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Chapter Text

Batman was known to be one of the most ruthless team members of the Justice League. His reputation wrote him as a cold, justice-drive, and sometimes harsh being. There were rumors of him being a meta human, but they were simply speculation. 

One of the rules of his city was no metas, something that would be outright hypocritical if he were one himself. The League would so rarely see Gotham in all its glory, including Wonder Woman and Superman. Gotham had always been its own entity, almost separate from the rest of the country (and at times, truly a different country) and willing to fight for itself, uncaring about surrounding cities. 

So when, during the League meeting, Batman got an emergency call, everyone was reasonably surprised. 

It was the weekly meeting with the primary League members to discuss changes they could be making in the future. Most meetings, they spoke about public appearances and different criteria to when they could interfere with different fights. They also spoke about previous missions and, under Batman’s meticulous eye, made reports about the missions to file them. 

Superman, Clark Kent, was sitting at the end of the table, posture completely straight due to the daily reminders he had received from his mother every morning as a child. Growing up on a farm didn’t mean you were unmannered. “Any other questions?” He asked. No one spoke up, including Batman, and Clark was just about to announce the meeting was adjourned when they all heard a ringing from someone’s phone. 

Some members chuckled, including Clark. “I thought we agreed phones were off during meetings,” he reminded teasingly. He saw Green Lantern, Hal, poorly hide his snort behind a fake cough. 

The room went completely silent when they saw Batman trying to excuse himself to the hallway, seemingly taking care of a call. His stance was stiffer than usual, Diana noticed, and Clark heard his heart rate quicken at an alarming rate. 

“Batman-“ Clark called out, but Batman kept walking to the hallway. The Man of Steel flew out of his chair and stopped in front of Batman. “Is everything alright?” He asked softly. 

Batman grit his teeth. “Clark. Move,” he bit out. And Clark knew he shouldn’t really care but he was still angry that the Dark Knight still didn’t trust him with his identity while Clark had told him from the start. It’s not like Batman couldn’t trust him. 

“Answer the question,” Diana stepped in, her arms folded across her chest. The ringing was still echoing throughout the wide expanse of the room. “Is someone in need of help?” 

Arthur continued with his booming voice. “Shall we summon the rest of the League, Batman?” 

Bruce knew the emergency call was on its last ring, but also knew he couldn’t escape in time to the hallway. So he did something in front of the team he never thought he would. 

“Batman. Talk.”

“Oh thank god, Bruce!” An unfamiliar, bright, and very male voice said over the speaker. “I need your help.” 

Bruce felt his expression tighten under his cowl, annoyance radiating from his stance. He saw Flash silently mutter to himself, “Bruce?” Seeming to test the name in his mouth. 

Clark and Diana glanced at each other, silently gossiping over who this person was. A lover? A family member? A friend? 

“Nightwing,” Bruce gritted out over the speaker. “Report.” 

“Okay so,” the man’s loose tone did not change one bit. “Damian isn’t taking care of his stab wound and I can’t convince him to take any pain meds because he thinks they’re below him. I called Jay to try to convince him, but of course he had to antagonize him and now Tim and Cass are laughing at Damian limping around while yelling curses in Arabic and I’m pretty sure they called Steph-“ 

“Nightwing, breathe,” Bruce reminded him, his voice rumbling unlike it ever has in front of the League. It almost sounded...soothing. Then he continued, “There was no need to use the emergency contact. I am almost home.” 

Wait. Home. Not the House. Home. 

There was a short pause on the other side of the line. “Can you come home now please?” It resembled a child begging their parent for extra dessert. 

Batman let out the longest sigh they’ve ever heard. By now the entire League was staring at one another, not knowing if they should laugh or scream. 

Batman had a family-

Bruce grumbled tiredly under his breath. He was so tired, having been awake for the past 36 hours with no sleep. “Tell Oracle the hack into the League computers. Let me talk with Robin.” 

They heard a shuffle on the other line, then suddenly there was a young man on the computer. His blue eyes were dimmed with lack of sleep, yet his face and skin still remained bright. “Oh!” He was taken aback when he saw the Justice League members all staring at him. “Hi,” he greeted with a too-wide smile. He turned to Batman. “Br-“ 

“Put Damian on screen,” he interrupted with a short order, and the whole League was shocked by him actually using someone’s real name. 

“Batman, who are these people...?” Arthur asked curiously. There was no answer as Batman stared at the computer display. 

