Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The fact that bitties “popped” instead of “slowed down” both changed everything and nothing at all. Bruce could feel himself subconsciously making the list as they went into the second month of Dick being grown up.

Things that didn’t change:

He still woke up in a bed full of boyfriend and bitties. Tim still liked sticking his wet, little nose into Bruce’s armpit (weirdo). Jason still liked curling up as close to Bruce as he could get. Dick still spread out on the bed and gravitated towards Clark subconsciously.

Dick was still an early riser. Dick was still a restless ball of energy in the morning. Dick still loved being near them, and being petted and soaking up affection like a sponge. He still loved curling up in their laps and purring like a motorboat.

Things that had changed:

Dick could talk. He had a lot to say and he was definitely smart enough to say his complicated thoughts. Bruce didn’t know how he hadn’t realised this before. Dick had opinions. Of course, Dick had probably always had opinions, but now they were so crystal clear to Bruce. Dick had likes and dislikes. He could tell them all now, verbally and with reasoning. 

Dick was very clearly as smart as a human. Not an adult. Not yet at least. He had a growing mind and was inquisitive about everything Bruce did now that he could properly ask questions. He learned so easily. He took up all the information that Bruce gave him like a sponge.

And, finally, the biggest change of them all, Bruce was a father. Of three. 

Not a pet owner. A father . One that had thought his children were animals. One that had sent his children to the groomers, put them into leashes, and trained them to follow commands like a dog. One that had almost brought his son in to be euthanised.

A sick, burning feeling rose up his throat. The feeling was normal now and always came when he thought of Dick’s slowing down. He could feel his brain catching on that point, replaying it over and over again like a broken record.

He had almost killed Dick. 

He had almost killed Dick. 

He had – 

“Dad.”  A little paw papped against his shoulder. “I finished my session with Miss Malorie.”

Bruce turned his head to see Dick standing by his office chair, a small packet of paper held to his chest.

Miss Malorie was Dick’s new tutor. Bruce had hired her about two weeks after he had realised that his children were both human smart and lacking in any education. The realisation had caused Bruce to scramble to set up a home education program and find a tutor who was willing to meet virtually and without a camera. 

Bruce had vetted multiple teachers, carefully questioning them about their ability to comply with NDAs and maintain confidentiality. Eventually, he found Miss Malorie Lee, a freshly graduated child literacy researcher who was looking to supplement her post-doc income. She was prompt, professional and didn’t even question about why Bruce was insisting that Dick’s face could never be seen. He really didn’t want to explain why his new son looked like a plush toy. 

For an explanation of Dick’s learning gaps, Bruce made up a story about recently adopting the boy and him having an untraditional education.

“How did your class go?” Bruce asked, glancing back towards the paper and giving a form a quick signature.

Dick followed the motion with his huge blue eyes before he came closed and began to climb up into Bruce’s lap. The papers crinkled as they crunched in Dick’s scramble. Dick’s claws, though trimmed and dulled, still poked into Bruce’s legs.

He managed the ascent and then plopped himself in Bruce’s lap, leaning back into his chest. Instantly, a low-level purr began to rumble through the boy. 

“She says I’m very smart,” he answered sweetly. “But I can tell she’s surprised I don’t know the al-fa, the, uh, alfaba. No that’s not…” he trailed off, thinking hard and trying to work his tongue around the right words. 

Dick had only been talking for a few months and had made great improvement. He was forming complex thoughts and had obviously been listening to all the high-level conversations that Bruce and Clark had. He knew so many words, but the limiting factor seemed to be on his mouth. Even though it was clear that he knew the words, he just couldn’t get his vocal cords and his tongue to co-operate. Letters got mangled against his teeth, warped in his small and furry throat. 

“Alphabet,” Bruce helped and Dick nodded. 

“Yes, that thing,” Dick said with clear frustration. His ears flipping back and his tail twacking an angry thump against Bruce. “She’s surprised I don’t know about that thing.”

Bruce wasn’t too surprised that Dick didn’t know about the alphabet. The bitties were clearly intelligent and had been learning from Bruce. But Bruce has never meant to be a teacher. He talked about blood sample analysis and corporate fucntions, not about letters or basic math. Now that Bruce was investigating the bitty’s intelligence, he was beginning to see all the gaps. 

Dick knew about Roman aqueducts, but it was obvious he had no concept of money. 

He knew about South American birds of paradise but couldn’t identify the robins or crows that picked through the leaves in their yard. 

He knew about Gotham police procedures, but couldn’t tell you what a firefighter did. (Well, he had guessed ‘punching fires like you punch criminals’ which was cute but incorrect.)

Bruce suspected it was the TV documentaries. 

The bitties loved the television and Bruce himself also loved the television for that reason. 

He loved his bitties. He really and truly did, but they were extremely clingy and Bruce had a boyfriend. The bitties were used to being around him 24/7 and were perfectly willing to stare at him from corners or shadows. Let him tell you, there was no bigger mood killer than having a little baby face staring at you as you tried to dirty talk your partner.

The obvious solution was to lock them outta the room, but the bitties protested loudly about that option. They screamed and whined outside of the door, sticking their little paws through the crack and jamming their muzzles into the space.

It just made Bruce feel absolutely terrible and he could not get into the mood with the sound of his bitties’ pleas in the background. 

So… the television. 

It was perfect. Bruce popped it on, put on the Animal or the History Channel, and sat the bitties into their little nest bed. They were guaranteed to be outta is hair for at least forty five minutes and him and Clark could have their fun. 

Now, he realised he was essentially turning his children into iPad kids.

He hadn’t realised the bitties were actually learning from the movies. If he had known, he wouldn’t hae let them watch so much Ancient Aliens.

Because now he was pretty sure Dick thoughts Clark was somehow involved with drawing the Nazca Lines.

“Did Miss Malorie give you any homework?” Bruce asked, gently petting through his son’s fur. Then, he caught himself.

No, Dick wasn’t a pet. Bruce can’t be petting him like an animal anymore.

Bruce put his hand on Dick’s knee and the bitty watched the movement. His little ears bobbed, but then he turned back to Bruce. 

“Miss Malorie didn’t give me homework.” The boy squirmed in his lap and Bruce let him have his freedom. The bitty turned around so that he was facing Bruce chest-to-chest. “She gave you homework.”

The bitty poked a thin finger into Bruce’s chest. The claw for sure put a little hole in his shirt. 

“Me homework?”

“Yes,” his voice hissed the ‘s’ slightly. “You need to read to me at night. At least thirty minutes. Helps me learn the alfa- uh the letters.”

Bruce was nodding before Dick finished speaking. Reading to him and his brothers should certainly be in order. The only reason that he hadn’t been already was because he thought they were pets, and then he hadn’t thought of it sense. But he was a parent now. He needed to do parental things so that he didn’t further fuck up these children. 

(God, he hoped they would forgive him for all the fucked-up shit he had done up to this point.)

Reading to his children for 30 minutes was the least he could do. He would do better than that even. He would go for an hour. Two hours! Multiple times a day except…

His eyes wandered over to his bookshelf, filled with the leatherbound classics that his mother had collected. 

He didn’t really have any material that was fit for children, especially children who were still trying to learn their letters. He needed Dr. Suess, not Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. 

“I need to go to the store,” Bruce said, going to stand up. Dick hopped off his lap, landing on all fours until he bounced right back up to two legs.

“You do?” Dick questioned excitedly, practically prancing around his feet as they left the study. He was getting excited at the mention of the word ‘store’ and his actions were showing it. His movements were getting quicker and zippier. His tail was up and crooked at the end like a question mark 

“I need to get books that will be good for you,” said Bruce, guiding Dick towards the kitchen. He paused and called for Tim and Jason. Then, to add another little incentive, he shook the sugarflower treat bag. 

Almost instantly, he heard some thumps and the patter of little feet as they raced towards the kitchen.

Dick wiggled in excitement, obviously reading the signs. He raced over to where the harnesses were hanging and a stone dropped in Bruce’s stomach.

The leashes for his children, on which he walked them like dogs.

Dick tugged the harnesses off their hooks, and then padded over to Bruce, brandishing them proudly.

This was fine. Bruce promised himself. He had seen parents put their children on leashes in busy places before. It was just practical and not very different than what he was doing. Plus, the harnesses were the only way that Bruce took them outside.

They needed leashes both for his peace of mind and their safety. Leashes were the only way that they got to experience the world outside of the Manor and Bruce wasn’t willing to sacrifice that for them. 

Except, he looked to Dick. 

