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For the people who knew Batman, he was cold, harsh, and egotistical. He was always in charge and believed his way was right no matter what anyone else said–a critique on his tongue at any given moment. Those who thought they knew the man behind the mask saw a man who cared even if he never admitted it. Sure, they thought he could be distant and a bit too strict at times, but they let it slide for the most part because they knew it was just his own twisted way of showing he cared. And yet still, there were those who believed they knew Brucie Wayne, a Billionaire playboy philanthropist who never quite grew out of his college party era but was as infinitely kind as he was airheaded. However, there was a side of Batman that they didn’t even get to see; it was a side reserved only for those who knew Bruce. It was the Bruce that was neither hidden behind Kevlar and leather nor the mask of a billionaire playboy, and it all started with an old tattered Robin Plushy that sat by his bed.
To most, it would look like some random doll made by unskilled hands, and some would even say it was ugly. It sat awkwardly against the lamp with uneven limbs and two vastly different buttons sat on its face to act as eyes. The smile was crooked, and strips of black colored fabric laid flat on its head as a sad excuse for hair. And stitched into the red lumpy torso, that had been stuffed by small clumsy hands, was a crudely stitched R that looked just as bad, if not worse, than a third grader’s writing. Even with its flaws, Bruce treasured the stuffed Robin along with the other plushies that sat around his room, not quite hidden but not quite in plain sight, always within reach when needed. How Bruce came by these children’s toys, only few would know.
#—#Dick#—#
When Bruce slept he always needed to hold something, and for most of his life that something was an extra pillow that sat on his bed. This changed just a bit when Dick first came to live with him.
When Dick had nightmares he would always run to Bruce who, while half asleep, would push away the pillow and bring the boy into his arms. On those nights it was like all the nightmares and horrible memories had washed away for both of them as Dick curled into his adopted father’s strong arms and Bruce held his son close.
When Dick became Robin Bruce found himself unable to sleep without his worries seeping into his dreams and found himself wandering the halls of the manor just to make sure that Dick was still safe and breathing. Some nights that was all he needed, just the knowledge that his son was ok. Some nights it wasn’t. When Bruce was particularly shaken by a nightmare, or if patrol had ended with his nerves too frayed from worry, he would walk into his ward's room and hold him as the boy slept, Dick huddling closer to the warmth of his guardian. Just like that, with Dick held close in his arms, Bruce would finally find rest. His son was safe and alive. He always made sure that he was out of the room before Dick awoke.
He hadn’t known that Dick would sometimes wake up before him though. In fact, the young acrobat had awoken many times as Bruce pulled him into his warm, comforting embrace. Dick never said anything about it, just enjoyed the moments as they came. That didn’t stop the whole situation from confusing him though. Sure, he might get in the man’s bed when he had a nightmare, but this was Bruce, Batman, a man notorious for his limited emotional expressions. This behavior didn’t make sense.
Eventually, while sitting in the kitchen with a fresh plate of cookies in front of him, Dick decided to ask Aflred about the weird behavior.
“He worries,” was Alfred’s response, “and he fears losing you or seeing you hurt.”
The answer had surprised Dick, “But, but Batman’s not afraid of anything!”
Alfred only gave a sad smile before turning to continue his work. “Master Bruce has faced many trials in his life, all of which have taught him to hide his fears and keep his emotions close to his heart. They have also shown him the dangers that live in this world. It is for that reason that he worries.” As Alfred left the kitchen to attend to other parts of the house, Dick started to think.
And think.
And think.
And think.
He thought for days about what Alfred had told him. He thought about it at school; he thought as he watched his favorite TV show; and he thought as he ran across rooftops with Batman, doing his best not to appear distracted. Dick might’ve only been nine at the time, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew that their nighttime job was dangerous, and it would only take one slip-up for something bad to happen. If that bad thing happened to him, how was Bruce going to cope?
Then, it hit him.
Dick was quick to find Alfred, knowing he could help him. He raced through the halls and out the back door to the garden. As soon as he spotted the old butler, he started calling for him in a rush. “Alfred! Alfred!”
Hearing the almost panicked call had Alfred instantly on alert, worried that something had happened. But as Dick had stopped just in front of him, he was surprised by his words.
“I need you to teach me how to sew.”
And teach him he did. During his free time, unknown to Bruce, Dick worked tirelessly on his project, making sure his adopted father wouldn’t find even a scrap of fuzzy cloth. He worked and worked until, finally, it was finished–just in time for his first Father’s Day with Bruce too.
He had been so excited about the gift he had made that he didn’t even wait for breakfast first. He had waited for Bruce in the kitchen and as soon as the man stepped through the entryway he was there, a crudely wrapped package being shoved into Bruce’s hands.
Bruce hesitated at first, surprise and confusion making him unsure. But, with insistent prompting from the boy, he opened the package only to see an odd-looking handmade stuffed doll. He was even more confused at the sight, but as his eyes landed on the ‘R’ (he thought it was an ‘R’ at least) sewn into the torso, he looked back at Dick. “Is this a Stuffed Robin?”
The boy nodded enthusiastically, “Yep! Just in case there’s a time when I’m not here, whether I’ve moved out or… or I’m just no longer here, I wanted you to remember that I’ll always be with you.”
A small, warm smile spread over Bruce’s face as he looked at Dick. Kneeling to look the boy in the eyes, he thanked him and wrapped him in a warm hug.
The plushy quickly found its home on the nightstand by Bruce’s bed, its presence bringing a slight comfort to Bruce on days he didn’t feel so well. Neither Bruce nor Dick could know that the first time the man would hold it in his arms would be because his son had had enough and left him alone. It was the first of many more regretful tears that stained its soft fabric.
Later, there would be half apologies and a silent, understood forgiveness between them; however, a rift would still be there, making them unsure of their next actions. But one day, Dick would walk into the Batcave to find a tired Batman sitting alone at his computer, working, and he would pull out a small, stuffed plushy. This one would look almost professional in quality compared to his last, and it would not be a Robin, but a Nightwing. The rift would close as Bruce held his first son close.
#—#Jason#—#
When Jason came to live at the manor Bruce wasn’t quite sure what to do at first. He didn’t want the boy thinking he was some sort of creep but he still needed the confirmation that his second son was still safe and sound. So, instead of holding the boy in his arms as he slept, Bruce would sit on the floor and listen to Jason’s even breaths and watch his chest rise and fall. It brought him enough comfort to fall back into the arms of sleep, sometimes leaning against the wall and other times right next to the boy’s bed.
Jason never knew.
That is until, one day when he decided to roam the manor while his guardian was away. He had never entered Bruce’s room before, but as he came to the daunting doorway his curiosity got the best of him. He had pushed the door open not sure what to expect but for some reason he was surprised by how normal it was. With cautious steps he surveyed the room, curious eyes taking everything in. Then he saw it.
Sitting on the bedside table, resting against the lamp, was a tattered old doll with mismatched button eyes and loose fraying thread. Moving closer he examined it with great confusion. Why did Batman have a stuffed doll in his room? It was odd and seemingly out of character but after a few moments, Jason shrugged it off and continued his stroll through the castle-like home. The doll never left his mind.
Later he was in the family room reading, with Alfred cleaning away in the background. He constantly found himself unable to focus on the book in front of him until finally, he spoke.
“What’s with the creepy doll in Bruce’s room?” It was blunt, and the suddenness of the question surprised the butler.
“The doll?”
“Yeah, I saw it earlier. Why’s he keep a doll with him?”
Alfred returned to his work as he answered the child, “It was a gift from Master Dick quite some time ago.”
“That idiot thought it was a good idea to get Grumpy a stuffed doll?” Jason scoffed humorously.
“Actually, Master Jason, it was a very thoughtful gift on his part.”
Jason was surprised by the stern tone coming from the butler. At the uncomfortable silence from the boy Alfred sighed and decided to explain. “Master Bruce hasn’t slept the best since the death of his parents, his nighttime activities as Batman didn’t help. His sleep became worse however when Master Dick became Robin. He worried too much and when some patrols nearly ended badly master Bruce was completely incapable of sleeping.” As Alfred continued to work, he felt curious eyes on his back, “On those nights he would go into Master Dick’s room and hold him in his arms as the boy slept. Those were the only nights he could find real rest.”
