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Sitting on a stool in the dining room, Bruce realized that there was a mirror on the far wall placed at such angle that he, in the dining room, could see into the living room perfectly without being seen himself. The dining room was also close enough that he could hear anyone speaking within it. It was Alfred's work, Bruce was sure.
You seem to always have something up your sleeve, old friend, he thought fondly, though exasperated. He was about to go back to his study – he was done with his coffee – when he noticed Dick coming into the living room. Followed by all three of his brothers. Cringing, Bruce sat back on his stool, readying himself to separate his children should they start to fight. And he was sure they would. Nothing good could happen when the four of his sons were in the same room.
To his surprise though, they simply sat down – Jason on one end of the sofa, Damian on the other with Dick between them (Good choice, Bruce could not help but think) while Tim was on the loveseat – and started a movie.
Bruce did not know how he had done it – nor did he want to know, since he was one hundred percent sure it had not been pretty – but somehow, Dick had managed to get all of his brothers – yes, that included Damian and Jason – to have a movie marathon. And out of the hundreds of movies at their disposal in the manor (Bruce had an ongoing supply of new releases shipped to the mansion, just to keep up appearances as the irresponsible billionaire, of course), they had chosen to watch Harry Potter, from the first movie up to the very last one.
Sometimes, Bruce worried about his sons' sanity. Or lack there of.
Then in the middle of watching one of the movies – Bruce was not sure if it was the fifth or the sixth, everything had become a mess of tangled plotlines at that point – Dick asked, "If we were to go to Hogwarts, which house do you think you'd end up in?"
Three – four, including Bruce's – pairs of eyes turned to stare at Dick, who seemed to be still engrossed in the adventures of Harry on the screen, like he had not just said something that was utterly bizarre and had come out of nowhere.
As if the fact that the four of his sons, who usually spent their time together trying to kill, or at least maim, one another, were sitting in the living room having a Harry Potter marathon was not bizarre enough. Bruce suppressed the urge to rub his temples. He could feel a headache coming already.
"Personally, I'd like to think that I'd be in that Snake House." It was Jason who broke the silence, his voice was casual, his body relaxed, but even from afar Bruce could see how his blue-green eyes fastened on Dick's face, searching for a reaction. "What with me being evil and all that sh—" Dick's eyes narrowed at Jason, silently daring the younger man to cuss right in front of their younger brothers. "—jazz," Jason was quick to correct his slip of the tongue. He was a stubborn hothead, but he still knew what danger Dick posed as Mother Hen to the younger birds.
Dick had a potty mouth himself, but he did not like to cuss in front of Tim and Damian. He had explained this rule before as him not wanting to corrupt them. Bruce wondered if that effort was not too little, too late.
Dick looked Jason right in the eye, his face uncharacteristically solemn as he said, "Firstly, Slytherin doesn't always equal evil—" Jason opened his mouth, ready to argue, but Dick beat him to it. "Secondly!" he continued forcefully, "Even if it does, you're not evil."
"I kill people," Jason stated matter-of-factly. Bruce cringed inwardly at the casual way his second son pointed out that little fact.
"While believing you're making Gotham a safer place," Dick countered smoothly, not missing a beat. Jason's mouth clamped shut. Dick had hit the problem, spot on. "Besides, sometimes, the end justifies the means." Jason grinned at that. He looked ready to give a comment, or two, about Dick's statement, but once again Dick didn't give him the chance, "Before you ask Jay, no, I can see your point in killing criminals, but that doesn't mean I agree with killing, criminals or not." Dick's eyes slid to Damian at the end of his speech.
Damian scowled at him. "I don't kill anymore," he declared, crossing his arms across his chest. "It isn't worth your lecture to bother," he added, sticking his tongue out. Bruce was pleasantly surprised to see his youngest son acting like a child his age, for once. Dick merely rolled his eyes, ruffling Damian's hair. Predictably, Damian swatted his hand away and scooted away from the older man.
Bruce could see Jason's face darken, though he said nothing. Yet. As if oblivious to Jason's suddenly dark mood – though Bruce suspected that Dick simply ignored it – Dick said, "Personally, I think that you'd be in Gryffindor, Jay."
