Work Text:
A mass Arkham breakout was never pleasant, but it came every year unbidden, like the flu season. Luckily, as Bruce’s family grew, so did the city’s inoculation against crime. Long gone where the days of Batman scouring the streets alone, Alfred’s voice a faraway presence in his ear. Now there was a whole family to fight by Bruce’s side: Oracle, Red Hood, Red Robin, Orphan, Spoiler, Robin and Signal. Even with Nightwing out of the country on his own mission, this year’s breakout only lasted twenty-nine hours before all inmates were recaptured. A new record.
Bruce tried to find some pride in that. But all he could muster was exhaustion.
His joints screamed like the souls of the damned. It had been approximately thirty-six hours since he’d last slept and more than twice that since he’d last eaten food other than his specially formulated energy tablets. (Which, according to all of Bruce’s children but his youngest, did not count as real food.) Bruce’s migraine had a migraine.
But it was all over now. GCPD could take care of the remaining clean up. Bruce was going to load up all his kids into the Batship, go home, and sleep for eight uninterrupted hours. If anything happened to Gotham in the meanwhile, Bruce would simply rebuild the city in the morning.
Nothing was going to get in the way between him and his bed.
That’s when Nightwing distress call came in.
Currently being held a lil hostage, the encoded message read, requesting retrieval at earliest convenience. No worries if not.
Bruce’s blood went cold.
A ‘lil’ hostage. With Dick, that could mean anything. It could mean that one of his more unsavory allies was behaving suspiciously. It could mean that immigration had him detained at the border and he wanted Bruce to exert his influence ASAP. It could also mean that he was hanging off of a meat hook, being beaten by skilled torturers, barely clinging to life. ‘No worries if not’. Bruce could strangle him.
For as long as Bruce had known him, the boy had no sense of scale. At thirteen, Dick had once called him out of a very important board meeting hysterical because the school nurse wanted to cut gum out of his hair. Later that same semester, Dick neglected to inform Bruce about his attempted kidnapping that had occurred on school grounds. Bruce found out the next morning via Vicki Vale’s faux concerned face. It wasn’t a big deal, Dick had told him, eating his Crooky Crunchies, completely at ease.
Dick Grayson wouldn’t know how to define an emergency if bright red alarm sirens screamed in his face. Bruce’s tried.
This…trait of Dick’s wouldn’t be so infuriating, if Dick didn’t have such a knack for getting in trouble. He held the record for most kidnappings. He wore the record like a badge of pride, chalking it up to the many years of experience he had over his siblings. But deep down, Bruce believed that if Dick had been his last child, instead of his first, he would still hold the same superlative: Most Likely to be Kidnapped.
If it had been aliens invading, Bruce would have just gone to sleep.
But this was his son.
Bruce sighed and buckled himself into the pilot’s seat. Another twelve hours awake wouldn’t kill him.
Bruce was thankful that they had opted for air travel tonight. The Batship was much roomier than the Batplane or the Batfighter jet; it was capable of carrying quite a few of their ground vehicles while also being fast, stealthy, and silent.
As Bruce programed the coordinates embedded in Dick’s SOS message, the children began to board the ship with their bikes. Bruce had learned from his mistakes in the Batmobile’s design; there was absolutely no shotgun seat to claim on the Batship. There was only one pilot seat situated in front of the monitors and windshield. After a wide gap of space, there were two passenger seats. Behind that, two more passenger seats. And behind that, there was a wide bench, capable of fitting up to six passengers. Dick had taken one look at the schematics and started laughing. He called it the Flying BatSUV.
Bruce swallowed. Dick would be alright. He was the strongest out of all of them.
And Bruce would be there soon.
“Can we stop at Batburger?” Duke asked, sitting on the bench, towards the left. Jason was already taking up most of the space on the right. His legs were spread too far apart to be comfortable, in Bruce’s estimation.
“No stops,” replied Bruce, curtly, “Nightwing’s been kidnapped.”
Tim blinked. “Again?” He sat down in the middle row.
Jason crossed his arms. His lips were pulled tight, his eyes calculating. “Kidnapped kidnapped, or ‘I’m taking a vacation in an alternate universe filled with birds’ kidnapped?”