Setting down his cleaning supplies, the old man went to sit beside Jason, “After so many nights of this happening, Master Dick came to me asking why.”
Jason’s curious eyes gazed into Alfred’s, “And what’d you say?”
“The truth. Master Bruce worried and feared losing him or seeing him hurt. In response to my words Master Dick decided to make him a Robin plushy as a reminder that he would always be there, whether in body or just in heart.”
Jason was shocked, much like Dick, by the response before looking away in a daze. “I guess Batman gets scared too sometimes.”
“Indeed,” Alfred agreed as he watched the young boy wrestle with something in his head. “He worries about you as well, Master Jason.”
The look on his face was like that of a deer caught in headlights before whispered words fell from his mouth, “He does?”
“He might not hold you like he did with Master Dick, but that’s because he is unsure. I have found him many times sitting on the floor next to your bed fast asleep. He wants to hold you close and know you’re safe but is uncertain of boundaries you might need to feel loved here.” With those last words, Alfred got up from his seat, gathered his cleaning supplies, and left the boy to his thoughts.
That night, Jason quietly left his bed and snuck through the halls of the manor until he reached his guardian’s bedroom. Pushing the door open, he walked quietly towards the bed where Bruce slept, two arms curled tightly around a pillow as his eyebrows scrunched together in pain. Jason watched him, trying to figure out how to do what he wanted without waking the man.
Raising his hand, Jason began to gently run his fingers through the man’s dark hair. He was pleased with himself as he watched strong muscles slowly relax and tense arms loosen their grip on the pillow. Grabbing the pillow he carefully removed it from Bruce’s arms. He almost regretted the action though as Bruce seemed to become even more upset at the loss of the soft object, his arms reaching out for something to hold onto. He couldn’t back out now.
Moving quickly, Jason pulled back the covers and pulled himself close to the distressed man. Before he could get comfortable though, two strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a warm chest. Looking up, he saw the lines on Bruce’s face recede as his features relaxed into a content expression. Being this close he could hear the man’s heartbeat and his gentle breathing and quickly found himself falling asleep in the warm embrace.
The next morning he woke early and carefully extracted himself from his adopted father’s arms. Just as he was leaving the room he heard a quiet voice come from the bed, “Thank you Jaylad.”
He did this for many more nights, sometimes even waking up to an already awake Bruce. They would lay there in silence until Alfred came to get them out of bed. Eventually, he even started to wake up in his own bed to Bruce holding him close.
Jason never made him a plushy during his short time as Robin, a part of his brain saying it was childish while the other said he already had one stuffed Robin and he didn’t need another. Besides, even if he had found that the doll brought Bruce some comfort, he knew the man slept the best holding the real thing in his arms. His subconscious recognized that no matter what was happening in his head, the real Robin, his son, was alive and well. He wasn’t going to leave Bruce, he had silently promised him that one night as his father slept. He wouldn’t need one as long as Jason was here.
But then he died. And as the Joker had beat him with the bloody crowbar, as he watched the bomb count down, he knew that Batman wouldn’t get there in time. He hoped the stuffed Robin sitting at his bedside would bring his father enough comfort to get at least some sleep.
The next thing he remembered was waking up in a pit of glowing, green water. And as he stumbled through getting his bearings at being alive again, he found that his father had not avenged him, had replaced him even, with some snot-nosed little brat who thought he could be Robin. He was angry and his brain was just a little fuzzy. But most of all he was hurt and felt betrayed.
They fought. He tried to kill Batman, tried to kill the new bird he had taken in. The new bird that had taken his place. It was supposed to be him and Bruce, and maybe Dick too when big brother decided he wasn’t angry at the man at the moment.
Then the dust settled, and everything began to slowly mend. But he couldn’t bring himself to be near his adopted father just yet. He yearned to go home, to be held in his father’s arms. So much so he found himself one night sneaking onto the manor grounds. Taking care not to trigger one of the many traps and alarms, he ascended the outer walls and made his way to the room he used to reside in. Peering in, he saw something he had never wished to see.
Nothing had changed at all. It was like the room itself had been frozen in time. But that wasn’t what had shocked him. What shocked him was the sight of his adopted father sitting on his bed staring down at the tattered Robin toy that looked worse than when he had last seen it. And the eyes that stared down at the plushy were exhausted, dark bruises resting under blue eyes that had lost their brightness. At that moment Jason remembered the silent promise he had made, the silent promise he had broken. He had left Bruce alone and now wondered if the man had been able to sleep at all, wondered if he had blamed himself all this time for Jason’s death and not the Joker.
He wanted to comfort Bruce but still couldn’t find it in himself to face his father so instead, he went to find Alfred.
“You would give most men my age a heart attack hiding in the dark like that.” Alfred had said as he cleaned up the last of the mess from dinner.
“I need you to teach me how to sew.”
Alfred raised an eyebrow in surprise.
Several weeks later, an exhausted Bruce walked into his room. He was hoping to finally get some sleep for once after the rough night on patrol. As he made his way to the king-size bed however a small object caught his attention. There, sitting on the edge of the bed, was a Red Hood plushy with a note resting on its legs. He read the note and a small smile spread across his face before he held the plushy in his hand to truly look at it. It wasn’t perfect, the red bat symbol having obviously un-even sides and the coat didn’t quite sit right, but to Bruce, it was better than perfect.
‘Stop worrying old man.
I’m fine. Promise.’
#—#Barbara#—#
When Barbara was Batgirl it was especially hard for Bruce. With his sons, he had them in his sight more times than not. And when a night spent on the rooftops of Gotham had been worse than just the normal scrapes and bruises, he could always be comforted by holding them in his arms as they slept. With Barbara, he couldn’t do that. She had a father of her own who she loved and who loved her and hence lived with him, not Bruce. It didn’t keep him from worrying in fact, it made his worries worse. All he wanted to do was make sure she was safe and alive. But even if she doesn’t live at the manor, even if she has a father—a better father than he could ever be—at home always awaiting her arrival, Bruce makes sure she has a room in his own home.
“it's just for emergencies,” he had told her, “In case you’re too injured to go home some nights and need a place to stay.” At his words, she seemed to think it was a good idea and not him trying to be her father.
He hadn’t told her it was for the sake of his own sanity.
She barely ever used it, only when she needed to heal before returning to her father. But when she used it it was like he could finally breathe, like this tension in his chest had finally started to recede. And on those nights he would walk the halls and peer through her door to see her sleeping peacefully and the rest of the tension would flee from his body as he would make his way back to his room and crash into a dreamless sleep.
And that was how he coped with it for a while, constant stress and worry over whether or not the girl was safe followed by the rare relief that caused every muscle to finally relax as he melted in his bed knowing she was just down the hall, safe and sound in her bed. But it all came crumbling down one day when she was attacked by the Joker, leaving her permanently paralyzed in her lower body.
Her stay in the hospital was agonizing for Bruce. He refused to go see her, still worried about overstepping his boundaries, but his body refused to relax and he knew it would stay that way until she was released and came by the manor. He wouldn’t be able to rest until he saw her, alive and well.
Early on in her stay at the hospital Dick had visited her, one of many more visits to come. He chattered on in that cheerful Dick Grason way of his and even made her laugh despite the situation she found herself in. Nearing the end of this particular visit however he had told her how worried Bruce was about her, he just couldn’t work up the courage to visit.
As Dick had left her room she’d sighed. Of course Bruce was worried, it was the thing he did best, and he was probably blaming himself for the whole ordeal even if it wasn’t his fault. She needed to find a way to help him calm down and stop worrying so much. She wasn’t sure what to do, worrying was second nature to Bruce. She thought and thought about what to do until the pain meds kicked in and she fell asleep.
