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Milestones Are Meant To Be Marked

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Terry Grayson-Wayne-West was having the time of his tiny life. He was being buffeted around the table and being cuddled by all of his favorite people. Such was his idyllic life - filled with love and cuddles, snack time, and then more fun time with the fam.

Today Terry was getting extra cuddles, because unbeknownst to him, today was his birthday. Today, Terry was one whole year old, and the family was going to celebrate the heck out of it.

"Dada," Terry grinned up at Dick, who cradled his tony son tenderly. "Wuv 'oo." It was Terry's favorite word to say, because it always make his dada and papa smile.

"I love you too, Terrykins," Dick cooed. "My little boy is one year old today, did you know that? It's your birthday!"

"What shall we do to commemorate this special milestone?" Damian asked, as Dick passed him over. "The first year of survival is a great milestone, Terrence," Damian lectured somberly, with great gravitas.

Terry adopted a suitably serious expression. "Yah."

"My rite of passage was the introduction of micro-doses of common poisons into my diet, in order to inculcate a degree of immunity."

"Oh no," Wally groaned, his tender heart hurting for his pseudo-son/brother-in-law.

"But we shan't subject you to such measures," Damian went on breezily, unaware of his family's horror at the revelation, "but I shall mark this great day with my own rite of passage."

Damian got up and led a waddling Terry to the living room, the family following curiously behind them. Damian led them to the centre of the room, where he had artfully arranged several swords. "On this day, Terrence, whichever blade that you chose shall pass to you whence you reach your majority! Each blade is an heirloom Al-Ghul blade, passed on from Al-Ghul to Al-Ghul through the years. And now you, as an honorary Al-Ghul-"

"Oh no," Bruce moaned.

"-will weild your choice of blade with pride and proficiency! Choose wisely, my sweet Terrence!" So saying, Damian set Terry down on the carpet.

Terry looked at the selection with great consideration, before patting a wicked looking sabre. "Sord!"

Damian gave a booming laugh and lifted Terry back up. "The Chinese single bladed sabre! A most lethal weapon, forged in the flames of hell itself! My Terrence will be unstoppable whence he waves this blade, as he will summon the Hordes of the Damned to fight alongside him! BWA HA HA!"

"BA HA HA," Terry echoed innocently, glad that his Dami was happy. It was just as well that he couldn't see Grandpa Bruce looking utterly defeated behind him, his face in his hands.

Dick, however, saw nothing at all that was wrong with the entire display. "Dami, I'm so proud that you put so much thought into Terry's gift! And it's so practical for when he engages in battle!"

"Yes, um, thanks," Wally said. "Very clever and, er, brutal."

Damian beamed. "Your thanks have been noted, Wallace," he said, and submitted to a thousand Grayson Head Pats.

The surprises did not stop there, though. Cassandra came over and poked Terry's nose. "Sweet nephew," she said, reading off of a piece of paper. "On this were born. In honour of this...occ- occasion, I-" She sighed and looked at Damian. "Dami. Too much."

Damian waved a hand dismissively. "Then do away with it, Cassandra. Speak that which comes to you from the heart."

Cassandra smiled. "Terry."


"I love you."

"Wuv 'oo too."

"I was so happy...when you were born. I did a thing," she admitted. "I was sneaky. I took from your crib, this," she said, holding up a bronzed set of booties. "Your first shoes."

"We had his first booties bronzed," Steph said. "So that he can see how far he's come."

Dick burst into tears at the sight of the small, brozed, booties from Terry's first day of life. "Cass, Steph, you are so thoughtful! Terry, what do we say?"

"Thank 'oo," Terry said, and beamed when he was rewarded by a kissy from both his aunts for his polite manners.

Not to be outdone, Tim stormed forward. "Okay, it's time for best uncle Timmy's gift. Terry," Tim said lowly, "are you ready to be amazed?"

Terry's eyes widened at this new, intense, Tim. "Amooz!"

