotten a PowerPoint lecture from him since the Scarecrow incident in January, but The JLA’s gotten at least three. He’s basically adopted them as siblings.”

 

Damian furiously scribbled a mustache on Gold Booster’s mugshot. Tim added a monocle to it in solidarity. Oh to be a child realizing his parent had actual friends for the first time. It was a distressing right of passage to adulthood, and one Tim still hadn’t recovered from. How dare Bruce have a life outside of them, it was so annoying.

 

Damian huffed and settled back, looking maliciously pleased with defacing the other heroes’ photos. (Tim thought the additions were actually quite tasteful, especially the “Loser 4 life” sign on Green Lanterns’ shirt. Very apropos). 

 

“I suppose if Father is so attached to these so-called heroes we can at least respect his wishes not to interfere with their little games,” Damian said spitefully, “however I want it noted that it is ridiculous he would ever think he needs to separate himself from us for a break. Even you are much less annoying than the Justice League.”

 

Time blinked, then grinned. “Aw, thanks Dami. You’re pretty awesome yourself.”

 

“I am aware, Drake.”

 

He handed the kid another pack of fruit snacks. Damian plucked them from his hand like a king accepting an offering from a lesser being. Tim sniggered despite himself. He’d have been so annoyed with the comparison a few months ago, but now he just found it cute. It was like the opposite of “distance makes the heart grow fonder.” Was this how Dick ended up twisted around Dami’s finger? He had to be careful that didn’t happen to him (or was it already too late?... Nah).

 

They got back to work planning phase two of their plan, occasionally griping about B’s bromance with Superman as they ate more snacks. 

 

It was, as Dami put it later, a satisfactory bonding activity.





Cassandra got back from Hong Kong in July. Gotham was miserably hot, but it had nothing on her previous location, so she wore a black turtleneck off the plane to show the sun who was boss.

 

She knew something had changed the moment she stepped back into the manor. It was nothing visible, but the air tasted like excitement and camaraderie. Given that the manor usually felt like secrets, regret, and anger it was a startling difference. One Cass approved of.

 

Bruce took her to lunch when he came downstairs and saw her, and Dick started spamming her messages with emojis. Jason even sent her a ballet video that he said reminded him of her, which was sweet. There were already plans for a family outing later in the week.

 

Tim didn’t message her though. That was not normal.

 

Cass poked Bruce and showed him the empty message box until he chuckled fondly. “Today is a Brother-Day. He and Damian have a strict, twice-a-week schedule they follow. We’re not allowed to bother them with whatever they’re doing.”

 

Cass raised her eyebrows. She could not picture an activity the two should share that wouldn’t result in the family forcing them to stop. She signed her curiosity, wondering just what they got up to.

 

Bruce furrowed his brow, looking puzzled. “You know, I don’t think they’ve ever said… but I could have sworn… hmm, I’ll need to ask again.”

 

Then he smiled and shrugged. “I’m just happy they’re finally getting along. They’re always together now. Dick is even getting jealous.”

 

Damian was favoring Tim over his favorite sibling? Cass was the best at reading a room in this entire family, but she still had to be in the room to know what was going on. She really, really wanted to see how Tim and Damian acted around each other now. 

 

After lunch, she snuck back into the manor and looked for them, keeping her ears pricked for their distinctive voices. It took longer than she’d expected, but after twenty minutes she found their lair. 

 

And it was a lair, just like the Batcave was. At least, unlike Bruce, these two seemed to embrace that instead of using silly words like “headquarters” and “home base” to hide what its true nature.

 

There were maps hung on the attic walls covered in pins, and papers and photos taped up like something from a detective show. There were no computers except Tim’s laptop, which both boys were hunched over watching a cat video. There was also a chalkboard that said “DAYS WITHOUT CAUSING AN INTERNATIONAL INCIDENT: 2” which made her really curious.

 

“I’m telling you, it’ll work,” Tim said, “I did the math, Deathstroke will totally go along with it as long as we point him in the right direction.”

 

“I still think it’s foolish not to have him kill for us. Surely Father wouldn’t disagree with it since we wouldn’t be the ones breaking the rule,” Damian countered.

 

Tim shook his head. “I tried that, he doesn’t go for it. Totally unfair, right?”

 

Damian huffed in agreement and the two muttered something unflattering in a language Cass didn’t know. She peeked down from the rafters to get a better look at Tim’s computer screen and felt her curiosity switch to interest. 

 

Whatever her brothers were doing, it looked complicated, but if Tim was there it meant he would be a shield against the boring numbers and data entry. He liked that part of detective work, which is why everyone handed him extra projects that were really just the things they were all too lazy to do, so the boringness wasn’t an issue. Because whatever this was, it also looked fun , and Cass loved games. 

