So with the family being vigilantist, I feel like trying to jump scare them could end badly. Like they probably do it to be cute but learn quick. The family members natural reaction is to attack just because of all their training.
Bruce: He probably already heard you coming. He was prepared. He had his kids doing it for years so he knows what to expect. Luckily he is there to catch you.
Kate: She hears you, but still takes her a little by surprise. Most likely almost punches you. Like her fist is near your face when it registers. She feels really bad about it and is super sweet the rest of the day. Lesson learned though, don’t surprise jump her.
Dick: He does it to you enough as it is. Not really a surprise as it has become a game for you too. Notices you pretty quickly and points it out before you can jump.
Barbara: She saw you on the cameras and has tea waiting for you while she is typing away on the computer. She suggest next time you try finding a place the camera’s can’t see.
Jason: Also one to not jump. He most likely almost hits you. Like he stops when he realizes it is you. Not a fan of people jumping him. Feels super bad for a long time.
Tim: Not awake like ever so one of the easier members to scare. I feel like he would drop everything including the coffee. Good news is that he is awake now. Bad news coffee stains take forever to get out.
Stephanie: Curse words coming out of her mouth. Threatens to get you back. Then attacks you with tickles. It is only fair.
Cass: Yeah she heard you coming the second you tried. No luck. Her only reaction is to roll her eyes and asked why did you try. You were really hoping to be the first one to get to scare her.
Damian: Tackles you along with a string of words in his native tongue. Don’t worry he landed with you on top so you weren’t injured. Reminded you it’s not a great idea to try to surprise jump him.
Duke: He is more likely to laugh at your attempts. Like credit to you for trying to be sneaky.
Harper: Cussing words and complaining you are trying to give her a heart attack.
Bonus Alfred: He is the one giving you an ice pack and shaking his head. You should have seen it coming. Then giving whichever family member a lecture that not everyone who jumps them is going to attack them.
4, Damian and Jason? I totally understand if you don't get to this one :)) thanks for doing this!!
Bruce’s shoulders are heavy as he walks upstairs.
Alfred had left a few minutes before to run some errands, and had given him very firm instructions to head on up to check on Damian. He hates seeing his kids sick; it’s one of those inexplicable parent-things that he never would have anticipated before taking in Dick.
Seeing them sick as adults is bad enough (here his step falters, and he cringes, makes a mental note to check on Tim), but to see Damian, small and pale and weak, breath wheezing in his chest, pains Bruce deep inside. A soft spot he doesn’t like to acknowledge or even think about.
But days like today, he has no choice.
And it’d be much worse, he thinks, for his children to be sick and alone… He stops briefly outside Damian’s door, already feeling the corners of his mouth pull down. He raps two knuckles lightly on the door, says,
“Damian… it’s just me, I’m coming in,” and he doesn’t wait for a confirmation, because he isn’t expecting a response. Damian had been complaining of a sore throat days before his other symptoms, after all.
And when he enters, his son’s room is dark. Heavy curtains thrown closed, lights off, the conflicting smells of stale air and fresh sheets. Clearly in spite of Alfred’s best efforts.
There, standing in the centre of the room, is Jason Todd. In his arms is a blanketed-lump, a dark-haired head pressed into his shoulder. And Jason, looking up, shushes him.
Feeling off-balance, blinking, trying to reconcile the image in front of him, it occurs to Bruce that Jason was not shushing him. He was shushing Damian, and keeps murmuring to him, low, gentle. He hears the words ‘just Dad’, and ‘don’t move, it’s fine’, but the rest is too quiet for him to hear.
Damian, still in his pyjamas, weak and ill, his normally caramel skin an ash grey, shifts his arms. Clinging tighter to Jason, who just says, “I got you, akhi. I got you.”
The boy is a good few feet off the ground, sitting on Jason’s hip like a much younger child. Hands gripped carefully to the back of Jason’s t-shirt. And Jason, he notices, is actually swaying slightly, walking in little circles, arms gentle and fully supporting Damian’s weight. Damian’s face is hidden, but he makes a small sound of discontent, and Jason shifts his grip. Pulling him closer, murmuring something in… Arabic?