A young preteen boy was suddenly pushed on-screen by the same charming man. 

He growled (growled?) at the man beside him, teeth bared and all. ‘Bruce’ sighed. 

“I don’t appreciate this attitude, Robin.”

The whole Justice League gaped. The phrase was so nostalgic to when they were children, and the fact that the big, bad Batman was saying this...

It was shocking, to say the least. 

The boy on the screen, paused, seeming to think for moment, then opened his mouth to only be interrupted by his father. “You are to listen to Nightwing. No questions.” The boy pouted callously. “If you do not listen to Nightwing, then you will be suspended from patrol indefinitely.” 

The boy’s jaw dropped. “But Father-!” 

“Robin,” Batman’s voice boomed, and his son was silent. “Put Nightwing on the line,” he ordered. Robin did so with nothing but eyes focused on the floor. 

Nightwing came on screen, the tension in his body seeming to ease. “What’s up, B?” 

Bruce grumbled under his breath, then said, “Please make sure Damian listens, and if not, have Alfred take care of it. Tell Jason to stop antagonizing his brother, and if Steph arrives then tell her to go upstairs into the manor. Lace Tim’s coffee with the tranquilizers.” Bruce paused, then continued on, “I will be home in twenty minutes. Make sure the manor doesn’t burn down by then.” Batman hung up on the call without any other word. 

The room was silent, even a pin dropped would be heard as loud as a gunshot in the dark of night. 

Batman cleared his throat, something that broke the League out of their surprised stupors. “You will not reveal any personal information to anyone else outside this room. My personal life will not be spoken about.” He looked at his team members. “Is that understood?” His voice was reminiscent of a strict father. 

“Yup.” 

“Crystal clear.” 

“Understood.” 

“Your secret is safe with me, Batman.”

“I understand.”

Batman nodded curtly, satisfied with their answers. “Very well. If you’ll excuse me,” he acknowledged, then left with a flutter of his cape. 

It was silent for a full minutes before everyone heard Barry yell, “What the fuck just happened!?” 

It was two months later, and they had mostly stopped joking about what had happened. 

Then an alien army decided to terrorize Earth. And of course it had to be during the Christmas/Hanukkah season so everyone and their mother was out shopping. And frankly, Bruce hated it. Especially since it happened in Gotham. 

So while the minor League members were helping escort the civilians to safety, Batman ended up covered in alien goo and what looked like mud but he couldn’t be too sure. The rest of the major League members were in an even worse state. One of Barry’s legs was broken, Green Lantern had a concussion, Superman’s suit was in shambles, Wonder Woman could barely walk straight, Aquaman was so dehydrated he could barely breathe, and Martian Manhunter’s skin was splattered with dirt and grime. 

The entire League was tired beyond belief, including Batman. The minor League members were able to pick themselves up and take their tired bodies to the Watchtower for their reports, but the major members were too exhausted to even leave to the Watchtower, which meant one thing: 

The Batcave. 

The entire League had heard rumors about the cave. About how big it was, how there was actual bats in it. There was also a rumor that started in Gotham that it had a giant dinosaur in it. They immediately disregarded it for sounding ridiculous, but there was always a part of them that secretly wished it were true. 

Batman stopped at the entrance of the cave and turned around to face his teammates, his glare unwavering. “You are to not speak of what happens from this point on to when you leave this cave. Is that understood?” His voice was somehow still strong despite being exhausted beyond belief. 

Everyone tiredly nodded along, not willing themselves to speak. Batman made a gesture of approval (surprisingly) and typed in a complicated code on the keypad beside the entrance. The cave opened, and the League were too occupied with themselves to notice the fluttering bats, the very giant dinosaur on one corner of the cave, and most importantly the seven children running around in the cave. 

The one they had met during the emergency call was battered and beaten, but was still managing to to walk around and care for the others. The youngest and shortest one, another child they had met, was being fussed on, but vehemently rejecting it and instead mentioning they needed to patch ‘Drake’ up. 

There were five others: A blonde woman, a buff dark haired man, a young man with dark hair that was in bad condition, an lean young woman, and a dark-skinned young man. Each were rushing around, trying to either patch each other up or take care of supplies/weapons. 

Batman entered without much of a word, but they could tell he had a lot to say by him glaring at the oldest child. The oldest child either didn’t notice, was immune, or didn’t care. Maybe all of the above. 