“…The data is inconclusive.”
“Father, we must retrieve him at once!” Damian rushed to Bruce’s side, grabbing at the yoke, as if he wanted to be the one to steer the plane.
Bruce sighed. He grabbed Damian by his cape, like a cat picking up their kitten by the scruff, and placed him in his seat, left front row. Then he buckled him in. Tight.
“Yeah, I gotta agree with the little man here,” said Duke. “I think any kidnapping is bad.”
Damian narrowed his eyes threateningly. He was already ruffled from being manhandled.
“You will refer to me by my mantle or not at all.”
Tim snickered. “Whatever you say,” he said. And there was a wicked gleam in his eyes that made Bruce want to teleport to a spa planet. “Robbie.”
He loved his children. He loved his children. He loved his children. Familicide was illegal.
Bruce caught Damian’s batarang in midair. He broke it in half.
“Anyone who throws projectiles in the ship will have to parachute home.”
Damian crossed his arms over himself, grumbling darkly. Tim radiated such a smug aura Bruce could feel it without even looking at him.
“Anyone who goads their siblings into throwing projectiles will also have to parachute home.”
Tim pressed his lips together in a pout. He, too, crossed his arms, a mirror reflection of Damian. Those two were always more alike than they wanted to admit.
“What’s going on with Nightwing?” asked Tim, though it was clear to Bruce it was more of an attempt to save face than a genuine concern for his brother.
Bruce intended to keep it that way. His children had done enough for today. Bruce could handle this on his own. Dick was his responsibility. No one else’s.
“Not your concern. All of you will be returning to base and going straight to bed,” said Bruce, as authoritatively as possible. Which, given that he was Batman, was extremely authoritative. “I do this alone.”
If Bruce wasn’t going to get any sleep, a quiet seven hour flight to Siberia was the next best thing.
“Nah,” said Jason, casually shattering all of Bruce’s dreams, as his second son was wont to. “I’m coming, too. Got way too much adrenaline pumping in me to sleep anyways.”
“Mood,” said Tim and Duke.
“Of course you will,” cooed Stephanie at Jason, ruffling his hair in way that was equally parts an affectionate gesture and a noogie. “Everyone knows you’re tsundere for big brother.”
Jason pushed her away, face red with fury. But, instead of Stephanie, his venomous glare found its way towards Tim.
“I blame you for this,” Jason said. “You just couldn’t keep Naruto to yourself, could you?”
Tim eyed Jason benignly. “No reason to be such a Sasuke about it.”
“Nice.” Stephanie high fived Tim as she took the seat beside him.
“Naruto is a disgrace to the artform,” said Damian, haughtily. “When will you plebs watch something of value? Such as Natsume – ”
“Enough,” Bruce growled. It was the tone that made criminals drop their weapons and fall to their knees in pure terror.
Used on his children, it merely granted him a few moments of silence.
Bruce had to use them wisely. “What have you been told?”
Tim, Damian, and Stephanie all sighed.
“No media discourse in uniform,” they repeated in unison.
“Behave yourselves,” Bruce told them. “We’ll be landing at the cave in twelve minutes.”
Cass shook her head. “Stay with you,” she said. Her dark eyes glittered brightly, like the glint of a blade. There would be no convincing her to leave now.
Bruce sighed. He had already resigned himself to bringing Robin along. Bruce knew that grounding his youngest was a fool’s errand when it came to Dick. It was the quickest way to guarantee that Robin would sneak out and attempt to rescue Nightwing anyway. Better to keep the boy by his side, where Bruce could keep him out of trouble. But Jason? And Cassandra? Bruce would never know peace with the three of them on board.
“Can I come too? We never get to team up all together like this,” said Duke. “It’s fun!”
“You’re not leaving me behind,” said Stephanie. “Road trip!”
“And obviously I’m coming,” said Tim. “It’s Dick.”
Bruce closed his eyes.
His heart fawned. These wonderful, dedicated, soldiers.
His mind groaned. These horrible, loud, nuisances.
Bruce knew his own energy reserves intimately. He had no fight in him for this.
“Fine,” he said curtly, dropping the Batcave from the ship’s flight plan. “But I want you all on your best behavior. This is a retrieval mission. You will act with decorum.”