“What’s going on?” Bruce says, finally. Voice choked.
And Jason looks up from across the room, frowns at him. Brow wrinkling. Like it’s obvious. Still swaying, shifting on his feet, one hand rubbing up and down Damian’s blanket-covered back, he says, “I’m minding the kid. Lil demon’s sick as hell, he needs rest.”
“… he has a bed,” Bruce says.
Then Jason looks at him like he’s an idiot. “He’s an assassin baby, Boss. Do you know how much it freaks him, to lie down in the same place for hours? He’s too weak to defend himself if he had to, and he can barely move.”
The boy makes another sad little sound, and Jason keeps pacing. Keeps rubbing one hand in circular motions over Damian’s back. Says, “كلشيءعلىمايرام” and “أنت آمن الحبيب” ,and he quiets.
“We— we have an alarm,” Bruce says, because it still doesn’t make sense, the way Jason is gentle and sweet and kind with his enormous hands and his enormous shoulders– the hands Bruce has seen break bones, the shoulders usually stiff with the weight of guns and knives and anger– the way he moves like a slow-dancer, keeping Damian pressed against him.
They don’t even get along.
And he remembers, suddenly, vividly, standing with Jason outside of Wayne Enterprises— it’d been windy and they were walking to the car, discussing a case, and the boy had said, grin wide and cocky, “Don’t worry, B, I’m great with kids.”
Bruce couldn’t help but laugh, then, looking down at him in his rumpled school uniform to say, “You are a kid, Jay.”
The grin had turned immediately to a huff; “Barely. And I mean younger kids.” Then, “Back before, when my mom… just. Sometimes I’d help, with some of the neighbour’s kids in the building, like if they got sick or whatever. And, like, they couldn’t always take off work cuz their kid was sick, so sometimes I’d skip school, to, you know. Mind them and stuff.”
“Yeah,” the here-and-now Jason is saying, voice heavy with sarcasm. “Because feelings are always rational. Especially when you’re ten years old and have goddamn-pneumonia.”
And Bruce… shakes himself, takes a few steps forward. Quietly, “How’s he doing?”
Jason looks down at the boy, frowning slightly. Shifting his grip. “ ‘bout as good as you could expect. Poor brat.”
Bruce reaches out, rubbing a hand through Damian’s sweat-stiff hair. Alfred had helped him wash it yesterday, after they’d come home from the hospital. Bruce had had to piggy-back him from the car.
At his touch, Damian stirs, lifting his head from Jason’s shoulder; mumbles tightly, “Father?”
He blinks tiredly, confusedly, at Bruce.
“Yeah, Damian,” he says. “It’s okay, just try not to talk.” And then, to Jason, “You want me to take over?”
Jason shakes Damian very gently, then, to get his attention; his head had already fallen back to Jason’s shoulder, his eyes closed again. “Hey, baby brat. You comfy here, or you want Dad to take you for a bit?”
The boy shifts effortfully, wrapping his arms more tightly around Jason’s neck. Hiding his face completely once more.
And Jay actually smiles at that, says, “Uh-huh, okay.” A beat. “You know we’re gonna keep you safe, yeah?”
Muffled from Jason’s shirt and what has to be at least two blankets, Damian says, “… tuh.”
“Did you just try to click your tongue at me?” Jason asks him. “Jeez, you must be messed up. Don’t worry, your condescension is implied.”
And Jason makes another two short trips around the room, which actually seems to help help soothe Damian. He falls into a doze somewhere around the chest of drawers, the painful-sounding rasps of his breath slowing. Bruce just stands there, uncomfortable, unsure what to do.
“What time did Alfred say he’d be back?” Jason asks, after a minute. Quiet.
“Less than an hour,” Bruce says, and Jason nods, like that’s what he expected. He explains, “Kid needs his next lot of pills at four, but I don’t know the dose.”
“I didn’t know you spoke Arabic,” Bruce says, after a moment of relative silence, broken only by Damian’s breathing and Jason’s footsteps on the carpet.
“I don’t, really,” Jay dismisses. “Just a couple phrases I learned, when Talia. From when I was upset.”