Jason was taken aback, though he regained his composure soon enough. A grin lighting his face as his eyes glinted in mischief. "So, you think I'm brave, huh?" he teased, elbowing Dick in the ribs.
"Yes," Dick answered without hesitation, once again catching Jason off guard with the blunt answer. Bruce watched as Jason almost fidgeted. He seemed to be uncomfortable at the way Dick openly praised him. Awkward. As if he was not used to being praised. As if he never thought he would be complimented. Bruce ached for his son.
"You're brave, Jay," Dick said, a soft smile on his face. Then his angelic smile turned into a devilish grin as he added, "to the point of stupidity."
Jason scowled, shoving Dick none-too-gently.
"For once, Grayson is right," Damian commented, nodding sagely, though the grin on his face belied his amusement.
"I hate to agree with Demon Brat there, but yeah. This time, Dick's right," Tim added, chuckling.
"Hey!" Dick protested. "I'm always right!"
"Are you saying that I'm stupid?" Jason asked Dick, eyes narrowed in a mock-threat.
Dick played along. He tapped his chin, thinking. "Maybe," he drawled, smiling widely. "What do you think, Jaybird?"
"I think that's a yes!" Jason cried as he tackled the older man.
"Bring it on!" Dick taunted, meeting Jason head on.
Tim jumped out of the older men's way, pulling Damian with him by the scruff of his hoodie. This earned him a fierce scowl and a swat to his hand.
"Gee, you're welcome, Brat," Tim said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. By now he was too used to his kid brother's antics to get riled up over it. They stood on the sideline, watching as their older brothers wrestled in earnest.
"Ha!" Jason exclaimed triumphantly as they came to a stop, with him sitting on top of Dick's back, straddling him like a horse. Hands circling around Dick's neck, he was smirking smugly when he said, "Dead."
But Dick was nothing if not stubborn, so he bucked, hard. Losing his balance, Jason came crashing down on his side. Out of reflex he rolled away from Dick, before kneeling on one knee, ready for another attack. And attack Dick did as he tackled Jason to the ground once more. They tumbled for another moment before they halted, this time with Dick pinning Jason to the ground.
"Dead," Dick crowed, grinning from ear to ear as he flicked Jason's forehead.
"They are such kids," Tim commented in an affectionate yet annoyingly condescending tone, throwing a grin in Damian's direction.
To Bruce's surprise, Damian actually grinned back, arms folded across his chest and a superior look on his face. "Indeed they are," was all he said.
That got simultaneous indignant "Oi!"s from the older brothers.
"Kids, huh?" Dick, with his hair stuck up in every direction, glared at the younger boys. He turned to Jason, exchanging a brief look with him.
Jason gave a slight nod, lips tugging up in a predatory smile. Whatever crazy plan Dick had conveyed, it was clear that Jason got the message loud and clear. And he liked it, if the wide smirk on his face was any indication. "I'll show you 'kids'," he said, making a show of cracking his knuckles.
Bruce suppressed the urge to sigh. Somehow he got the feeling that it would only escalate from here. He was glad the furniture in the manor had been handpicked to be extra sturdy. Here it comes, he thought, rolling his eyes though he could not quite stop the amused smile tugging at his lips as he watched a full-blown brawl between his sons. Jason chose Damian as his adversary, leaving Tim to Dick, though Bruce was not surprised at all when all four inevitably ended up in one big confusing pile of tangled limbs.
Once they were done messing around, they all lay panting on the thick carpet, sprawled in a variety of strange positions, a grin on each of their faces.
"Alfred is so going to kill us," Dick announced gleefully once he saw the destruction they had caused to the living room. The upturned sofas, the fallen lamps – thank goodness there was not a priceless vase in sight, or it would surely have been cracked by now.
"For a man stating that our deaths are imminent, you sound annoyingly happy," Jason pointed out.
"It was fun," was all the explanation Dick gave as he just shrugged and grinned at the anti-hero. Jason rolled his eyes at what was practically his brother's catchphrase.
Half-heartedly Dick tried to right the sofa, looking at his younger brothers pointedly as he silently asked for their assistance. When the three of them merely stared back at him – Jason raising an eyebrow, a smirk on his face, Tim shrugging apologetically, seeming to be content to stay lying on the ground, and Damian snorting derisively – Dick glared at them all. But they were immune and if anything his disapproval made the three even more amused.