There was no hope for that. But it truly was a long flight. Maybe they’d all fall asleep.
Distantly, Bruce heard the fates laughing at him.
It started with Tim.
Cass was content to watch the clouds pass by. Damian had fallen asleep, his cape draped around him like a blanket. Jason, Duke, and Stephanie had busied themselves with their phones.
But Tim. Tim could never turn his brain off.
(Bruce could practically hear Dick in his ear, mocking him for getting a taste of his own medicine.)
“Is Oracle on standby?” Tim asked, while they were flying somewhere over western Europe.
“Oracle is currently occupied with the police force,” Bruce replied. That’s all she told him. It was usually code for ‘Barbara was taking some much-needed time away from her monitors to spend with her father and did not wish to be bothered’. Bruce respected that. He’d give anything not to be bothered right now.
“So she’s not currently listening in on us?”
“Oracle’s aaaalways listening,” said Stephanie, putting on an affected ‘ghost’ voice and wiggling her fingers in Tim’s face.
“Quit it,” said Tim, trying not to smile and failing. When Stephanie removed her hands, his face actually did fall. “Did her and Dick really break up?”
In the peripheral of Bruce’s vision, Cass stiffened.
Bruce sympathized. Nothing made Bruce quite as uncomfortable as discussing Dick’s love life.
Bruce had developed a useful system for dealing with Dick’s…romances. Bruce simply kept catalogues of files on anyone who had ever expressed interest in his oldest son. From Dick’s exes, to former teammates with one-sided crushes, to random civilians commenting on his son’s Instagram. He made extremely detailed contingency plans for them all. Once Bruce had all the information assembled, he put it away, only thinking about it when absolutely necessary.
Discussing his son’s latest breakup while flying over Europe after fighting an Arkham breakout for over a day was not necessary.
This wouldn’t be the first time Barbara and Dick had broken up. It hadn’t impacted team efficiency in the long term, which was all the mattered. Dick had healed from heartbreak once before and he’d do it again. Bruce wanted to focus on that and not the choking fear that always reignited when Dick became single again.
Barbara, of course, was a fine young woman. But she was the exception. Dick’s taste in romantic partners was not always so…judicious.
Stephanie’s voice turned comforting. “They’re taking a break. Sorry, Tim.”
For a split second, Bruce had the vain hope that this would be the end of it.
Then Jason spoke. Or rather, whistled.
“Fucking finally.”
Tim whipped his whole body around, so he could face Jason. Bruce could see both their faces in his rear-view mirrors. Tim had never looked so appalled.
“What do you mean ‘finally’?”
“I mean finally,” said Jason, “everyone could see those two were doomed from the start.”
“Really?” asked Duke, so sincerely. So utterly unaware of the danger he was courting. “I always thought they seemed perfect for each other.”
“They are!” snapped Tim. “Jason’s just being a jerk who hates true love.”
“Well, fuck you, too, Timmy.” Bruce was just about to threaten his children into silence yet again, but Jason continued on, passionately. “I’ll have you know that I’m an advocate for true love.”
Tim scoffed. The sound was like a sputtering engine.
“I am!” Jason insisted. He flashed a cocky smirk, pointing his thumb towards himself. “I’m going to be the guy who gets Dick and Kory back together.”
What.
“What,” said Tim.
“Yup,” said Jason, relaxing back into his seat. “Kory’s ready to try again and I’d bet my inheritance that Dick is too.”
Bruce was frequently renowned as one of the greatest strategists in the world. Every bit of his tactical training and experience urged him to nip this conversation in the bud now.
“Keep up this discussion and I’m cutting you all from my will.”
His children ignored him.
“Wow, Jason. I always knew you were delusional but not that delusional,” said Tim. “Dick and Starfire were just, like, a high school fling. Dick and Babs are marriage material.”
“Endgame,” supplied Stephanie.
“Exactly,” said Tim. “Endgame.”
“Are you even listening to yourselves? Dick and Kory? A high school fling?” Jason repeated, voice dripping with scorn. “What the hell would you know, you weren’t even there. I saw it first-hand. Dick’s never been as happy as he was with Kory. They are a once-in-a-lifetime, universe-defining romance. None of you baby brats get it. You’ve never seen them together.”
