AN: This was the very first thing I ever wrote for Damian. Since the next part of Robin’s Nest isn’t coming out until tomorrow, enjoy this!
It’s a fight with your mother that spurs you out of the house, not your brightest idea considering the fact that you live in one of Gotham’s not so great neighborhoods, but you’re not really thinking straight. That continues to be your motto as you get on the bus, and stay on it until the last stop. You then make the two mile hike all the way up to Wayne manor.
You let yourself in, after all, you’ve been doing it for years. That’s why you don’t even pause to think as you shimmy up the tree, across a limb, and onto the balcony. A series of taps let’s him know that it’s you.
There’s barely a pause between your last knock and the door opening. You can’t help but smile at Damian Wayne’s annoyed face, and brush right past him and into his room. “No patrol tonight?” you ask, already knowing the answer.
“School night,” he grunts.
Then of course you knew that, there’s no patrol for those under eighteen on school nights, unless there’s a state of emergency. This means that Damian, even at sixteen years of age, is always left behind Sunday through Thursday.
Falling onto his bed, you wait for him to come and sit down, he does, lying his head in your lap. You run your fingers through his hair. Your mind goes to how you first met the Wayne heir.
He was new to Gotham Academy, you’d been there for a year, on a full academic scholarship. You were both ten. That was also around the time that it was announced that he was in fact Bruce Wayne’s biological child. The vultures had been all over him, each clamoring to climb the social ladder and befriend the ‘Prince of Gotham’ as the paper had dubbed him.
From his first insult you could tell that he was only there because he had to be. He finished all his school work well before it was due, and made sure to keep to himself. Most of the time he simply spent class on his phone. Everyone kept trying to befriend him.
You kept to yourself, you didn’t want to make friends with your classmates. You were invisible and you knew exactly what they were truly like. They were all kind to each others’ faces, but the minute a back was turned, the gossip and insults begin.
Yet, somehow you and Damian found each other through a history project of all things. You found that your minds tended to think the same way, and that when it came to the arts, mainly books, you had the same tastes.
The friendship came easily, and quickly. Often times you’d look up and Damian would simply be sitting beside you. Over the next two years you’d become inseparable at school, and you’d spend most of your nights texting each other. Your friendship is one of acceptance. You accept him as a socially inept, spoiled, rich boy, and he accepts you as loner with way too many mommy issues, who likes to put up walls. Damian likes to break down those walls.
You’d put together the Robin thing about a year and a half in. You’d see a news cast of Robin fighting, and then getting stabbed. When Damian didn’t show up to school after the weekend, your mind began to turn.
That would lead to the first time you’d “sneak” into Wayne Manor. You’d get lucky getting by the fence, and the grids. You’d then see the open window, and for the first time simply shimmy up the tree. The fact that it happened to be Damian’s window was pure luck.
His eyes had gone wide when they saw you but you ignored them in favor of the gauze covering his abdomen. When you asked if he was Robin, he didn’t even try to deny it.
You simply grinned, plopped down beside him, declared you were staying the night, and pulled out a book. Damian just read over your shoulder. You were gone before he woke up, leaving only his missed school work behind.
You then shimmied back down the tree only to be greeted by a man in a black suit, with a slightly balding head. He introduced himself as Alfred, and assured you that you were more than welcome to use the door next time.
You never do.
In the four and a half years since that night, you’ve never met Damian’s family, although you do in fact see Alfred on nearly every visit. You suspect it’s him who let you through Wayne Manor’s intense security that first night, and every night since.
You also have a feeling that it’s him who lets Damian out of the Manor on those nights where your mom has been drinking more than too much. Because it’s always him, accompanied by Damian, who comes and picks you up off a random street on those rare nights that your father actually comes home.
They’re the two people in the world that know about your home life. The only two people you truly trust. You’re the only one Damian has ever told the entire story of his childhood to. You know about every cruel thing he has endured, and what he was forced to do.
You assure him that he’s good, that he has a soul, and that a young boy can never be held responsible for what he had to do. He assures you that you’re worth something, that you’re better than your situation, and that he is damn well going to make sure you’re going to get out.
That’s probably why several drawers of Damian’s dresser have some of your clothes and personal items in them. Drawers that are never disturbed. It’s why you always carry extra of his weapons in you school bag, just in case he needs them. That’s why you and Damian sleep in the same bed, because you trust the other to rescue each other from the nightmares that plague you.