"I hate you all," Dick grumbled, plopping himself down next to the sofa.
"Aw, he's sulking now," Jason mock-cooed. "Brat, go cheer him up." He said the last part to Damian, who gave him a dirty look, though he went to settle next to Dick nonetheless. Dick seemed to be placated by this gesture, grinning in satisfaction as he went to stroke Damian's hair. For once, Damian did not swat Dick's hand away; he seemed to be content to stay close to the older man. If Bruce did not know any better, he would say that his youngest son was actually snuggling up to his oldest.
"So," Jason said as he rested his head on the small of Tim's back, earning himself a glare from the younger boy, which he conveniently ignored. Tim sighed in defeat, knowing there was no way he could get his brother to move without causing another battle. And he had had enough of wrestling. At least for today. So he settled on giving a smack to the side of Jason's head. Jason growled in response, glaring at Tim, who smirked triumphantly at him. Jason rolled his eyes, choosing for one time only to not rise to the bait. "If I'm a Gryffindor, what does that make you three?"
"Jason, Jason, Jason," Tim clicked his tongue, his tone annoyingly condescending as he continued, "Isn't it obvious? Of course, I'd be in Ravenclaw, seeing as I'm the genius in the family. Not that it was all that hard to gain that particular title."
Dick groaned at that, slapping his forehead as he mumbled, "You've spent too much time with Jayjay, Timmy. Way too much time." Jason looked at him, eyebrows raised, amused. Dick sent him a mock glare. "Now you've done it, you've corrupted poor little Timmy with your gigantic ego!" he exclaimed dramatically, throwing his hands up in the air and earning a snort from Jason.
"Right, of course I'm the one who corrupted him," Jason drawled sarcastically, "Because you don't have the biggest ego on this side of the galaxy." He rolled his eyes when Dick simply stuck his tongue out at him in response.
"'Genius'?" Damian, who had been curiously silent up to this point, piped up with incredulity in his voice. "Heh, right." He snorted derisively. "You're a narcissist, that's what you are."
"A narcissist is someone better looking than you are," Tim was quick to retort, quoting Gore Vidal. Bruce felt like faceplaming. Even when he was bantering with his brothers, Tim just had to insert a quote or two. His third son was a Ravenclaw through and through, huh?
"Right, because you're so good to look at, huh?"
Dick and Jason could only exchange amused looks as they listened to their younger brothers insult each other, back and forth. They could have continued their squabble for eons had Jason not, finally, interrupted them.
"Kids," Jason commented, shaking his head in condescension, purposefully repeating the younger boys' earlier remark to add insult to injury. Damian's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Bruce could tell the boy was about to get up and "settle the score" with Jason, but Dick was quick to pull him back down, hugging him close as much to restrict him as to cuddle him. Damian growled lowly, but Dick was unfazed. Eventually, Damian stopped struggling, plopping down on Dick's lap, arms crossed over his chest stubbornly and a faint pink dusting his cheeks.
Jason smirked smugly, but his victory was short-lived as he felt a sharp elbow connect with the side of his face. "Oops, sorry Jay," Tim said sweetly, sounding too gleeful to actually be sincere. Jason glowered, eyes narrowed. Bruce was not surprised when the two started fighting. Again. He rolled his eyes. His sons were so predictable sometimes.
"So, it's settled then. Jay is a Gryffindor and Timmy is a Ravenclaw," Dick summed up once Jason and Tim had stopped fighting. "That leaves Hufflepuff and Syltherin for us. What do you think, little D? Which house do you think you'd be in?" he asked, looking down at Damian.
"Isn't it clear who would go into what house?" Tim mused out loud.
"Dickie-bird in the Green House and Demon Brat there goes to the yellow one," Jason was quick to answer, grinning at Damian, before the littlest could say anything.
Tim had a matching grin as he said, "Exactly."
Damian scowled.
"Not even the Snake House would want you, you poor baby," Jason mock-cooed at Damian, who, still enveloped in Dick's hug, threw at him the closest thing he had at his disposal, which happened to be…
A stapler? Bruce thought incredulously, eyes bulging in disbelief. How the hell did it get there?
Jason ducked easily. He cackled, sounding positively evil.