“Fine,” said Tim. “Let’s ask someone who was there. Batman, back me up here.” Tim turned from Jason and faced towards Bruce, who was steadfast keeping all his attention on steering the ship. “Why do you think Barbara is objectively the best match for Dick?”
The only thought running through Bruce’s head at the current moment was that fatherhood had been a mistake. A terrible, terrible, mistake.
“You can’t ask him,” Jason bellowed. “He’s got an anti-Kory bias! Of course he’s gonna pick Babs, she’ll keep him in Gotham! You think helicopter parent extraordinaire Daddy Bats is ever going to let his golden child marry the future ruler of another planet five galaxies away?”
The image of a small, twelve-year-old Dick, still dressed as Robin, flooded Bruce’s mind. Dick winked and waved goodbye as he floated away into the vast, unfeeling darkness of space.
Bruce clenched the steering yoke tighter.
“Rule?” asked Duke. “As in the way a king rules? An actual king?”
“Given the political landscape of Tamaran, prince consort is the more likely option,” replied Tim. “But I’m digressing. The point is that Dick and Starfire are too different. They’re always going to be torn apart by their conflicting ideologies and responsibilities. Their lives just don’t fit together. Dick and Babs can relate to each other. They understand and support each other. Birds of a feather.”
“Aw,” said Stephanie. She was always all too willing to cheer Tim on towards disaster.
“Conflict is how people grow, dipshit,” said Jason. “Dick and Kory balance each other out. And I’m calling bullshit on the whole ‘birds of a feather’ thing. Dick and Babs make great friends,” he stressed the last word to an obnoxious degree. “But Dickie needs more than that. He needs passion. And him and Babs? They got zilch.”
“Nuh-uh!” came Tim’s erudite reply.
“It’s like watching two slices of wheat bread try to make-out.”
Bruce’s whole body cringed. He never wanted to think about any of his children ‘making out’ and neither should they. Is this what his children were always like when he wasn’t around?
“Two slices of bread make a sandwich, you – you idiot!” cried out Tim. “That’s soulmate energy.”
Bruce watched the clouds unfold in front of him, unchained white plumes free from all earthly struggles. Where did he go so wrong in life.
“Imbeciles,” announced Damian, opening up a single eye.
Perfect. Just what Bruce needed. Another awake child.
Damian continued on. “As usual, you’re both wrong. Richard’s relationships with Starfire and Oracle are obsolete. They keep failing for a reason. Now that he’s single, he’s finally free to court someone worthy of his affections.”
“Who?” Jason and Tim shouted in unison, at a decibel that made Bruce thankful he still had his cowl on.
Damian smirked. He let the rest of the family hang on his every word in suspense; the very picture of a cat having his way with the cream.
He got that from Talia’s side of the family.
“The Midnighter.”
Bruce nearly crashed the ship.
No one noticed. They were all too busy shouting.
“Midnighter?”
Under the ruckus, Duke asked quietly who Midnighter was. Stephanie pulled out her phone and offered it to him.
“Hey, he kinda looks like –” Duke stopped in his tracks. “Oh, that’s weird.”
Bruce had thought himself incapable of astral projection. Clearly, he had been mistaken, as just now he felt his soul leave his body.
“A-and – he’s married,” said Tim, scandalized.
“They’ve been exchanging love letters for years,” said Damian, raising his chin up confidently.
The new information rattled in Bruce’s head like it was a pinball machine. He knew that Dick and Midnighter had a…friendlier relationship than Bruce preferred his son to have with murderers. But love letters? As much as Bruce wanted to dismiss Damian’s description as a mere child’s misunderstanding, his youngest was extremely close to Dick. Damian’s account couldn’t be ruled out without more research.
If this information turned out to be true, then Bruce truly was a failure of a father. He thought he’d been doing an adequate job bugging Dick’s communications while at the same time respecting his privacy. He never should have let Alfred talk him into settling for merely bugging the entrances to Dick’s apartment. Midnighter could create portals. He needed to bug every room.
His children’s thoughts were elsewhere.
“He’s married,” said Jason, echoing Tim, though with more indignation.