Dick who was bigger and different furred and more human than he had been before he had popped. Dick who had also been having his death widely publicised as Bruce’s ‘grief’ was splashed across tabloids. 

He… he couldn’t bring Dick out into the world. At least not yet until they figured something else that didn’t raise too many questions. 

“Dick,” Bruce knelt down to one knee so he was more eyelevel.

The bitty excitedly tried to place his harness into Bruce’s hands. Bruce took it, but didn’t go to place it on Dick. Instead he stood up and went to place the harness back on the hook. 

Dick’s head followed him, face scrunching and mouth falling open. His eyes darted between Bruce and the put-away harness. 

“You’re not going with us, Dickie,” Bruce said as gently as he could. Dick’s eyes searched his with abject confusion. Bruce had never outright refused to take Dick anywhere. 

He… well, after going to his therapist, he would admit that he was co-dependent with Dick. 

Dick had been the last thing that his parents had ever given him, coming to him as an eighth birthday present on the night his parents died. Dick has been there for all of Bruce’s grieving, the bad and the worse of it, and had turned into Bruce’s final connection with them. 

And because of that, he never left home without Dick. Dick slept in his bed, and went with him into public, and followed him through every room in the house. The only time Bruce had been without Dick was when he went out as Batman, and even then, he came right back home to his busy.

When Dick had started slowing down, it had felt like Bruce’s parents were dying all over again. 

He… he couldn’t do anything to risk Dick, not right after he had nearly lost the boy. And the fact of the matter was, Dick looked different now and Bruce wasn’t sure how the world would react to it. 

He had seen nothing in all his bitty research to suggest that they had another life stage after the ‘slowing down’ process. Everything from Drake Industries was the same going back decades - bitties had lifespans of 12-14 years. They slowed down and then they died. 

This… this was all new territory for them and for the world. 

Clark and Bruce were rapidly investigating but… Bruce wasn’t ready to throw Dick to the wolves because of a trip to the bookstore. 

“People…people aren’t going to understand the way that you look now,” said Bruce as gently as he could.

The bitty tilted his head. “Why not?”

“Because… well… because everyone think’s that you’re dead. Usually when bitties slow down, they die and you didn’t die you… you grew up.” Bruce looked over his son and couldn’t help a proud smile.

“This would be very new for the world and I’m not sure how people will react. They could react very badly. One day, I can take you out against, but right now you must stay a secret.”

Dick was quiet, processing his words with a frown. “When will I be able to go with you again?” he said finally, his voice shaking a little on the words.

“Soon, baby,” Bruce promised, leaning forward to hug Dick. The boy returned it, but it didn’t have it’s usual tightness. “I promise it will be very soon.”

*****

Bruce is leaving Dick alone. 

He’s almost never alone. 

Dick’s loneliness is reserved to memories for him. Those days after Bruce’s parents had died and the entire Manor had stunk of unhappiness. The place was grim and dark and Dick remembered nearly endless nights of curling up in a hollow alone.

But then, Bruce and Dick had grown closer. Bruce had adopted Jason and Tim. Bruce had brought in Clark. The Manor was brimming with happier thoughts and warm, bubbly magic. And it meant that Dick was never alone anymore even when Bruce wasn’t here.

If Bruce was gone, Dick had Jason and Tim or even Clark. If Jason and Tim were gone… well he couldn’t actually remember a time when Jason and Tim had both gone somewhere without Dick. 

They were his family, his packmates, his committee, he had never been out of their sight for more than a few hours.

So when Bruce harnessed up Jason and Tim and left Dick’s bright blue harness on the hook. An emotion that Dick had never felt before washed over him. 

Tim, already harnessed and begrudgingly upright because his attempt at playing dead failed to get him release, met Dick’s eyes. He cocked his head to side, his long ears bobbing. 

“You’re not going too?”

In the background, Jason is bunny-kicking Bruce’s hand and snapping his teeth like the brat he is. Dick isn’t quite sure why Jason resisted. Jason made a big show of pretending to hate going out, but Dick knows that Jason likes it. Sure, he didn’t love it, but Jason liked being with Bruce and seeing new things more than being left at home.

Like Dick. 

The ugly feeling twisted in Dick’s stomach, writhing like a snake.

“Bruce said I couldn’t come,” Dick answered Tim’s question. 

“That doesn’t sound like Bruce,” says Tim, getting up to pad over to Dick. His eyes were sharp. His ears were keen. He had the shortest and dark fur out of all of them. It was sleek and glossy, pitch black like a starless sky. It was wonderful for blending into the shadows. He’s a predator moreso than any of them and Dick is sure his sharp claws could catch all the words Dick wasn’t saying. 

It’s hard to keep anything from Tim. He is an intimidating creatures, especially when he has a problem to prey on.

“He says it’s because I’m supposed to be dead. Apparently humans believe that bitties should die after slowing down.”

Tim nodded, sitting next to Dick and curling his tail primly over his feet.”They do die. Most of them do, at least.” He looks out towards Bruce who’s finally managed to get Jason’s legs into the correct holes. “He’s trying, but he’s stupid. Most humans are.”

Dick sighed heavily, ears flipping back with the sound. “I know. I know. It’s just strange for you all to be leaving without me.” 

Tim’s expressed softened and he leaned into Dick to groom the fur around his neck. The soft swipes of his brother’s tongue grounded Dick and helped ease the hollow feeling in his chest. Tim was very sweet under his predatory appearance and Dick truly did love him. 

Dick returned grooming, licking down the back of Tim’s head where it was very hard to reach. The tags attached to Tim’s harness jingled a little with each stoke. Tim’s purr, always small and scratchy, was a quiet little grumble between them. A warm magic snaps between them, mostly from Tim but a little from Dick too.  

Eventually, Bruce stood, a harnessed Jason in his arms. 

“Here, Tim,” Bruce called, and Tim’s ears swivelled in that direction.

Tim moved to go to Bruce, but then paused. “I’m sure we will not be long. Dad is not packing my sweater so B’s not thinking we will stay out past sunset.”

That’s his Timmy. The little hunter would be the one to catch that detail.

“Thank you for making me feel better, Tim. I really appreciate it,” said Dick forcing a little smile to him, shoving down anything that might show how much he was still aching. 

“Tim,” Bruce insisted, calling him again.

Tim seemed torn, looking between Dick and Bruce. He seemed like he was about to go to Bruce, but then he lunged forward, shoving his head under Dick’s chin. Dick startled a little bit, but then instantly tucked his chin, nuzzling into the smaller bitty. 

“Don’t feel bad, Dickie,” Tim whispered to him. “It will only a little bit.”

Then, with one more nuzzle, Tim drew away and began to slowly walk back to Bruce. 

Their father was quiet as he picked up the leash dragging behind Tim. He took another look at Dick, silently considering him, and then left him behind.

Chapter Text

Tim watched Bruce carefully as the man perused through the shelves of the bookstore. This was far from the first time Tim had been in a bookstore, but it was strange that Bruce had taken them so deep into it. Usually, Bruce kept them up towards the front and they went through the first few shelves. He would carefully pick through the books, sliding them out of their slots, looking at the front, and then opening them to view the flaps. 

Tim wasn’t exactly sure what he found there, but they would pause for a few moments before Bruce either slid the book back into place or kept it in his arms. 

Tim didn’t have much interest in the books. He had tried, sliding them out like Bruce and looking where Bruce looked, but he couldn’t figure out what was so intriguing about them. All he saw were little markings that did not move like on the iPad and sometimes some colourful pictures. 

Jason had more interest in them. He liked the shape, the feel of the paper, and the sound of the pages flapping. He also liked the way that Bruce gave him a soft smile when he saw Jason sitting on the floor, book propped in his lap, and copying Bruce’s body. 

However, today’s trip to the bookstore took them strangely into the back, where they never went. 

This section was much brighter and more colourful than where Bruce usually walked them. There was a small, white picket fence along the edge of the section and the entrance had a rainbow arch with a smiling sun. 

Tim couldn’t help but gaze up at it as they passed underneath, his eyes wide and his mouth falling open a bit. Beside him, Jason was similarly awed, his eyes gleaming with the colour of the new section. They both had to be tugged along by their leashes because they were going so slow in their shock. 

When they entered, they were now in a place of many colours and strange books. Instead of all the books being in a line, the books here were all shapes and sizes, filled with impossible images. One showed a picture of a crocodile and an elephant playing a game. Another showed a cat with wings. Yet another showed a little girl lifting a mountain.

Tim could feel himself wanting to pick them up, to feel these new strange things in his hands and discover the secrets of a brand new item. 