 

She hopped down from her perch and tapped Tim’s shoulder. He yelled and flailed back, knocking a can of soda out of Damian’s hand. It fell onto the computer and made the screen fizz and short out.

 

“No, my other half!” Tim cried, “Cass, why--”

 

“How dare you invade our secret lair!” Damian said, pulling out his sword, “I demand you leave at once, Cain, this is classified!”

 

“No,” she said, “now is Cass-ified. Want in.”

 

Tim and Damian glanced at one another, looking reluctant. Cass switched back to ASL, since that was easier for her. 

 

B says you two have fun now. I also want fun. Let me help. Honorary member of secret club.

 

“This is no club,” Damian said scathingly, “Timothy and I are taking over the world to appease Father’s absurd standards for brotherhood. If you are to be a part of this operation you will cease calling us such childish things at once.”

 

Cass signed “11” at Damian, keeping a straight face.

 

“Age has nothing to do with competency. Isn’t that right, Drake?” Damian countered.

 

“Uh, right.” Tim looked too shocked that Damian had accidentally used his first name to be processing anything else. Cass poked him on the forehead and he didn’t even flinch. It was funny, so she did it again.

 

“Tt, useless,” Damian muttered, turning away from Tim and back to Cass, “This is our project. You will merely be our assistant, understand? If the others found out you were aiding us it could throw the validity of our bonding into question. There must be no doubt in their minds that we have “hung out” like they wanted, otherwise they will force us to continue this farce with a new activity. Understand, Cain?”

 

She did and nodded good-humoredly. Damian was being very serious, but she’d seen how comfortable he was with Tim now. They were having a blast scheming together and if they wanted to keep it between themselves that was fine. After all, Cass did not like to scheme. She liked to do , and those were mutually exclusive activities as far as she was concerned.

 

You plan, I help. Assistant. Teamwork. Have fun. She signed.

 

Damian’s shoulders relaxed infinitesimally before he huffed and whacked Tim on the shoulder. “Drake, pay attention. We have gained a useful ally.”

 

Tim restarted like one of his computers, and put his game face on. “Right. Thank you Cass. You’re now one of us. But don’t tell Dick or Jason, they’ll be insufferable.”

 

“Todd insists he is the family’s “bomb guy” but he refuses to even use interesting explosives,” Damian grumbled, “And Grayson won’t allow me to aim for arteries on patrol any more. They are boring adults.”

 

Tim looked ready to melt at the unspoken implication that he wasn’t boring. Cass squeezed herself between them and poked the broken computer.

 

Now what? She asked.

 

“Oh, right,” Tim said, “Hey Cass, how do you feel about going undercover and taking over a few crime rings?”

 

Oh, she knew this was going to be fun.





It was a beautiful, crisp fall evening. Mist rolled in off Gotham harbor, glowing pearly white in the streetlights. If one ignored the weird rainbow-tinted fumes and the smell of gasoline in the air, it would have been idyllic.

 

Three gunshots rang out, and Batman’s gravelly voice hissed over the comms as he pummeled two human traffickers into the ground. Sirens wailed in the distance as the disturbance was called in and feet pounded as the remaining traffickers ran to their docked ship--which, if all had gone according to plan, should now have sprung a leak and been deemed unseaworthy. 

 

Yup, all in all, a beautiful night. Dick was glad he’d taken the time to visit.

 

He and Jason sat on a roof overlooking the harbor. Both were in uniform, but taking a breather from the action. B didn’t need them for such an easy job, so they were halfway through a game of slapjack when their comms activated.

 

“Was anybody going to tell me Tim and Damian were making a creep murder cult or was I just supposed to find out myself?” A familiar voice demanded.

 

Nightwing and Jason looked at each other, then turned back to their game.

 

“Spoiler, what are you talking about?” Dick said, “when did you get back from school?”

 

“Yesterday, but that’s not important. I repeat my earlier statement; Creepy. Murder. Cult,” Steph said. The sound of explosions echoed in the background.

 

Jason smacked his hand down on the deck of cards, crowing as Dick was cheated out of his points. Nightwing pouted at his brother. Siblings were savage.

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dick told Steph as he reshuffled the deck, “They aren’t even patrolling tonight. Damian had homework and Tim is at that gala.”

 

Poor Tim, taking one for the team. Dick mentally saluted his younger brother for going to so many functions for them. Fighting crime was literally less stressful than high society parties.