Stephanie shrugged. “Well, Dick has always had a kind of free-love hippie vibe, don’t you think?”
Tim turned to her, hurt etched across his face. “Whose side are you on?”
Stephanie raised her hands up in defense. “Hey, I just think we owe it to Dick to explore all his options.”
Bruce finally found his voice. “No.”
“Exactly,” said Jason, before Bruce could elaborate. “If anything, Dickie’s problem is that he’s too much of a serial monogamist. He’s never going to break up a marriage. Midnighter’s absolutely off the table. You’re out of your mind, shrimp.”
“Tt,” said Damian, crossing his arms. “What’s one puny marriage in the face of true love?”
Instantly, Bruce was inundated with flashbacks to the many, many conversations he had with Damian in the wake of his engagement to Selina. It appeared several more urgent conversations were needed on this topic.
“Look at the facts,” Damian continued. “Midnighter has expressed ardent admiration for Richard’s combat skills and frequently compliments him on his beauty.”
“Beauty!? You mean he ogles Dick’s a—”
Damian yelled over Jason. “They fight well together!!! Midnighter is a lethal combatant with incredibly useful enhancements. That’s what Richard deserves: a strong warrior who can care and provide for him. I believe the correct terminology for it is a ‘daddy’. They’re perfect together.”
The ship went silent. It was as if they had entered a dimension with no air. Bruce certainly felt like he couldn’t breathe.
Then, Stephanie leaned forward in her seat, speaking to Cass. She was utterly gleeful. “Holy shit, is this real life?”
It absolutely could not be real life.
Clearly, they were all still back in Gotham. Bruce hadn’t put on his gas mask in time to evade Scarecrow’s gas. This was all just a waking nightmare. Soon, this would all disappear, and he would be safe in the cave’s medbay once more. And Dick would be beside him – absolutely not kidnapped – informing him that he had just taken a vow of chastity in the name of justice.
Bruce needed only to wake up.
It didn’t happen.
Instead, Damian’s voice continued to ring in his head. Daddy…daddy…daddy…
The seat beneath Bruce felt like mist. A well-trained part of himself registered he was entering a panic attack.
Cass unbuckled herself and placed a gentle hand on Bruce’s shoulder. The touch anchored him.
“More parental locks,” she said.
Oh, more parental locks were just the start. All playdates between Jon and Damian were banned until Bruce had a long, private talk with Kon-El. Damian would never again look at a single image that Bruce hadn’t approved with his own two eyes. Already, Bruce was formulating plans to buy Chirper. He would send that boy back to the prehistoric age if that’s what it took.
Jason sputtered, ears red. “Kory can be a daddy!”
All of his children were grounded after tonight. Dick would be accompanying Damian back to the prehistoric age, as well.
“I respect Starfire as a warrior,” Damian conceded. “But Richard can do better.”
“Yeah,” said Tim, “With Barbara.”
“We’ve moved on, Timberly. The little demon has one right idea: Dick needs a daddy. And look,” said Jason, “you know I love Babs. She’s great. But she’s not a daddy.”
Cass leveled Jason with a look. “You vs. Babs,” she said. “Babs wins. Every time.”
Jason glared. Or rather, pouted. “Doesn’t make her a daddy. She doesn’t have the vibe.”
“What’s our definition of daddy here?” asked Stephanie. “Because we all know for a fact that Babs definitely peg –”
Tim, in a stunning display of speed and agility, unbuckled himself and slammed a hand over her mouth.
“Be quiet! Do you want to know what O will do to us if she finds out we’ve been gossiping about her private life?” hissed Tim.
Duke tilted his head. “But gossiping about Dick’s private life is okay?”
All his siblings sent Duke a confused look.
“Yes.” Tim nodded solemnly. Jason, Damian, Stephanie, and Cassandra all nodded in agreement.
No, Bruce wanted to say, but he had lost control of his life.
“We know best for him,” said Tim.
“Exactly. Now back to business,” said Jason, carrying on this cursed conversation right where it had left off. “Daddy is a type of swagger. It’s a way of carrying yourself. Regardless of what they do in the bedroom,” Jason blanched at his own words, tongue sticking out in disgust. Finally, an appropriate reaction. Jason ruined it by continuing to speak. “Babs doesn’t have the swag.”