Jason must have felt the same although he was being much more of a brute about it. He was pulling on his leash, straining in his harness, and making unhappy barks at their dad when Bruce didn’t let him go. 

Bruce chuckled at him, finding humour in Jason’s bad behaviour, and released the leash. 

Tim couldn’t help but crinkle his nose a bit about how quickly Jason raced off, the leash slithering behind him like a spastic snake. He didn’t hesitate to start pulling books out of the shelves, flipping through these strange books’ big pages and making a happy coo sound. He loved Jason. He really did. But his older brother did seem to have no manners sometimes. 

One of the workers in the shop frowned at Jason, opening her mouth to say something until she realised who their dad was. Then, she swallowed down whatever she was going to say and pretended not to see Jason pulling out book after book. 

In stark contrast, Tim settled himself in a sitting position, right by Bruce’s feet, and neatly curled his tail around his paws.

“You can go too,” said Bruce lightly over him. Tim glanced up, meeting his dad’s eyes and not moving. After a small pause, Bruce shrugged and told him to suit himself. 

Tim trotted at Bruce’s heels when they went over to one of the walls in the colourful section and Bruce began to look at books there. 

The routine of this at least was familiar to Tim. He sat again, waiting patiently as his father reviewed books, debated with himself, and then put them in his arms. He was quietly speaking to himself, words rolling like water over river stones. 

“He seemed to be able to speak sentences so maybe this one isn’t too advanced… hmmm… not this one though, maybe in a few months… maybe this…” He kept looking down at Tim, seeming to consider him with squinted eyes before evaluating his book again. 

Once, he even leaned down and held open a book for Tim. The page showed a rainforest with a spotted cat swimming through a lake. A jaguar, Tim’s mind supplied. He had seen the animal in a documentary on the television. 

“Can you read this?” he asked Tim quietly, his voice very low like it was a secret. Tim glanced between him and the page. 

What?

He didn’t know what his dad wanted him to do.

Bruce’s finger tapped on small, black markings on the top of the page. Tim hadn’t even noticed them at first. 

“Do you know what this says?”

Tim’s stomach twisted and he got the distinct sensation that he was failing. He looked at the page, the markings that scattered in the corner like little ants. He tried to know what his dad wanted him to do, tried to divine whatever Bruce could possibly want from him.

But he couldn’t, and instead of whatever Bruce wanted, he gave Bruce a plaintive little meow and hoped his dad wouldn’t be too mad.

His dad just closed the book, put it back on the shelf, and began reviewing the books again. 

Tim sat, this time more unsettled than he had been just moments before.

Suddenly, he wished that Dick was here. Dick had known Bruce the longest and he was often the best one at figuring out what Bruce wanted. Dick could get Bruce to understand them because Dick understood Bruce.

If Dick was here, he wouldn’t have run off with Jason. He would have stayed right next to Tim, switching between curiously looking around, rubbing on Bruce’s legs, and nuzzling Tim. He wouldn’t have left Tim all alone to deal with Bruce’s new, strange behaviour.

With a little huff, Tim rose to his paws and padded over to the shelf closest to him. He still stayed within the length of his leash (He wasn’t going to run off like a wild thing. He was happily domesticated, thank you very much), and only pulled out one book at a time. 

He wasn’t in the habit of pulling books from the shelves like Jason was, but Bruce was back to ignoring Tim after his failure. In the absence of interaction, his mind was whirling on trying to figure out what Bruce wanted and he needed a distraction. 

If he did not distract himself, his own mind would latch its claws into itself and refuse to let go for the rest of the night. It would chew on the question with razor-sharp teeth and make him fear like he was prey. It would remind him of her. 

He shook his head. 

He was with Bruce now. Bruce was his owner. Bruce was his father. 

He stubbornly took a book out of the shelf, forcing his eyes to focus on the page. It showed images of a human with a fish tail who seemed to be trying to go to a castle. He flipped through, trying very desperately not. to. to. think.

Another book. 

This one was a girl kissing a frog. Tim flipped multiple pages and the images barely registered. 

He got to the end. 

Another book.

Another book. 

Another b-

He stopped. 

This one showed a bitty with a gigantic disc around his head and a bulky cast around his back right leg. The bitty in the picture was crying, ears back, tail limp, and tears streaking down his face. He was too thin. He was too small. He was too alone. 

Tim’s own right leg, with its scar hidden underneath all his dark fur, ached with the memory. 

He traced a finger around the circle of the disc. He remembered how the collar had felt around his throat, the way it cut off his vision and made him panic about not seeing what was behind him. The disc had been massive, ballooning out around his head and weighing on his thin neck. It had been unwieldy and too big to fit in one of his hides. 

Combined with the cast around his leg, he had been forced out into the open. His senses were handicapped. He couldn’t run or climb with his cast. He could hardly move and couldn’t touch portions of his body. 

He had been like a mouse in an open field. 

Worse than a mouse in an open field because at least they could attempt to scurry away. 

Tim remembered feeling pinned by his own body, forced to be in the line of sight of the predator that haunted the house. 

He flipped the page of the book and saw another image of himself, still crying, still hunted. In the corner of the next, coming in from the door, … her. 

His owner before Bruce. 

A whine crawled up his throat and fear and anger mixed in his stomach.

Above him, Bruce said something and bent down closer to him, but Tim ignored him.

He flipped the page and it showed an image of her holding Tim, kissing his cheek. The bitty in the book was smiling, nubby, not-sharp teeth shining through. 

That was not how that happened. 

She was petting the bitty sweetly on his head. She was holding him close to her chest. She was saving him.

That was not how that happened. That wasn’t how any of it happened. 

She was opening the metal teeth that had bit into his leg.

That was not how it HAPPENED. 

Tim snarled, his anger bubbling all out of him at once. His magic sparked and rolled and he could taste it in the air around him. Tim’s body moved before he even realised and he threw the book as hard as he could. The book flew through the colourful store section and crashed onto the ground with a loud smack. 

Both Jason and the employee’s heads snapped towards them at the sound. 

Jason was surrounded by books that he had pulled out of the shelf and flung scattered around him. His ears were perked towards Tim and he barked once. 

When Tim didn’t respond, he got up and began to pad over. 

“Mr. Wayne,” the employee said, her eyes going between Bruce, Tim, the flung book, and all the books that Jason had pulled out from the shelves. “You need to control your animals or I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Bruce scrambled, his hands trying to figure out what to do because he was obviously flustered. Jason had made his way over and was cooing to Tim, taking a moment to nuzzle into Tim’s neck. The effect was instant. Tim felt calmer with the gentle brush of Jason’s magic against his and the reassurance that one of his committee members was with him. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Bruce sputtered over them, tugging on Tim’s leash and pulling him across the ground by his harness. He felt his body getting pulled against his will but didn’t fight it as Bruce manhandled Tim back. Jason was still sitting, his head curiously tilted as Tim was dragged away. “I promise they are good boys.”

The employee’s eyes went to the book Tim had flung and the mess Jason made. Bruce’s eyes followed and he winced. He bent down and picked up Tim, his arm coming around Tim’s chest to support him. Tim shifted, getting comfortable in Bruce’s arm as easily as breathing. 

“I’m, I’m just going to go pay for these,” he said, head gesturing down to the books in the arm that wasn’t holding Tim. 

He clicked his tongue before saying Jason’s name in a clear signal to come.

Jason sighed, got up, and followed them as they wanted out of the colourful section. His leash dragged behind him as matched Bruce’s pace and his tags jingled merrily. They went to the front. Bruce went to the computers he always went to at the end of their store trips and handed over his special leaves. Then, they left. 

Bruce didn’t put Tim down once. 

“Tim had an episode in the bookstore today,” said Bruce as he watched Clark shed his corporate newsman get up. He had on a brown ill-fitting suit that Bruce had offered to replace multiple times. He had also been refused multiple times and, at this point, he was thinking about just burning it. He would have done it already too if it wouldn’t be completely obvious it was him. He thinks, maybe he could get one of the boys to shred it if he really tried. 

Clark hummed as he pulled off his tie. “What kind of episode?”

“He was looking at books and found one about how Pegleg the Bitty came home.”

Clark paused, his eyes meeting Bruce’s in understanding.

Pegleg was the name that Janet Drake had given to Tim when he was in her care. 

Pegleg had been an Internet sensation and his pitiful, ever-crying face had adored memes, merc, and Janet’s hyper-successful YouTube channel. She had vlogged nearly every day of Tim’s rescue and recovery, splashing him across the Internet enough to make him a household name. 