 

Jason looked up at Dick in confusion, “Damian doesn’t have homework, I helped him with it earlier. His evening should be clear.”

 

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Steph said over the comms, “he and Tim and up to something. I came home to steal some snacks and the demon brat was painting a pentagram on the floor. He said it was just for an art project, but he had a discord chat open with this weird conspiracy theorist group that was giving him advice--and it was Tim’s laptop he was using. Tim never gives people access to his tech. Something is up!”

 

Dick’s brotherly alarm bells chose that moment to wail like the sirens below. He dropped the playing cards and upped the volume in his comm, shooting Jason a worried look.

 

“Was he in uniform?” he asked.

 

“What does that--”

 

“Please Steph, think closely. Was there any sign that Damian was gearing up to go out with his sword?”

 

“No, that’s why I left. He was freaking me out and when I texted Tim he was just like “lol no biggie just chill” and that has me worried for many reasons--I needed to feel safe, so I’m beating up some thugs right now.”

 

While she babbled Dick pulled up footage from the gala. Tim was still there, shmoozing with what looked like an arms dealer in fluent Tagalog. He was dressed to the nines and looked utterly relaxed. 

 

Footage in the manor showed Damian playing with Alfred the cat net to a circle made of what Dick hoped was red paint. A few books on the occult were littered nearby, but even from the camera Dick could tell they were the kind people bought as joke gifts from Barnes and Nobles. 

 

The alarm bells quieted and his tension deflated. Phew.

 

“Looks like this was just him being a creepy kid,” Jason said casually, looking over Dick’s shoulder at the screen. “He must have been really bored to crack open the occult though.”

 

“Yeah, Dami’s more of a sword and steel guy, not mystic arts,” Dick said, “maybe it was just for an art program?”

 

The comm crackled for a second. Steph sounded dry as the Sahara when she spoke. “You guys honestly think this is normal?”

 

“Well yeah,” Dick said. Jason nodded along with him, “Listen Steph, you’ve been away for nearly two semesters, so your Wayne-weirdness-meter might have re-calibrated. No biggie, but since Dami isn’t in uniform I don’t think you have to worry about him. He’s gotten much better at pulling of the normal civilian look lately.”

 

He literally drew a pentagram on the floor in blood.

 

“Yes, but nothing got summoned or exploded, so I think this still counts as a win,” Dick said brightly. “I’ll let B know about this. Dami might get a lecture on appropriate materials to use, but we have to be positive about this.”

 

“Yeah,” Jason said, “for instance, Tim isn’t involved.”

 

“What does Tim have to do with anything?” Dick asked.

 

“Whenever Damian does something weird, it’s because Tim eggs him on or says it’s normal,” Jason said, “they’re as thick as thieves these days. It’s creepy.”

 

Dick frowned. His little brothers being close wasn’t creepy , it was adorable. Jason was so weird.

 

“Are we forgetting that Damian was using Tim’s laptop? Because that’s a red flag for me, but whatever,” Steph said, “I just spotted Clayface, so I’ll comm you guys later. But I’m still convinced Damian is making a murder cult. It’s like, in his blood. This is why I left to go to college. Someone has to be the normal one here.”

 

Beside him, Jason started coughing loudly. Dick patted him on the back and kept frowning. They were all plenty normal, thank you very much.



 

At the gala, Tim casually opened his phone and texted Damian.

 

Y was Steph calling U a cultist?”

 

Damian’s reply was immediate.

 

“Cease using such vulgar misspellings Drake, you’re a disgrace to the English language. Steph chose an inconvenient time to rob our family of its victuals and stumbled upon me while I summoned the demon you wished to enslave. Rest assured I succeeded in our mission despite her interference. Rabbabghamom is now our loyal servant and will plant the evidence in Bangladesh as per your request. Now continue increasing your influence among the masses while I give Alfred the Cat a bath. Phase 3 will begin soon.”

 

Tim rolled his eyes. “ U n33d 2 litn up. No more robot talk.”

 

The only one speaking like a machine is you, Drake. I am appalled to know you.

 

Tim sent him a meme of Spongebob laughing then locked his phone. He was going to have to tell Steph there was no cult (that had been one of their alternate plans, but personal experience with freaky cult leaders *cough Ra’s* left both he and Damian aware of the challenges that route faced, and frankly it seemed like a pain. Blackmail was so much less hassle.)

 

A few hours later he opened his phone and saw that Steph had called Cass, who’d texted him a laughing face next to a picture of Red Robin biffing it on the pavement captioned “hail glorious leader.” 

 

He snorted and sent a cat meme back, then asked how her mission was doing.

