Chapter Text
“Is it strange that he’s so cute?” Tim wondered, bemused. “Batman. The dark knight. Wearing little shorts with a faux-british accent scolding adults over swear words.”
“I’m not surprised in the slightest,” Dick snorted. “Must run in the family!”
Tim shook his head, not bothering to remind the man that they were adopted and instead looked out to the garden where they could still see little Bruce, talking a mile a minute and gesturing to every flower. “What the hell are we gonna do about all this? The ‘Batman’s undercover’ excuse can’t work forever. Eventually the league is gonna start sniffing around for why one of their founding members is suddenly MIA.”
”We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Dick said, waving the thought away. “I don’t see why we need to involve other people yet. It’s barely been a day! We’ll keep it in house and the problem will work itself out. Besides, Bruce would be over the moon if he still had his older memories, when was the last time we were all together like this?”
”Christmas, I think?” Tim tapped the side of his chin, genuinely thinking. “But no, you were away for that.”
”Yeah, I was away for a lot of things.” Although he was still cleaning up dishes, his back was tense. “Of all things to have in common with Bruce, it would be that huh?”
Uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, Tim frowned, not quite sure what he could possibly say to alleviate that pocket of guilt that—wasn’t technically wrong.
There’s nothing wrong with spending time away from family, and with one as fiercely independent as theirs, correspondence could sometimes go months with not a single word passing between them. It was the nature of the game.
Only, well…
Bruce was just starting to get better about it.
Called in more on off-world trips, regularly texted when there were delays or he had to reschedule things. It was—awkward and awfully highlighting to Bruce’s more odd habits but it was progress. Progress none of them thought they would ever see and for those that lived in the house it was like they were walking towards something miraculous. For the others, who only visited holidays and birthdays, it was as if nothing had changed.
Tim hadn’t seen Dick in years, not counting voice calls or texts. He’s even seen Jason with more frequency and he’s half convinced the man’s still hoping he’ll drop dead sooner rather than later.
It’s like the two eldest were stuck in this fossil of the past and no ones bothered to dig them back up.
Time blew out a breath and continued looking out the window, towards their current problem, picking flowers and looking for his dead butler. “We are going to tell him eventually though, right? About Alfred?”
Dick took a sip of his coffee, gaze never leaving the small dot of a figure who looked happier than he’s seen his mentor look in decades. “Why should we?”
Tim shot a warning glance. “Dick–”
“You wanna tell an orphan the one thing he has left in his world is gone? Grief broke him the first time, what will happen while he is years in the future and unable to do anything about it?”
There was a far off look in his eyes, like he was remembering something from the past. He shook his head, slowly, and continued. “No, we keep this under wraps and by the time he finds out, we’ll be able to send him back.”
Tim’s mouth twitched into an unsettled frown. “We don’t get to make that choice.”
“He’s happy, isn’t he?” Dick took another sip, barely ruffled by the nature of what he’s suggesting. “I’m not killing him like that—because it would, it really would kill him and that’s not happening. I refuse.”
Tim sighed, not in the slightest agreeing but knowing when he’s facing an uphill battle. “We will tell him, eventually. If he ends up staying longer than we think, if it looks like there'll be consequences to him not knowing…we will tell him.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, too.” Dick said simply, waving a hand as he made his way outside. “Now, if this impromptu meeting is done, alert the others on the situation. I’ll be on babysitting duty.”
▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬
Duke supposed life could be stranger, all things considered. His mentor was running around pointing at random flowers and explaining them to him like it was a school project. But time shenanigans really have become the norm nowadays what with their many trips through time and space, this shouldn’t be all that surprising.
More…confronting than anything else.
“These flowers are very dangerous.” Little Bruce said, his face far too close to the supposed dangerous flower. “They shoot pollen toxic to humans when they feel threatened.”
”You don’t say.” Duke hummed, already manoeuvring the boy away from the threat. “Why the hell we plant that here?”
”They look pretty.” Bruce answered, as if it was obvious. This time, choosing not to call him out on the language. “We have poison ivy next to the storage shed too. It doesn’t look half as pretty though.”
“You would know that, you little weirdo.” And because he might as well go all in on the big brother vibes, he tussled the boy's hair. The immaculate swirl kept back with what had to be a copious amount of hair gel now mussed and windswept.