Before the Pegleg phenomenon, bitties had actually been diminishing in popularity. Their materials were rare and their pricetag didn’t show any signs of coming down. People had begun to question why they would purchase a fabricated pet when there were thousands of dogs and cats in shelters. 

But then, Tim, with his huge cone-of-shame and his bulky cast, and his large, wet gumball eyes, became the subject of a popular meme about Mondays and bitties came back into vogue.

With his ugly-cute face, Janet capitalised on her newfound popularity using it to spread bitty fever across America once again.

The hype lasted up until Tim began to grow out of his itty bitty baby stage and into the look of a more typical bitty. Janet must have judged that his ugly-cute was becoming more ugly and she made up a big story about Tim retiring to be adopted into a new family where he could have a normal life.

Bruce remembered the YouTube video. She looked so sad but said that it was the best thing for him because she was a busy CEO and couldn’t commit the time he needed. She had said he wanted his new family to remain a secret for their privacy, but that they were experienced bitty owners and had other bitties Pegleg could play with. She had said Pegleg was already settled in his new home and was loved. 

The video had gotten over a million views in an hour. 

Bruce had found Tim in a tiny animal shelter in upstate New York five months later. He had been slotted for euthanisation and would have been dead if Bruce had gotten there a week later. 

To this day, Bruce has no idea how Tim went from living in the lap of luxury as Drake Industries’ mascot bitty to a tiny pound in New York that seemed to be struggling to even keep the lights on. 

He had tried to contact Janet about it but she refused to even acknowledge his existence. Or Tim’s.

“Do you think she knows?” asked Bruce, saying out loud the question that had been floating through his mind the entire afternoon. 

“She must, right?” Clark answered Bruce’s question with another. “They are the ones creating the bitties.”

Bruce didn’t know if that was proof enough. After all, there were thousands of bitties in the US. There had been thousands before that. They all slowed down. They all died. They all got recycled. Their tiny corpses turned into a shinier, newer creature.

Statistics said that Dick was a fluke, but neither of them could accept that. 

“Are you and Lois taking up the story?” Bruce questioned, only changing the subject slightly. Clark nodded and sat heavily onto a seat next to Bruce. The kitchen was quiet around them and the only sound in the house came from the distant den where Bruce had set the boys up on his iPad. 

He really was trying to use the tablet less, but this wasn’t a conversation that he wanted them to hear. 

“We’re beginning research,” said Clark with a bitter smile. “It’s hard though. Drake Industries really is the only company that seems to have any information about bitty creation and they keep it as a trade secret. We are trying to figure out how to word a request for information, because if we do it wrong, I know tell will just ice us out completely. And that will make this whole thing a lot harder.”

The problem was that they had so many unknowns. 

Did Janet Drake know that bitties popped up instead of slowing down?

Was her whole company a cover-up?

Was Dick a fluke? Would Tim and Jason die when they slowed down?

What really were they?

Things would be easier if the bitties could give them answers themselves, but… well, it was clear they were still children and Dick was a terrible translator. 

Dick said ‘he grew up!’ ‘Tim helped’. ‘Jason helped a little too.’ And when pressed, Dick just shrugged. ‘It just happened.’

Dick, also, seemed to grasp manipulation very quickly. It only took him a few days to realise that he was the sole translator between him and his brothers and that it was a position of power that he had sole control of and Bruce had no methods of verification for.

It had taken a full couple of weeks for Bruce to catch on, and that had been enough time to ingrain it into Dick as a habit. 

Clark sighed heavily, his head going into his hand. “I really wish I could just punch a solution into this problem.”

Bruce chuckled and bumped their shoulders together. “I also wish that you could just punch this better.”

Clark’s eyes slid over to look at Bruce and then he turned capturing Bruce’s mouth in a kiss that made Bruce’s heart catch a bit. Then, just as quick as it came, Clark leaned away with a smirk that told Bruce that he knew exactly what he just did. 

“How’s Tim now?”

Bruce shrugged. “Fine, I think. He bounces back from things well. He’s in the den playing with his brothers. Dick was able to get him acting normally pretty quickly.”

“Are you still going to do the thing tonight?”

“I think so,” Bruce said, tilting his head in consideration. “It might brighten the mood a bit. I was thinking of doing it now. Before dinner? To help him get acclimated.”

Clark nodded and rose from his seat. “Sure. I haven’t said hi to the little monkeys anyway.”

*

Dick’s ears twitched when he heard both Dad and Clark begin to walk towards them, their steps getting louder.

“That one! That one!” Jason was whispering in his ears, trying to get Dick to swipe the set of dots that he wanted Dick to swipe.

“It’s my turn,” Dick hissed back. “I’m playing. Not you.”

Jason snarled, flashing his teeth. “It is my turn soon.”

“And not your turn now.”

“It is soon enough.”

“But not now!”

Jason snapped, and suddenly, Dick was being tackled by his little brother. They hissed and spat as they rolled on the floor, making very scary sounds but not actually using claws. Jason kept trying to bunny kick into Dick’s stomach, but Dick knew his tactic and kept forcing them to flip. He was very experienced in fighting Jason and he knew just what to do to win. 

“Boys,” Bruce’s voice cut them off mid-fight and Dick took a second to smirk at Jason, before turning a very aghast face towards Bruce.

“Jason attacked me!” he cried, a finger pointing towards his younger brother. Jason’s mouth was open and he glared at Dick with complete betrayal.

“It was my turn on the games and he said that he wouldn’t share!”

Jason looked like he wanted to argue, but he was a baby and babies didn’t speak the human language yet. So instead, he snarled more and tried to tackle Dick again. Dick moved deftly out of the way and kept up his act. 

“He also said that he feels stinky and he wants a bath!”

“I do not want a bath!” Jason howled, even though their dad wouldn’t be able to understand it. “You lying asshole, poopface, shithead…” He kept spouting all the curses they had learned from the television and Dick focused on looking very honest to Bruce.

Dad was just standing there, eyebrow raised, and definitely not believing him as easily as he believed Dick last month.

“Dick, stop it. I know Jason isn’t saying any of those things.”

“Fuck you. I’m going to bite you. I’m going to kill you. I’m going to…”

From the iPad, which they had left unattended, Tim laughed. “I told you that the humans were stupid.”

Dick scowled, especially as Bruce walked past him to pick up a hissing and spitting Jason to cradle him like a baby. Jason didn’t bite like he had threatened. He was still spatting but was markedly calmer in Bruce’s arms. 

Dick felt something ugly twist in his stomach again.

Bruce used to hold him like that too.

“Come, Dickie, I have a surprise for you and I want to show you.”

Dick’s ears perked up and the ugly feeling disappeared. A surprise? Dick loved surprises! And just for him. 

Jason and Tim’s ears also perked but for very different reasons. They hated surprises and instantly became warier at the mention of them. 

He ignored that, though. Because this was a surprise just for him!

He followed Bruce as the man led him towards the family wing of the Manor. They passed Bruce’s room where tell all slept, the bathroom where Bruce bathed them, and the playroom where there was the faux tree and all of their best hides. He led them to a room that Dick… didn’t know. He had been in it before, but there was nothing interesting there so he never really went back. 

The Manor had a lot of rooms like this and this one wasn’t notable.

Bruce opened the door and showed Dick… a room?

Dick turned his head a bit. 

All his favourite toys had been brought into the room and there was a new blue cover on the bed. Dick’s new clothes were lined up neatly on the dresser and Dick’s school workbooks were on the desk. It was… all of Dick’s things. All of his personal things that were not shared by either of his brothers. 

But… why were they in here and not in Bruce’s room, or the bathroom, or one of their bitty rooms?

He looked up to Bruce, his eyes wide and questioning. Something unsettling began to form in his gut.

“It’s your very own room!” he said with a wide smile and clearly excited for a reason that Dick didn’t know. “You’re a big boy now! And big boys get their very own rooms.”

They… do?

Dick looked around the room. There were no hides here. No climbing trees or up-high perches. No little caves that Dick could curl up in. He hated it, even as Bruce sounded excited as he showed Dick around the room.

He wasn’t being punished, was he? For the Jason thing that just happened? No, that was small and Bruce had never punished them for that before. Had he done something worse? He doesn’t think so. He knows he’s a good boy. Bruce tells him all the time and Dick hates seeing Bruce sad so he doesn’t stop being Bruce’s good boy. 

“...and here’s your new bed! I just bought the new bedspread. Blue! Your favourite colour!”

He turned to Dick, bright, happy, and completely opposite to what Dick was feeling. 

He didn’t want to be here anymore. His stomach turned and he had the urge to run. He could feel Tim and Jason’s eyes on him and they pinned him on the spot in the middle of the room.