Suddenly, an elderly man rushed down the cave stairs (seemingly leading up to an attic?) with extra band-aids and rubbing alcohol. He glanced at the entire League. They felt as though they were being assessed, and apparently their body language showed it because the elder chuckled. The sound was deep and comforting, as though it were made to lull one to sleep yet also had the ability to make a mean tongue lashing. 

“Sirs, Ma’am,” he regarded with a baritone British accent. Batman grumbled when everyone was made silent. 

Hal blinked. “How do you have so many children...?” He asked rhetorically, and the Dark Knight simply replied with another tired grunt. 

It was then that all the children noticed the group of seven. The man with broad shoulders and dark hair (a sliver of his hair was white) was seemingly amazed by their presence, his eyes widening. The rest of the children mostly took on the same expression, although the leaner young woman seemed to smile knowingly. 

“Can I get some help over here?” The Flash struggled out, and that seemed to break the seven children out of their stupors as the young woman with blonde hair immediately moved to his side to help him to a cot. They didn’t know how she knew he had a broken leg, but didn’t want to know. Bats were fucking crazy smart. 

The next day, after everyone had gotten cleaned up and received a good enough amount of sleep, they were finally able to actually meet Batman’s family. Batman had disappeared with the silent young woman in order to keep his identity hidden and get help for his wounds. 

It was 12:00, Clark thought. He had gotten more sleep than he could remember ever getting, meaning he was more well-rested than he’s been in years. 

He immediately heard a familiar heartbeat and began following to where it seemed to get louder. There, stood...a man. 

Batman. Without his cowl. Bruce. A father. 

Clark could tell he was writing a report on his computer, and geez. He had heard rumors about how it was bigger than most televisions, but this? Woah. 

The computer was large enough to have 10 tabs open at once on screen and more space. No wonder the bat was always able to get things done quickly. Before he could take another step, he man turned around. 

Bruce. 

Bruce Wayne. 

The same kid whose parents died in the alley decades ago. 

The playboy billionaire that was notorious for being one of the most air-headed people in high society. 

He was...Batman? 

No, this had to be wrong. He must be someone new. Someone they had never met. Bruce Wayne couldn’t be Batman. He must just look like Bruce Wayne. 

“Before you ask,” the Not-Bruce-Thomas-Wayne began with a hand raised towards Clark’s direction, as to silently demand his silence, “I am Batman.” 

Clark could feel someone behind him, but didn’t bother putting much thought into who it could be. “I sorta guessed,” Clark replied awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. He paused, dropped his hand by his side, then queried, “Are you-?” 

“My name is Bruce Wayne.” 

Clark heard several gasps behind him, and knew his entire team was hearing this too. 

“I must remind you,” Bruce Wayne (The Batman...Literal Dark Knight) said, “that this remains top secret. I need you all to make an oath that none of this information is to be leaked to the public, or anyone else for that matter.” He seemed to hesitate, then added, “Including the rest of the Justice League.” 

Diana’s brows deepened. “Batman-“ 

“Understood?” Bruce interrupted, already knowing what she was going to say (most likely something about trust). 

The five other people paused, then all replied in affirmation. 

“‘Kay, Bats.” 

“Alright” 

“Very well.” 

“Your secret is safe with me, Bruce.” 

“Okay.” 

“This is not okay, Batman,” Diana finished. Bruce wanted to roll his eyes, but Batman didn’t do that. “They deserve to know,” she argued. 

Batman narrowed his eyes, and they could see it: the cowl tucked over his head, white lenders unforgiving. Just as Bruce was about say something, they heard a deep voice from the other side of the cave interrupt him. 

“He wants a pinky promise.” The young man was obviously teasing, as per his cocky smirk. The shock of white in his hair didn’t deflect from his glowing teal eyes. He began walking towards the seven of them, his arms crossed and posture screaming the casual confidence of a typical bad boy. “My name’s Jason,” he introduced himself. 

“Hello, Jason,” Diana replied with a polite tilt of her head. “My name is-“ 

“Diana Prince,” they heard another voice spit out. They looked around to see the same short boy they had met on-screen two months ago. His eyes were green, skin tan, and posture not casual like the older man’s, but plainly arrogant. “Arthur Curry, Bartholomew Allen, Harold Jordan, J'onn J'onzz, and Clark Kent,” he pointed to each member. 