 

Cass sent back a picture of herself giving a thumbs-up. Behind her was an actual murder cult in Russia, where she was now overlord.

 

Did u just… steal my title?” he asked.

 

Cass texted back a sunglasses emoji. “ Call me leader now. Ruler over you all. Will change the world.

 

…She probably could, if she wanted to, to be honest. Tim was a smart man, he knew when to bow to a higher power.

 

Hail leader, ” he sent, then turned off his phone.





“Pennyworth, I demand this ridiculousness cease at once!” Damian shouted, “I refuse to attend such a baseless institution, it is beneath my abilities!”

 

Alfred continued to push Damian down the hall, using his trademark disappointment to force the boy along. The young master had finally gotten dressed and his Gotham Academy uniform was perfect, but at the rate he was attempting to flee it wouldn’t be long before it was covered in wrinkles.

 

“I am sorry to hear that you are disgruntled, Master Damian, but I must remind you--” for the twentieth time, “--that basic education is a requirement for all young minds regardless of their preferences. Do proceed with dignity.”

 

“There is nothing dignified about school ,” Damian snapped, trying to duck under Alfred’s arm again.

 

The butler grabbed him by the collar and began hauling him to the door. Experience with many children attempting to escape their compulsory education taught him not to show weakness or distress because they would be taken advantage of immediately.

 

Damian clawed as his buttons to wriggled out of his jacket, but Alfred pinned him with a withering glare until he stopped. Instead, he dragged his feet and muttered phrases in Arabic that would delight Jason and horrify Dick. 

 

“I demand to be released at once! I am the son of the Bat, Heir to the Demon’s Head, Keeper of the Scarlet Keys of the Abyss, co-conqueror of the Black Pearl Dynasty, and destroyer of Agammana! I have allies in three different galaxies, millions of allies, and have seen wonders you cannot conceive! Let me go Pennyworth-- Pennyworth!”

 

Alfred got the boy into the car and child locked the doors. Damian scowled from within, banging his fists on the glass and shouting. Alfred took a moment to catch his breath before returning to the house to fetch the boy’s bag, then braced himself for the ride to school. Damian usually calmed down once they were on the road, but no doubt he’d still be glaring at the butler until they reached the Academy. He was easily the second most stubborn child in this house when it came to attending school (bested only by Master Bruce when he’d been twelve). 

 

“I am the ruler of three quarters of the earth,” Damian told him when Alfred settled into the driver’s seat, “when I have control over all of it I am banning elementary school in every country! I will destroy it Pennyworth, just like I destroyed Agammana, the Creator of Chaos.”

 

“Very good Master Damian, that sounds like a worthy endeavor. However, it does not change the reality that you must attend school today,” he said calmly, turning onto the main road.

 

Damian hunched his shoulders and muttered something that sounded like “Tim would back me on this.” A first-name basis was a marked improvement in their relationship, and the slip cheered Alfred up immensely, although other details were starting to form an unfortunate picture in his mind. 

 

Damian had attended a conference with young Timothy the other weekend in California where they’d played a game titled “Black Pearl,” of which master Cassandra was particularly fond. Other instances over the summer were also taking on new context, such as the conspicuous dark spot in the sky where a galaxy used to be before a certain Chaos Creator had devoured it before being sucked into a dimensional portal. (Tim had been working on a dimensional gun for some time, perhaps he finally succeeded?)

 

Apparently, master Damian’s brotherly adventures with Tim were more in line with their nightly activities than they let on. That was concerning for many reasons, the biggest being that they were doing an exceptional job hiding it… aside from not hiding it at all, really. 

 

Well, Alfred didn’t particularly care what the young masters got up to in their free time, so long as they did their civilian duties responsibly. After all, he was the man that allowed his employer to run around the streets dressed as a bat, he was hardly someone qualified to put a stop to anything master Tim and Damian were working on. He was a butler, for pity’s sake, not a miracle worker.





Christmas was an important time for Bruce. Not because he was religious, but because he and many other families got free vacation time during that week, which meant he could spent countless hours with his family enjoying the idyllic life of a single father watching his precious children grow up safe and happy.

 

At least, that’s how his Christmas vacation was supposed to go when there weren’t emergency JLA meetings to attend. He was hunched at the head of the table, so broody even he was aware of the dark aura around himself. When he got like this at home Duke would comment that he literally sucked in light like a black hole, but Duke wasn’t here now. Bruce was surrounded by other children now, but instead of his precious kiddos it was the adults he was allegedly in charge of.

 

Children. All of them. Not a brain cell to be found except in Diana’s head. 