He wanted to flee, but then Bruce turned to him and asked:

“Do you like it, chum?”

Bruce’s eyes were sparkling and he looked so happy. Dick didn’t know what to do with all the happiness in his dad’s face. He didn’t want to break it, but he didn’t want to be in this room any longer. He wanted to leave, to go back to one of the bitty rooms with his brothers, and to curl up with the steady comfort of his committee.

“Yes,” Dick said, trying to make his dad happy and get this over with as soon as possible at the same time. He even gave his dad a smile, though it felt forced on his face. 

“Great,” Bruce said, coming back to Dick to pat him on his head. “Then I will leave you to it. Let you have some time to get comfortable. We will call you when it’s time for dinner.”

Wait, what?

Dick turned as they begin to leave the room. Bruce had picked up Tim and Clark was carrying Jason. They weren’t looking back at Dick as they left. 

He wanted to shout something, but suddenly the human words were frozen in his throat. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t tell them to stop. He didn’t stop them as he watched their backs leave the room and the door closed. He couldn’t find the words to call them back as loneliness set into Dick’s soul and left him wondering why.

Chapter Text

It kept happening. 

Dick didn’t know why but Bruce kept leaving him alone. 

Just stay in the house, Dickie. 

Next time, Dickie. 

I’m sorry, Dickie, but you have to stay home with Clark.

He padded through the long hallways of the house, and tried not to think of the growing hollow feeling in his chest. Bruce had taken Jason and Tim on a trip to the grocery store. Dick didn’t even like the grocery store that much. Bruce usually nagged them the entire time they were there and told them off about trying to grab things from shelves or eat some of the food, but sitting nicely in the cart would surely be better than being all alone in this house. It was better than being left behind. 

He just wished… He wished he knew what he had done wrong. 

Because everything had changed after he popped and he thought Bruce would be happy about it, but his dad just kept punishing him. 

He doesn’t even think he did anything.

Even though he looked a little different… he hadn’t changed that much, right? He felt the same. He was still the same bitty with the same personality, so why did Bruce keep treating him weirdly.

Nothing made sense.

He kept going, kept wandering through his home and peeking into rooms like he was going to find someone here. 

But they were all gone.

Dick was alone, and he wanted to scream because of it. 

He wasn’t a bad boy. He knew he wasn’t a bad boy so why was…

Why was…

He stared at one of the portraits of him and Bruce. Both of them had just been babies when it was painted. Dick was so small that he was able to be held in one of Bruce’s hands. Bruce hadn’t been smiling, but Dick had been. He remembered being so happy when Bruce held him, soaking up all the love and affection he could get. He had been such a stupid, happy, little baby. 

Dick growled, and before he really thought it through, he lunged. He unsheathed his claws and punctured into the painting, right over his stupid baby face. There was a loud rip and an even louder groan from the painting, and Dick’s little pounce of defiance quickly became him scrambling to unhook himself as the painting shuddered and tipped. The painting gave a tight crack sound and it fell, taking Dick with it. 

He smacked into the floor and the painting came tumbling with it, crashing into the wooden floor and ripping. 

Before Dick could even process what had happened, there was a swoosh and a very harried Clark was in front of him. Clark dropped out of flight, stumbling over his feet like he usually did around the bitties, and frantically looked between Dick and the mess. 

“I heard a crash,” he said breathlessly. “Are you hurt? Do you have any broken bones? You know I can’t x-ray you, so you have to tell me if anything hurts.”

He knelt down close to Dick, his hands flapping around him like he obviously wanted to touch, but didn’t know if he could. 

Dick stared at him, unsure of what to say. He didn’t want Clark. He wanted Bruce. 

Why did he come and not Bruce?

Why couldn’t Bruce be here?

Why wasn’t he with Bruce?

“Dick?” Clark’s voice came again, soft but still with a frantic edge. “Please tell me you haven’t broken so many bones that you’re speechless with pain because I will take you to a hospital… or a vet… or… I don’t know. Somewhere medical.”

Dick blinked, and his eyes slid back to Clark’s. For the first time, he actually paid attention to his body to answer Clark’s question. 

“Nothing’s broken,” he said, then after another beat of consideration. “I don’t even think I’m hurt anywhere.” 

Clark let out a heavy sigh and he seemed five pounds lighter than he had moments ago. “Oh, thank heavens, I would have had no idea where to take you. I know I should probably know that but with everything…”

He trailed off, looking at the painting and the obvious claw marks through the right side of it. His eyes went between the painting, the wall, Dick, and back to the painting. Dick couldn’t help but squirm under Clark’s gaze, feeling the weight of the inevitable conclusion he was making. 

“Dick, what happened?”

Dick felt his stomach swoop and he shuffled on his paws, debating on whether he could run. Bitty magic cancelled out Clark’s powers, but the man still had longer legs. Even if Dick did run, Clark knew all his hiding spaces and it wasn’t like Dick could just avoid the man forever.

“I…” he started, his voice small. “I tripped?”

He lied with a pleading smile and blinked his huge, blue eyes, which was a move that sometimes worked on Bruce, but didn’t seem to work on Clark. The man just gave him a skeptical raised eyebrow and held his eyes on Dick, which just made Dick feel even worse. 

“I was mad at Bruce,” he said finally, claws scratching against the wood floor under him. His tail swooped over the floor and curled in tight to his body. “So I got mad at the painting.”

Clark didn’t speak immediately and Dick really, really debated about running. He didn’t want to see stupid Clark anymore. He didn’t want Clark to look at him so knowingly. 

“Dick, why don’t we go on a walk outside?”

Dick blinked. 

What?

Clark was smiling softly, and Dick didn’t know whether this was a genuine question or a trap. He mostly liked Clark. Clark was cool at night, and he snuck Dick snacks when Bruce wasn’t looking. He let them eat the prey that they caught and didn’t freak out about it like Bruce did. Clark made Bruce happy. Bruce’s heartrate picked up when he entered a room. 

He didn’t love them like their dad loved them, but Bruce was their dad and Clark was just… Clark. Dick knew that Clark didn’t always like them because he thought they were creepy. Sometimes he shook off their hands because their fingers weirded him out and made a pinched face when he looked at them. A few times, when Bruce wasn’t in the room, he rambled outloud about ‘the things I put up with to have a hot boyfriend’ and openly questioned why Bruce kept them. 

Dick didn’t think Clark would do anything bad, but walking outside also didn’t seem like a punishment for Dick’s behavior.

And yet, he silently followed Clark when the man led him outside. They were quiet for a long time as Clark walked Dick close to the edges of the garden. 

“Do you know that I’m not human?” Clark said finally, breaking the silence that was increasing making Dick want to throw up. 

Dick was almost angry, given how stupid the question was.

Of course, he knew Clark wasn’t human? Humans didn’t fly. They didn’t have super strength or hearing. They didn’t have a slightly lower body temperature that Dick just adored to sleep on. It was so obvious that he didn’t even know how this was a question. 

“Yes,” Dick said simply. “You’re Kryptonian.”

Now, it was Clark’s turn to look confused. “Wait, did Bruce tell you?”

Dick couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “You don’t hide it in the house. You fly all the time. Plus…” He thought about how to say this properly. The human language was so fickle. “You are a predator. Like us. Predators know predators. We see each other’s claws.”

Clark tilted his head. His face was doing a pinched expression like when Tim put his hand on Clark’s face. “Is that how you see me? A predator?”

“Of course.”

“How about Bruce? Is he a predator?”

Dick snorted and shook his head furiously. “No. He’s a human. Humans aren’t predators. They are prey.”

“Right…” Clark didn’t really look like he believed him. “We really shouldn’t have let you watch so many nature documentaries. I knew that giving you guys so much iPad time was going to melt your brain.”

Clark sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

“But that’s not why I brought it up. Being a Kryptonian means that I’m from another planet and that I’m different from humans. Humans… don’t always treat people who are different from them very nicely. That’s why Bruce isn’t taking you on errands with him. You’re different now, and he’s afraid that people are going to be mean to you because of it.”

Dick blinked and tilted his head.

“Are they mean to you?”

“No, they aren’t mean to me because I look like a human. I got lucky, and if people knew that I wasn’t human and that I had my powers, well, I imagine that I would be locked up in a lab somewhere.”

Dick shivered. He knew about labs. He remembered seeing the labs at the bitty center with all the little limbs in jars. Pieces of bitties - feet, hands, eyes, livers, hearts - all waiting to be made into someone else. Tim and Jason spoke about the even worse labs. Jason had been born in one. A bad one that had stolen pieces of bitties from still alive bitties. It was why Jason had a little patch of Dick’s colour in his calico coat. Tim had been born in the wild, but he had been taken to a lab by his previous owner. Tim told Dick about cages. So many cages. Filled with monsters.