With that last thought you allow yourself to fall asleep, your fingers tangled in Damian’s hair, his head resting on your stomach, and his soft breathing assuring you that it’s okay to let go for just a little bit.
For the first time ever you don’t wake before Damian in the morning. Instead you wake up to several young men, and a man you know to be Bruce Wayne staring down at you.
You stare back, for only a minute before bringing your knee up and disturbing his sleep. “What’s wrong Y/N?”
You don’t respond, simply wait for him to notice the four men staring at the two of you. When he does he’s off the bed and chasing, who you know are his brothers, down the hallways of Wayne Manor.
That leaves Bruce. For a moment you expect some sort of bad comment, or confrontation. Instead, all he says is, “It’s nice to finally meet you Y/N. You know you’re allowed to use the door, right?”
Robin’s Nest Treehouse Hotels. A secluded getaway cozily settled up on a forested mountain. It offers a nice and quet stay in one of three rustic treehouses. Storytelling by the bonfire and fresh bread every morning - all included! Located in Hesse, Germany.
Beautiful quote, “ If I could but lift one Robin into its nest again, I shall not have lived in vain.” From a book a dear friend loaned me. I stopped to aid my friend dealing with food poisoning; yet I am blessed. How beautiful the timing.
You’ve had countless conversations over the past week. You’ve done your best to give the boys, who look so much like your own, some sort of closure or help. At the very least they’ve talked to you, that’s about all you can ask for, but him; he’s different.
He’s very different from the man you know. There’s very little softness left, and all that seems to remain is a bitter old man, who’s been left behind too many times to count, and is ready to die. You imagine you would be too, if everyone you had ever loved had left you.
You had managed to hold a conversation with every single one of your sons’ doppelgängers. You’d even manage to hold a conversation with your husband’s, going as far as to mistake them for him. Not that they had seemed to mind a kiss or two. Your Bruce however, was not as thrilled.
And out of all of them, this man had managed to evade you. Whenever you entered a room, he left. When you tried to speak to him, he would start talking to one of the boys. His younger self didn’t avoid you this much and you couldn’t help but wonder; why did he seem to hate you?
The nagging little question had led you here. While your boys, in their many forms, held a water fight upstairs, you were down here in the cave, trying to figure out what to say to the man as you stared at him from the bottom of the steps.
“I may be old, but I still know when I’m being watched.” You visibly pout as he turns to stare at you. His eyes are narrowed, and he’s scowling. “Well, what do you want? You’ve been trying to pin me down for days.”
You cross your arms against your chest, “Why have you been avoiding me for days?”
The old many shrugs and turns back around to face the screen, “Didn’t feel like a heart to heart.”
You pucker your lips for a moment before walking forward, “And who says I want a heart to heart?”
“That glint in your eye. Every woman who ever tried to fix me had it. The one that said ‘I can make the entire world better if you’ll just let me in’.”
His answer takes you by surprise, and then you start to laugh. It’s a long and hard laugh, the kind that leaves you gasping for air while your sides hurt. You have just a hint of tears in your eyes when it finally dies down. You swipe them away before taking a seat on the floor.
He’s staring at you, and you’re sure he must think you’re nuts. Taking a deep breath, you look up at him, “Thanks for that. I needed the laugh.”
“Glad I could provide some entertainment.”
You shake your head, “For the world’s greatest detective, you sure are dumb.”
His neck turns so quick to face you, you’re surprised he doesn’t snap his neck, “Excuse me?”
“You can’t fix somebody. You can help and assist, but you can’t do it for somebody. They have to want to get better, have to be willing to admit something’s wrong, that they need the help. And to be honest, that’s one of the hardest things a person can do. I mean look at the numbers, there’s like five of you here, and one of you grew up to have a somewhat normal life.”
“I love my husband dearly, but I’m not delusional. Leaving civilization behind to master martial arts, only to return, don a bat costume, and dish out vigilante justice is not society’s definition of normal.”
You shrug, “For us it’s normal. Hell, my boys are starting to get into it now. Making sure there are boundaries and rules in place, makes it just a tad bit more sane. But I’ve got to tell you the truth; I never wanted them to know, but it would have been too difficult to hide it.”
“Even you admit it runs your family.”