Awaking the next day it was like the gears in her brain had locked into place and started turning as a great Idea popped into her head. Dick had told her long ago about the Robin doll he had made for Bruce. She had been curious (and admittedly a bit concerned) when she found out that Batman was his dad. How could a man like that be a good father? Dick had only laughed at her attempt at subtlety and told her that Bruce was actually a big softy who just didn’t know how to express his love. Of course, she didn’t believe him, not when the topic of conversation was practically angst incarnate and could brood for a living. The man was so emotionally repressed it was like talking to a brick wall sometimes.
But then he showed her the doll.
He had quickly left the room telling her he’d be right back and on his return he brought back a tattered old plushy that looked a bit disturbing, to be honest. But as he told her the doll’s story she couldn’t help but find it adorable.
With the memory at the front of her mind, Barbara was quick to find a phone and made a call to the person she knew could help her.
“Alfred? Hey. Yeah, I’m doing just fine. I wanted to ask you something. Can you teach me how to sew?”
That afternoon the old butler showed up with several different fabrics, needles, and threads. He came by day after day (the visits short so as not to alert Bruce) until she finally finished. Along with a quickly written note she handed Alfred her finished project and told him to make sure it got to Bruce safely.
When Alfred returned to the manor later that afternoon he found that Bruce had already returned from work. He walked into the young man’s study to see him reading away at the papers that he had no doubt brought back from his office.
“Couldn’t work at the office today sir?”
Bruce peered up at the man who had been like a father to him for the better part of his life before turning his eyes back down at his paperwork, “How my father could ever work with some of these people I’ll never know. How was your day Alfred?”
“Same as always Master Bruce. I just got back from visiting Miss Gordon however.” Bruce looked up once more at this and he could see the flash of worry in his eyes before he hid it behind the protective barrier where the rest of his emotions resided.
“And how was Barbara today?”
“Doing just fine Master Bruce. She gets better every day.” at his answer, Bruce looked back at his work, “I actually have something to give you. She wanted me to make sure you received it as soon as possible.”
Bruce was curious now as he once again glanced up at the butler, “What is it?”
“You’re going to have to open it and find out,” Alfred said before bringing a small box from behind him, setting it on Bruce’s desk. The man did nothing but stare at the box for a moment as conflicting emotions made him unsure of what to do next.
“I must go prepare dinner now, sir,” Alfred said as he excused himself from the room.
Bruce was eventually able to move again and slowly reached for the box. Pulling open the top he peered down and was met with the sight of a small note lying on top of a batgirl plushy.
‘Don’t worry anymore Bruce.
I’ll be fine.
—Barbara’
Holding the stuffed batgirl in his hands something in his chest finally loosened and it was like he could breathe for the first time since the incident. All of a sudden all the exhaustion came crashing down on him and he could barely make it through dinner that night. When he finally went to bed, Alfred easily convincing him to stay in that night, he curled up under the warm covers and clutched the batgirl plushy to his chest.
#—#Tim#—#
Tim’s starting relationship with Bruce was… interesting to say the least. Just like everyone who cared about Bruce, he could sum it up with two very simple words: It’s complicated. Tim would never say his relationship with the man was more or less complicated than anyone else, it’s just that… Well, for Dick, he was Bruce’s adopted son no matter what frustrations the younger man had towards his father. For Barbara, it was like he was some sort of weird/cool uncle something-or-other as he did his best not to go into worried dad mode anytime she was hurt and they both seemed to balance the relationship just so. They didn’t talk about Jason.
For Tim though, it wasn’t anything like that. He was just some kid who stalked Batman and begged to be Robin. Tim had parents. Sure, they weren’t around much but they did exist, which meant that he wasn’t Bruce’s son. However, when his parents were away, Tim stayed at the manor. And because of how long their trips lasted, the manor became like a second home to him. With the extended stays at the manor though, and consequently, the more time spent with the man, the more… awkward their relationship became. It wasn’t the uncomfortable-silence-when-alone-in-a-room kind of awkward, but more like there was a barrier that they both wanted to remove and yet didn’t feel as if it was their job to do so. There was a line that they were both hesitant to cross that ended in Bruce yearning to hold the boy he almost saw as a third son but told himself that he couldn’t. Not when Tim still cared about the parents who left him on his own for so much of his life.
Nevertheless, Tim was grateful for the time spent at the manor, even if it sometimes made him feel like he was betraying the ones who gave him life. It was warm and comforting and left him feeling loved every time he fell asleep in the room that Bruce had dedicated just to him. He was even able to learn things about Bruce that he never would have learned otherwise and he loved each and every discovery. For example, Bruce loved Alfred’s cookies. To the point where he would give in to almost every demand at the threat of losing his cookie privileges (Tim couldn’t blame him though, those cookies were to kill for). Bruce also despised mornings with a passion and sometimes would even dramatically claim to be a vampire when his blinds were pulled open to wake him. But by far Tim’s favorite discovery would be the robin plushy that sat by his bed all tattered and worn with poorly sewn stitches that began to lose their grip on the fabric they held together.
He had approached Alfred after that particular discovery and learned of how it came to be. It was a sweet story that proved the existence of the soft heart Tim knew was there. After that he realized how much Bruce worried for him, finally understanding why Bruce would come and check on him on nights that he would stay at the manor. His own parents had never done that so he was never sure what the action meant until then. He started to smile to himself every time Bruce would crack open his door to check on him before going back to bed. Bruce showed more care and love in that one action than Tim had seen in his whole life.
When Red Hood showed up Bruce became more stressed at night and began sitting against the wall in Tim’s room for several minutes before he could go to bed. That was when Tim started to break away at the barrier they were both too aware of. He couldn’t make Bruce a plushy, it felt too much like letting go of his own parents and he didn’t want to try and replace the robin plushy Bruce already had. Instead, he started sneaking into Bruce’s room as the man slept, letting the man hold him and know Tim was still safe. Even when Jason’s reveal left Bruce with nightmares, Tim never left.
As the chaos slowly started to settle, Tim decided that he would become Red Robin in hopes of setting himself apart from Robin and showing Jason that he wasn’t a replacement. No one could replace Jason in Bruce’s heart, He just created a whole new place for someone in his heart, leaving a gaping hole that only Jason could fill.
Another discovery Tim made was the seemingly endless amount of love that Bruce had to give. The man hid it well behind stoic features and a chronic case of emotional constipation, but he always made room in his heart for anyone who needed it.
Just before he started going by the new monicker, he discovered the little Red Hood plushy sitting in a box under Bruce’s bed. It gave him hope that becoming Red Robin would help Jason and Bruce mend their relationship even more.
Even as Red Robin Tim couldn’t bring himself to make a plushy for Bruce, too afraid of breaking the last bit of the barrier that kept them from entering father-and-son territory. It all changed though when he was staying with his parents during one of their brief returns to Gotham. He had returned to his house only to find his parents sitting in the kitchen, an open bottle of wine on the table and an empty one already in the trash can.
It was his fault really, though others would try and say otherwise. He had made the mistake of letting the shock of seeing them bring forth careless words from his mouth. If he were to give any advice to kids with not-so-great parents, it would be to never say “What are you doing here,” when they are both obviously drunk. Because of his words, his father crossed a line Tim never thought he would. And if it wasn’t for Jason it would have escalated way passed a smack to the face, a bruising grip, and scathing words.
Jason had followed Tim that day, trying to work passed his pride to apologize to the kid. He had been right outside the door about to knock when sounds of a shattering bottle and angry voices reached his ears. He had burst through the door to witness Tim get thrown to the floor. And in a feat of righteous fury, he punched the drunk man, picked up Tim, and ran for Wayne Manor.
In a matter of days, there was a trial that ended in the Drakes receiving a restraining order and their son in the permanent custody of Bruce Wayne.
As time moved forward, Tim found himself approaching his first Father’s Day with Bruce as his adopted father and he knew exactly what to give the man.
He had approached Alfred nearly two whole months before the holiday and asked him a very simple question the old man was becoming quite familiar with.
“Can you teach me how to sew?”
In every bit of free time he had, Tim worked on the gift. He wanted it to be perfect. And by the time Father’s Day came around, he was able to present Bruce with a small Red Robin plushy. He hadn’t quite gotten it perfect like he wanted, the bird symbol didn’t look right sitting in a rough circle with a too-bulky beak, but the smile on Bruce’s face was enough for him to ignore the imperfections. The last of the barrier came down as Bruce pulled Tim into a hug.