"Nah," Tim denied, waving a hand in disagreement. "It's just that Dick's brand of evilness is way out of your league, Brat."
"I thought we already established the fact that not all Slytherins are evil?" Dick asked.
"Which means some of them are evil," Tim was quick to answer.
"You are the prime example," Jason nodded in agreement.
Damian's scowl became fiercer, while Dick simply raised his eyebrows, lips tugging up in an amused smile. "So, I'm evil?" he asked good-naturedly.
"Yup," Tim answered, popping the 'p'. "With a capital E." He grinned.
"You might be able to fool the rest of the world, Dickie-bird, into thinkin' you're all sunshine and rainbows—" Jason started.
"'Sunshine and rainbows'?" Dick echoed, sounding more amused by the second.
"—but you can't fool us," Jason continued, completely ignoring Dick.
"We know better," Tim said, nodding.
"Whatever you say, boys." Dick chuckled, shaking his head at his brothers' antics. "Evilness aside though, I agree that my baby bird's in Hufflepuff," he said, resting his chin on Damian's shoulder as he put his arms around his brother's waist.
Shoving Dick's hand away roughly, Damian turned around to look at Dick, his gray-blue eyes narrowed in suppressed anger. He looked as though he'd just been completely betrayed. "So you agree that I'm weak and useless? That nobody wants me?"
Bruce gave credit where it was due; Dick kept his calm amazingly well. "Being a Hufflepuff doesn't mean you're weak and useless, little D. Remember that Cedric guy?" Dick asked, staring back at Damian calmly. "And most importantly, we do want you," he continued, hoping to soothe the boy.
"Ew." Tim's face scrunched up in disgust – whether it was in mocking or real, Bruce could not tell. "Dick," he whined. "Stop being so cheesy, it's disgusting!" he made a dramatic gesture of throwing up to prove his point.
"I don't know about you two, but I certainly don't want the Brat," Jason declared. Bruce noted that his eye was twitching as he said it. "Life's hard enough as it is."
"Liar," Dick said in sing-song voice, a smug smirk on his face.
Jason's eyes narrowed. "I am not," he denied hotly, sitting up as he glared at Dick, who looked back at him serenely, his cocky smirk never leaving his face, totally unfazed by Jason's aggressive stance.
"Are too," Dick volleyed back.
Jason groaned, shoulders slumping as his anger seemed to be deflating quickly. "I'm not falling for that trick," he deadpanned, lying back down.
Dick just laughed, before turning his attention to the boy on his lap. "Now, now, don't you listen to those two. Jayjay was lying—"
"For the last time, Dick, I'm not!" came the indignant protest from Jason.
It was deliberately ignored. "—did you see his eye twitch?" Dick asked. A frown on his face, Damian nodded. "That's Jason's one tell."
Jason sat up abruptly, glaring at Dick. "I don't have a tell!" he denied vehemently.
"'Course you don't," Dick said, as though placating him. He waved a hand dismissively at Jason who growled, annoyed, and glared a hole through Dick's head. Dick ignored him. "Then there's Timmy. You see, since he's been hanging out around Jay way too much, I think he's been contaminated by Jay's tough-guy act."
"'Contaminated,'" Tim snickered, snorting. "You make it sound like a disease."
"It's not an act!" another protest from Jason, which fell to deaf ears.
"The reason I think you'd go in Hufflepuff is because you're loyal to a fault," Dick explained to his youngest brother.
Damian frowned deeply, looking unconvinced. "I'm not loyal," he denied.
Dick hummed, not bothering to argue his point, instead he asked, "Say, if I suddenly chose to go on a rampage, killing all the heroes and stuff, what would you do?"
Damian's frown deepened. He bit his lower lip – a habit he'd gotten from Dick – as he contemplated his answer. It did not take him long to find it. "I'd help you," he said simply, making Dick chuckle. Feeling self-conscious Damian quickly added, "You'd have to have a good reason to do so," he pointed out.
"See what I mean? Loyal to a fault," Dick laughed, ruffling Damian's hair affectionately.
"But I don't think you're evil," Damian protested quietly, half-heartedly swatting Dick's hand away.
Dick smiled, though it looked a little sad. "I'm not exactly a saint either," he pointed out softly. "I'm not, I quote, 'all sunshine and rainbows.'"