Tim whipped out a pristine white diaper. "Behold! It is the new Anti-Bum Rash Self Powdering Diaper! Customized with the softest of materials to eliminate odors through the worst of the poop storms, and prevents leaks of any substance. Yes! Timmy is taking over the baby care market with the use of sustainable materials and affordable prices! Wayne BabyCare (TM) is now revolutionizing the baby game!"

Tim slipped Terry into the diaper, as the baby in question marvelled at the soft texture now surrounding his little bum-bum. "Ooh," Terry marvelled, as the family applauded Tim's genius.

Tim squeaked delightedly with big dollar signs in his eyes, and held Terry up. "One day, Simba, all this will be yours," he crowed. "I hereby anoint you as co-heir to my huge business legacy!" So saying, Tim smeared a line of ketchup on Terry's bemused forehead.

At that moment, a ray of sunlight broke through the everpresent clouds over Gotham and focused on Terry, giving him an angelic radiance.

"Wow, that's totally not a subliminal message," Jason muttered. "My turn!"

Dick handed Terry over to Roy, who bounced him in Jason's direction. "Let's see what Uncle Jason and Aunt Roy got for you," Roy cooed.

"An' Woy," Terry repeated happily to his second favorite redhead.

Jason unwrapped the small cube in his hand and held up a decorative box. He opened it up to reveal a small music box, with light, tinkling music emanating from it. The central figurine that replaced the traditional ballerina was a small figure of two men clearly meant to by Dick and Wally, cooing over a small bundle that was Terry.

"I went to a sculpture class to make the igurine, and Roy put together the box. It's for when you grow up, Terrykins, and you can put all of your little knick-knacks in it, so that Daddy One and Daddy Two can watch over them all the time."

Dick burst into hyper-emotional tears and ran over to hug Jason, who bore this incursion with stoic grace. "Oh Jaybird! ou spent your weekends at a sculpture class! And you hate getting gunk under your nails!"

It was true. Jason's man-kit consisted of several firearms, nail and hand cream, and a nail file. Oh, and a picture of Roy, because he was a sap like that.

"Gunky nails are hardly a sacrfice in the face of Terry's happiness," Jason said. "Dick for the love of god, your face is on my nipple," he yelled, pushing Dick's head off of his chest.

"You're such a good uncle, Jaybird," Dick praised. "You're so emotionally in tune with yourself!"

"Wait, how is Jason the emtionally mature one?" Tim demanded. "He routinely hides under my bed to attack me!"

"He just wants you to be prepared for a sneak attack, Timmy!"

"Truly, Drake, if you cannot forsee such attacks, then your senses are more decrepit than I had previously thought," Damian snorted.

"That's because Bruce doesn't allow me to booby trap my room!"

"No booby traps in the house," Bruce declared. "All traps should be set with prior consent from yours truly and logged in the Family Security Trap Logbook."

"Most families don't have one of those," Wally said helpfully. "Uncle Barry doesn't."

"Oh? And how would he defend himself in a surprise attack?"

"Run very fast in the opposite direction," Wally said.

"I am appalled," Bruce said, feeling every bit as appalled as he had verbally indicated, "that one of the founding members of the Justice League relies on running away like a discouraged crustacean in the face of danger to his homestead."

"He does have a security camera by the front door from Amazon."

"Amazon? WayneHub wasn't good enough for him, huh?"

"It was Prime day," Wally whined.

"Atrocious. My in-law stabs me in the wallet," Bruce mourned, and suddenly it was glaringly obvious where Tim's love of money had come from. "Terry my tiniest darling, come to grandpapa."

Terry wiggled over and fell into Bruce's hairy arms. "Boos!"

"Terry my sweetling, I have prepared a traditional gift for you - a locket. Damian, the box, please."

Damian, who had gone into town and bossed the jeweler around, withdrew the velvet box containing the locket. He opened it to reveal a thin gold chain from which hung a traditional burnished oval that opened into two on a hinge. On the pendant, a cursive T was engraved.