 

“--and they’ve been making headway all year. We didn’t notice until it was too late. I’m called in a threat level red for this one,” Superman said seriously, “Barry, tell me what you’ve been able to glean?”

 

The Flash started talking about some sort of mafia in California, but Bruce wasn’t paying attention. He’d just gotten a text from Cass and that took priority over the end of the world. 

 

Present for you coming soon! She’d said.

 

Bruce felt like his heart was actually going to burst from the sweetness of it all. And also from sadness and rage, because Cass was at home and he wanted to see her before she vanished into the woodwork again, but this meeting was in the way.

 

“All of my villains are being blackmailed, bribed, or coerced into submission by this group,” Barry continued, “it’s terrifying, I have no idea how they even got this dirt on them.”

 

“Do we have a name for this organization?” Superman asked.

 

“Not really,” Ollie said, “I’ve been looking into it too and it’s almost impossible to track. The only solid lead we got is a cult that answers to “Los Grandes.” That title has appeared in a few other places, so likely it’s the same people, but it’s more of a coined term than their own name. Whoever this is is very careful to cover their tracks.”

 

“Just what we need, a careful villain,” Diana scowled.

 

Bruce scowled right along with her. Somehow these people had gotten past his surveillance and created the foundation for something truly competent. Worse than that though, was that a case like this would eat up the majority of his time at home. He was supposed to teach Damian how to waltz for his schools dance, and who would do that now? who?

 

“We need a plan of action,” Superman said, “a way to find out more about these people. I hate to say it, but recon isn’t one of my skills. Bruce, any thoughts?”

 

Bruce internally groaned but stood. So it began… hopefully he’d at least be able to zeta home before New Years. Cass was only going to stay in Gotham for so long. 

 

“Of course, Superman. As you know, we have several contingencies for situations such as these. I propose we visit volume three, situation 17 on page--”

 

He was cut off by a call from the Batcave. It appeared on the main wall’s projector, beeping sporadically. Nobody was to use that signal for a very good reason--Bruce insisted that if it was a non-emergency the kids were to call his personal number instead of the whole league. Something must be going wrong.

 

Bruce didn’t hesitate to answer the call, worry eating away at him. The league’s faces were also stiff, no doubt realizing that whatever would cause the famously reclusive bats to communicate openly had to be important.

 

The connection stabilized immediately, and Bruce breathed a sigh of relief. Instead of bloody, broken bodies and tears, his two youngest sons were sitting at the Bat Computer in their civvies. They’d made a half-baked attempt to cover their faces with spare dominoes, but little else. Both jumped up when they saw the league on the other end. Tim outright grinned and Damian pursed his lips happily. 

 

“Boys, what is going on?” Bruce asked. He was more relaxed but still worried. “Are you alright? Is everyone safe? Nothing is on fire, is it?”

 

“Nice to see you too, dad,” Tim said, rolling his eyes, “everything is fine. How’s space?”

 

“If there is an emergency, I need to know now,” he said again, “if Agent A is angry at you then I can’t help you, however. Best of luck.”

 

“Agent A has no idea we’re down here,” Damian said, stepping forward, “we used our training to remain undetected.”

 

“Also Cass is upstairs causing a diversion,” Tim added.

 

Okay, if Cass was there things were either fine or going really really badly. Good to know. 

 

“Our preparations are finally complete, necessitating our need to inform you of our success,” Damian said, “the timing could not be more perfect, of course, but we aspire to perfection daily so it should not be a surprise.”

 

“Uh huh,” Bruce said. 

 

The rest of the league was looking bored or increasingly confused. Since this was a (*sigh*) important meeting, the call couldn’t last forever. Too bad there didn’t seem to be an actual emergency, given how relaxed the two of them were. If there was one, Bruce could make an excuse to leave and go home for a few hours. 

 

“I’m afraid I can’t stay on the line with you for long,” he said apologetically, “there’s a crisis here. What is it you wanted to tell me, D?”

 

Tim and Damian looked momentarily put out, but got their confidence back quickly. Tim nudged Damian forward. The little boy stood in front of the computer like a soldier facing a firing squad, resolved to die honorably no matter what. It was so cute. Diana cooed from her seat, enchanted.

 

“Father, Drake had confessed to me that in this hemisphere there is a quaint belief in Christmas Miracles. As such, we decided it would be best to make your gift as grand a gesture as possible in order to emulate this practice,” Damian said stiffly,“I am happy to announce that this year I have decided to celebrate this mess of a holiday by declaring that Tim and I are now friends.”

 

He jutted his jaw out, glaring at anyone to challenge this statement. Tim gave a thumbs-up behind him and nodded eagerly. 