"But—" Damian started to argue, but before he could say anything more, Dick cut him off.
"I wanted to kill Zucco," Dick said quietly, but firmly. "Sometimes I still do."
"And you have every right to! The bastard murdered your parents," Jason piped in.
"You wanted to, but you didn't," Tim pointed out matter-of-factly.
"Only because of Bruce," Dick countered.
Tim shrugged. "It doesn't matter why. The important thing is, at the end of the day, you didn't kill Zucco, even if you were entitled to."
"I killed the Joker."
"You did?" Jason blurted out, surprise clear in his voice.
Dick's grip on Damian's waist tightened as he lowered his head to his little brother's shoulder. He looked as if he wanted to cuddle, but Bruce knew better. Damian would not be letting Dick do it if he only wanted to cuddle. Dick's confidence was plummeting – because he is remembering his past mistakes, Bruce mused – and he wanted to hide. "Technically," Dick mumbled.
"But I saved him. I resuscitated him, remember? Which was gross by the way." Tim made a face.
A faint smile graced Dick's lips, before he snuggled even closer to Damian, like he was seeking protection. "I let Blockbuster die."
"I bet he had it coming," Jason retorted.
"Every person has a right to live, even criminals," Dick argued.
"That right was rightfully revoked when he killed innocents."
"I let my teammates die."
"You're not Superman, and thank goodness for that," Jason commented, rolling his eyes.
"Even if you were, you still can't save everyone," Tim added softly.
"I failed you," Dick said, looking at Jason with a pained expression on his face. "I—"
Dick and his tendency to blame himself for everything, Bruce thought, standing up, ready to take the situation into his own hands. That was when Damian's voice rang loud and clear.
"You took me in." Bruce noticed that Damian had turned around so he was facing Dick now. His voice was quiet, but firm as he looked the older man right in the eye. "You gave me a chance, knowing full well what I was, what I was raised to do. You made me your Robin even as you struggled with your role as Batman. You practically raised me when father was believed to be dead." Damian never raised his voice, though his expression became fiercer with every sentence. "You," he emphasized his point with a jab to Dick's chest, "are my brother." Then he slapped his brother's cheek.
Bruce frowned, reminding himself to have a talk with his youngest son about what the child could and could not do. For now though, he would let it slide, as it seemed to not have hurt too much since Dick's only reaction was to blink.
"So you better act like one—" Another slap.
Bruce's frown deepened. I have to talk to him soon.
"—or I swear—" Damian's eyes narrowed, his expression fierce. And Bruce understood why his youngest son was so feared at times. "I'll disown you." Damian pinched Dick's cheeks, hard.
"Damian!" Dick protested, slapping the small vicious hands away. "What was that for?" he whined, rubbing his red cheeks and glaring at his kid brother, who smirked smugly at him.
"It made you stop wallowing in self-pity," Damian declared triumphantly, arms crossed and head held high, haughtily.
Dick rolled his eyes, before they lit up and a wide mischievous smile tugged at his lips. "You called me your brother," he said in sing-song voice.
For a second, Damian just stared at his oldest brother before realization sank in and he groaned, smacking his forehead. "Can you just forget that part?" he grumbled. "I'll even say please," he added as an afterthought, the closest thing to pleading he would ever do.
"Nope," was Dick's answer.
"I should've known," Damian muttered to himself. He then turned to Jason. "Todd, do something to make him forget." he jabbed a thumb in Dick's general direction.
Jason snorted. "What do you want me to do? Bash his head in so he'll get amnesia?" he asked back.
"That could work," Damian said with a straight face, nodding enthusiastically.
Jason stared at his youngest brother. "I was being sarcastic," he deadpanned.
Damian tutted.
"I might know a way," Tim chimed in, making Damian turn his gaze towards him.
"Explain," Damian said, arms crossed, as more of a command than a request.
Tim made a show of tapping his chin, as if he were really contemplating his answer. "Should I tell you? Should I not?" he teased with a mischievous grin on his lips.
"You will tell me, Drake, or I will…"Damian growled, eyes narrowing threateningly.
"Or what?" Tim dared him cockily, head tilted back in challenge.
And Damian pounced on him.