“Nope. Like I said, there are rules in place. The kids take part in after-school activities, sleep overs, and all that normal stuff. We make sure to have family game nights, and Bruce doesn’t leave until the younger ones have gone to bed. He and I have a date night at least once a week, and if a mission is going to take longer than a week, we talk about the pros and cons before he agrees to go.”
You stand up and brush your pants off, “In the end Mr. Wayne, it’s all about balance.”
“So, what is that look in your eye then?”
You stare at him for a moment before finally admitting, “Pity, Mr. Wayne. It’s pity, because it is a damn shame that you wouldn’t let those boys in because you were so scared of getting hurt. Even now, you push Terry away.”
He growls at you, “And the others? Where’s their pity stare?”
“I think they’re slowly realizing what they could have, Mr. Wayne. In the past week, I’ve watched Richard cry over his lost Wally, Damian cry over his lost mother, Jason come to terms with the fact that his past does not define his future, and the younger version of you in your dimension realize that maybe he could be happy, and I think maybe that will change it, maybe not. But as I look at you, down here and alone, while those who care about you run around and laugh upstairs, I can’t help but feel that if you don’t find your balance soon, you never will.”
Without another word you make your way towards the stairs. His voice stops you when you’re about halfway up. “I met a woman with your name once. She was a tech on the Justice League’s space station. Looked just like you. She was very kind. Married, with two kids, and always said hello, even when no one else would. She was a good woman. I think it might be a universal thing.”
You smile to yourself and keep climbing. You’re just stepping out of the clock when Terry nearly knocks you down. He catches you, steadies you with a grin, and simply says, “Sorry, the old man called, said he needs to talk.”
You smile as you watch him go, dripping water as he goes. You smile and go to grab a towel. When you go back the water is gone, and your kids come running. They’re all talking over one another, before you make eye contact with Bruce, and he simply says, “They’re gone.”
wasn’t me. I was in character, playing a part.
You were playing Tim Drake. You are Tim Drake.
yes, but a version of Tim Drake who has no connection with super types. He got
a little overexcited on his very first encounter with Robin, the greatest,
manliest, most magnificent super hero of them all.
Only when I’m playing him. After strangling you, I’m going to pour sugar
in your bike’s gas tank and break all your Bat toys.
That’s it, big guy, one foot in front of another and repeat as needed.
with Conner Kent (Robin #141 – Good Girls Don’t Die)
“If you keep scrubbing like that, your hands are going to be raw.”
Biting the inside of your cheek, you look up to meet your husband’s eyes. You remove your hands from the soapy water and carefully dry them. As soon as you set the towel down Bruce takes your hands and starts rubbing lotion on them.
You sit in silence as he does it. When he’s done he doesn’t let go, he gives them a small squeeze, and says: “You haven’t sterilized the kitchen in the middle of the night since before the twins were born.”
You give him a small smile, “The kitchen looked a little dirty.”
Bruce just smirks, “Don’t let Alfred hear you say that.” There’s another moment of silence before he asks: “What’s going on sweetheart?”
You don’t answer right away. You run a hand through your hair, bite your lip, and fidget a bit in your chair. Of course Bruce sees right through you. Knocking your knee with his own, he gives you a small smile of encouragement. Taking a deep breath, you give in, “I got them to open up a bit.”
You nod, “Yeah. Did you know they’ve all lost their parents? Or that Jason actually died? And your relationship with Dick is non-existent. And have you seen the bags under Tim’s eyes? Apparently he survives on coffee! And Damian, apparently Talia is his mother. Talia! She raised him with the League of Assassins! Terry, Terry didn’t say a word. And then there’s you! You just grow old and alone, and you don’t let anyone in and Bruce…”
That’s when the tears start to fall. Bruce’s arms wrap around you a second later. He pulls you into his lap, and holds you close. He runs his fingers through your hair, and kisses your forehead, but he doesn’t say anything. He lets you cry; he lets you cry for those boys who never knew another mother.
Boys who had grown up guarded and more interested in fighting crime than playing sports. You cry for Bruce, for a man who was terrified to lose another person he loved. The last thing you remember is Bruce assuring you that your family won’t end up like that.
When you wake up the next morning you find yourself alone in bed. While that’s not particularly unusual, it is somewhat strange considering it’s a school day and you have seven children, one who is an infant who has yet to sleep through the night.
A bit reluctantly, you get out of bed and make your way downstairs. The first thing that hits your ears is Terry’s hungry fussing. The panicked conversation is the next thing to hit your ears.