They all blinked. How did this child...

Oh. Right. He’s a Bat. Crazy fucking smart. 

The boy suddenly pulled out a glimmering katana, his hold on it showed him to be a master of wielding it. “If any of you reveal Father’s identity, I shall end each and every one of you,” he threatened, although they couldn’t take it too seriously due to the lack of height on the boy. 

Barry chuckled, resulting in the boy pointing the tip of his sword directly at him. “You are first, Allen,” he declared. “Get onto the mat and face me like a man!” 

Bruce sighed, closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, then put one heavy hand on top of the boy’s head. “We don’t do that here, Damian.” 

The boy seemed to let out a frustrated groan. “But Father-!” 

“Um...” they heard a hesitant voice from behind them. “Should-should I leave?” The voice asked. 

Bruce grumbled under his breath, something Clark could hear as, “This is why you’re my favorite besides Cass. They’re all so dramatic.” Bruce’s voice turned normal. “Everyone, this is Duke, my fourth son.” Damian seemed to shrivel a bit. 

Hal looked at the skin tone of Duke, then Bruce, and said, “Uh, Bats. Are you sure about that?” 

Diana elbowed him. “Family is not always biological,” she told him. 

Bruce seemed to hum along with that. “Damian is the only biological child of mine, out of the seven.” Barry raised a curious eyebrow when he saw the boy’s also very different skin tone. Bruce responded to the silent question with: “His mother is Middle Eastern.” 

“Ah,” was Barry’s response. 

Then Clark remembered something. “So he has powers too? Since he’s biologically yours?” 

Bruce furrowed his eyebrows confusedly, while his children burst out into laughter. 

“Oh fuck!” Jason snickered out. “That’s funny.” 

Martian Manhunter was quietly chuckling under his breath, already knowing what they had assume and knowing for months the otherwise. Duke snorted behind them. “Trust me when I say I’m the only meta in the family.” 

Everyone frowned. “What do you mean?” Clark asked, voice growing suspicious. 

“Father is not a meta human,” Damian told them. 

Hal’s eyes widened. “Wait-“ 

“That cannot be possible,” Arthur said. “No man is capable-“ 

“I am,” Bruce interrupted with a tilt of his mouth, like he almost smirking. 

There was silence. Then: 

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” 

“You played us like a damn fiddle...” 

“I thought you said once-“ 

“Green Arrow said he saw you fly!” 

Bruce cleared his throat, the smirk fully formed, now. “First,” he addressed, “I never said I was a meta. Second, Green Arrow has never seen me fly.” Hal’s eyes narrowed. “He’s delusional.” 

Hal grumbled, “Still don’t believe you...” 

Bruce snorted. “Okay. Believe what you would like to believe,” he dismissed. 

Jason facepalmed. “You always say that,” he muttered angrily. 

“Because it’s true,” Bruce responded quickly. “You can’t always change somebody’s beliefs.” 

Diana cleared her throat, the action still somehow graceful. Bruce looked expectantly at her. “So,” she began was small smile. “When can we see the other children?” 

Duke laughed. The six League members turned to him. “Trust me, you don’t wanna meet ‘em,” he explained. 

Clark’s eyebrows raised. “What’da mean by-“ 

“Bruce!” Steph yelped, Tim at her side, holding her waist a way of support. “Tim’s awake,” she said when he looked in her general direction. 

Bruce’s smirk turned into something softer. “I can see that,” he responded lamely. 

Tim’s drugged smile was something Bruce would mentally capture until the day he died. “Hi...” Tim dragged out, staring at the League. “Hehe.” 

Dick and Cass were behind the two, Dick talking animatedly while Cass simply listened and nodded along. 

“Nice, Replacement,” Jason commented sarcastically. 

Tim scoffed. “Fuck off, fuckass.” 

Steph snickered. Bruce raised a single eyebrow as a question to what made her laugh so hard. “Fuckass,” was the only thing she provided. 

Bruce shook his head, though a fond smile still remained on his face. “Tim is the drugged one, Steph is the only holding Tim, Dick is behind Steph, and Cass in the shortest one,” he told the League. He turned to the group of four. “I assume you all know them.” Tim nodded drunkenly, making most of the League chuckle. 

“Who was the old dude we saw?” Barry blurted out. Bruce focused a glare onto the other man. Barry stumbled, “Um. Sorry-uh..” 