“Thank you, Tim.”
“No problem Dad.”
#—#Stephanie#—#
Much like Barbara, Stephanie never lived in the manor. She was too independent for that. Of course, that didn’t stop Bruce from worrying. No, the girl who had become Spoiler in an attempt to stop her father probably worried him more than the other kids he worked with (not by much though, his heart wouldn’t be able to handle much more stress).
To remedy his problem, Bruce did for Stephanie what he did for Barbara. He gave her a room in the manor, a place to rest and heal when a night out protecting Gotham left her in worse shape than normal. Bruce was relieved when she accepted and even more so when he found her using it. Many times they would all convine at the cave after a particularly taxing patrol, and as they would all leave to change Steph would call out to Bruce.
“Hey, I’m staying over tonight just so ya know.” On those nights Bruce always stopped by her room to check on her before continuing on to Tim.
He quickly discovered, however, that she would also sneak into the manor every now and then and with that discovery he began to check her room every night. He would always hope she would be there but a part of him also wished otherwise.
He never learned the reason for the secret visits and they always made him worry just a little bit more. So, on nights that he would find she had snuck into the manor once again, he would just sit in her doorway with his legs crossed and head leaning against the door frame. He would sit there, unaware of the marching of time, just making sure she was alright, that she wasn’t suffering through nightmares on her own. He wouldn’t dare cross the threshold of her room without permission, too afraid it would make her push him away even more, but he would make sure he would be there when she needed him.
One of the nights that she had snuck into the manor Dick just so happened to be staying the night as well. And as Bruce sat quietly in her doorway he didn’t notice the young man standing just down the hall, smiling a knowing smile at his mentor’s actions.
Several weeks later, Stephanie walked into Dick’s room when the boy was visiting once more. Bruce’s birthday was coming up and she had no idea what to get him. It was driving her insane. So, with an exasperated sigh, she flopped dramatically on the young man’s bed and confessed to him her woes.
With a smile, he stared down at his fellow vigilante, “Don’t worry. I know exactly what you need to do.”
The blonde gave him her full attention and became… quite confused at his words. “You’re sure about this,” she questioned as she started to leave his room.
“Absolutely. He’ll love it.”
After the visit, she found Alfred in the cave fixing up all the holes in the suits they had gotten on patrol the night before. Still unsure about Dick’s idea, she awkwardly cleared her throat to get the old butler’s attention, “So~ Dick said you could teach me how to sew?” The knowing smile on Alfred’s face confused her even more.
She quickly found out that sewing was not as easy as it looked and there were many times she almost backed out on the whole thing. Bruce would like a key chain just as much right? But Dick, Alfred, and surprisingly Tim insisted that this was the best thing she could give the man.
On Bruce’s birthday, she woke up in the manor having slept there the night before. After breakfast, all the kids (Babs was even there) handed their carefully chosen gifts over to Bruce. He took his time opening each one and thanking whoever each gift came from. When he went to open hers she started worrying again. Was it really the right gift to give a fully grown adult male? As his surprised eye peered down at the box her worries doubled.
But then, he smiled. It was a small smile but it was also genuine and full of love. With careful hands, he picked up the hand-sewn Spoiler doll. It wasn’t perfect. There was string bunched up along the seams where her stitches had gotten tangled up and the black thread that lined the details of the suit was crooked. But, as she saw Bruce look up and thank her for the gift, she knew it was perfect.
Later that day she found Dick working out in the cave. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her and she had to ask.
“How did you know?”
Dick stopped what he was doing and looked at her confused, “I’m sorry?”
“How did you know he’d like the doll?”
Dick just smiled, grabbed a towel to dry off with, and walked back up into the manor, “Follow me.”
Annoyed that he wouldn’t just give her an answer she groaned but followed anyway. Their destination confused her even more. It was Bruce’s bedroom. Dick quietly led her further into the room, grabbed something off his bedside table, and showed it to her.
It was a poorly made plushy with mismatched eyes, a crooked smile, and an R sewed into the red torso. It was ugly and kind of creepy in Stephanie’s opinion, but as Dick told her of its origins she decided that maybe it wasn’t so bad.
#—#Cassandra#—#
One thing that confused Bruce about fatherhood was the idea that fathers loved their daughters more than their sons. He had three sons and he couldn’t imagine being able to love a child more.
But then he adopted Cassandra.
The moment it was made official it was like a switch had flipped in his mind and he instantly understood. He didn’t love her more or less than her brothers, it was just… different. She was, however, the favorite but it had less to do with her being his only daughter and more to do with her not trying to find every way imaginable to make him lose his patience and his mind. Seriously, he loved his boys but sometimes they just drove him up the wall.
But just like with all those he loved, the love he had for Cass came with worries and anxieties. Worries he didn’t know how to deal with except by doing what he’s always done. The relationship was different though, and he didn’t know if there were things he should or shouldn’t do that he just didn’t know about. He, many times, almost went to pick up a parenting book. But Cass was so different from others that he was almost certain that everything in those books would be useless. All the worry and confusion left him unintentionally keeping Cass at arm's length.
Cass was smart though.
Cass could read people better than they could read themselves and she knew what was wrong with her adopted father. She saw the worry and protectiveness in his posture when they were out on patrol. She saw the twitching in his hands and the look in his eyes that told her he just wanted to hold her close, keep her safe. She saw him at night as he came to check on her as she lay in bed, always keeping himself from getting too close to her. The hesitation in his actions also told her how unsure he was and that he didn’t know what was ok and what wasn’t. It made her smile to herself at the obvious care he took but it also made her sad that he was too afraid to just show his love for those he cared for.
After much thought, she decided that if Bruce was too worried to make the first move, then she would. She started slow, not wanting to shock him too much. She would sit by him on a sofa and just lay her head on his shoulder. And when he got home from work or she got home after a day out she would give him a hug. She would also do this before bed and was pleasantly surprised when he would kiss her head to say goodnight.
Eventually, she started sitting in his lap as he worked silently in his study and dose off to the sounds of his beating heart, quiet breaths, and the gentle scratching of his pen against paper. The first time it happened he had questioned her as she made herself comfortable. She made movements with her hands telling him it was quiet in his study, the sudden shouting just outside the hall was just a happy coincidence she tried to use to make a point. Not long after that, she started just sitting in his lap, his arms wrapped around her, as they watched TV in the family room.
They both fell asleep like that many times, leaving themselves open to an attack by her older brother, Jason. She should have expected it really, Jason took advantage of anything he saw as blackmail material, but she couldn’t help but be upset at him when she found the photo. Didn’t Jason realize how hard these things were for their father? Bruce is constantly unsure when it comes to his relationships with others, he doesn’t need his own son to make him question himself more.
Luckily, she holds enough power to keep her brothers in line and can get them to do almost anything she wants them to. Jason had refused to delete the photo, but he was under constant threat if he ever decided to show it to anyone unless he got permission from her. As she left his room that day she was pleased to say they had an understanding.
Cass didn’t find out about the plushies until Alfred had tasked her with waking Bruce one morning, the butler himself was too busy with breakfast and making sure the boys didn’t try to sneak a taste of the food. She had been quiet in her entrance, not wanting to startle her adopted father. And as she approached the bed she saw an odd-looking doll sitting on his nightstand. She had picked it up with gentle hands, enjoying the feeling of the soft fabric. She had been startled, however, when Bruce’s sleep was seemingly disrupted for a moment and she dropped it. Reaching down to pick it up she had noticed something under his bed. It was a Red Hood plushy.
After the discovery she started looking around the room and found many more plushies, one of which had been a spoiler plushy that was hidden between Bruce and the pillow he clung to in his sleep. She recalled that Stephanie had been ambushed that night when they were out on patrol. When they all returned Bruce had been stiff and almost angry with worry. Steph hadn’t seen it that way though and had run off as soon as she was patched up, not even saying goodbye to Bruce. Was this how he dealt with all the worry when they weren’t there? Maybe she should make him a Black Bat plushy in case he needs it one day.
