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On the way over, Jason rehearsed what he was going to say. “This better be good,” or, “I’m missing Golden Girls for this.” Maybe, “ I was in the middle of cutting some guy’s fingers off, you better make this worth my while.”
That last one wasn’t true, but no one needed to know that.
While it might be dramatic, Jason thought this was worthy of such a reaction because when Bruce called him on the phone, he was all growly and “I need you to come over to the manor as soon as possible,” without giving any real answers.
Jason wasn’t coming because Bruce asked him to. He was coming because Alfred sent him a text, saying that he was making raspberry scones, and would appreciate it if Jason could come over. In Alfred speak, that roughly translated to Jason Peter Todd get your ass over here before I come and drag it out of Gotham. So Jason got on his bike and drove over.
What was curious about the situation was that Bruce had asked him to come to the manor, not the cave. Jason could count on one hand the times that he had been in the manor since his death and subsequent rebirth.
It wasn’t often, to say the least. So the fact that Bruce would ask Jason to come over for something that wasn’t specifically capes related was intriguing.
He still rolled into the cave, just because he could. As he half expected, it was empty.
Jason parked his bike, took off his helmet, and strode right up the staircase.
The manor was quiet, though it wasn’t like Jason expected screams when he came up. People didn’t really call Jason for help comforting screaming people. Jason was more the one who caused the screaming, usually from bullets in kneecaps.
But that was besides the point.
It was when he slipped out of the library that he faced the issue.
In the hallway, there was a child. A tiny child. So small that Jason had nearly run it over.
Jason’s jaw dropped. The tiny human child toddled in front of him, gripping at his pant legs. Automatically, he bent his knees slightly. The child lost its grip, and fell flat onto its ass.
They both froze. The child’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly.
“No no no, don’t cry,” Jason rushed out. He leaned down and scooped the child into his arms. “Don’t cry, okay?”
The child grabbed onto his shoulder as Jason settled it (him?) onto his upper hip. Big, blue eyes blinked up at him, shining with unshed tears.
When the fuck did B have the time to adopt a new kid?
“Little Bit!” Another young voice called. Jason automatically tensed as footsteps came running through the hallway and veered around the corner.
There was no way for him to be prepared for what he saw in front of him.
Of course he knew what the golden child looked like when he was, well, a child. B had a few photos hanging in his office.
But Jason was wholly unprepared to actually see him in front of him.
Little Dickie came to a halt only moments before crashing into Jason. Jason, who was holding… Jason squinted at the baby in his arms. “Timmers?”
“Dick?” Now it was Bruce’s turn to come running around the corner and, like Dick, he stopped right in front of the three of them. “Oh. Jason, hello.” He was wearing sweatpants, and a worn t-shirt, looking so... Casual. It unnerved Jason.
“ Oh, Jason, hello ,” Jason parroted, mockingly. Its mocking affect was lessened by Tiny Tim sighing softly, and laying his head on Jason’s chest. Jason automatically readjusted his hands so he could hold the child more comfortably. “What’s new?”
“B?” Little Dickie asked, stepping backwards enough to grab at Bruce’s pant legs.
“Dick,” Bruce’s hand automatically came to rest on Dick’s shoulder. “This is your brother, Jason.”
“Brother?” Jason’s gut churned with something he didn’t care to label as Dick looked him up and down.
The widening of Little Dickie’s eyes were the only warning that Jason got before the boy launched himself at Jason, seemingly uncaring that Jason was holding a literal infant in his arms.
Baby Timbit only squeaked softly when Dick’s arms came around Jason’s neck, holding him in a swinging hug. Jason had to quickly readjust again as Dick clung on, forcing Jason to hold him on the other side of his hip.
“Magic user got them both on patrol tonight. Sent them back over ten years, our current estimate is twelve.”
“ Twelve, ” Jason sputtered. His right arm was going numb under the weight of eleven year old Dickface?
“I know. We’ve gotten in contact with Zatanna, but she can’t help. We just have to wait for the magic to wear off.”
“B, how many brothers do I have? ” Dick said, no, shouted into Jason’s ear.
“Where’s the demon brat?” Jason asked. Bruce made a constipated face. “Ooh,” Jason chuckled, the pieces falling into place. “He ran off, huh? To the Kent’s, the moment he saw Dickie as a kid?”
“He didn’t run,” Bruce tried to defend.
“He flew?”
“We saw Superman,” Dickie whispered into Jason’s ear. Jason didn’t stop the wicked smile from breaking out on his face.
“Alright,” Bruce said. He reached out for Timbit, who went into his arms easily, without a peep. It was eerie, how quiet that kid was. “To answer your question, Dick, you have four— counting those who are my legal wards, sons or live in the manor.”