“That was Alfie,” Dick responded with no judgment, and Barry briefly wondered how this dude was raised by Batman, one of the most judgmental people in the universe. “He’s like our grandpa.” 

“Like?” Arthur questioned. 

Bruce shook his head. “That’s for another time,” he rejected. 

Diana’s lips formed into a beautiful grin. “So then I assume we’ll be coming here more?” She concluded. 

The seven children all looked at one another, then simultaneously began begging. 

“Please, please, please!” 

“I must observe them, Father.” 

“C’mon, B.” 

“It would be fucking amazing!” 

“We could be like one big happy family!” 

“It would be so rad.” 

“Dad...” 

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dick,” he said firmly, “We are not going to be, ‘one big happy family’,” He quoted. “Also, you cannot change my mind, Cass, by calling me that.” The girl in turn gave him a hard glare. Bruce stopped. “Although your input is greatly appreciated.” Her expression flipped to something much kinder. 

Diana smiled. “We will be here next week for dinner,” she declared. And when all his kids began cheering, he regretted ever bringing them back to the cave. He should’ve left them for dead, for fuck’s sake. 

At least his kids were happy. 

Chapter Text

Diana, with her unwavering enthusiasm, was the first to arrive. It had been her suggestion, to be fair, so she only found it reasonable to be ten minutes early. 

“Good evening, Miss Diana,” Alfred had answered the door with. She smiled serenely. 

“And you as well, Alfie,” she replied. 

She stepped into the manor after Alfred hung up her coat for her. The light, plush carpets were well-maintained, the walls light and open with lavish furniture lining the walls. She could recognize a familiar art piece she had seen in her schoolbooks, a beautiful white marble carving modeling after Athena herself. Picture frames could be found here and there, some of Bruce’s kids and some of who Diana assumed to be Batman’s friends. 

No, Bruce’s friends—she corrected herself. 

Just as she opened her mouth to compliment the beautiful scene, both her and Alfred heard a tentative knock on the door. That surprised her. Punctuality within man’s world had been the equivalent of lameness, she had observed. 

Alfred opened the door to see Clark standing there nervously. “Good evening, Master Clark,” Alfred greeted good-naturadely. 

Clark dumbly held up a dish. It was a round. “I brought a pie,” he provided. Alfred chuckled, then gently took the dessert from the super’s strong hands. 

“May I know the type?” Alfred asked. 

“Oh! Uh, yeah. It’s blueberry. My Ma’s recipe,” he responded, rubbing his nape nervously. 

“Don’t look so nervous, Clark,” Diana teased. “Mr. Pennyworth will not bite.” 

Clark snorted, then almost looked ashamed of himself for doing so around such distinguished company. “Hey, Diana.” 

Diana simply nodded in his direction, a small smirk laid upon her lips. “Shall we see the family?” She prompted. 

Alfred nodded smoothly. “Follow me to the sitting room, please,” he said. 

“Sittin’ room?” Clark muttered confusedly to himself, hanging behind Alfred in line with Diana. 

Diana chuckled, like honey dripping from her mouth. “It’s customary for a palatial home, such as this, to have multiple sitting rooms for guests such as us,” she explained. Clark nodded along dumbly. 

They were lead to a wide room, where three of the kids were sitting, chatting lazily. Clark recognized them as Cass, Steph, and Tim, and had a feeling they were the most inseparable ones of the family. 

“Hello,” Cass was the first to say. Tim and Steph ceased arguing about something irrelevant (“cereal, in theory, is a type of soup...but-!). 

Steph smiled up at them from where the three were lounging about. “Hey, guys! How’s it going?” 

Diana nodded kindly. “I am well,” she responded. 

Clark silently agreed with her. “And ya’ll?” 

Cass smiled at him, her eyes trusting and oh-so revealing yet mysterious. 

“Are you really from the South?” Steph asked loudly. 

Clark chuckled. In such a metropolitan city he had been asked that too many times. His accent was subtle, but noticeable in a city of businessmen and criminals. “Not quite. Midwest.” 

Tim raised his eyebrows in curiosity. “How’s it like down th-?” 

“Wonder Woman. Superman,” Damian interrupted him with a pointed look at the mentioned two. “Your punctuality is noted.” Diana didn’t bother to hide her fond smile, unlike Clark, who felt like he was being…thoroughly inspected.