 

Bruce… may need to leave the room in a moment and test whether he’d just entered an alternate reality.

 

“Don’t worry, you’re still on the same plane of existence,” Tim said, reading Bruce’s mind, “we spent all year bonding just like you wanted and now we get along. Merry Christmas!”

 

He pulled out a party favor and popped it, grinning as confetti spiraled to the floor onscreen. Some of it landed in Damian’s hair and he scowled as he brushed it out.

 

“That great, chums,” Bruce said, smiling happily. Some of the League members flinched at the sight. He wasn’t very expressive when he was on duty. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”

 

Tim blushed as red as a tomato. Damian huffed but averted his eyes, clearly flustered. His boys were so precious.

 

“Um, this is great and all,” Green Lantern said, raising his hand, “but we’re kind of in the middle of a meeting. I’m digging the family feels, but the fate of the earth is in our hands here. Can we save this for another time?”

 

“My family is more important than the world, Hal,” Bruce said sternly.

 

“I know, but--”

 

“How dare you impede upon our private moment! This is why you will never be anything more than a glorified glow stick, Jordan,” Damian spat, then turned back to Bruce as the man gaped like a fish, “I haven’t finished, Father. In honor of this momentous occasion, Drake and I have to decide to commemorate our friendship by giving you another gift. After all, without you we never would have been forced to be around one another. In fact, it is likely without you I would be nothing but a mindless cur for my grandfather and Timothy would have gotten himself killed due to poor self-care.”

 

“Hey!” Tim said. 

 

“Therefore, in addition to the bond between Timothy and I, we are giving you the world,” Damian said imperiously, “you’re welcome.”

 

Bruce nodded and waited for him to go on. His sons stared at him from the other side of their screen, smiling pleasantly and offering no other details. Bruce… was starting to get confused. 

 

“I think I need more than that, chums,” he said, “can you explain?”

 

Damian looked flabbergasted, there was no other way to put it. Tim had a deep frown, like he’d missed an obvious solution to a puzzle. 

 

“What do you mean, more? We can’t give you anything else without expanding to the galactic sphere!” Damian said, “I am sure we could conquer the universe, but not before the New Year at least.”

 

“I guess I’m just confused when you said the world,” Bruce said lightly, “what did you mean by that?”

 

Tim’s face cleared. “Oh, I get it. Nah, we meant that literally. We conquered earth for you B. Merry Christmas!”

 

He pulled out another party popper. This time Damian pulled it and released confetti into the air. 

 

The Justice League stared at the two kids with varying levels of bewilderment. Heroes who hadn’t interacted much with the Gotham Bats less looked bemused, but the long-time members were starting to tense. Bruce had a bad feeling about this.

 

“I’ll admit, it took longer than expected, but Drake is an adequate planner,” Damian explained, “in only a week, he came up with a three-phase plan to subjugate our planet, which we then implemented with exceeding care. With the help of many allies such as Black Bat and various beings, we have created a shadow network that has bent all villains, threats, and powers to our will with the exception of the Justice League and its associated branches. Due to close quarters working conditions and increased time in each other’s proximity, this bonding activity has resulted in positive feelings for one another and increased affection between Timothy and I. I can now confidently say that we are friends, making any further meddling from the family to force us to bond null and void. End of report.”

 

Damian stopped talking and put his hands behind his back, mimicking a little business man. Timothy leaned forward and grinned into the camera.

 

“Basically we spent the summer taking over some cults and blackmailing a bunch of losers. What do you think B, did we do a good job?”

 

Silence.

 

So much silence that Space seemed loud. 

 

“You… took over the world during summer vacation,” The Flash said.

 

“Well, yeah. It’s not like it’s hard… why are you all staring at us?” Tim said.

 

Murmurs broke out across the room. Diana rubbed her temple, looking like a headache had just formed. Martian Manhunter just looked confused and a little terrified. Hal and Ollie were shouting at each other about who knew what, and Bruce was starting to wonder if maybe something had been slipped into his coffee this morning. Maybe Tim’s red-bull blend, that stuff was potent.

 

Finally, Superman hit the table and got everyone to quiet down. He turned back to the screen and asked the boys, “out of curiosity, did you two have a code or group name for this operation?”

 

Tim shrugged, “I guess? Someone gave one to us, but we didn’t want to advertise. That’s always the first mistake world conquerors make.”

 

“We were dubbed “Los Grandes” by one of our cults,” Damian interjected, “it is a poor name, but it persisted.”

 

“You have cults ?” Green Arrow muttered, appalled.