“Four!” Dick shrieked.
“Come on,” Bruce began to usher them through the hallway, back the way that they had come. “Alfred is waiting for us.”
Alfred was indeed waiting for them. He smiled when Bruce entered the kitchen, and smiled even wider when Jason followed, with Dick still hanging off of him.
“Master Jason,” Alfred slid a platter of raspberry scones across the kitchen island. “I am glad to see you have arrived safely.”
“Alfred, did you know I have four brothers?” Dick asked, finally detaching from Jason’s neck.
“I was aware,” Alfred replied. “You even have a sister, and a few other people who consider themselves to be a part of your family.”
“Speaking of,” Jason cut in, grabbing a scone. “Where is everyone else?”
“Cass is with Stephanie and Barbara for the night. Duke should be coming home within the next few hours,” Bruce reported, but he was fully enraptured with Tiny Tim, a finger caught in the baby’s fist, which was being waved around.
A million years ago, Jason had seen Bruce hold babies, back at galas or fundraiser events where parents fall over themselves to have Brucie Wayne holding their child for a photo. Back then, it was amusing to see Bruce, who was a large man, holding such a tiny child. Now, Jason was getting the same feeling, though it had an extra dose of vertigo, knowing that the baby he was holding was Tim.
“He’s quiet.” Jason finally commented. As if Tiny Tim knew Jason was talking about him, (and maybe he did— Jason had no idea what babies understood), he turned and blinked his big eyes at him. Bruce hummed in agreement, bouncing Tiny Tim on his hip.
“Jason, Jason, Jason,” Dick chanted, grabbing onto one of Jason’s arms and lifting his feet so he could dangle from it. “Will you play a game with me? Timmy is too little, and B has to watch him.”
“What game?” Jason asked warily.
“Circus!”
That was how Jason found himself, not ten minutes later, staring as the tiny version of his older brother swung off of a chandelier. They were in the main hallway, which was, (according to Dick), the best place to do flips.
“This can’t be safe.” Jason felt vaguely ill, watching Dick hang upside down from his legs.
“I do this all of the time!” Dick shouted back.
“Yeah, twelve years ago. Can Alfred even clean up there?”
“I’ll have you know, that Master Dick in his typical age dusts up there for me once every other week,” Alfred said as he walked by. He was holding a few brightly colored blankets that had faded with time. When he caught Jason looking at the blankets, he held them out. “These were Master Bruce’s, when he was young. They’ve been in storage for a long time, but I thought Master Tim might appreciate something more suited for his age.”
“Oh!” Dick cried. With a shift of his legs, he was falling from the chandelier. Jason’s heart leapt into his throat as he dashed to catch his older/younger brother.
In typical Dick fashion, he did a flip and managed to land perfectly in Jason’s arms, as if he knew Jason was going to run to catch him. Dick smiled at Jason before climbing out of his arms.
“We should make a fort!”
“A fort?”
“Yeah, like a blanket fort!” Dickie cheered, bouncing around. “Can we? Can we?”
“I don’t see any reason as to why not,” Alfred mused. “It’s possibly one of the less destructive activities that are available.”
“Less destructive?” Jason repeated. Alfred gave him a look of someone who had seen many children grow up in this household.
“Your father went through a fire-setting phase in his youth.” When Dickie lit up, Alfred shook his head. “We are not going to be playing with matches today, Master Dick.”
Dick deflated only for a few moments before bouncing back.
“We can still make a fort though!”
Jason didn’t have any plans for the evening other than a usual patrol, but he got the sense that if he tried to duck out, Dickie would pull some big puppy dog eyes on him and guilt Jason into staying. It didn’t seem worth it to try and leave.
“Fine. What do we need?” Jason asked.
“We need blankets.” Dick listed.
“We have those.”
“We need pillows.”
“We have those too.”
“We need sheets.”
Jason looked at Alfred, who nodded.
“Alright, we have those too. Who’s room do you want to build it in?”
Dick spun around, as if the answer would present itself to him in the middle of the hallway.
“Can we build it in the living room?”
Jason glanced at Alfred once more. Alfred nodded again, and walked towards a linen closet down the hall.
“I don’t see why not. Go help Alfie grab some sheets, huh?”
Dick nodded vigorously and sprinted after the butler.
Jason took the chance to duck into his room. He forced himself to go into tunnel vision, not take in anything about his surroundings other than the bed. Seeing Dick as a kid was messing with his head, but that was no excuse to get lost in the maze of emotions that was his own childhood.
He was making a mess for Alfred to clean later, but it was for Little Dickie, so Alfred couldn’t get too mad. Jason ripped all of the sheets and blankets off of his bed, letting the pillows scatter everywhere on the floor.