“Good evening, Damian,” she provided. She looked up to see two figured behind him. “And to you too, Dick and Duke.” 

“That’s a mouthful,” Tim commented. 

“Hey, Di! Hey, Clark!” Dick replied enthusiastically. Duke nodded in their direction as a greeting. “Where are the rest of the League-ers?” 

Clark narrowed his eyes, focusing his ear on their whereabouts. Recognition passed through his gaze, then he responded, “J’onn should be here soon. Arthur is behind him-“ 

The doorbell rang. 

“I presume that’s them,” Alfred said. He handed Dick the pie. “Please do take that to the dining room, where you will escort our guests,” he suggested. No—Clark determined after looking at the man’s stern yet patient demeanor—he demanded. Said young man promptly did as he was told. 

Sure enough, two minutes later, J’onn and Arthur were striding in the room, eyes wide and curious as they took in their lavish surroundings. 

“Greetings, children of the Batman,” J’onn said with a kind smile. Arthur nodded wisely in their direction. 

“Children,” said man regarded. 

“Fish dude!” Steph yelled out excitedly. Tim facepalmed from beside her. 

Alfred’s eyes hardened. “That is not how we greet our esteemed guests, Miss Stephanie,” he scolded, voice deadly. Clark could almost visualize the man holding up a wooden spoon as a warning, just as his ma’ would’ve done. 

Steph didn’t even blink, simply nodded along stupidly. Damian sized them both up, which made J’onn chuckle quietly to himself. He could tell the little one was quite possessive for a boy his age. 

They all suddenly felt a strong gust of wind, and Alfred’s reflexes were just able to stop a nearby vase from falling unto the plush carpet. Barry turned around to see the old man carefully prop it back on the mahogany end table. 

“Hey, everyone!” Barry greeted, hair disheveled and voice cracking. “Did I get here before Hal? Please tell me I did!” He rushed out. 

Dick shook his head. “Yep,” he replied, much to the pride of the other hero, “you’re just in time.” Dick flashed a bright, white smile just as they heard the doorbell go off. 

“Excuse me, please,” Alfred regarded, then left the room, footsteps silent. Diana was bewildered how a man could be so quiet even under her ear, but she supposes since he raised Batman himself...

Barry waved to everyone, hand blurred in the air. “How’s it going? Have we started eating yet?” He asked. J’onn replied that, no, they hadn’t even seen the host yet. Barry scowled impatiently, but didn’t say anything more. 

“Where is Ba-Bruce, by the way?” Arthur commented as an afterthought. Clark shrugged his titanic shoulders as a response, Diana joining in with her own verbal answer that they hadn’t seen him all evening. 

Duke rose from his seat. “I’ll get him and Jay.” 

“Jason, right?” Clark asked. The teens nodded. 

“Him and Bruce are probably fighting down in the cave,” Steph supplied bluntly. 

Hal and Alfred came through the entryway, Hal’s leather jacket missing most likely due to Alfred insisting he take it for him. “Hey, everyone,” he greeted with a half-hearted wave. 

The kids all gave their small greetings in return. All except for Damian, of course. 

“If you would greet our esteemed guest, Master Damian,” Alfred reminded sternly. Hal’s smirk was subtle. Damian’s tan arms remained crossed, glare refusing to leave his face. 

Before Alfred could give him a proper tongue lashing both Bruce and Jason arrived behind Duke. They has seemingly been fighting from their refusal to even glance at each other. 

“Hello, Batman,” J’onn was the first to greet him, followed by Arthur’s own cordial one. 

“How’s it goin’?” Hal said casually, followed by Barry’s comment about how the Bat is always gloom and doom, duh!

“It’s nice to see you, Batman,” Diana interrupted politely. Bruce gave a short grunt as a response. 

“Like father, like son, I guess,” Clark whispered to himself. Both Damian and Bruce shifted intense eyes to the super. Unsurprisingly, the larger man stiffened and muttered a short apology. Somehow, that made Damian even more feral. 

“May we begin?” Alfred encouraged, the awkward energy simmering uncomfortably in the air. 

Tim let out a long breath. “Please,” he replied desperately. Jay scoffed and Dick laughed, a hearty one at that. 

Dick took lead, as per usual, and directed them to their seats as Alfred disappeared to the kitchen to plate the food. Bruce took his usual seat at the head of the table, jaw clenched and demeanor stiff. The League took their seats to his left side, while his children to the right. For the first time in years, decades, even, the dining room table had been properly filled. 