Bruce held the locket up to Terry and smiled as the baby grabbed at the swinging orb. "Let's open it up, Terry," Bruce said, fully expecting to show off a tiny gemstone - Terry's birth stone - on a plush, silk bed behind a window of glass.

Instead, he found a picture of Damian glaring up at him from one pane, and a picture of Dick in the other, beaming up at him. "Um. Damain."

"Yes, Father?"

"Where is the pearl that I ordered?"

"Here, father," Damian said, handing the pearl to Bruce. "I found it inside the locket, and thought that the proof of an oyster's irritated mucus was hardly a fitting gift for a babe. I took it upon myself to correct the error."

"By replacing it with a picture of your face."

"Indeed. It is a symbol of how I will always be close to his heart, and protect it from the negitive forces of the outside world."

Dick cooed, and even Wally looked impressed at the poetry behind Damian's gift. Bruce, however, was less impressed. "Then where's the picture of Wally?"

Here, Damian looked sheepish. "He is there, in spirit," Damian insisted. "Take a look at Grayson's picture."

Bruce peered at the picture closely, and yes, there was a quarter of Wally's face peeking out from the edge, next to Dick's full blown smile. "I had to fold the photo," Damian explained, "and quite honestly, Wallace is blurred in that photo, and it was the only one I had in my wallet."

Jason and Tim jeered at the implication that 'oooh, baby carries a picture of his daddies in his wallet', to which Damian shrieked and attacked them.

Meanwhile, Steph picked up Damian's discarded wallet and opened it to reveal his pocket money (ten dollars, Bruce hadn't bothered to keep up with inflation when it came to his kids' allowance), a hand drawn membership card to The Justice League (Version 2), which listed his identification, rather adorably, as Batman. Poking further in unearthed a veritable treasure trove of pictures.

There was Damian with Colin at the park.

Damian and Dick, eating breakfast together.

Damian harrassing Wally whilst they tried to feed Terry applesauce.

Damian being held back by Duke as he shouted at someone for stepping on an anthill.

Damian having tea with Alfred.

Damian poking a sleeping Bruce's cheek.

Damian and Roy, with Damian seething as Roy held his hand before crossing the road.

And a solo portrait shot of Cass in full prima ballerina makeup, just before a show.

"What the hell!" Jason cried. "There's no shots of me or Tim in here! And why does Cass get a solo shot!"

"When you look half as radiant as she, Todd, you may grace the insides of my wallet," Damian huffed. "Return my wallet, Brown!"

Steph handed Damian's tiny wallet back, taking care to retract her hand before Damian could bite it off. "You evil jellybean," she cooed, "you love us!"


"I know for a fact that you have a Red Hood plushie," she crowed.
"I will end you, Brown!"

"And remember that time he did a whole portrait of Tim?" Jason grinned. "That was really something."

Damian puddled to the floor in a pile of incoherent rage and angst, before Bruce sccoped him up. "I'm surprised at you, Damian," he muttered into his youngest's spiky little head, "that you would keep your big heart hidden like that."

"Hnnngh," Damian replied.

Dick wafted over with Terry, who upon sensing Damian's distress, hurriedly patted his face with both hands, saying, "Dami, Dami, no."

"Terry doesn't want you to have an existential crisis, Dames," Dick said.

Damian snapped out of it at once, his expression changing from anguished to content so fast that Jason was convinced that the boy was possessed. "Tim! Get the sage and the holy water! He has been taken by the Fluff Spirit!"

"On it!" Tim cried, and raced out.
Bruce sighed. "Damian is not possessed. He is rightfuly angry that you little gremlins went through his wallet."

"Also mad that we discovered that he is secretly ADORABLE," Jason teased.

"Todd you utterly classless boor- ECK!"