When he arrived in the living room, Dickie had already pulled all of the pillows and cushions off of the couches and was in the process of pulling a white sheet over the main couch. Bruce was standing in the doorway, with Tiny Tim standing at his feet, grasping Bruce’s index fingers in his tiny fists.
“Building a fort?” Bruce asked as Jason walked in. Jason grunted in agreement as he tossed the bundle of sheets and blankets at little Dickie. Dickie nearly was knocked over by the force of the sheets, but he only laughed.
“Put this edge on top of the shelf over the fireplace, and put something heavy on top of it.” Dickie instructed, holding a sheet out to Jason.
Jason complied. He looked at Tiny Tim as he passed him. The baby was staring right back at him with wide eyes, before taking an uncertain step in his direction. Bruce, who still had his fingers being held captive by the child, had to stoop down to follow.
Jason watched as Tiny Tim and a hunched over Bruce approached him. When Tim came across a wayward pillow that was too large for him to step over, all he had to do was look up at Bruce before the man gently lifted him a few inches higher in the air, and over the pillow.
“If we put the sheet here, we can’t have a fire,” Jason warned Dickie, stacking an old hefty clock and a few books over the sheet to keep it in place.
“That’s fine.” Dickie called back. “Hold onto that side, ‘kay?”
Dickie brought the opposite edge of the sheet across the room before shoving it between the back cushions of the couch. “We have a roof!”
“What’s next?”
“We need to make the inside all nice and cozy.” Dickie instructed. He hopped over a few pillows to reach Tiny Tim, who was still toddling over to Jason. “Wanna help me pick out some blankets?”
“Buh.” Tiny Tim said. Jason couldn’t help but crack a smile, and when he looked, Bruce was smiling too.
“Okay, which one do you want, the red, or blue blanket?” Dickie asked.
Tiny Tim let go of Bruce’s fingers and stumbled towards Dickie, arms outstretched. Dickie automatically gathered him up into his own arms, a sight so sweet it could give someone a cavity. “Look, Timmy, which blanket do you want?”
Tiny Tim reached out and patted the blue blanket with faded elephants dancing across it.
A soft look passed over Bruce’s face, and for a moment, he looked so fond of the children that Jason had to look away, feeling like he was intruding on some personal moment.
Jason turned back to the kids. Dickie was complimenting Tim’s choice in blankets, before spreading it out on the floor.
Had anyone ever looked at Jason like that? Like he was pure, and worthy of love? His mom, maybe.
But had Bruce ever? Even before he had died, Jason had been tainted by Crime Alley, by the grunge and suffering that tainted every kid in the place.
He supposed though, that you would never really understand the way that a parent looks at you. Not until it’s too late, when they are gone, or you have lost the right to be looked upon with such love.
Jason’s gut churned with an emotion he didn’t want to identify, so he crawled forward and helped Dickie hang another sheet over the couch, this time taking it to the nearby bookshelf.
The fort was really coming together. It had a roof, and Timmy was being plopped down in the center, surrounded by pillows.
Jason tossed a throw pillow at Bruce’s face. This was going to be the best goddamn fort that this house has ever seen.
After the finishing touches were made to the fort, Dickie refused to leave. It took both Jason and Bruce to convince him to leave even for a few short minutes so he could go to the bathroom, and that was still a tough argument. Alfred prepared dinner and served it to them in the fort, and Jason had set up a laptop inside so they could watch a movie.
The fort itself had ended up looking pretty nice. Jason and Bruce had strung a piece of string throughout the middle of the entire room, elevating the roof made of sheets, and Alfred had even produced some fake candles from God-knows-where, and lined the perimeter of the fort with them. You couldn’t crawl two inches without hitting a pillow, or blanket, and still was so spacious that it fit Bruce, Jason, and the two kiddos with room for more. Dickie had briefly pleaded with Alfred to join them in the fort, but Alfred had quickly shut that down, informing that though Dickie seemed to be getting younger, Alfred wasn’t.
So, once dinner was eaten, and Alfred was in the kitchen making them each individual bowls of popcorn, they (Dickie and Bruce, more like) began to argue over what movie to watch.
Bruce had suggested Dumbo, an option that so quickly brought tears to Dickie’s eyes that Jason slapped the laptop out of his hands. Timmy, of course, had no input, as he had curled up on top of Bruce’s chest a bit ago and was lightly dozing.