The only slight twitch in his eyebrow showed Duke just how annoyed he was by the sudden attack but the little angry pout was just too cute for him to regret it.
”The manor is different in the future.” Bruce commented, offhandedly.
Although a little shocked about Bruce knowing the extent of the situation, Duke managed to compose himself quickly.
”I know what you mean,” He said, reminiscing. “When I first joined it was a lot more chaotic. It’s nice to see everyone more settled down, less crazy.”
”No, that's not what I mean.” He blinked, slowly, his brain likely going through the two different versions and comparing. “It’s more…home-like. It’s different.”
”Home-like…” Duke raised a brow, not quite sure how he should take that. “Is that…a good or bad thing?”
The boy shrugged, absently fiddling with the pedals of the flower in front of him.
”It’s different.” He repeated, simply. “Like how…it used to be.”
Oh.
That wasn’t a good avenue of conversation to go down, both in the past and in the present. On a bad day you’d catch middle aged and burning from two ends Batman talking about stuff like this. Justice and death and goals and life missions. For this Bruce though, the event in question was probably less than a few months past.
He had to pivot.
”What were your parents like?” The boy asked far too innocently to be any kind of targeted attack, despite how it may feel like one.
“They’re not around anymore, Bruce.” Because he had learnt so much to be able to say that without weeping. Because he was strong enough to do at least that. “I live here now. You—or I guess older you—took me in.”
There was a slight shuffle by his side and, suddenly, a pudgy little hand curled around the cuff of his costume.
As he looked down it took everything in him not to absolutely melt at the determined steady gaze staring back at him.
“I’m sorry.” And he was probably mimicking how others comforted him but that slow and genuine voice felt like coming home. “That must’ve been really hard. I—I lost my parents too.”
Duke directed him to sit on a little bench, both able to just sit back and enjoy the breeze.
In their line of work quiet was pretty rare, nonexistent with their family specifically. The rare moments in between cases or responsibilities was the nebulous ‘thing’ that they fought to protect. Little Bruce might not ever be able to see that right now, being as new as he was and as uh—well, Bruce-like he is but that just toughened his resolve to show him.
He closed his eyes, letting the boy's ramblings wash over him like a wave. Despite the deadlines and shift he was missing right now, relaxing was nice on such a good day.
“Are you listening to me?” Bruce asked in the exact same disappointed tone he used to use that hinted he knew you weren’t and wanted to call you out on it.
“Of course I am.” Duke said, lying. “It’s really interesting all we got out here, I didn’t even know half of this stuff and I’ve been living here for a while.”
“Well, yes.” Bruce preened, looking so much like Damian but acting so incredibly different from him it could give a guy whiplash. “Some things take time to find out, it’s like…a book! The first time you read it half the things don’t make sense but the more time you put into it, the more effort you put in reading through it again and again, that’s when it starts coming together.”
”Hmm, that so?” Duke hummed, wanting desperately to pinch his cheek. “That’s pretty good advice, where’d you hear that?”
”My—f-father said his sister told him that once.” Bruce looked down, dimly. “She was a researcher for the museum…she got me a book on lizards my last birthday.”
”No kidding.” Duke said curiously, even though he did know this elusive aunt, it was better to react as if everything he said was new information. “Was it good?”
“Dunno, didn’t read it.” The boy, to the concern of his temporary guardian, visibly wilted.“…I remember…feeling disappointed that I was an only child. They both got to have siblings and I had no one, that was what I thought. My parents must be…so ashamed of me, being so selfish. Maybe that is why I am alone now. As punishment.”
Duke jolted back in shock, when had things escalated so quickly? “Woah, Bruce no that’s not—“
“What else would it be?” And there it was, that steel will determination they saw glimpses in the kitchen and knew intimately with his bigger form. Ugly, with this new context. “Those who do bad things deserve to be punished. I was—I was ungrateful. It is my fault.”
Did Bruce just carry this level of guilt around since then? Since he was an actual child?
He needed to focus, freaking out on a clearly traumatised kid won’t help anyone but still, Duke wasn’t equipped to handle this. Not on this level and especially not with Bruce Wayne, his mentor and guardian. He’d kill for Dick to swoop in like he always does to save the day. Hell, even Cass or Steph could probably do a better job right now.
”So what if it is a punishment?” A voice spoke up suddenly behind them. “What are you gonna do about it?”