Even though Dick didn’t always like Clark, he was glad that Clark had never had to go to a lab. 

“Is that what they would do to me?” Dick asked quietly. “If people saw me, they would put me in a lab?” 

“Bitties aren’t supposed to live after slowing down,” Clark said as an answer. “They aren’t supposed to talk or be as smart as humans. If the public knew, it would change everything because millions of people would realise their pets are really sentient. We want people to know, but we can’t rush into this. If we go too quickly, we could put you and a lot of other bitties in danger.”

Dick was silent as he thought about what Clark said. It seemed… so big. So much bigger than Dick just wanting to be taken to the grocery store with Bruce. He didn’t want to hurt anyone he just wanted to… he just didn’t want to be alone. 

“Can we go inside now?” asked Dick, looking back towards his home. He tried not to think of it as a prison.

“Of course,” said Clark, and the man dropped a hand, stretching it towards Dick. 

Dick blinked at it, confused because Clark didn’t like their hands. He said they were creepy and made his skin crawl, so he didn’t like touching them very much. He didn’t usually touch any of them willingly, and if he did, it was usually just to pet their heads or stroke over their spines.

But if a hand was being offered, Dick was grateful. It helped ease the hollow loneliness inside him. 

He took Clark’s hand, and they returned to the house to wait for Bruce. 

Jason did not know what the hell Bruce was doing with Dickie.

He yawned, stretching out his arms and fingers and feeling his muscles flex. It was still dark; the moon was high, though probably not for much longer. He was curled in one of his hollows with his younger brother, fur tangled together. 

He had been woken by the slight creak of the door. 

Beside him, Tim stirred, his head lifting. Jason could hear his heart rate pick up slightly, anxiety in the quickness of the beats. He was like Jason. They both knew that danger could easily stalk in during the dark of the night. Even when sleeping, you had to keep your ears pricked and your claws sharp. 

“It’s Dick,” said Jason softly to his brother, calming him with gentle words. The younger bitty settled, his quick claws sheathing and his muscles relaxing. They watched as Dick closed the door to their hollow room and clawed up the tree to get to their sleeping space. 

Dick was bigger now, so having him in the hollow was always a tighter fit, but they still made it work. Jason pretended to complain about it, but in reality, he enjoyed sleeping close to his other committee members. Plus, now that Dick was bigger, his claws and teeth were longer, and that helped settle the anxious part of Jason that always wondered if he was truly safe. 

“Hi,” said Dick as he shoved his fat head into the entrance of the hollow, and Jason told him exactly what he thought about the size of his head. The older bitty just smiled, affection leaking into the expression. 

Dick really was such a strange thing to look at. His ears were so round, like an itty bitty’s, even though he was far from being a baby. His fur was too soft, too plush, with none of the course protective hairs that kept out the worst of the wet. His eyes were an unnatural colour and too wide on his face. The combination of everything was just so surreal, especially when he was near Tim. 

“Why aren’t you with Dad?” Dick asked while crawling the rest of the way into the hollow. Jason and Tim grunted as they rearranged to make room for Dick’s larger body. They ended up all curled together, half on top of each other. Jason’s head was on Dick’s side. Tim’s head was on his tummy. Their legs were a jumbled mess between them. 

“Dad doesn’t let you into the room anymore,” Tim explained with a yawn that rustled the mismatched fur in Jason’s coat. “If we were in there, you’d have no one to curl up with.”

“That’s…” Dick’s voice was thick. “That’s very nice of you.”

“You shouldn’t be alone,” Tim said simply. “It’s bad for bitties to be alone.”

Jason shivered. It was very bad for them to be alone. 

Dick barked a harsh laugh. 

“I have to get used to it because I don’t think Bruce is going to be letting me out of the house any time soon.”

Tim raised his head, his large pointed ears swiveling towards Dick. 

“Why would our father make our home your cage?”

“Because I look too different now,” explained Dick, ear flipped back. He looked down at his paw and its new, longer claws. “I don’t look like a pet anymore, and that could scare the humans. They could put me in a lab.”

Jason’s hackles rose, and he could help but growl a little at the idea of Dick being put into a lab.

“Humans are stupid,” Tim said with a huff through his nose. “But you are a bitty; you can trick them.”

“How?”

Tim hummed and licked one of his smooth paws. He was all angles in that moment. Sharp ears with even sharper claws. Bright eyes over vicious, quick teeth. More of a predator than both of them. He smiled, and fangs flashed in his mouth. “You lie.” 

Over the next few days, the conversation with Clark kept replaying in Dick’s head, along with Tim’s advice. 

Clark had told Dick that he was allowed to live among humans because he looked like humans. He could hide his inhumanity because when humans saw him, they didn’t see a predator. They focused on the blunted fingernails, the kind eyes, and the friendly behaviour. They missed how Clark’s teeth were just a bit too pointed, how he reacted to things much quicker, and how his muscles didn’t tense as they should, signaling that there was more strength there than there should be. 

He told a lie so well that people believed it, and Dick would need to do that too. 

He waited until Bruce had taken the rest of his committee out. Clark was still here, but Dick didn’t really care about that. He just hadn’t wanted Bruce or the other bitties to see him trying because… well… he was a little embarrassed about it. He loved Jason and Tim, loved them to pieces, to the moon and back, but he knew that both of his brothers were more magically inclined than Dick. They could catch things more easily and read the world more easily. Tim made it sound like it was as easy as breathing. Jason told him it needed effort,t but it was doable. They didn’t seem to understand that there was a part of them that was almost non-existent in Dick. 

He went into Bruce’s room and padded over to the long mirror in the closet. The face that stared back at him was round and adorable to humans, though he didn’t really understand the appeal.

He was perfect for Bruce, but that came at the cost of being bad at everything else. His features were too round. His claws were dull. His fur was too thick and too soft. He was a predator still, but without many of the predatory features that made Tim so extraordinary. 

He knows that he isn’t that good at being a bitty. He was good at being a pet, and Bruce loved him for it. Now, though, he had to learn to be a better bitty. 

“You lie,” Tim had told him. “Tell a lie. The humans will believe it.”

“I can go outside,” said Dick, staring at the mirror. The air remained still around him. It wasn’t good enough. 

“I am able to be in public with Bruce.”

Still nothing. Still a dead stillness in his chest.

“Bruce will take me with him.”

That finally made something in him shiver. He was finding the lie. The first two statements hadn’t been enough of a deceit. 

“Bruce feels safe taking me with him,” Dick amended the words, pulling at that little piece in his chest that rustled at the words. “No one will know I’m different.”

The shaking got fiercer. He could feel that little piece rattling around in the bones of his ribcage. He could feel it growing, expanding into his lungs, through his organs, pressing up against the boundaries of his skin.

“No one can tell anything has changed. Humans can’t tell that I’ve grown up.”

The feeling was pushing at him from the inside. Expanding, expanding, expanding. It pressed against his coat, finding all the space inside of him, rippling under his skin like a living thing. His throat threatened to close, the thing inside of his filling past his breath. The universe was resisting the change, resisting the lie. It was trying to keep him confined in his flesh even though he needed to burst out. He had to slip past that wall, to trick not only humans but reality itself. He was a bitty, with a lying silver tongue and hidden claws despite how he was born. He was a bitty. 

“Humans won’t know I’m a predator. I’m not a predator. I’m not a bitty. I’m like Clark. I’m a human. I am a human. ”

The reality was shoved against his skin, his shape. It was trying to keep things as they were. It didn’t want to believe him. It saw him, saw his fur and his fangs and his tail, but it heard something else. It heard Dick’s words, so smooth and pleasing, and it questioned. 

Aren’t you a bitty?

No, I’m not. 

He felt the moment that reality believed him. The rush of faith that what Dick was saying was true. It let his insides expand, for a new reality to cover the truth, for the lie to settle onto new bare skin. 

Now, when he looked in the mirror, a human was staring back. 

Dick blinked, and the human blinked too. He smiled and ran his tongue over dulled teeth. 

Aren’t you a predator?

No, I’m innocent prey.

He raised up a hand. His fingers were longer and more delicate. The nails were all in blunt, gentle ovals. It was so weird to feel how soft they were on his hands. He doesn’t even think he could climb a tree with these. He moved to stand up, but before he could, a cough sounded over his shoulder. 

He looked behind himself and saw Clark menacing over him, a look of absolute fury on his face.