It wasn’t until Jason was scrolling through Disney Plus that Dickie pointed out how his lack of adult memory meant he had never seen any of the newest Pixar or Disney movies. Jason rallied hard to watch the newest Toy Story films, but Bruce vetoed them. They ended up watching Moana, and then Frozen, and then Moana once more when Dickie plead to watch it again. In typical Bruce fashion, he fell asleep halfway through Frozen, with Tiny Tim fast asleep on top of him.
It was getting late. Jason was just contemplating how to possibly put his older brother to bed when he heard a door in the distance open and close.
Jason tensed when he heard footsteps entering the room, but immediately relaxed when Duke poked his head under the top sheet. He must have been warned about the situation before coming in— he seemed generally unphased by the two tiny humans with Jason and Bruce.
“Hey guys. What’s up?”
Bruce’s snore got cut off halfway through as he woke up, blearily blinking his eyes.
“Dickie, this is one of your other brothers, Duke,” Jason introduced. Dick’s face lit up as he clambered over both Jason and Bruce to throw his arms around Duke.
“Hi Duke!”
“Hey, Dick,” Duke replied, his arms coming up slowly to hug Dick back. “He’s so… small ,” Duke said to Jason over Dick’s shoulder. Jason snorted, nodding his head in agreement. “Is that-”
Almost as if on cue, Tiny Tim sniffled, rubbing a tiny fist over his face before relaxing back into sleep. Bruce, who was still half asleep, rested a hand on Tim’s back.
“Welcome home Duke,” Bruce mumbled, Duke’s name turning into a snore halfway through.
Dickie’s hug became more of a mission to tug Duke into the fort with them. Jason had to slide over so the other boy could fit in with them.
“It’s late, maybe we should think about heading to bed–” Jason started to say, but Dickie started shaking his head wildly.
“No way! Duke just got here! Has he seen Moana?”
“I… have seen Moana. Why?”
“It’s so good !” Dickie made grabby hands for the laptop.
“Fair point,” Duke said, shoving a pillow under his head. “But have you ever seen Encanto?”
“No?”
“That’s even better than Moana.” Duke claimed. Dickie’s eyes got wide, and he nodded just as vigorously. Jason stifled a yawn behind a fist. “Is B good to sleep on the floor? His back-”
Duke was cut off by a loud snore from Bruce, echoed by a softer, baby snore from Tim. Duke and Jason made eye contact, both trying to stifle their own laughter.
Jason shoved the laptop at Duke, since Disney Plus was already pulled up, and he was going to scream if he had to watch Moana again.
As Duke pulled up the movie, Jason let one of his arms rest around Dickie’s shoulders. The kid sighed softly, and snuggled closer to Jason’s side. Normally , they wouldn’t be this close unless one of them had the other in a headlock. But this wasn’t really a normal situation, so he let it slide. If his heart tugged when Dickie wrapped his other arm around Duke’s elbow, no one would ever have to know.
Jason tried his best to fight sleep, but his eyes continued to droop. He passed out somewhere around not talking about Bruno.
“Psst.”
Jason groaned, swatting at the fly that was buzzing over his head.
“Psssst. Jay.”
“Shaddup,” Jason grumbled, twisting around so he could smash his face into the pillows underneath him.
“Jaaay-soooon,” Dick sang in a quiet, but high pitched voice. Jason felt a finger poke at his cheek. “Wakey wakey!”
Jason continued to grumble, but he turned his head enough to peek one eye at his brother. Dickie was back to regular sized Dick Grayson, and his face was presently two inches away from Jason’s. Great. Good to see that nothing’s changed.
“Ev’ry’thng’ back to normal?” Jason checked, still not lifting his head.
“Yup. As normal as it is for us, anyway.” Dick chirped. He pushed himself onto his elbows, granting Jason the view of Duke sleeping, and past Duke, a regular sized Tim drooling on top of Bruce, who was still dead asleep.
“Good.” Jason turned his head back into the pillow. “Lemme sleep some more.”
Dick’s soft laugh brushed warm breath over the back of Jason’s neck.
“Sure thing, Little Wing. Just wanted to say thanks for being a good older brother.”
“Sure,” Jason mumbled. “B jus’ called me because there was no one else,”
Dick laughed softly again, before pressing his fingers through Jason’s hair, scratching at his scalp.
“That’s not true, idiot. Bruce called you because he trusts you. And also because he just wants to see you more, but doesn’t know how to ask. He misses you.”
“Hrk,” was Jason’s eloquent response. Dick wasn’t helping his case, as the feel of fingernails scraping at his hairline was lulling him back to sleep.
“I can see this conversation is going to go places.” Dick’s voice was filled with humor, but the veil of sleep was dropping so rapidly over Jason it sounded like he was a million miles away. “Get some rest Little Wing.”
The last thing he felt before dropping off entirely was Dick pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.