Eventually, the smell of breakfast had wafted through the manor through Bruce’s open door and Cass remembered why she was there in the first place. Making sure everything was back where it belonged Cass gently woke her adopted father and they walked down to breakfast together.
After breakfast was done and everyone had left to do whatever it was they had planned, Cass approached Alfred as the old butler was cleaning up the last of the dishes.
At the gentle tap on his shoulder, he brought his attention to the girl who stood beside him with a hopeful look in her eyes. “Yes, Miss Cassandra?”
“Teach me to sew?”
He gave the girl a small smile and, just like with all the other kids in the manor, he taught her to sew.
Every day, while Bruce was away at Wayne Enterprises, they would take a couple of hours to sit down as he taught her different stitches and what they did. On many occasions, the others would walk in on the lessons and reminisce about their own time of learning to sew and what led them to make their plushy for Bruce.
The day she finished the doll Cass had waited excitedly by the door waiting for Bruce to come home. As soon as he stepped through the door he was nearly tackled to the floor by a hug before being dragged further into the manor. He didn’t even have time to take off his coat or put down his briefcase. They stopped in the family room and she let go of her father to retrieve her gift from behind a chair. As soon as she grabbed it she had darted over to him to show him what she had made.
The suddenness of it all surprised Bruce, but as his brain caught up and noticed what she had presented to him he put down his briefcase, took the Black Bat plushy into his gentle grasp, and smiled. He was knocked back again by another hug and as he looked down into the eyes of his daughter he knew what she was trying to tell him.
‘If you ever need me and I’m not here.’
Returning her hug, he kissed her head and thanked her. If he noticed the group of kids watching from the doorway, he didn’t say anything.
#—#Damian#—#
Bruce’s relationship with Damian was strained at the beginning. Don’t get him wrong, Bruce loved Damian from the moment he got over the shock of meeting him even if he was a conceited brat. No, that didn’t bother him as much as one might suspect. While the kid's attitude was a problem (an irritating one at that) it wasn’t Damian’s fault, and Bruce recognized that. It was the fault of his mother and grandfather. Bruce couldn’t hate him for what his guardians raised him into. What truly bothered Bruce, what kept him from getting closer to his only biological son, was that he had a son and didn’t even know. He had a son who went through things no kid should go through. He was trained to be an assassin from too young of an age, abused by those who should have cared for him. It left Bruce feeling like he was somehow at fault for what his son went through. If he had known of Damian’s existence from the start he could have given him a more normal childhood, maybe even kept him out of his dangerous nightlife. But he didn’t know and it left a guilty ache in his chest every time he was reminded of his son’s early childhood.
For Damian, he had no idea how to approach his father. Early on he had thought it would be similar to how he might approach his grandfather, but he learned quickly that that was not the case and became unsure of how to act. What his mother and grandfather taught him, his father refuted. Where Damian believed he was supposed to show no emotion, his father seemed to believe otherwise. When Damian thought he was to spend his every waking moment training, his father told him to just live his life and be a kid. Every time he showed those beneath him how he was better, his father would rebuke him and tell him that he was no better than anyone else and he should be humble. It didn’t make any sense.
Yet, even with all the confusion and caution that kept them from growing closer, Bruce would always be Bruce, and Bruce worried. He worried like it was second nature.
On Damian’s first day of school, Bruce was so worried he felt like a new parent sending their kid to preschool for the first time, which was ridiculous because Damian was a teenager and could take care of himself. But Damian also had an attitude problem and was easily offended. And what if he talked back to his teachers? What if he made a terrible first impression on his peers? What if he never made any friends? Sure, he had several adoptive siblings to form relationships with, but it took him forever just to get along with Dick and Dick was the friendliest of them all.
Bruce also worried when they went on patrol which, again, was ridiculous because Damian was trained by the most deadly assassin group in the world. Damian could take down a few petty thieves. But this was also Gotham. Gotham’s villains didn’t play by the same rules as the rest of Earth’s criminals. Anything can happen during a patrol, and almost everything can happen when one of the bigger criminals decides to wreak havoc on this city. Damian wasn’t prepared for the special way one needs to approach Gotham. He was too reckless, too driven by his anger, and lacked so, so much experience. What if Bruce couldn’t reach him in time (like Jason)? What if he got injured (like Barbara)? What if Bruce couldn’t protect him (like all of his kids)? Too much could happen within a matter of seconds and it always scared Bruce when it came to patrols.
Most of all, Bruce worried he wasn’t good enough. Surely there was a parent, a father, out there better suited for raising Damian. Someone who could care, love, and teach him so much better than Bruce. Bruce had surely failed when it came to the others. He led them to this dangerous life, he hurt them, and he drove them away so many times. Damian had already been failed by his mother, he shouldn’t have to be raised by a failure of a father too.
Yet, even though he worried over his ability to raise Damian, it didn’t keep him from checking his room every night to make sure he was ok and still safe.
On days they argued (and they argued a lot) Bruce would sit on the floor of Damian’s room with his back resting against the bed. Under his breath, so quiet even he could hardly hear his own words, Bruce would mutter unintelligible apologies and pray to anything and anyone for help. This was his seventh kid Dammit! Why couldn’t he just get this right?
He was unaware of the child that lay awake in his bed trying to discern the whispered words.
On nights when Damian would be injured while on patrol Bruce would spend several long seconds gently combing the boy's hair with his fingers until the tension in his chest dissipated. Then he would continue his walk around the manor before retiring to his own room.
He never noticed the curious and confused gaze that watched him as he left.
Damian found his father’s behavior odd and out of character. He didn’t know how to feel about it as he didn’t understand the gesture of a parent checking on their child. Neither his mother nor his grandfather ever did such things. Not only that but his father had always seemed extremely emotional when this happened. It didn’t fit the image of the rational detective who always followed his head before his heavily guarded heart. Based on the lessons from his mother, his father should be weak as emotion was a sign of weakness. But everything he knew about his father showed evidence of the opposite. Bruce Wayne, Batman, was the shield of Gotham and the strength behind her guardians. In no way was he weak.
Then why were these things happening?
He was sitting in the kitchen, an after-school snack placed in front of him and a perturbed expression on his face as he distractedly nibbled away at the fruit. Alfred busied himself with preparing dinner, trying not to observe the boy too closely.
“Pennyworth,” The boy started, breaking the silence that had lasted for nearly half an hour, “I have a question.”
“Yes, Master Damien,” Alfred answered.
“During my time here, I have noticed that father acts. . .” He paused, searching for the right words, “Strange.”
“Oh? how so?”
After a bit more contemplative silence, Damian answered him, describing the odd behavior he noticed and how it seemed to go against all that his father was.
“Maybe father’s been replaced,” He concluded, concern and determination making their way onto his features as he made to run out of the kitchen. But before he could leave his seat, the old butler stopped him.
“No, master Damian, your father has not been replaced.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Alfred sighed, “Because he has done the same thing for the rest of his children.”
Damien narrowed his eyes in disbelief, “You mean he’s cried at their bedside like he was helpless?” His words were harsh and sarcastic, expecting the answer to come back false and to be proven right. He couldn’t have expected Alfred’s next words.
“Many times, yes. Though not always at their bedside.” It was a long discussion that followed those words, a discussion that left Damian more distracted and confused than before. He didn’t notice the concerned glances thrown his way by his family throughout the evening, nor slight relief in their features when Tim started an argument with him.
It was late in the night after everyone had gone home after patrol, the manor silent as nearly all of its few inhabitants slept away the last few hours before sunrise. All but Damian, who found himself outside his father’s bedroom hesitant to continue. With a calming breath and a confident straightening of his shoulders, he pushed open the large door as quietly as possible. Before he could second guess himself, he quickly took residence at his father’s side, strong warm arms holding him close. He missed the warm smile that formed on the man’s face.
Soon after, the relationship between Bruce and Damian became less and less strained as confusion and hesitance turned into patience and (more or less) understanding. It was during this time that he demanded his oldest brother tell him the story of the stuffed doll at his father’s bedside.