“Dude, it is literally you in infant form, use the bond and get him to stop crying!”
“The bond you have with your other selves!”
“That is literally the biggest bunch of BS I have ever heard.”
Taking that as your cue, you move into the room. The way their eyes follow you make you a little uneasy, but you have a baby to take care of. Scooping Terry out of his high chair, you bounce him for a few minutes and the crying diminishes into a whimper. Moving around the kitchen, you prepare the formula and you wait.
Once you have Terry drinking his bottle, you level your gaze on the somewhat stunned looking young men in your kitchen.
“Why are you watching the baby?”
There’s a moment of silence before a much older Dick finally says: “Your Bruce asked if we could watch him until you woke up. He said you’d had a bit of a rough night and needed the sleep.”
“And you said yes?”
Damian scoffs, “Obviously.”
You level the preteen with your best mom look, and take the small amount of satisfaction that comes with him looking away first. Readjusting Terry, you ask: “Have any of you taken care of an infant before?”
Dick is the one to answer, “Children yes, infants no.”
You smile, “And of course Bruce wouldn’t check on that.”
In a somewhat surprised voice, Tim asks: “He wouldn’t?”
You shake your head and begin heading into the living room. “No, he wouldn’t. Our older boys all have experience with dealing with newborns.”
You laugh a bit before setting Terry down in his pack and play. “Seven kids remember? Not to mention he probably forgot that today is Alfred’s grocery shopping day.”
“I’m sorry, Bruce forgot?”
Your smile widens, and then it fades, “Things really are different where you come from. Speaking of which, where are my husband’s counterparts?”
Grown Terry, who’s simply been watching you this whole time simply says: “In the cave, where else?”
Nodding, you simply smile and say: “I’m going to make breakfast; do you boys want anything?”
To be honest you don’t expect anyone to take you up on it, when Terry and Jason do you can’t help but smile.
No one says anything as you assemble a breakfast. When you finally slide plates full of food in front of them, they give you polite thank you’s and you watch as they dig in. You nibble on your own food, and study the young men in front of you. You study the way Jason’s body language says ‘Do not approach,’ you study the way Terry is more open than any of the others. He smiles, but doesn’t make eye contact.
More than once you find your eyes sliding between grown Terry and baby Terry.
When all the food is gone, the boys insist on cleaning up. You try to argue, but they simply scoop the dishes away. You watch them for another minute as you scoop baby Terry up into your arms.
And as you bounce your youngest, you realize something very important. Terry and Jason don’t know each other. Their body language is that of total alertness and waiting for the other shoe to drop, as though an attack will come out of nowhere.
As Terry begins to fuss again, you walk out of the kitchen and up the nursery. You change his diaper and put him in a fresh onesie before sitting down in the rocking chair. It’s the same chair you’ve had since Dick was born. The thing had seen more babies than most, and it had rocked more than its fair share to sleep.
You read to Terry as you rock him, something you’ve done with all your children. You keep your voice light and airy, and he’s asleep before you finish the book. You can’t bring yourself to put him in his crib though, and instead you snuggle him a bit closer and continue to rock him.
The sound of the door gently opening breaks you out of your thoughts, and you smile as a grown Terry slips in through the door. He doesn’t say anything, he just sits on the floor in front of you and watches. After several moments you ask: “Is there something you need to talk about?”
His eyes flicker to the baby and you smile, “Speak softly and you won’t wake him. He’s a fairly sound sleeper, he just doesn’t do it for long.”
Terry just smiles, “I just want you to know, my life wasn’t like the others’.”
You raise an eyebrow in question, but you don’t interrupt. “My dad, well who I thought was my dad, died when I was young, and that left me mad, but then I found Bruce. And well, he is my dad, my birth dad . . “
You smile, “Don’t worry, complicated is a common theme around here.”
Terry just smiles and relaxes a bit more, “I had my mom growing up. She isn’t you obviously, but she’s a good woman. I also had my little brother, Max. I was well loved and, after hearing everybody’s stories, apparently very lucky.”
“That doesn’t make your pain any less you know.” He just stares at you in surprise. “Bruce and I lost our parents around the same age. His experience was much more graphic than my own, so I didn’t like to talk about it, and one day he told me that, and it was like the weight of the world lifted. Loss is loss, Terry; we all have the right to mourn. It’s what we do afterwards that matters.”