Duke felt, in between his eyes, a migraine beginning to form.
of all the people…
”I—“ Little Bruce looked around, not quite old enough to realise he was in danger but just enough to remember to exercise caution. “Who are you?”
”Me?” He grinned, meanly. “This is all a little Deja vu for me kid, you have no idea how many times I get to surprise introduce myself to you.”
”Jason.” Duke didn’t bother turning to welcome the newest addition to the conversation, it wouldn’t change much of the direction of it.
A small part of him sighed in relief, though, when Dick had made his way towards them after seeing the commotion.
“Of course they called you in.” Jason scoffed, eyes not leaving Bruce but very clearly talking to Dick. “God forbid they grow a backbone and deal with their own shit.”
”That’s a bit rich coming from you.” Dick raised a brow, subtly trying to push a stubbornly still Bruce behind him. “I might not be around as much but the others still keep me up to date. Hear you’ve gone right back to sidekick status, congratulations.”
”Really living up to your name, huh?” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you still on that? God, I know I got an inferiority complex the size of Gotham but yours is just—another level. If you think you’ll ever be on the same level as that bastard I really pity your B-rank team if they're being led with your delusional ass.”
“Stop it!” Bruce stepped in between them, hands outstretched as if him being there might just stop them from attacking. Which might probably have the opposite reaction, all things considered. “This is—too much. You’re both being too much!”
”You’re telling me.” Jason muttered, with a morbid sort of curiosity as he observed him. “Shit, I did not get a good look at you yet, it’s just like the photos…”
“Jason, what are you doing here?” Dick interrupted, again.
“Ah, minding my business and having a private conversation.” He raised a brow and risked a step forward. “Maybe you should try it some time.”
Just as anticipated there was an escrima stick inches from his face. He ignored it. “You didn’t answer the question, little man.”
Bruce regarded him quietly, his hands still raised but his heightened displeasure at the fighting turning into something a little more steady. “I don’t…understand.”
Jason sighed. “You wanna sit here crying about your dead parents, go right ahead. God knows this family doesn’t pity you enough.”
”That’s enough, Jason!” Dick hissed, a real defensive anger entering his tone.
“But,” He continued, ignoring his brother's attempted intervention. “Eventually you gotta do something about it, get it? No one cares about another crying self pitying orphan who could buy two thirds of Gotham with his lunch money. Do something with your goddamn life.”
“He says to the literal eight year old.” Duke scoffed, training unimpressed eyes to the now scowling man. “You love calling Bruce a dick but holy shit at least he knows how to talk to kids, this is just sad.”
”No one asked you.” Jason bit back.
“If you just came here to unload your baggage on a literal toddler then I don’t know what to say to you, man.” Duke said, raising a brow. “Maybe how’s that therapist going? Still nonexistent?”
”How's the girlfriend search going? Still your left hand?”
“Ha,” Duke smirked. “I knew you paid attention to the group chat.”
“I…don’t know what to do.” Bruce choked out, reminding those around him of the main argument. Dick, chastising himself for getting distracted, is by his side in seconds. “I don’t…I don’t know.”
”It’s okay, Bruce, everything’s okay.” Dick tried to manoeuvre him into a hug, blocking his view of Jason, but the boy was unmovable. “Don’t listen to him, he’s lost his mind.”
”Not entirely wrong on that one.” Duke piped up, unnecessarily.
”Do you hear yourself when you talk? Cause for me every time you open your mouth it’s just this monotone drone of ‘hit me I’m an idiot’ just on constant repeat.”
“That’s enough, you two!” Dick snapped, finally able to at least turn Bruce around to look at him. “Shit.”
Duke looked up, concerned. “What’s wrong?”
He doesn’t spare either of them another look, gently picking up the now shaking boy and carrying him towards the house. “I think it’s an anxiety attack, fucking—of course this happens, of course Jason does this.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
If Dick wasn’t carrying a hyperventilating and deathly quiet boy, Duke knew Jason would be on the floor right about now.
“Not. Now.” Dick said instead, calmly, because if there was one thing that would worsen Bruce’s condition it would be yelling.
”What the hell happened!?” Tim yelled, taking in the scene instantly, the accusation aimed more at Jason than anyone else. “Duke, I thought you had it handled!?”
”I just wanted to do my shift in peace, man.” Duke replied, feeling, much like Bruce, the overwhelming urge to cry.