And that’s when Damian stirs, fidgeting uncomfortably. He pulls back far enough to see Jason’s face and gives a whine, says “Where’s Grayson.” and then sags again, clearly exhausted by his outburst.
“We’ve had this conversation a couple times already,” Jason reminds the kid, without heat. Rolling his eyes, but there’s a sympathetic twist to his lips, and his hand doesn’t slow on rubbing Damian’s blanket-covered back. “He’s on a plane, remember? He called us a few hours ago, when he was going to board. He’s still in the air now. And you know he’s gettin’ here as quick as he can.”
And Damian says something that sounds a lot like “Hrrrmmm,” sounding, for once, like a regular child his age, and doesn’t move.
Jay presses the back of his hand lightly to Damian’s cheek, then, frowning. “Hey, B? You mind getting the thermometer? I think his temperature’s back up.”
And Bruce says, “Of course,” and is halfway out the door when Jason says, “It’s in the third kitchen drawer.”
“Sure,” he says easily, still pacing.
And Jason’s back is to him, when he turns around. Pausing. His older son is keeping up a low murmur, half-Arabic, half-English, and his hold is exceedingly careful. Like Damian is something precious and fragile.
And this, too, is another thing he could never have predicted about parenthood; this feeling of awe and warmth, overwhelming pride. He knows his boys well enough to know they will never talk about this. As soon as Damian is strong enough to walk on his own, as soon as the colour is back in his cheeks, it will be back to constant insults and barely-contained violence.
But for now, Bruce thinks, at least there’s–
“Your accent’s … ‘ttrocious.”
“Excuse you, demon. Jesus. You try to do something nice…”
Selina introduced Bruce to “soul food” on one of their trips to Atlanta. She will never forget the memory. They were the only two in a very warm and intimate restaurant. Selina fed Bruce his first helping of chicken livers (he was very hesitant). His eyes lit up. Since then, Bruce has no problem flying himself and Selina out to any southern restaurant. Fried food is one of his favorite indulgences
Bruce’s rhythm isn’t bad. In fact, it’s pretty good (for a white boy). He lead Selina on for years stepping on her feet and being off rhythm so she could properly teach him. The little white lie got the two of them in salsa lessons, private lessons with Selina (she always moved his hips for him), as well as private ballroom classes. When Bruce finally told her, he thought it was adorable seeing her brown cheeks flush of their color. However, it’s one of the reasons why all eyes are on Bruce and Selina whenever they slow dance
After Bruce and Selina made their relationship official, Selina began growing her hair out. It took a few years, but in time she was able to grow a puffy afro. Selina wanted to buzz it, but Bruce talked her out of it. “I love it,” he told her. He didn’t want to part with her soft curls that tickled him when she slept next to him
Years after their marriage, Bruce recalled to Selina the moment he fell in love with her. “We were on the beach in Aruba. You were in your blue sundress barefoot in crystal clear waters. The sun hit your skin and suddenly you were the most beautiful sight I ever saw. The light of your honey skin, your hair as your hat (that’s what Selina called it), and your brown body against all the pale colors…that’s when I knew. I knew I was in love.”
Because of Selina, Bruce doesn’t mind 90’s rap. He especially likes Tupac and Bigge. Ask him who his favorite rapper is (no one ever asks), and that’s who he will say. The boys, especially Dick, loves reciting the lyrics together. Bruce does like when Selina calls him “Big Poppa”
Bruce and Selina have a running joke. If Bruce is around Selina and his hands are a little dry, Selina will suggest he run them through her hair. It always works
When interviewed by Vicki Vale about his life, Vicki asked Bruce what his favorite color was. For years, he always said black. That year he said brown with a smile. Selina, who was watching the live interview from her apartment, smiled also
Selina once asked Clark why he always printed pictures of her and Bruce in color as opposed to black and white. He told her, “it would be a shame to reduce the beauty of your skin color to a washed out gray”
Bruce really has no issue going shopping with Selina, especially if it’s for a ball gown. He personally loves her in bright colors (yellow, turquoise, and white). He doesn’t even mind allowing her to walk the carpets without him. He loves seeing her pictures in the paper