Bruce should be happy but when he saw his kid’s eyes, and the mischievous twinkles only he could recognize, he had to force himself not to sigh tiredly. Thankfully he heard the dinner cart wheels creak, indicating Alfred was just bringing the food to the table. 

Maybe if their mouths were full with Alfred’s delicious food they would shut the hell up. 

“What a beautiful palace you have, Batman,” Diana complimented with a warm smile. She delicately speared the turkey with her fork as she did so. 

Bruce nodded his thanks, though Clark could hear him mutter, “Manor, not palace...”

Berry, as per his natural curiosity, was the first to engage with Damian. “So, kid,” said boy scowled at the nickname as he picked at his tofu, “have any hobbies?” A goofy grin took upon the speedster’s expression. 

Damian’s scowl suddenly morphed into an evil smirk. “None, unless ripping your intestines out counts.” 

“WHAT-“

“Sooo,” Steph asked Aquaman across from her, “you like swimming, right?”

Tim nudged her side and glared at her, meanwhile Cass was holding in her laughter. 

Arthur raised a single, thick eyebrow. “Of course, my children,” he responded politely, the king that he was. Tim sighed at Steph’s stupid question. “Would you like lessons? Certainly the human world has only scratched the surface of proper technique.”

Jay yelped. “Yeah, fish boy!” Bruce gave him a stern look. “Sorry, FishMan,” Jason corrected snidely. Clark attempted to cover his laugh with a cough, but was quite unsuccessful as evidenced by Bruce’s own glare in his direction. Jesus, does that guy ever stop glaring?

“You are unaware of how to swim?” Arthur asked, astonished. 

Jason shrugged his shoulders. “Know the basics, just don’t know how to actually swim,” he admitted, sort of bashfully. 

Tim stared at his brother oddly. “You…don’t know how to swim!?” 

“What’s your favorite color?” Hal asked Cass cautiously. 

“Triangle,” she replied without hesitation. 

“Erm.” 

J’onn raised a single eyebrow in Duke’s direction. “Are you aware of what’s going on?” He asked the young man. 

Duke shook his head incessantly. “I just come here for the food.” 

“Dickface! Stop telling Wonder Woman about…all that!” Jason whined. Diana looked upon with a knowing smile. 

Dick chuckled and shoved another piece of noodle in his mouth. After chewing it, he perked up. “Di! One time Jaybird was in his room after patrol and I heard-“ 

“Shut UP-“ 

“Kids, we can’t call each other failed abortions.” 

“And why not?” 

Bruce breathed a heavy sigh.

Dinner, thankfully, ended not too soon after a hand-crafted dessert that, even better, shut Barry up. 

Diana dabbed her mouth with the napkin then neatly placed the cloth on the table near her plate. “Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth. That was delicious.” 

Alfred bowed, looking more proud than Bruce had seen him in years. Huh. 

“My pleasure, Miss Diana.” Alfred’s side-eye in his ward’s direction somehow seemed polite. “I can only hope Master Bruce invites you and the rest of the League more frequently.”

“I won’t pass up on some free food!” Barry. 

Bruce facepalmed. 

Clark and Diana were the last to leave. “I hope they didn’t scare you all off too much,” Bruce muttered quietly to them, annoyance laced in his expression. Their faces held knowing grins. 

“They certainly didn’t, Bruce,” Diana reassured.

Clark nodded quickly. “For sure, they’re good kids,” he repeated, then hesitated, though the grin didn’t fade. “A lil’ crazy, but good crazy,” he finished. 

Diana chuckled. It was smooth and content. “Especially Jason.” She recalled Dick’s stories about a young, scrawny boy taping limited edition Wonder Woman posters to his bedroom walls. 

Bruce rolled his eyes, though it held no malice. Jason was quite starstruck properly meeting Wonder Woman.

After a short, quiet moment, Bruce opened his mouth once, then felt a tugging in his chest, a nervousness he hadn’t let himself feel in years. 

Diana, the smart woman she is, instead decided to ask that stupid question lingering in Bruce’s mind. “Another dinner would be appropriate, yes?” Clark gave a short nod, looking at Bruce with eyes that were too open. 

Bruce felt himself relax. He was happy to leave the awkward questions for other people. People who were actually socially competent. Like Diana and Clark. 

…

“I think the kids would like that.”