“Ugh!” said Tim, tossing his arms up in frustration, which finally freed Stephanie’s mouth. “I don’t even know why we’re debating this daddy point. It’s totally illogical,” Tim turned to direct his ire at Damian. “By your argument Dick should be dating Deathstroke.”
Every time Bruce thought this conversation had hit rock bottom, his children kept digging.
Damian’s little face lit up in rage. “I would never suggest my brother entertain a relationship with that filthy, one-eyed cretin. Wilson is a menace, not a daddy.”
“Dick doesn’t need a daddy!” exclaimed Tim. “He needs a healthy relationship filled with trust and mutual respect.”
“Kory does both,” said Jason, with a smug, slightly sing-songy, lilt.
“A strong warrior is important,” agreed Cass. Everyone stopped to listen. Cass had been silent for most of the debate. “But Dick needs…a partner. Not a daddy. Someone to fight by his side.”
“Finally, someone speaks some sense,” said Tim. “Thank you, Cass. As you all can clearly see, Barbara is the only one capable of –”
Cass blew a raspberry. “No. Bad for each other.”
“What?” shrieked Tim.
Jason’s face twisted up in sadistic delight.
“Wow, really, Cass?” asked Stephanie.
Cass nodded. “Love there,” she confirmed. “But not enough trust. Never on the same wavelength. Not partners.”
Duke leaned in, obviously riveted by the soap opera Bruce’s family apparently inhabited. “Okay, well then who do you think Dick should be with, Cass?”
Cass brought a finger to her cheek and thought about it. Everyone held their breaths.
(Bruce, unfortunately, was included in everyone.)
You can do it, Cassandra, Bruce silently prayed. You alone can be my one child with sense.
“Arsenal.”
“Roy?!” Jason and Tim shared twin looks of outrage.
“Harper.” Damian’s face darkened. His small body radiated malice.
“Who’s Roy Harper?” Duke whispered to Stephanie. She pulled out her phone again.
“Oh, yeah, I remember him!” Duke confirmed.
So did Bruce. Roy Harper. Now that had been a headache and a half. Older than Dick. Had a car and a tattoo. Raised by Oliver Queen. Red flag upon red flag. Dick had once accused Bruce of rooting for their relationship to fail. He had been absolutely right.
Bruce had paid for it dearly, when only a handful of years later, Dick entered an even more serious relationship with a deadly alien princess from a warmongering planet five galaxies away. After that he vowed to never have another opinion on Dick’s romantic partners, least he’d tempt fate yet again.
Cass nodded, face resolved. Once she had made her mind up about a thing, there would be no changing it.
“Dick needs safety. Always comfortable with Arsenal,” she said. “They’re good for each other.”
“I’ll be honest,” said Stephanie, as if she were ever anything but. “I hadn’t thought about it. But Cass could be on to something here. She’s the body language expert.”
“It is hard to argue with her on that,” agreed Duke.
“Watch me,” said Jason, slapping his hands on his thighs and leaning forward in his seat. “They’re exes, Cassie.”
Tim looked at Jason like he’d grown a second head. “Dick and Kory are exes, too.”
“Yeah, but they’re ‘the-timing-wasn’t-right’ exes. Dick and Roy are the ‘we-couldn’t-stop-fighting’ exes. It’s completely different.”
Now it was Cassandra’s turn to scoff. With a hand, she shooed Jason’s argument away.
“Talk not important,” she said. She drew her arms close together, like she was cradling a heart. “Their bodies move like partners. Always in synch. That’s love.”
Duke flipped through the photos on Stephanie’s phone. “Hey…does Dick only date redheads?”
“Midnighter has red hair,” added Damian smugly.
“Midnighter is a brunette with auburn highlights at best, and you know it, you little shit,” snapped Jason.
“Okay, okay,” said Duke, some of his natural leadership shining through. “There’s no need to get heated. We’ve heard from Jay, Tim and Cass. It’s Steph’s turn now. Who do you think Dick should be with?”
“Hmm,” said Stephanie, mirroring Cass’s thinking pose from earlier. Though it was obvious to Bruce that, unlike Cass, she wasn’t making a serious attempt to weigh the pros and cons of any of Dick’s potential love interests. She was merely basking in the ship’s attention.