“Care to tell me why there’s a naked stranger going through my boyfriend’s closet?”

Chapter Text

There was a bunch of… little quirks that came with dating Bruce Wayne. Batman was one thing, but Brucie Wayne was another entire thing too. Just like Batman was a mask that Bruce used to move through the night, Brucie was how he moved through the public world. Brucie Wayne was called the Prince of Gotham and the city’s sweetheart. He was on talk shows and featured in fashion magazines and splashed across the gossip columns. There were fan accounts of him entirely dedicated to tracking his public appearances and analysising his outfit choices. 

Most of the people that followed Brucie were normal people that loved the celebrity gossip. Middle aged moms that wanted to whisper to each other. Teenagers that gushed over Bruce’s jawline and jealously appraised his slim waist. Men that tried to figure out his workout routine and copied his fashion. 

But occasionally there were people who took it overboard. 

There were the kidnappings, which Clark had grown used to and weren’t even very remarkable anymore. 

Weirder though, were the stalkers. People who cornered Bruce while they were out and were convinced they were fated to be together. People who went through Bruce’s trash. People who tried to sniff Bruce. 

They had had a couple people try to break into Wayne Manor, but no one had actually made it into the house. Bruce’s security was insane and Clark was the kryptonian back up system. The few people that had tried to sneak in had gotten quickly caught and delivered to the police. 

Clark had no idea how someone had made it passed all the security, especially someone so… young. 

Clark looked at the naked kid on the floor. His hair was wild and he didn’t seem to have any break-in equipment. He didn’t seem to have any clothes at all. At first, Clark had thought that he had taken his clothes off to do something with Bruce’s stuff, but there was nothing on the floor that Clark didn’t recognise. It was like the kid (because he couldn’t have been more than sixteen) had just appeared in their closet. Usually Bruce’s stalkers were older, especially the stalkers that had grown obsessed enough to try to break in.

“What are you doing here?” Clark said firmly crossing his arms over his chest and glaring down at the kid. 

The kid stared up at him with ahis hyperpigmented blue eyes. 

“You don’t recognise me?” he said with his confusion sliding into an almost maniac grin.

Clark paused, eyes going up and down the kid while avoiding looking at any of his sensitive eras. He was certain that he had never seen this kid before once in his life, and yet there was something about him that was familiar. The shade of the eyes and the hair. The smile that was almost a smirk. 

“Should I know you?” asked Clark, tilting his head.

The kid stood, (and omg, he was so so naked and so so young and Clark didn’t want to see) and appraised himself in front of the mirror.

“I can’t believe it worked,” he said, looking at his body and poking at different parts of it. “I mean, Tim said that it was going to work, but Tim can be a liar.”

“Who’s Tim?”

The kid looked at him like he was stupid. “Put the pieces together, Clark.”

Annoyance flared in Clark and he nearly grabbed the kid by the arm to drag him out of the house right then and there. But he stopped himself and really thought about how the kid looked, how he sounded. He asked whether Clark recognised him. He mentioned a Tim, the same name as one of Bruce’s bitties. He had impossibly blue, blue eyes.

“Dick?”

The boy bounced, twirling around in the closet. There was a loud roar in Clark’s ears as he tried to wrap his head around what the frick was truly going on. 

“Yep!” the bitty-turned-person chirped. “Tim showed me how!” 

“You’re a human,” Clark said, repeating the sentence that just kept ringing and ringing through his head. 

Dick was the strangest human that Clark had ever seen. He couldn’t explain it. Couldn’t quite put his finger on it. There was just something. 

In the most surface-level evaluation, Dick was normal. He had two eyes, one nose, one mouth. All his limbs are in the correct places with the correct numbers. If you were going by checklist, you mark everything off as perfectly in order. 

It was only in the details that you began to see the strangeness take shape. 

For example, Dick had two eyes, yes, that was normal. That was all good.

But they were wide-set and large on his face, giving him an almost permanently doe-eyed look that he had only ever seen in Hollywood actors that the magazines called ‘unique looking’. His eyes also retained their supernatural blue colour, as ultramarine as the Pacific, beautiful despite what it took to get them that way. 

Every part of him was like that, normal on the top layer but strange underneath. 

But if you tried to press Clark to name the exact thing that was strange, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. 

Every time he tried to decide it was the slant of Dick’s nose, the length of his fingers, the way his eyes were set, or the bend of his legs, he couldn’t say for certain that was what made Dick strange. 

He wouldn’t say that Dick was ugly per se (though he could imagine someone coming to that decision), but interesting to look at in the truest sense. He was like a Picasso, impressionistic enough to draw you closer and make you want to measure the slope of his curvature with a mathematical instrument. He wasn’t immediately handsome, but attractive in the most literal sense of the word. A magnet in his strangeness, Clark could not find himself able to look away. 

“Is it alright?” Dick asked, his previous smile faltering. “I used Bruce as a template but I can do someone else.” 

There’s a shimmer around him. A slight blur in reality. And suddenly Dick is different. 

Well, not quite. There were apparently some features that couldn’t be changed - his eye colour, his height, the proportions between his limbs and his body - but, suddenly, the angles were Clark’s. That was his chin. His curls. His cheekbones. Dick even copied the Kansas tan line.

It was like a sudden prediction of a child he could have in another life with the right woman. 

It was a manifestation of a child he did, in fact, help raise, though he might not have known it at the time. 

It made something in his heart squeeze.

“Bruce is fine,” he found himself saying. “Bruce would like that.”

Dick shifted and the shadow of Bruce’s features were back, set all on Dick’s face like they belonged there. Except for one. 

“I kept the curls,” Dick said, his voice uncharacteristically nervous. “I like them. I think they are pretty.” 

“I’m honoured,” Clark said truly meaning it and Dick gave him a sweet, sincere smile that made his heart grow two times larger. Even if his teeth were a bit too sharp for a human’s. 

“Let’s get you clothes,” said Clark, reaching beyond Dick to pull out one of Bruce’s t-shirts. Dick was slim and swam in the shirt that Clark pulled over his head. The boy frowned as Clark found some pants and held them open for Dick to stumble into when it became clear he didn’t know how to put them on. The kid used Clark’s shoulder for balance and stuck out his tongue in concentration. When he had the gym shorts on, along with his too big shirt, he looked back to the mirror. 

“I don’t think I like pants,” he said with a frown, picking at the shorts.

“Well, that comes with being human,” Clark laughed, patting him on the shoulder. Clark had absolutely how bitty ages correlated with human ages, but Dick seemed short. Granted as a bitty, he was kinda small and was even smaller than Jason before he popped. Clark wondered how all of the intentional breeding and gene selection influenced his human appearance. Obvious he could change some features, but other things seemed to stay stable in the shift, like his eye colour. 

“Come on,” Clark said as he turned Dick out of the closet. “Let’s go sit at the table and talk.”

He guided them to the kitchen table and sat Dick down. The kid squirmed uncomofortably and Clark filled two glasses of water to give him a few moments to collect himself before he sat down. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

“No,” said Dick. “It doesn’t hurt, but I am tired. This is my first time though.”

“Is it permanent or can you turn back?”

Suddenly, Dick’s face paled and it was obvious that he hadn’t thought of that possibility before. Fear flickered into his eyes and he looked down at his hands. 

“I don’t know…” he said. “I-I don’t know. What if it is? What if I can’t go back?”

Dick’s breath was starting to go faster in his chest and it took on a manic pace. “What if I can’t? What if Bruce doesn’t like it and I can’t go back? I don’t want to be a human forever.”

Clark was up from his chair and coming around the table to put a hand on Dick’s shoulders. The teenager was shaking under his hands, trembling like a leaf in the wind. 

“Hey, hey, calm down, Dickie,” Clark hushed, rubbing over Dick’s shoulders. “Breathe with me. Nice and slow.”

Together they breathed. In and out. In and out. Until Dick lost the panicked glint in his eyes.

“Why don’t we try to turn back?” said Clark. “We don’t know until we actually try.”

“Okay, okay,” Dick mumbled, nibbling his lips and squeezing his eyes in concentration. Clark really didn’t have any idea what Dick was doing, but after a few moments of weighty silence, Dick’s form shimmered again. Clark blinked and in the brief time his eyes were closed, Dick had returned to being furry and looking like a plush toy.

“I’m back.” Dick gave a heavy sigh in relief and flexed his claws.

“And you can change back to a human?”

Dick shimmered again and then was back to a human, albeit a lot more tired. “I’m not sure how long I can hold this. I feel more exhausted now.”

“Then go back to a bitty,” said Clark. “It doesn’t matter to me which form you take.”