 

“Of course we have cults,” Damian snapped, “they are an efficient organizational model, even if the zealots tend to rebel when certain astronomical events occur.”

 

Okay, Bruce… couldn’t actually refute that, but he had to refute something here. He was losing track of the conversation. He may actually be going into shock.

 

“B…um,” Time said hesitantly. The nervousness in his voice caused the room to quiet again, “we thought you’d be happy, but did we mess up somehow? You’re not saying anything…”

 

“No, no, I’m very proud of you,” Bruce said immediately. Someone coughed loudly and another member muttered “seriously?” but he paid them no mind. “This is just a big shock for me.”

 

“We didn’t try to hide it, except from Nightwing and Red Hood,” Tim said, “they’re obnoxious jerks, and it was a lot of fun to do what we wanted without anyone to stop us.”

 

Bruce’s hand twitched toward the report about the Black Pearl mafia debacle. He was going to have to talk to them about appropriate courses of action again, wasn’t he? There had been a lot of napalm in that catastrophe.

 

“We were effective strategists,” Damian said, “you should feel honored that we are giving the spoils to you. You’re now ruler of the world, Father!”

 

“And I appreciate it,” he said, shelving that kind of power away for now, “but why on earth did you think it was appropriate to conquer the world?”

 

“You said we could!” Tim defended.

 

Bruce and the entire Justice League froze. You could have heard a pin drop.

 

“What?” he said.

 

“We asked for permission and you said yes,” Tim said again, “don’t you remember?”

 

No, I don’t.

 

He put his head in his hands and thought hard. He’d have known if his kids wanted to take over an entire planet, right? That wasn’t something he would forget about. Had his stint in the time stream done brain damage he wasn’t aware of? What was---------wait.

 

A dim memory of his sons standing by the doorway sprung to mind, dull and foggy from painkillers. Tim-shadow and blob-Damian saying something about a plan and bonding activities…

 

“Back then? I had a concussion!” he said, “I thought I was hallucinating.”

 

“That is hardly our fault. We went through the proper channels and acted like normal children, any confusion you experienced was none of our concern,” Damian said. 

 

“Yeah, this sounds like a you-problem B,” Tim said, putting his arm around Damian’s shoulder, “don’t try to weasel out of this.”

 

Bruce was aware that he was probably losing whatever respect the Justice League had for him with this slip-up, but in his defense, he’d been concussed. How was he supposed to know his 17 and 11 year-old would actually take over the world?

 

Although, just seeing Tim touching Damian so casually was making him forget why that was such a big deal. Damian didn’t even seem to mind. He was… leaning into Tim. They were getting along.

 

Was he… supposed to want to cry because of that? It was just so sweet. His youngest sons, the source of so much animosity, were finally friends. Sure they’d engaged in nefarious criminal activities, taken over several cults, and caused a few mafia wars, but they did it as a family.

 

How could he not be proud?

 

“I suppose I should have asked more questions, even in my damaged state,” he said, “this will be a lesson to me not to trust you so easily, I suppose.”

 

“We have done nothing to warrant your distrust, Father! Do not blame us for doing you a kindness. We didn’t even use our connections with the League of Assassins to achieve this. No nepotism was involved at all.”

 

Green Arrow mouthed “assassins?” to himself, which reminded Bruce that some of the league members needed to been harassed into reading the dockets on their teammates. The information about Damian had been on file for several months, everyone should have known who he was by now.

 

“I wasn’t saying anything about that, Damian,” he said, “although I’m curious why you chose to do this instead of… anything else.”

 

“Drake’s hobbies are asinine and pretentious,” Damian said bluntly, “furthermore, his habit of idle talk has not ceased. In order to acquire peace of mind, it was pertinent that we choose an activity strenuous enough to keep his focus for an extended period of time.”

 

“So naturally you decided on world domination,” The Flash said.

 

“Well yeah, what else is there?” Tim asked.

 

Martian Manhunter rubbed his forehead, probably suffering an onslaught from the high concentration of incredulity in the room. Empaths had it rough. 

 

“You should simply be grateful we deigned to curb to your demands to interact non-violently,” Damian said again, “I was content to ignore Drake forever, but you insisted that we strengthen our relationship for the family’s sake. If you weren’t prepared for the consequences of that then you have no right to call yourself the world’s greatest detective. That title clearly belongs to Timothy anyway.”

 

If Jason were here, he’d say that was about the sickest burn (and highest compliment) possible to give in less than thirty words, and Bruce would’ve agreed with him. But he didn’t even care about the diss since it meant Damian thought so highly of Tim. 

 

This really had been a good bonding activity for them, hadn’t it?