Damian flailed and dropped to the ground as he was assaulted by a well aimed squirt of water as Tim charged in, wearing a long, feathery, purple sheer nightgown and robe with black, feathered, fringes. He held in his hand a water gun, and in the other, a Superboy symbol.

"Begone from my brother, Happy Demon! The power of Kon compels you!"

Damian hissed and squared off with Tim, while Terry cheered from the sidelines and Bruce cried into his hands and wondered why his children were so awful.

"Tim! Blind the little demon!" Jason called.

Quick as a flash, Tim flicked the long robe aside to reveal his pale, pale thigh, which reflected the sunglight streaming into the room in a blinding flash. Damian shrieked and sped off to hide his face in Wally's stomach, because Ew, Ew, Ew, Drake's pale upper thigh, he saw the bro-leg, it was truly gross.

"Victory!" Tim squeaked. "And it's all thanks to the new line of highlighter from Wayne Cosmetics!"

"What shade is it?" Steph asked.

"It's a silver highlighter, in the shade Twinkling Timmy."

"You named a highlighter after yourself?"

"No! I named one after everyone! There is also Dazzling Dick, Burnished Bruce, Smouldering Steph, and many more!"

Steph and Cass applauded, and Damian growled. "Why am I not a highlighter?"

"You and Jason are hardly going to be highlighters," Tim snorted. "No, you are both eyeliners! Demonic Damian, which is black as night, and Judicious Jason, a rich, copper sulphate blue. And Cass is a lipstick - Cabernet Cass. Alfie is in the shade apricot."

"A most delicious fruit," Alfred agreed. "In my youth, I was informed that I was, and I quote, 'quite a snacc'."

"Oh no," Bruce groaned. "Not my butler-father."

"I was once a young man..." Alfred hummed to himself, while Bruce's world crumbed down around him. Coming back to present day, Alfred shook himself out of his fugue. "Ah, Master Terry!"


"I have long held the desire to carry out a Wayne tradition, but alas, my grandchildren thus far came to me mostly grown," he mourned, and then whipped out a dress that could only be classed as a monstrosity.

It was long, white, frilly, baptism-like gown from a baby, clearly taken with impunity from teh Victorian times. "Every Wayne baby has at one point or the other, worn this dress for their official portrait! And now, you shall carry on the tradition!"

"This means that somewhere, somehow, there is a picture of fat baby Bruce in that dress," Jason grinned, as Alfred gently stuffed Terry into the dress.

"Indeed," Alfred said. "It is on the mantlepiece in my room."

"Wait, that one of the baby on it's belly?" Jason said excitedly. "That fat little pink blob is Bruce?"


"Ooh, Bruce you were such a chubster baby," Jason crowed.

"Please stop," Bruce muttered, which led to Jason inflating his cheeks to chipmunk proportions and adopting anime style eyes to drive his point home. "Sigh." Bruce looked around for something ot make him feel better, and instead saw Tim's whole leg.



"That robe is too sheer!"

"Aw, but it's my pious look."

"That," Bruce pointed, "is in no way, shape, or form, pious. Listen closely, Tim. Can you hear that?"


"The angels are weeping. Go and put on some opaque clothes!"

Tim slid up to his room, and emerged a few minutes later wearing a pencil silhouette dress that did more to accentuate his lithe figure than show modesty. He stared Bruce down victoriously, and proceeded to walk delicately back to the group, his little bum wiggling enticingly through his dress.

"Yo Jay."


"Be a bro and take a picture of me to send to Kon, would you?"

"Anything to irk Bruce," Jason said, and did as asked, with Tim leaning on every available surface and pouting vigorously. Seeing his pretty uncle Timmy, Terry clapped. "Ah, my adoring fanbase loves me! I will now dole out kissies for my most ardent supporter," Tim said, and pressed his crimson coloured lips to Terry's squishy little cheek.

"I believe that it is time to cut the cake," Alfred said lightly. He led them into the kitchen and revealed an immaculately decorated chocolate cake.