Bruce facepalmed, sighing heavily. "Of course he just had to challenge him," he muttered to himself, rolling his eyes, though the amused smile on his face belied his true feelings. Resting his cheek on his hand, he was contented to just sit and watch his sons.
Dick still had guilt reflected in his eyes despite Damian's consoling – if it could be called that – and Jason was still too trigger-happy for Bruce's liking. And the younger boys had their own issues, Tim with his inferiority complex and Damian with his violent nature.
They're not okay, he noted sadly. But he liked to think that they were going in the right direction. After all, with Gryffindor's bravery, Ravenclaw's wit, Hufflepuff's loyalty and Slytherin's cunningness, his boys were well prepared to face what may come.
Bravery was a trait that all of his children had, they would not be his, the Batman's, partner otherwise. Too brave at times, he thought grudgingly, remembering all the times when his boys made a brave but reckless decision to save other people's lives that endangered their own lives in the process. And even though not all of them were a genius like Tim, they all were smart in their own way. Jason was adept at anything mechanical, Damian could absorb anything with ease, and Dick could make the right decision in the direst of circumstances.
About loyalty, there was no doubt where their loyalties lay, even Jason's. Because no matter what his second son said – that he wanted to kill them all – in the end, he always came to help them when they needed it the most. Not to mention the fact that he was considerate enough to entertain Dick's stubborn want to do some brotherly bonding, or as Jason liked to put it, "play house."
Surprisingly though, it was not Jason or Damian who held the title of most cunning. It was Dick, followed closely by Tim. Damian was just too straight forward with his threats of bodily harm and while Jason certainly could be sly when he wanted to be – as he had proven multiple times over the years – he simply did not have the patience to wait for his plan to play out. Jason preferred to simply shoot at everything – including psychopaths, aliens, and anything in between – that happened to look at him the wrong way.
Bruce shook his head in grim humor.
"If I may inquire of you, sir, what are you doing here?"
The soft-spoken words nearly made Bruce jump. Turning around, he was not surprised to find Alfred standing behind him with an expectant look on his face. If anyone could sneak up on him, it was his loyal butler. He glared accusingly at the older man, who merely raised his eyebrows, not at all disturbed by the glare. He was, in fact, one of the few who were totally immune to Bruce's bat-glares.
Bruce sighed, rubbing his face warily. "I'm keeping an eye on the boys," he answered though he had a hunch it was not what Alfred was asking. "Only God knows what they'd do if I didn't." he rolled his eyes. An onlooker unfamiliar with the batclan may assume he was exaggerating, but the two both knew he was not.
"If I may rephrase my question, why are you still here?" the words "And not over there with your sons," were heavily implied.
The question was asked innocently enough. If Bruce did not know any better he would say his old friend was simply curious. But he did know better. And judging from Alfred's tone of voice, he was not making a mere suggestion, but rather a disguised order or, knowing the Englishman's nature, a gentle push in the right direction. Because everyone knew that though Bruce was the official head of the house, Alfred was the man really running things.
For a moment, Bruce wondered if he should lie. But he could not lie, not to Alfred. The elderly man would always know. And he knew it would ultimately be better if he simply answered truthfully, then, at least, he could keep his dignity. "I don't want to ruin the moment," he said softly, eyes wistful as his gaze found the four of his sons once more.
"We don't know about that," Alfred said softly, "and I believe the possible gain is worth the risk." He gave an encouraging squeeze to Bruce's shoulder.
Bruce flashed the older man a grateful smile, though he shook his head. "It is," he agreed quietly, "but it's not a risk I'm willing to take." His smile turned sad. He would not impose on his sons, interrupting their bonding, just because of his selfish want to be with them.
"If that is your wish," Alfred sighed, sounding genuinely regretful.
Bruce stared at his father figure strangely, a frown marring his face. Despite his gentlemanly manner, Alfred was known for his stubbornness. Never before had the older man given up this easily. In fact, Bruce thought, stomach churning as he noticed the twinkle of mischief in those knowing eyes, it was too easy. He had a bad feeling about this.
"Maybe I should inform Master Richard where I keep those old albums?" Alfred mused, as if thinking out loud.
Bruce groaned, hating it when the majordomo was right at a time like this. He resisted the urge to bang his head on the counter. Instead he glowered.