 

“Thank you for the gift, boys, I really appreciate it,” he said, smiling again. What the hell, they should be allowed to have some fun. “I’m not sure I needed the entire world, but it’s a nice gesture. But my family is my world, really, and that’s you two.”

 

He was aware that Diana was filming this. He was going to get that video from her later for the digital scrapbook. (He was also going to save every hard copy of the cam-footage as was humanly possible, then delete it from the JLA’s satellite drive).

 

Tim and Damian spent a couple moments flustered and blushing, occasionally elbowing the other to “get a hold of yourself!” but eventually they calmed down. 

 

“You better take it, we put a lot of work into this,” Tim said.

 

“What am I going to do with an entire planet?” Bruce asked, amused, “I’m already rich. I don’t need anything else.”

 

“I dunno, Damian wanted to ban elementary school from existing,” Tim shrugged, “I was thinking of rearranging supply lines to be more efficient, but honestly there’s not much else to do.”

 

“You’re not going to use your shadow organization for anything nefarious?” Superman asked, “no plots, schemes, or dangerous things?”

 

“We can do that at home,” Damian said simply, “and Gotham is the superior city for crime. Why would we outsource?”

 

Tim nodded in agreement and Bruce held back his assent if only to not upset the JLA. He personally had a similar view; Gotham was the best place to be a villain, commiting crime elsewhere was like admitting you weren’t good enough to do it there, so why leave? 

 

“Well, I guess if that’s the case, the meeting is adjourned,” Superman said pleasantly.

 

“What?” Ollie said, “Clark, shouldn’t we do something? They took over the world .”

 

“They’re Bruce’s boys, I’m sure he can manage them,” Superman said, “he’ll have better luck than us, at any rate. Besides, Loius is making apple pie tonight. I don’t want to miss that.”

 

The senior members got up and started putting away their papers, muttering stuff about “crazy bats” and how they weren’t paid enough for this. Green Lantern and Green Arrow rolled their eyes and complained loudly on the way out that this threat should be dealt with more seriously, but didn't actually push to do anything. 

 

Diana airdropped the video to Bruce on her way out, and he nodded in appreciation. He shook her head and laughed as she passed. 

 

Finally, it was just Bruce and the boys still on video call. They were still looking nervous, but stubbornly so. They’d inherited the same bullheadedness that had made Dick such an effective Robin; the ability to ignore authority and common sense to get what they wanted, no matter how worrisome it was for people around them. 

 

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep your shadow organization running,” he said affectionately, “it’s a lot of work for one man, even me.”

 

“Well don’t ask us to do it,” Tim said, “I’m already running your company.”

 

“Indeed, he is grossly overworked because of your incompetence,” Damian said, “And I, unfortunately, and still bound by the archaic laws of this country to attend that mislabeled ‘educational’ facility throughout the year. I do not have the capacity to juggle three cults, Robin, and my substandard education fulltime at this point, painful though it is to admit. Take responsibility for your actions, Father, and rule the world yourself.”

 

Bruce’s lips curled into a smile. “That’s not why you two don’t want to do it. Come on, tell me the truth.”

 

Both of them glared at him, then Tim huffed. “Fine. The next expansion for Stardew Valley is coming out next week and Dami and I are going to make a farm together. That’s way cooler than blackmailing Deathstroke for the fifteenth time. Happy?”

 

“Extraordinarily so,” he said, “I think this has been the best Christmas yet.”

 

“Well, it would be a perfect holiday if you were here with us,” Damian said, “Jason has already threatened to burn the tree three times, and Cass has claimed Alfred the Cat as her sidekick. My cat is not a sidekick, Father! Come fix this at once!”

 

“Alfred the Butler is saving you some fudge, but I can’t promise it’ll be here when you get back,” Tim added, “think you can make it?”

 

Bruce glanced around the empty watchtower, then back to the screen. Both his boys were standing there, content to be brothers, and there was no way he was missing that for the world.

 

“I think I can,” he said.

 

And he did.

Notes:

Deleted scene:

Damian: "I am sure my grandfather would conquer the world for you if you asked him to, Drake."

Tim: "probably, he's pretty creepy like that. We'll put it in the maybe pile."

Damian: your wiles are our last resort, I pray we don't have to use them. I don't want my grandfather to be your suger daddy.

Tim: Me too little bro, me too.... if Ra's is my sugar daddy, would that make me your step-grandpa and brother? or would he be my sugar grandpa?

Damian: I do not know, nor do I wish to think about it. We will simply ask Grayson after our plot is over.

Tim: good idea brokipsi