“You wanna know about the doll?”
“Is there a problem with that?” The boy challenged as he crossed his arms to match those of Dick’s as the man leaned against the kitchen counter in his apartment.
“Not really, unless you choose to be a brat about it.”
Damian ignored the jab that had obviously been meant to deter him, “Alright, then tell me.”
There was silence as Dick searched his little brother’s eyes, the boy staring back with firm resolve. He wasn’t budging till he got some answers.
“Fine. But you have to promise me you won’t make any quick judgments, and that you’ll listen to everything I have to say.”
“I promise.”
It was later that week, on a night after he and Bruce returned from patrol, that Damian approached Alfred with a question that the butler had been waiting for yet surprised by nonetheless. Bruce had asked Alfred to take Damian to bed while he finished the reports. The manor was quiet as the others in Bruce’s horde now lived elsewhere, only coming to visit when there was time. It was as they were halls away from the cave entrance that Damian suddenly stopped and turned to him.
“Pennyworth, you must teach me how to sew.”
“Oh?” Pennyworth responded, hiding his shock and joy. He had been waiting for this since the boy came to live with Bruce, yet, with the boy’s. . . unique personality he doubted it would ever happen. He had even started to believe that this would be the one child who wouldn’t ask him for this one thing that meant more than anyone could know. After Jason, he should’ve known not to underestimate the love of any Wayne child, biological or otherwise.
“Yes. And as soon as possible. It’s urgent.”
“Then we will start right away. As soon as you get some sleep of course.” With a sharp nod of agreement, Damian turned back down the hallway and continued back to his room where the old butler said goodnight and left the boy to ponder even more on his upcoming project.
In the following weeks, Damian put as much determination and focus into his sewing lessons as he did his vigilante work. He went over every kind of stitch a multitude of times until he felt he had them down perfectly. He would only give his father the best after all. When his siblings found out they did their best to visit and nag him about it, Jason specifically going out of his way to show up on patrols to pick at him with subtle hints at what the boy was planning.
It had taken him many weeks and had restarted five times before he finally finished it (a conversation with Dick and Jason helped him come to terms with the idea that it didn’t have to be perfect). He had wrapped it and was waiting until Bruce came back from work. It surprised him though when, instead of coming to the kitchen to say hi and enjoy Damian’s afterschool snack with him, Bruce only briefly greeted Aflred at the door before heading straight to his office. Thinking quickly, Damian grabbed his gift and quickly followed his father.
In his office, Damian found his father leaning back against his desk with his hand pinching the arch of his nose as if trying to rid himself of a headache.
With a gentle knock at the door, Damian took a step closer to his father.
“What,” Bruce snapped, jerking his head up to glare at whoever decided to disturb him when he so obviously needed to be alone. His eyes softened and filled with guilt, however, when he realized who was at his door, “Oh, Damian. It’s you. Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you.”
“Are you alright father?” Damian asked carefully as he moved further into the office.
“Yes everything’s fine, just some idiots at work. Nothing I don’t already deal with daily. But what about you Damian, is there something I can help you with?”
Suddenly, Damian became shy at the change in conversation, head turning away and cheeks turning slightly red. Clearing his throat, he straightened up his posture and proceeded to pull his gift from behind his back and handed it to his father. “This is for you.”
“Oh? What for? I don’t think it’s Father's Day, and Jay didn’t call to remind me that I’m getting older so it’s not my birthday.”
“Well, as Grayson would say, you don’t always need a special occasion to give gifts,” As his son spoke, Bruce began to open the box, curious to see what his son had gotten for him. But what met his eyes was something he had not and could not expect, no matter how many times it happened. There, sitting at the bottom of the box staring back at him, was a Robin plushy. Not like the old one that sat by his bed all worn from age and use with fluff peaking through the popping threads and an ugly backward R on its chest, not like the one that had played the role of all Robins at some point when bonds were hurt and torn. No, this one was all Damian. His fiery, confidant, arrogant son who was still learning what it meant to be a kid, to be a Robin.
It had a black hooded cape, a red torso, and green gloves and boots. Hooked to the back was a strange fuzzy stick that he assumed was his katana and around the waist was a strip of yellow with markings on them. The smirk sewed into the face was crooked and wobbly, and the white patches in the mask were obviously different sizes, but to Bruce, it was more than perfect.
Damian, who had become uncomfortable in his father's silence had begun to rant. “it's not like it’s something special or anything. I just thought you’d prefer to look at something that doesn’t look like it came straight from a horror film. That thing sitting at your bedside is disturbing and can’t possibly help you sleep. I figured something that looked like the real Robin would be better than that lump of —”
“Thank you, Damian,” Bruce whispered, cutting off his son as he knelt to hug him.
Damian relaxed into his father’s embrace, “You're welcome father.”
#—#Duke (present day)#—#
It was the first of November and all of the Wayne family found themselves gathering at the manor decorating for Christmas. While some might think it early, there were many reasons for it. The most obvious being that it was a lot of house to decorate and took a lot of time. The tradition was originally started by Mrs. Wayne to make sure there was no added stress on top of Thanksgiving preparations. To go from one Holiday to the next in less than 24 hours was a lot when you only had a few sets of hands for such a massive amount of space, especially if you wanted everyone to have the chance to enjoy every moment of a day meant to be celebrated. After the death of her and her husband, Alfred kept the tradition to both honor her and remind his ward of the happy memories he shared with them. Now, despite the many hands able to make quick work of the whole ordeal, it was a tradition set in stone. Every Wayne child (honorary or otherwise) had experienced Christmas decorating at the manor and had come to expect it. All, that is, except for Duke.
This would be the boy’s first Christmas as a not-Wayne and he was an anxious bubble of emotions as he wrapped garland around the banaster of the stairs. The decorating, the laughter, and the smell of hot cocoa and cookies filled him with excitement and joy for the upcoming festivities. However, many other things were filling his mind with anxious thoughts and self-doubt. Would he fit in with the family during their, no doubt, unique traditions? He wasn’t even sure if he fit in on a normal day. What would it be like celebrating Christmas with a different family? Would he be able to find the right gifts for everyone?
What would he get Bruce?
Just then, Stephanie danced passed the staircase with her arms full of lights and a Santa hat on, “Deck the halls with boughs of holly!”
The echo of his other not-siblings reverberated through the manor in response, “Fa la la la la, la la, la, la!”
Dick appeared from the second story, sliding from the hall and throwing garland over the upper banister, “Tis the season to be jolly!”
“Fa la la la la, la la, la, la!”
Just as Duke finished with the stairs Jason appeared from seemingly nowhere, dropping a box of ornaments into his arms, “Don we now, our gay appearal!”
“Fa la la, la la la, la, la, la!”
“Come on glowstick, join in,” Jason encouraged as he guided him down the hall to the family room where Tim and Damien were already mostly done.
“Troll the ancient Yule-tide carol!” Tim started the next line as he grabbed the box from Duke and started decorating the tree.
Duke watched on as even Damien, who was busy hanging the last stocking, sang along, “Fa la la la la, la la, la, la!”
As Jason moved to start decorating the tree, Barbara wheeled herself into the room with Cass following behind, both carrying plates containing the Batfamily’s one weakness, “We come bearing cookies!”
“And cocoa,” Cass added in her quiet voice, raising her tray of steaming mugs in reference.
“Cookies?” Stephanie slid into the doorway at their words, Dick almost crashing into her as they came to a sudden stop.
“Leave some for me!”
As cookies and coco were dispersed amongst the kids, the chaos that usually follows the Bats settled into a quiet, cheerful hum as they gathered around the tree. As the comfortable quiet and periodic chatter continued, Duke’s mind wandered back to its earlier train of thought. While he still wasn’t sure what to get his new not-siblings for Christmas, he was pretty sure he could figure it out. Bruce might be fully capable of getting them anything they wanted, but they very rarely let him, which meant never giving him a wish list. But that didn’t mean the others weren’t given one if asked. Bruce was the main concern. The man not only had seemingly everything, he was also really good at denying himself of wants. He was the hardest person to buy for on the entire planet, Duke was sure.