Alfred stared back calmly, a serene smile on his face.
Bruce turned the glare up a notch.
Alfred was unfazed.
Bruce sighed, knowing when he was defeated. Not that he ever won against Alfred. Dick was bad enough by himself; there was no way Bruce would let Alfred arm him with the old photo albums. He was afraid to think what his son would do with them. He stood from his seat slowly, trying to give himself more time to think of a way to get out of this situation without also getting on Alfred's bad side. That was when he noticed four pairs of eyes peering at him with varying levels of amusement.
He groaned, resisting the urge to slap his forehead. It was one thing to admit defeat to Alfred but it was another matter altogether to have said defeat witnessed by the four of his sons.
"Aw," Jason mock-cooed, "Is the Big Bad Bat afraid of good ol' Alfie?" He cackled, sounding far too happy for Bruce's peace of mind.
Bruce glared at his second son, who merely tilted his head back haughtily, a smug smirk on his face. "I'd like to see you try to go against him," he snapped. Jason's smile vanished in an instant. With his eyes narrowed, lips thinned, and jaws set stubbornly, he looked ready to argue.
"Now, now, we all know Alfred is undefeatable," Dick said hastily before Bruce and Jason could start arguing, putting himself between the two.
Tim nodded, agreeing readily. "There's no shame in a defeat against Alfred."
Bruce's eyes narrowed. He knew exactly what Dick and Tim were trying to do: distract him. In the back of his mind, he knew it was a good idea too, not arguing with Jason. They all knew how it would end: in an ugly mess. But he was just too riled up to care. He was stopped before he even had a chance to give the first calculated blow.
"What are you doing in here, father?" It was Damian's question that stopped Bruce in his tracks. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Dick smile in Damian's direction, winking at the boy. A quiet "Good job!" Bruce was sure. Damian snorted softly, though he could not quite hide the pleased gleam in his eyes.
Bruce fumbled for a second before he regained his composure. Standing to his full height, he said, "I was making sure you would not end up destroying the whole manor," which basically meant he was keeping an eye on them.
Understanding dawned on Dick. "You should've joined us," he said, chidingly. Bruce resented that. He was the father, his son should not chide him! Yet, here they were as they so often were.
"Why don't you start, as you'd like to put it I'm sure, round two?" Alfred suggested, a friendly smile on his face. Bruce could not keep his imagination from running wild, morphing the butler's smile into something far more devious and cunning.
Dick perked up at that, as did the other three. A sly smile crept on their faces simultaneously as they exchanged glances. This time, Bruce was sure it was real. He took a step back. But before he could go any further, Dick appeared at his side, taking Bruce's hand in vice-like grip, and smiling sweetly at him. "It's a good idea! Don't you think so, Bruce?" His voice was saccharine sweet as he said it.
"I…" Bruce tried to pry Dick's hand off, but Tim took his other hand.
"A brilliant idea, if I say so myself," Tim added, sporting the exact same smile as Dick.
Bruce tried to take a step back, only to bump into someone. A brief glimpse revealed that someone to be Jason. Who was grinning widely.
Suddenly he had a premonition.
"It will be fun," Jason said, trying to smile, but it came as a wicked grin instead. Bruce knew Jason was right, that it would be fun - for his sons. For him, though… not so much.
Bruce was about ready to resort to drastic means of escape – after all, desperate times called for desperate measures, right? – when Damian appeared in front of him, looking at him with wide, imploring eyes. With that innocent-child look, Bruce felt the somehow-so-familiar tug of something, and was ready to do anything his youngest asked of him. Vaguely, he thought that he had seen this look somewhere before. Not on Damian's face for sure, but still…
Bruce's eyes widened as he remembered. It was The Look. The Puppy Eyes of Doom as he had dubbed it many years ago. He tried to resist, but Damian proved he could be as stubborn as Bruce was. He blamed Talia's gene for that.
"Dad, please?" Damian asked, voice soft, gray-blue eyes becoming impossibly wide, and lower lip quivering convincingly.