Terry gives you a sad smile, “I promise I won’t leave him alone. I’ll stay with him ‘till the end. He’s my dad after all.”
“And what about you?”
When that silly little smile takes over his face you know whatever he has to say is good. Running a hand through his hair he finally says: “I have a fiancé, Dana. She knows everything, promises she can take care of herself, but sometimes I wonder . ..”
Your response is automatic, “Trust her. Trust yourself.”
Terry smirks, “Is that all there is to it?”
You scoff, “Not at all. Bruce and I have a designated date night. No superheroing allowed. He usually calls in someone from the League to go out with Dick, while Jason runs the computers. If they call him in, we know it’s serious and then he goes. We also have a set of rules set up, one of which is that either of us can pull the plug on Batman if we feel it’s getting in the way of our family.”
Terry just stares at you for a minute before asking: “You think he would really go through with it?”
Smiling, you finally stand. You ease baby Terry into the crib before kneeling in front of his grown counterpart, “The suit doesn’t make the man Terry, and it certainly shouldn’t define him. You do good work, but you can’t save everybody. Knowing that and accepting that is the first step to realizing there is a life beyond the suit.”
Standing up, you offer him a hand, and he takes it. Quietly you guide him out of the nursery and down the stairs. He stays near you for the rest of the day. The others flit in and out, never staying near you for too long.
When baby Terry wakes up, his cries sound through the entire house. Before you can even stand up, the other Terry beats you to it and simply says: “It’s good practice, right?”
You just smile and plop back down. Not five minutes later the front door slams open and you can hear your children filtering in. Smiling, you go to welcome them. You receive your customary hugs from everyone including Wally, who had tagged along, and just as you’re about to ask about their days you hear someone say Wally’s name.
Turning, you find the eighteen-year-old version of Dick staring at the boy with a look of wonder and sadness, and you know, then and there, that you have to help these boys in some way before they go back.
After thirty-six years of life, nearly twenty years of marriage, seven kids, and several years of crime fighting, you like to think you’ve learned some things. For instance, if you let one kid fight crime, eventually the others are going to want to as well. And if you set a bedtime for one, you have to set a bedtime for all of them. And if one of you gets sick, you’re ALL going to get sick.
It starts with Damian and Helena. You try to quarantine it right off the bat; after the first sniffle. You barricade them in their room, and you keep everyone in the family away from them. You’re the only one allowed in and out.
The rest of the family takes up residence in the batcave. The family motto becomes ‘distance is your friend.’ You see the rest of your family very little over the next few days, until Bruce sends you a text asking you to come down.
More than a bit tired from taking care of two sick kids, you trudge downstairs to find four more. Tim looks absolutely miserable, slumped over the computer in his Robin uniform, Dick is shivering, Jason is groaning, and Cass is curled up on the gurney in a little ball.
You and Bruce share a look, he removes the cowl and picks up Tim and Cass, and makes his way upstairs while you guide Jason and Dick. You and Bruce call out of work for the rest of the week and spend your days taking care of your kids. The only ones you were able to save were Alfred and Terry.
The butler had been kind enough to take the four year old to a hotel when the first symptoms had made themselves known. With Terry being so young, and Alfred being older, you hadn’t wanted either of them catching the flu. So you had sent them packing.
For a week you dealt with upset stomachs, fevers, chills, congestion, and sore throats. By the end of the tenth day, you and Bruce were ready to die yourselves, but you both keep going. Because that’s what parents do.
“I want to die,” you murmur, face down into your pillow.
Bruce rests his head on your back, “If you go, I’m going with you. You’re not leaving me here alone.”
You turn over, so that his head is resting against your belly. You run your fingers through his hair, “Not an option.”
“You said it, buddy. But in the grand scheme of things, we were kind of due. We haven’t had an outbreak since before Terry was born.”
“Still, I hate to see them suffer.”
“A parent’s worst nightmare is to see their kid in pain.”
“And yet, we let our kids run around as masked vigilantes.”
You laugh, “They take after their father.”
Bruce smiles, “They keep evolving and changing too. Dick’s almost as tall as me now, and Jason is getting there. Tim is a string bean if I’ve ever seen one, and have you seen how long Cass’ hair has gotten?”
You smile. In the four years since the doppelgangers had vanished you’d watched as your sons evolved. Dick had become Nightwing, Jason had become the Red Hood, Cass was BlackBat, and Tim was the latest Robin.