"And now to administer the birthday song," Damian said somberly, and started out in the tune of Happy Birthday,

"This is the day of your birth,

"Celebrate it with mirth,

"Advance in your life,

"And cause your enemies strife!"

Only Terry applauded Damian's singing, because he was too cute and too young to know any better. Dick was the first to recover, and cleared his throat.

"Er, Dami, where did you learn that song?" He asked lightly.

"It is the traditional birthday song that we sing at the League," Damian explained, "whilst dunking the celebrant in the Lazarus Pit for their annual healing."

"Oh no," Bruce groaned.

"Heartbreaking and creepy," Jason summarized. "This is the real birthday song," he said, and they all sang it. Damian mused on the lyrics, and shook his head.

"Too redundant," he concluded. "And there is nothing about causing his enemies strife!"

"That's because we don't want to remember them on our special day," Dick explained. "For example, Bruce wouldn't want to remember, say, Luthor on his birthday."

"Ah, most wise," Damian agreed, nodding. "And now we feed Terrence the cake?"

Terry, being the good boy that he was, tried to feed everyone tiny handfuls of cake whenever they fed him. "Eat, eat," he coaxed everyone adorably, as though he were not a tiny one year old boy, but an aged Russian baboushka ladling out the borscht on a cold winter's night.

"Oh my god, there's no doubt about it, he's totally Dick and Wally's son," Jason mused through his third tiny handful of cake. "The perfect combination of Love and Food."

"I can't help that I have a fast metabolism," Wally said. "Don't shame me!"

Jason tried to pinch some of Wally's tummy tub, but found his fingers pinching the void. "What the hell," he muttered, and lifted up Wally's shirt to reveal The Most Glorious Set Of Abs he had ever seen. "Oh my god that is so unfair," he mourned.

Wally blushed and lowered his shirt, but not before he caught Alfred glaring at him. "Master Wallace, you are far to thin," he scolded. "You need some good feeding up, sir!"

"Ooh, I'm not going to object to that," Wally grinned.

"Fooood," Terry added.

Alfred sprung into action faster than any 70 year old had the right to. "Master Terrence is hungry! Quick, everyone be seated, I will prepare brunch at once! Master Richard!"


"The pancakes, if you would!"

"On it!"

"Master Jason!"


"The fruits, good lad!"

"Got it!"

"Master Tim, my boy!"

"Aw yiss!"
"The coffee!"

"Ooh baby!"

"Miss Cassandra, my lady!"


"The condiments!"


"Master Bruce!"


"...nevermind," Alfred said quickly, leaving Bruce gaping and wounded.

Brunch was served up, and the family settled in. Bruce was busy tucking into some pancakes when he deeply felt the need for some maple syrup. "Jason, please pass the syrup."

Jason turned to Tim. "Tim, pass the syrup."

Tim turned to his right. "Cobb, can you pass the syrup pweez~?"

"Certainly, Tim."

Bruce nearly flipped the table. "What! When did you get here!"

"Just now," Cobb said through a mouthful of buttery, syrupy, fluffy goodness. "Tim let me in through the back window. I enjoy bypassing your security."

Bruce glared at his former son-stealing adversary. "You're here to see Terry, I assume."

"Correct," Cobb said, smiling at Terry and stretching his scars horribly. "Hello small descendant."


"Many happy returns of the day."

"Thank 'oo."

"He is very coherent," Cobb noted.

"Terry tested as a bit of a prodigy," Wally informed him. "He's a little smartie."

"Who takes after uncle Jason?" Jason cooed. "Who is the smartest baby to ever be articulate before his years? Not Damian, that's who."

Damian upended his small bowl of salad. "TODD!"

"You forget, evil goblin," Jason said, "that I babysat you for years. All you did was wave around some swords and bite people."

"I mastered the blade at age five!"

"But not how to eat noodles," Jason said. "At communal dinner Fridays, I once had the great pleasure of seeing you faceplant into a bown of ramen. I do believe that you thought the way to eat them was by dunking your whole face into your bowl."