Alfred warned him that if he didn’t toe the line, he’d end up raising a bunch of hooligans. Why oh why did Alfred always have to be right?
“Hal Jordan.”
Bruce nearly crashed the plane. Again.
Tim eyed Stephanie askance. “You just want to sleep with him.”
“Yeah. And?”
Tim flustered. “This is a dialogue for serious contenders only.” He turned away from her and started to type on his armband communication device, normally used for taking notes at a crime scene.
Well. This wasn’t unlike a crime scene. Bruce certainly felt like he was being murdered.
“Motion to remove Stephanie’s voting rights,” said Tim.
“Seconded,” said Jason.
“All in favor of the motion say ‘aye’.”
There was a chorus of ayes from all the boys but Duke.
Tim typed into his device. “The ayes have it. Spoiler’s voting privileges in all conversation’s related to Nightwing’s romantic affairs have been stripped.”
Stephanie shrugged and reclined her seat. “Worth it. Look at B’s face.”
Bruce didn’t even have the energy to scold her. He was still recovering from the seven strokes he just had at the thought of Dick with Hal goddamn Jordan. The thought of Stephanie with Hal goddamn Jordan added at least three more. They were never going to make it to Siberia. Bruce would be dead long before they ever touched the ground.
“Your turn, Duke,” said Cass kindly, as if this were a regular family conversation and not Bruce’s own personal hell on Earth.
“Hmm,” said Duke. “What if it’s someone totally new that we haven’t even met yet?”
“Nope, against the rules,” said Jason. “It has to be someone we all already know.”
“Okay, well, what about the Flash?” suggested Duke. “He’s a redhead! And Dick does have an awful lot of his merch.”
“Also married,” said Jason, flatly.
“And the merch argument is a totally invalid one,” said Tim. “Dick collects merch for all his friends and family. He still sleeps with a Batman plushie, for god’s sake.”
For one beautiful moment, Bruce remembered why he was willing to endure so much pain on his eldest’s son behalf.
Duke snorted. “Really?”
“I can confirm,” said Damian, begrudgingly. “He has many different sizes.”
“Barbara once even knitted plushies of the three of us. Back when it was just the three of us,” he corrected awkwardly. “That’s true love.”
Cass shook her head.
“Oh whatever,” said Jason. “That’s just Babs being great at gift giving. Which she should be, she’s got an eidetic memory. She doesn’t get points for that. Your nostalgia goggles are on too tight.”
Tim’s mouth dropped open. “You’re talking to me about nostalgia goggles? Bruce’s has had like three and a half kids since Dick and Starfire last dated. You’re the one stuck in the past!”
“Listen here you –”
“Whoa, hang on a second.” Duke cut off what was sure to be a very long, very vulgar tirade from Jason. “We still haven’t heard from one last person. Batman, who do you think Nightwing should date?”
Bruce clenched his jaw so tightly it cracked.
“I’m curious to know as well, father,” said Damian. “Who has your permission to court Richard?”
Cass nodded intensely.
Stephanie giggled. “I’m dying to know, too.”
Jason’s sour face relaxed into a smirk. “Actually, you know what? Go for it, old man. You must be dying over there. It’s not like you to not have an opinion on Dick’s life.”
“I know you’ll make the right call,” Tim said, trust shining brightly in his eyes.
Bruce, who had been screaming internally at the top his lungs this whole trip, sighed loudly. He still hadn’t given up hope that this was all a fear gas hallucination. Perhaps if he didn’t engage with it, it would all go away.
Bruce felt six pairs of eyes drill into the back of his head.
Another sigh. He looked up towards the rising sun and wished for some of its strength, its endurance.
When Bruce finally spoke, he did so without emotion.
“Nothing in this world would bring me more peace,” Bruce said, “than for Dick to die, alone, a spinster.”
There’s a pause.
A brief, glorious, silent pause.
Then Tim opened his mouth. “But obviously it’s going to be Barbara –”
The debate started again in earnest.
That decided it. A mere grounding was too lenient a punishment.
As soon as Bruce rescued Dick, he was sending that boy to a monastery. Underground. Alone. Encased in bubble wrap. For life.