You nudge Bruce, “Helena told me yesterday that she wants to be the next Robin, and then Damian started arguing saying that he was going to be the next Robin. It would have been cute had they both not had fevers.”
Bruce just sighs, “Are we doing the right thing?”
Your hand stills in his hair for a second before starting again, “I think the time to have asked that question has long passed Bruce. Our family is made up of crime fighters, I find that it’s better not to question it.”
Bruce just nods, before sitting up, then he’s leaning over you and kissing you. His fingers tangle in your hair and you clutch him close. He whispers in your ear, “I love you so much.” He peppers your face with kisses, “Thank you for loving me, and marrying me, giving me seven beautiful children, and for putting up with Batman. Thank your for existing.”
You pull him in and kiss him again, “I love you Bruce Wayne. Don’t you ever forget that.”
You’re in the middle of Dick’s first birthday party when people start questioning you about the next Wayne baby. You just laugh. Dick is a good baby, he started sleeping through the night fairly early on, he laughs more than he cries, and since discovering what kisses are he gives them all the time.
He’s also very active. He starts walking somewhat early, and ever since the boy has been getting into everything. Wherever there’s trouble, Dick seems to find it. He is one hundred percent his father’s son. This fact is proved as Dick pulls on a table cloth and the cake falls all over him.
You excuse yourself without answering, rushing towards your baby. Bruce beats you to him by a fraction of a second. He’s full of smiles and giggles as he redirects the cake towards his father, smearing bits of frosting on his face. You may take a picture or two of the moment. You also quickly dismiss the thought of other kids. Richard is enough of a handful, thank you very much.
That thought vanishes when Bruce comes home more injured and wearier than usual a few nights later. He had just barely managed to stop the Joker that night, and despite that success, the crazy bastard had still managed to kill some people before the Batman was able to stop him.
The two of you watch Dick sleep for about an hour, assuring yourselves that he’s okay. When you finally go to bed, Bruce pulls you in close and you wrap your body around his. You’re both yearning for a closeness, and one not so innocent kiss leads to a rather intimate night.
The morning sickness comes on rather suddenly, and violently. You’re hospitalized for dehydration, where you’re informed that you are in fact pregnant. That makes you want to throw up, all by yourself. Two kids under the age of two, makes you more than a little anxious. Bruce himself is a little surprised as well. At the same time, you’re both a little grateful, something good had come from that otherwise horrible night.
Despite the constant morning sickness, you’re not overly tired. You’re still able to chase Dick around at home, as your baby begins transforming into a toddler. Alfred and Bruce do their best to give you time off of your feet, and time to rest.
When the baby starts moving, he doesn’t stop. He’s an active child, and Bruce likes to joke that he’s going to be a handful. You tell him to bite his tongue.
Bruce paints the nursery himself this time. He doesn’t like the idea of strangers being in the manor. He takes two days off of work, and refuses to let you or Dick in the room because of the paint fumes. Alfred assures you that he’ll help.
With that taken care of, you start telling Dick about his sibling. You place his hands on your belly, and tell him that he’ll soon have a little brother or sister. He’s still a bit too young to understand. So, on the way home from work a few days later, you stop by the store and buy one of those realistic baby dolls. Over the next several weeks you show Dick how to be nice to the baby and how to hold the baby. He gives it kisses and learns to hug it gently. He learns that throwing it on the floor is wrong, and driving his trucks on the baby isn’t a good idea.
Overall, you’re very glad at how quickly he takes to the role of being a big brother. Still, you make sure to shower Dick with love and attention over the next few weeks. When it comes time to learn the baby’s sex, you decide to do it in a fun way. You give a bakery the envelope and have them bake small blue or pink cake. That night you let Dick smash the thing to bits, and he squeals with joy when he learns he’s going to have a baby brother.
As the summer comes into full swing you refuse to go outside. It’s simply too hot and you feel as though you’re going to melt. Of course when it comes to the Wayne Enterprises family picnic you don’t really have a choice. You do your best to stay under a tent, near the fans that have been set out in random places.
Bruce and Dick participate in a lot of the events. While it is certainly good publicity for the company, you’re just happy that your boys are having fun. You’re halfway through a hotdog when the first contraction hits. It’s not too bad, and for the moment you decide to just wait and see.