And don’t get him started on the whole “I’ll love whatever you get me” response.
After a long minute of deep consideration and heavy second-guessing, Duke addressed everyone in the room, “So, what are you guys getting for Bruce this year?”
Dick was the first to respond, dangling from the ladder as people passed him ornaments to place on higher spots of the 12-foot tall tree, “Ooh! I’m knitting him a sweater,” he declared as he stretched out to hang a reindeer that Steph passed to him as Jason reached out to steady the ladder when it wobbled, “And not just any sweater either,”
“Do tell Dickie Bird,” Jason urged on distractedly.
“I’m remaking the sweater I got him when I was 10,” he explained, “I accidentally ruined it that same winter but he never got it replaced. I kinda forgot about it til last week when I saw a store put out the Christmas sweaters early.”
“That’s nice,” Stephanie commented, “I don’t know what I’m getting him yet. I have a few ideas but nothing’s really stuck out as ‘The Gift’ y’know?”
Damien was next to add his two cents worth, “I am getting him a book. Pennyworth said it used to be his favorite but he misplaced it and never got a new one.”
“What is it with B and not getting himself things,” Dick muttered as he continued his ornament hanging.
“Me and Dad are getting him a dinosaur painting,” Barbara added, “He pointed it out in an art magazine a while ago and I thought he’d like it.”
“Well with his love of dinosaurs, he’s sure to love it.” Tim popped out from behind the tree, walking across the room to get another cookie, “I have a vague idea of what I’m getting him but I haven’t worked the whole thing out yet so it might change.”
“You and your plans replacement. Just get him something. It doesn’t have to be elaborate.”
Tim glared at his brother, “Oh yeah Jay? What about you? Don’t tell me it’s another gag gift. I’m pretty sure B’s growing tired of them.”
“Excuse me,” Jason brought a hand to his chest with a dramatic gasp, “I’ll have you know that he does in fact use the Batman body pillow I gave him last year. He might’ve taken off the cover, but he does indeed use it.” At his words, Cass came up beside him and nudged him, giving him a pointed look. He quickly dropped the dramatics and replaced it with an uncomfortable and slightly embarrassed tension with a hand rubbing the back of his neck and his eyes refusing to look at anyone in the room as a slight flush crept up his cheeks, “But, uh, no. Not a gag gift. It’s something me and Cass are putting together for him.”
Everyone perked up at this, giving Jason their full attention, “Really? What is it?” Stephanie asked before anyone else could.
Jason crossed his arms in an attempt to regain his ‘cool’ composure, “You’ll just have to wait and see.”
“Wow,” everyone turned to Duke as he spoke up once more, noticing the sad smile on his face, “You all seem to have such great gifts planned.”
Dick eyed his new brother in concern, “Why do you ask Duke?”
The boy shuffled his feet as he felt the many eyes watching him around the room, “Well, I don’t really know what to get him. I thought you guys might could give me ideas but what in the world could I get him that he doesn’t already have? He’s done so much for me, and I want to show him how much that means to me, but I don’t know how.”
As Duke released a disappointed sigh, the others around the room gave each other knowing looks, silently communicating the same idea. Abandoning their activities, they all moved to surround him, Barbara wheeling up next to him and laying a hand on his arm, and smiling up at him, “I think we know just the thing.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Really, Master Bruce, you did not need to leave your meeting early just to help me with the groceries,” Alfred admonished fondly as he walked through the front door being held open by Bruce.
“It wasn’t anything important Alfred,” The man responded as he walked in behind the old butler, “Lucius has it covered. Besides, there’s a lot to do here today. The kids might’ve gotten a headstart but there’s clearly much more left to do,” He gave the kitchen a pointed glance as they walked in to see it baren of Christmas cheer.
They sat the multitudes of groceries on the counter and began to sort and put away everything, “If you insist Master Bruce.”
As they finished putting everything away in its proper place, they were greeted by the sight of all the children quickly piling into the kitchen before freezing at the sight of their (not) father. Duke was at the front of the pack, obviously having been forced there if the look on his face was anything to go by, and all of them shuffled uncomfortably as they stared down the two men.
“Hey kids,” Bruce greeted, trying to keep the suspicion out of his voice, “Everything ok?”
With a shove from one of his siblings, Duke was silently chosen as the spokesperson for whatever was going on, “Uh, hi Bruce. We weren’t expecting you home yet.”
“Well, I’m not surprised. I was supposed to be in a meeting but I pulled some strings and got out early.”
“That’s nice,” The boy shuffled awkwardly in place, “Uh, we were hoping to speak with Alfred actually.” Both Alfred and Bruce stared on expectantly, “If you don’t mind?”
There was a moment of silence where the kids stood tense as if ready to bolt as Alfred and Bruce looked between each other and the slightly concerning image before them.
“Well,” Bruce broke the silence as he grabbed his briefcase off the counter and started making his way out of the kitchen, “I have a little bit of paperwork to finish before I can join in on the festivities. If you need me, I’ll be in the study, but I shouldn’t be longer than an hour.”
Once Bruce left, silence once more settled over the rather full kitchen as they waited for him to be out of earshot. Alfred raised an expectant eyebrow in hopes of urging the conversation forward.
Duke brought a hand up to rub against his neck as he looked back over his shoulder at his siblings in uncertainty before turning back to the old butler, “Uh, we were talking about some stuff earlier and you were brought up in that conversation,” Alfred decided not to comment on the boy’s rambling as he struggled to get out his question, “And, well, I was wondering if you could teach me how to sew?”
As Duke finally got his question out, he looked up into the old man’s eyes and saw a warm smile spread across his face. He couldn’t see the smiles also worn by all of his siblings as they stood behind him in support.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was a few days later and everyone (minus Bruce of course) was gathered in the family room scattered around Duke who sat on the sofa awaiting Alfred’s return. The manor was fully decorated in shimmering gold and silvers, with red berries and ornaments hanging from green garlands and trees. The fire crackled away as steam rose from fresh cups of hot chocolate warming the chilled scarred hands of young adults and children who chattered around their new brother excitedley.
“I gotta say,” Jason started from where he sat on the arm of the sofa, “It’s kinda surreal experiencing this from this perspective.”
“You’re telling me,” Dick, who sat on the floor leaning against the armchair inhabited by Barbara, added, “no way could 9-year-old me ever have dreamed this is what would have come of that doll.”
Duke looked at them with confused, scrunched-up eyes, “I still don’t understand. Why’s this such a big deal? It’s just a doll right?”
“It’s not just a doll, glowstick,” Stephanie answered as she leaned over the back of the sofa, “It’s-it’s-”
“It’s a symbol,” Barbara finished for her, “of understanding and comfort when you can’t do so yourself.”
“It’s a sign of family and gratitude,” Tim added from his spot around the coffee table with Damien who followed.
“It’s a sign of love despite the obstacles.”
Jason answered next, “It’s a message for when you can’t find the words you need.”
“It’s a promise” came Cass’s quiet voice from her spot on the floor leaning against Jason’s leg.
“And above all,” Dick started, gazing down at the old tattered Robin plushy in his hand, “It’s a reminder for Bruce when we’re not here. Whether that be because of an argument, our busy lives, or the inevitable outcome of a mission gone wrong.” The room sat in silence as they listened to the eldest in solemn understanding, “I made this because I knew that one day I wouldn’t be by his side all the time. He worried so much, still does, and I wanted to be able to provide him with some sort of comfort whenever I couldn’t be there for him physically. I wanted to remind him that I would always love him and be there for him even if it was only in spirit.” Dick huffed a gentle laugh, “ I never expected it to become a tradition.”
“That’s great and all,” their attention was drawn to Duke who was slouched over trying to hide the doubt and anxiety on his face, “but of course, he worries about you guys. He’s been watching over you for years. You had a chance to get close to him. I’m just some kid with dangerous powers and nowhere else to go. If he worries about me at all, it’s out of responsibility.”
Several people opened their mouths to deny the boy’s words, but before they could say anything a familiar British accent flowed from the doorway, “Believe me, Master Duke, he worries about you just as much as the rest of this family.”