Bruce was struck speechless, not only had Damian said the magic word, but he had also called him "Dad" instead of the formal "Father" he always used. He knew it was just a ruse, a way to make him agree. Still… It was hard to say no to that face. Mouth open, he valiantly tried to refuse. His effort was in vain, however, as without any input from his brain out from his mouth came, "Alright." His shoulders slumped and he hung his head low. He truly was defeated. Damian made a whoop of joy before schooling his face to his usual smug expression.
Tim turned to look at Dick. "I can't believe you taught him The Eye!" He shook his head in disbelief.
"I can. What I can't believe is the runt can pull it off," Jason said, looking at Damian in wonder.
Damian simply smirked. Dick grinned proudly.
"Maybe you're not exactly as hopeless as a Hufflepuff," Jason mused, earning an exasperated eye roll from the younger boy.
Bruce only needed to raise an eyebrow expectantly in Tim's direction before the genius launched on a full report as to who belonged to what house. He had heard the whole reasoning behind it, but he wanted to hear it from his sons anyway. Not to mention it was a good cover to say that he had not actuallybeen spying on his boys.
"Jason should be in Gryffindor, because as Dick pointed out, he's stupidly brave," Tim said, nodding sagely.
"Oi! Wrong emphasis!" came Jason's protest, which was completely ignored.
"I'm in Ravenclaw, no surprise there," Tim continued. Bruce raised his eyebrows at his son's uncharacteristic confidence, though he said nothing. "The brat over there in Hufflepuff," Tim gestured in Damian's general direction, "Dick said because he's loyal, though I doubt that. Personally I think it's because no one else—" the words "Aside from us" went unsaid, "—would want him. And Dick would be in Slytherin, of course."
"Because I'm evil, apparently," Dick chimed in, mock-glaring at his younger brothers good-naturedly.
"With a capital E," Tim added with a cheeky grin on his face.
"Yes, with a capital E," Dick agreed, rolling his eyes.
"So, what do you think, Bruce? Is that about right? Or is there something you want to add?"
"Personally, I'd like to think whatever house each you'd end up in, hypothetically speaking of course, you'd cause havoc wherever you go, anyway," Bruce said dryly.
"You really think so?" Dick asked, sounding all too happy for a man just accused of being a troublemaker.
"No, I know so," Bruce answered, remembering all the trouble the acrobat had landed himself, his team and his family in through the years. "You'd put those Marauders to shame, honestly."
All four of his sons stopped dead in their tracks. Bruce watched uneasily as a smile (or smirk, depending on the individual) spread over each of his boys' faces. "I just gave you an idea, didn't I?" he groaned.
"Well, in your defense, I'd say that it is a good idea," Dick said, chuckling as he patted Bruce's back condescendingly.
"However unintentional, I just suggested you join forces to prank people, how is that a good thing?" Bruce glared at his oldest.
"Well, I never said it was good for you, did I?" Dick answered, cheekily.
Bruce's glare turned up a notch.
Dick beamed at him, totally unfazed.
Bruce rolled his eyes. "Since I'm the one who initiated it—"
"However unintentionally," Tim piped in. The boy merely put on an innocent smile when Bruce glared down at him.
"Then I have the right to name it." Bruce finished.
"No," Jason groaned, slapping his forehead dramatically. Bruce started to think his sons were spending too much time in each other's company. They were really starting to rub off on each other. "You'll somehow find the lamest, most boring, most obvious name there ever is. Take the Justice League for example; you can't get any lamer than that."
"Please, Todd, like the Outlaws is any better," Damian countered, defending his father. Bruce felt honored.
Jason glared at the youngest. Damian glared right back at him.
"Why don't you name your future group the Pranking Birds Who Love Driving People Crazy, PBWHLDPC for short," Bruce suggested with a straight face.
Four disbelieving eyes turned to him.
"You're kidding," Jason deadpanned. "Tell me you're kidding. Oh, and that is so not funny."
Damian was staring at Bruce funnily, as if he could not believe this man was the same man who defending Gotham every night behind the cowl.
"Eh," Tim cringed, "It's really not that bad, right?" He sounded unconvinced himself.
"You're just messing with us," Dick deduced after seeing the slight grin on Bruce's face. "And you wonder why we like messing with your head so much." Dick rolled his eyes. "'Like son like father', that ring any bells, Bruce?" he asked sarcastically.
Dick's only answer was a wolfish grin.
Like son like father, indeed.
End.