You make conversation with several of the corporate wives. You ignore the passive aggressive digs about how big you are, and how you’re still working. At nine months pregnant you’re a little surprised yourself. You nearly snap when someone says a mother’s place is in the home, and how poor Richard must miss you terribly at the company daycare.
You want to scoff at that comment. Dick spends more time in your or Bruce’s office than he does in the company daycare. In fact, the only real times he’s there is when you have meetings. You had always considered yourself lucky, you had been able to breastfeed while still working. Not a lot of mothers had had that opportunity.
The contractions slowly build, and you begin keeping track of the time in-between them. It’s at this point Bruce notices something is wrong. When you whisper somewhat harshly that the baby IS coming. Bruce grabs Dick, and begins steering you towards the car.Alfred is waiting. As Bruce helps you into the car, Alfred situates Dick into his car seat.
Alfred pulls up straight to the doors, and tells the two of you to go in, and that he’ll get Dick.
You’re checked in and escorted back to a private room in a matter of minutes. It looks like the exact same one you were in last time. Then a contraction hits, and those thoughts disappear. Alfred brings Dick back into the room after you’ve been changed into that ugly hospital ground, and despite the pain you pick your little boy up. He showers you with butterfly kisses and you can’t help but smile.
As the next contraction begins, Bruce takes Dick from you and gives him to Alfred, and he takes your hand, allowing you to squeeze. Dick’s lip begins to pucker, and tears being to gather as he sees you in pain. When he bursts into tears it breaks your heart.
The second the contraction is over, you kiss him and reassure him that mommy is fine, and that Alfred is going to take him home. “Mommy home.” He demands.
You just smile and say that you can’t “Mommy has to stay here, so that you can get your little brother.”
“No brother.” He pouts.
Bruce just smiles and takes Dick from you. Lifting the little boy up in the air he blows a raspberry on the boy’s tummy, sending him into a fit of giggles. Bruce winks at you and escorts Dick and Alfred to the car.
When he comes back, he takes his place in that plastic chair, and he spends the next nine hours allowing you to squeeze his hand, and helping you walk up and down the hallway. You’re very grateful that your gown has a back. You really don’t want a picture of your backside on the front page of the Gotham Gazette.
At the end of the nine hours, you give birth to a bouncing baby boy. His cry is loud and strong, and as soon as the doctors have checked him over he’s settled into your arms. You name him Jason Alfred Wayne. It seems only right that he be named after Bruce’s second father.
Later that afternoon, after you’ve been cleaned up, and you’ve changed out of the gown and into your own pajamas Alfred brings Dick up to the hospital. Cheerful cries of “Mommy,” are screamed as Dick tries to wiggle his way out of Alfred’s arms and into yours.
You take your firstborn as Bruce picks Jason up out of the bassinet in the room. As you love on Dick, Bruce passes the newest Wayne into Alfred’s arms. You watch from afar as Bruce tells you second son’s namesake, what exactly your newest son’s name is. The man nearly tears up before squashing them, and holding the little boy a bit closer.
You turn your attention back to Dick who is babbling more so than talking at this point. You find it hard to believe that he’s only a few months away from being two. You kiss his head, as Bruce take Jason back from Alfred and brings him over to the bed.
You’re careful, when allowing Dick to hold the baby. Bruce sets him in your lap, securely on the bed, and you cradle his smaller arms with your own, so really it’s you holding the baby, but still. Dick’s eyes go wide at the sight of him and Bruce tells him “Dick, this is your baby brother. His name is Jason.”
Dick just looks at the boy before saying “Jase!” and repeatedly kissing his brother’s head. That’s when Jason begins to cry. You’re a little afraid that the crying will hurt Dick’s feelings but he just smiles and says, “Jase is alright, big brother is here.”
Bruce leans down and kisses your oldest son’s head, and says “Good job buddy.” Before taking the baby from his arms. As Bruce rocks the baby, and Dick begins telling you about his breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes, you begin to fall asleep, the last thing you hear is Dick going, “Shhh mommy is sweeping.” As Jason begins to let out little cries. Then, instead of going to sweep, as Dick would put it, you hold out your hands for your newest son, because you’re a mom of two children under two, and it’s time for Jason’s feeding, and sleep, well you’re fairly certain that sleep is a thing of the past, and you probably won’t become well acquainted with it again until both your boys are potty trained, because you are done. No more babies for you … or so you think.