"I tripped and fell!"

"A likely story. Then comes the tale of the sticky rice-"

"Speak and die, Todd!"

"-that somehow ended up in your hair-"

"I shall defend my honour!" Damian screeched, and for the next ten minutes, participated in a tiny brawl with Jason, who won by playing dirty and sitting on top of Damian.

"I win."

"Argh, I am crushed by Todd's hefty arse! Grayson, do not leave me unavenged!"

Dick leaned over and tickled Jason, causing him to jump up, leaving Dick free to extract a somewhat flatter Damian.

"Aw, poor Dami has been squished," he purred, "like a cute pancake."

"I shall re-inflate through the power of my rage and focused hatred," Damian vowed.

"Translation - he will fill himself with hot air," Jason grumbled from his safe sanctuary on Cass' lap. Damain swiped at him halfheartedly, but could not reach him, and settled for promising his slow demise.

Bruce sighed. "What else is planned? Or can I go down-"


"Ok," Bruce subsided in the face of everyone's wrath.

"This is Family Time," Dick insisted. "We have to enjoy our time together!"

"And on this week's episode of Dick's Love Dungeon..." Jason announced, "Bruce is held captive by familial bonds! Tim's tiny bum threatens to tear out of his skirt, and Steph finally proposes to Cass!"

"WHAT!" Bruce thundered.

"Not yet, old man," Stephanie reassured him. "Haven't found a ring yet. But you'll be the first to know when I do!" She said, giving him the ol' finger-guns.

"Why do bad things happen to good people," Bruce mourned.

"Silence, ye gnomes!" Damian hissed. "Terrence is asleep!"

They looked over to see, yes, Terry was flopped inelegantly in Wally's arms, fast asleep. "Come Wallace, Grayson, we shall put Terrence down for a nap with the sound of the noble whale mooing as a soothing accompaniment."

The entire family followed upstairs to watch Terry sleep, his tiny tummy rising and falling gently. "He looks so pure," Dick whispered. "But he's growing up. He's going to see evil, it's inevitable."

"Don't know what you're worried about," Jason said, "he sees Damian everyday." He and Tim then did some quiet high fiving and sick hip bumps. Damian, not wanting to wake Terry, bottled his rage to unleash later.

Later, they would pay.

"Dick, you can't hide Terry away fom the world," Bruce said calmly, "but in this family, we look out for each other - Jason don't even start - and more importantly, we will prepare him," Bruce said.

"We talk about this at night," Wally admitted, looking at Dick, "we don't know what's going to happen. Our line of work isn't exactly safe - Jason please no - and the thought of Terry being exposed to that is..."

"Terrifying," Dick finished quietly. "But rationally, we know that we have to prepare him. I just...I worry."

"That's normal," Cass grunted. "Worry is good. Tame it, make it your own. Bend it to your will," she said, forming a fist. "Make the world safer for Terry. With your rage."

"Stop watching The Last Airbender, please," Bruce sighed.

"I will end The Evil."

"Cass, no."

"End it all. Forever. A new age of peace with Avatar Cass."


Dick smiled. "As much as I worry, I can't predict the future," he said. "If Terry wants to, then he will fight alongside us."

Spoiler: He did. Watch for the next story!

"We'll look after him, Dickface, Wall-ball," Jason swore. "I will sacrifice Bruce if I have to, but I will keep Terry safe."

"Why," Bruce said sadly.

Dick giggled and accepted the comfort that his family was giving. "Thanks guys," he said.

"No problem, Dick," Steph grinned, throwing one arm around his shoulders and anoter over Bruce's. "After all, that's what family's for."

"Egads," Bruce grumbled.

And through it all, Terry slept unknowing and peaceful, the most loved baby in Gotham.



In this fic, Timmy wore:

Timmy's 'pious' robes

Timmy's amazing pencil dress

BONUS: Damian's froggy smile