Duke looked up at the butler in shock, “He does?”
“Of course he does,” Alfred answered as he moved to sit beside the boy, “You don’t notice because he tries his best not to wake you, But I have caught him several nights checking on you after his patrols, putting you to bed when you fell asleep doing homework. He also makes sure to keep an eye on you when you’re out on your own patrols. He has other responsibilities during the day, but he’s always prepared to drop everything in case you need him.”
“Really?”
“I dare say the only thing keeping him from hovering around you during the day is that you’re in Gotham where he can reach you if he needs to, and he doesn’t want another argument over independence.” There was a moment of pointed silence that had more than just Dick squirming where he sat, “He does worry for you, but he fears hurting your relationship more so he hides it away.”
“Now, I believe it’s time we start if you don’t want to be in a rush when Christmas comes.”
With that, the room settled into easy conversation as Duke paid rapt attention to Alfred’s instructions on types of stitches and cloth grains and preferred yarn. It was a short lesson (as there were many other things to do for all parties involved) but it was the first of many to come. With Duke being a daytime vigilante, it was difficult to work around Bruce and still make time for sewing amongst all the other activities demanding his attention, but he didn’t let that stop him. He scraped together some free time to work alongside Alfred when he could, and when he wasn’t sewing (or doing any of the other multitudes of tasks set before him) he found himself paying closer attention to Bruce’s actions. At night he would lie in bed feigning sleep until he caught the man peeking through his door to check on him, even walking over and making sure he was comfortably tucked under his covers. During the day he would find himself reconsidering the goodbyes and well-wishes and reminders to stay safe, and realized they were more than just the expected, customary words of an acquaintance or friend but the worried prayers of a parent. When he was out taking down criminals he thought back to Alfred’s words about how Bruce watched over him while out on the streets and a warm feeling came over him knowing his (unofficial) dad would be there if he needed him.
After several weeks he was able to finish his project, wrap it in festive wrapping paper, and neatly place it under the Christmas tree. He gazed down at the small package that seemed so insignificant hidden amongst all the other gifts and thought back to his siblings’ words and what this meant to them, what this meant to Bruce.
He decided this was the perfect gift.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was Christmas morning and everyone sat scattered around the family room still dressed in PJs and smiling with anticipation as gifts were handed out. They laughed and joked as gifts were opened. One by one they each opened their gifts until they finally came to Bruce, leaving Duke in a restless state of anxiety as he started second-guessing his gift.
It started out ok, with Dick’s sweater that left a humorous sparkle in Bruce’s eyes and Stephanie’s jazz vinyls (the Christmas one instantly set to play in the background). Even Barbara’s painting didn’t cause too much stress as there was no special emotional attachment.
But then you had Tim who surprised everyone with a coupon book as a gift filled with redeemable “coupons” that stated many different situations that Bruce could utilize to make Tim take care of himself. Examples being ‘a full eight hours of sleep’ and ‘three days of no caffeine’ and even one that said ‘go home a take care of your injuries’. It was all quite well thought out and explained why Tim needed to plan it out (and convince himself that certain coupons wouldn’t be the end of the world if redeemed)
Damien’s gift, despite everyone having what they thought was a good idea of what it was, ended up leaving people a slight bit self-conscious of their own gifts. The surprise began with the gift being addressed to both Bruce and Jason. When they opened it, the shock on their faces was very telling of what it meant to them. Jason was the first to speak, “Damien, is this…”
“The first edition of A Christmas Carol, yes,” he answered with pride in his tone before his shoulders slumped with the telltale sign of anxiety, “The one that you and father used to read every year if Pennyworth is to be believed,”
Bruce ran a gentle hand over the cover, carefully opening it as an old note fell out, one he had written himself to Jason on their very first Christmas together, “I thought this was lost for good.”
“It still has the note too,” Jason added in wonder, “where did you find it?”
“It was lying behind a shelf in father’s office. It must have fallen at some point.”
Looking up from the book, Bruce smiled at his son, “Thank you, Damien.”
“You’re welcome, Father,” Damien nodded, trying to hide a blush at Bruce’s sincere thanks.
“Oooh! Open Jay’s next!” Dick exclaimed, bouncing excitedly in place
Bruce gave a wry smile. “Should I be concerned?”
“No.” Cass said, “It’s mine too.”
This caused him to raise a curious eyebrow, “It’s from both of you? Now I’m curious.”
Jason sighed with a roll of his eyes, “Then stop stalling, old man.”
“Ok, ok.” At Jason’s urging, Bruce finally retrieved a gift that left everyone surprised.
They were all sitting on the edge of their seats, watching with bated breath as Bruce opened the mysterious gift. Neither Jason nor Cass had given any clues as to what it might be, and they had all grown insatiably curious. As the wrapping paper fell away, the gift was revealed to be a photo album, the picture on the front a rare photo of the entire family together at the dinner table.
“Jason. Cassandra.” Bruce seemed almost speechless as he ran a careful hand over the cover, flipping the book open to reveal pictures ranging from Dick’s earliest days as a ward of Bruce Wayne, all the way up to more recent pictures. From his awkward vantage point, Duke was able to spy one of Cass asleep on Bruce’s lap.
Bruce pulled both of them into a hug, “Thank you. I love it.”
Jason shoved him off with a playful roll of his eyes, no doubt trying to ignore the blush forming on his cheeks, “Whatever, old man.” Cass only laughed at him as she curled into Bruce’s side.
As Duke realized that his gift was next, his anxiety skyrocketed. Everyone else had such great gifts. He just had a stuffed toy. How could his gift ever hope to match the others? He watched on with a racing heart as Dick excitedly handed Bruce his last gift. He did his best not to let his nervous energy show as Bruce read the name tag, and fought off the rising embarrassment when he saw the shock on the man’s face when he opened it. Before he could stop himself, Duke’s mouth was running faster than he could think, his eyes missing the gentle smile that was growing on his not-father’s face.
“Sorry, you were probably expecting something better. It’s kinda lame compared to everyone else’s gifts. But I couldn’t think of anything else. You’ve done so much for me though. You’ve given me a home and a family and the promise of support and protection when I’m working and when I’m not. I wanted to get you something to show you just how much I appreciate you but this is all I could come up with. Everyone said you’d like it, but—”
“Duke,” The boy looked up from his lap to see that Bruce had walked over from his chair to kneel before him, a soft smile on his face, “I love it.”
He gazed into the man’s eyes, seeing nothing but love and sincerity within them, but his anxiety continued to question what was so obviously in front of him, “Really?”
“Really kiddo,” he answered as he pulled the boy into a hug, “more than you could imagine.”
Duke melted into his embrace, returning the hug as he spoke, “I’m glad.”
The heartwarming moment only lasted a short while before Jason decided he had enough, “All right, enough with all the mushy feelings. There’s a book here that hasn’t been read in years and I won’t stand for it.”
With a light chuckle, Bruce released Duke from his hold and took a seat in the middle of the sofa, carefully taking the book from Jason as he sat beside him, too excited to care about the proximity. As everyone else shuffled around and situated themself as close to him as possible, he opened up to the first chapter.
“Stave One: Marley’s Ghost…”
For the rest of the morning, they listened to their father’s deep, gentle voice as he read from the old book, several being lulled into a peaceful slumber, the rest content to sit amongst their loved ones and listen to his familiar voice.
Alfred, who had left not long after the story began to prepare for lunch, returned shortly after noon to call them all to the dining room, proving just how food-motivated all of Bruce’s kids were. They all shot up from where they sat (some more groggy than others) and raced each other to the table despite knowing they wouldn’t eat until everyone had arrived. Everyone was pleased to find that Barbara and her father were already there, having arrived at the Manor just as Alfred went to fetch them.
That evening, when Bruce returned to his room after doing his rounds through the manor for the night, he was met with the sight of every single one of his plushies spread out on his bed, the old tattered Robin sitting front and center. He smiled to himself, knowing that only Alfred would be capable of this. Carefully gathering them up, he placed them on his desk. He wouldn’t need one tonight. All of his children were safe and sound, sleeping in their rooms, all under one roof.