Dick looked confused and tilted his head. “Wouldn’t you prefer me to be a human? You always talk about how weird looking we were.”

Clark flinched.

He hadn’t… he hadn’t always been kind to the bitties and spoke openly about how weird they were. He’d called them ‘rats’, ‘monkeys’, ‘little freaks’ and ‘weirdos’. Only some of it was affectionate. Their creepy, naked hands still freaked him out a bit, even though their beans were kinda cute. He hated how they always gave him an unblocking stare-down and dulled his senses. It annoyed the shit outta him when they stalked him down the hallways at night and pounced on his feet. They had nearly broken up over the bitties and there had been more than a couple fights about how codependent Bruce was with his monkey-cats. 

Now, Clark was more okay with them, though he still thought owning a bitty was an insane rich person thing. 

“I owe you an apology,” said Clark scratching at the back of his neck. “I said some… not very nice things about you and your brothers. I shouldn’t have called you freaks or told you your bodies were weird. It was mean of me.”

“It’s okay,” Dick brushed off quickly. “I know that I’m weird looking. We also weren’t always nice to you either. We tried to kill you multiple times when you strated dating Bruce, but you’re very hard to kill and eventually we started to like you.”

That… that was new information for Clark. “Thank you?”

He shook his head and moved on from that horrifying tidbit. “Are you going to tell Bruce when he gets back from his errands?”

The confidence isn’t whittled away from Dick. “I… I probably should, shouldn’t I?”

“I think Bruce would like to know. But if you’re scared you could wait for a couple days.”

Dick chewed his lip again and then nodded. “I want to tell him.”

Clark waited with Dick until Bruce got home and Clark caught him in the foyer. He guided Bruce to his study, sat the confused man down, and made him wait. 

Then he went to get a human-again Dick, who was letting his brothers sniff over him and yip what must have been questions at him.

“It’s time,” Clark said with a smile. Dick walked up to him, practically vibrating with nerves. 

“I don’t know why I’m anxious about this,” Dick admitted, shuffling between his feet. “I know I’m not the prettiest but—“

“Don’t say that, Dick,” said Clark, cutting Dick off. “You’re perfect.”

You’re exactly as the Waynes made you, said the back of Clark’s mind. The vindictive part. The part that couldn’t forget all those little organs floating in jars. 

“Let’s go show Bruce,” said Clark, not letting himself dwell on Dick’s creation anymore. 

Dick was here. He had no say in how he was constructed. There was no use in making him feel bad about factors out of his control. Clark wasn’t even sure how much he knew about how bitties were made. Bruce had never really sat down and told Dick how many bitties were needed to make him - why would you say that to your pet. But now it felt like something Dick needed to know. 

Not at this exact moment, but later. Right now, Dick had to go meet his dad. 

Clark kept his hand on Dick’s shoulder as he turned the teenager towards Bruce’s study. He couldn’t hear the bitty’s heart, even as he wore a human face, but he knew it must be racing. 

Same way his father’s was. Beating faster than his placid expression let on.

Bruce was also nervous. Like father like anxious son.

“Bruce,” Clark called, trying to keep the laugh out of his voice because he really wasn’t trying to laugh at them. “Your son is here.”

He stepped aside, not letting Dick not-so-subtly hide behind him anymore. 

Bruce blinked at Dick like he was seeing the bitty for the first time. And, in a sense, he guessed he was. 

Dick had come to Clark about his newfound ability to switch between a human and bitty guise. He had been panicking, caught up in an idea that Bruce wouldn’t like it. That it would be ‘too weird’. ‘Too human’. Crossing some invisible line that pushed into ‘too much’.

Making it so that Bruce wouldn’t want him anymore. 

They were partially to blame for that. Dick’s transition between itty bitty bitty and a bigger bitty hadn’t been seamless. 

It had been marked with trial and error that often wasn’t fully explained to Dick. Bruce hadn’t known whether to treat him as a human or pet. He had been constantly worried that he might irreparably injure Dick’s burgeoning humanity or demean him by treating him as an animal.

But, for Dick himself, what he experienced was a sudden lack of affection in reaction to his new life stage. Because he popped, Bruce was strange around him. Because he popped, Bruce touched him less and would not give him the attention he was used to. Because he popped, he was not taken into town with the other bitties and was inside left home alone. 

It had only taken a few weeks to come to head and for a naked teenager to run into Clark’s room, absolutely panicked and convinced that his father would want absolutely nothing to do with him now. 

It is a truly unforgettable experience to have someone you don’t know at all to burst into your room crying and panicking and flinging himself at you like he had done it hundreds of times before. 

It was only the fact that this human had surprised had kept Clark from tackling him to the ground. 

Humans don’t surprise him. Not with their loud beating hearts and the rush of blood through their spiderweb veins. 

Bitties, though, bitties were the only creatures on this green Earth that could sneak up on him and take him completely off guard. (A fact they relished in joyfully and viciously as they burst out of the darkness to pounce on his feet through all hours of the night.)

So he caught Dick instead of tossing him away. He helped the boy calm down from the miracle he had somehow conducted on himself. 

A miracle. That’s what it truly was.

Bruce’s breath caught in the back of his throat and he knew the man saw it too. Clark had briefed him very quickly but kept it vague. He knew Bruce wouldn’t believe it until he saw it himself.

“Dick,” he said, breathless. He was striding forward and Dick trembled slightly next to Clark. He didn’t step back though, when Bruce came up and took his hands.

Bruce’s eyebrows creased. “You’re shaking.”

“You recognise me,” said Dick, staring up into his father’s eyes.

Bruce’s smile was as soft as warmed butter. “Of course I do. You’re my son.”

That must have been the exact right thing to say because water began to well in Dick’s eyes and he crashed into his father. Bruce caught him, held him, and clutched him tightly.

Dick fitted himself against Bruce like it was the most familiar thing in the world. He slotted his head against the crook of Bruce’s neck, pressing his cheek into Bruce’s collarbone. 

Clark had seen him do the same action as a bitty almost every day. It translated easily into Dick’s new face.

“Oh baby,” Bruce cooed, cradling Dick’s head. “Why are you crying?”

Dick sniffled against Bruce’s shirt, a little snot darkened the collar. It reminded Clark of how young Dick was, still just a teenager, how much he still needed his dad. 

“I thought–” Dick’s voice is choked. “I thought that you might not like the way I look.”

Bruce hugged Dick even closer, hushing away his worries. “No, sweetheart, no.” He pulled back to look Dick in the eyes. 

“How could I not like you when you have my father’s nose and my mother’s eyes.” Bruce studied Dick’s face. “I see them both in you.”

“You were my template,” Dick explained quietly. “And her a little bit.”

Clark didn’t know what he meant, but Bruce must have because his heart stuttered for a second.

“You never told me that you remember her.”

“I don’t remember much,” Dick said. “I was with her before you. They must have picked me up early. I remember her caring for me, holding me, stroking me, and whispering. I don’t know the words. I was too young. I also remember her putting me in the box.” His nose scrunched. “I didn’t really like the box, but thank god you didn’t shake it.”

Bruce chuckled. “Yes, I’m very glad that I didn’t shake it.”

Dick also chuckled though his was more forced. Eventually, they descend into silence before Dick breaks it.

“You’re not mad?”

Bruce shook his head. “Of course, I’m not mad. Why would I be mad?”

“I thought it might be too weird for you. Maybe you would wish I was different.”

“No, sweetheart, of course not. I’ll always be here. No matter what you look like.”

Dick went back into Bruce’s arms, letting Bruce hold him again. 

“Thank you,” he said. Bruce’s hands rubbed up and down his back. 

“Of course, Dick” Bruce said and he meant it. There was a promise in his tone.

Dick smiled brightly and rubbed the last of his tears into Bruce’s jacket.  “Does this mean I can go out with you guys now?”

Bruce looked up, meeting Clark’s eyes over Dick’s shoulder. They had a silent conversation between them. There were identities to think of and the looming secret of the bitties. They needed the world to take them seriously when they revealed that bitties were so much more than pets. They needed evidence and an explanation to why Bruce’s bitty popped while all the other bitties died. 

“We could say he’s your cousin,” Clark said the thought they both had. “He found you later in life. You’re overjoyed to be reunited with him.”

Dick turned in Bruce’s arms, still leaning against his father. One of Bruce’s arms fell away and the other kept firm against Dick’s back, not letting him go far.

“There have always been rumours that the Wayne sleep around. Brucie was partially based on that. This would confirm them.” A frown tugged at Bruce’s mouth. “This could make it harder for you. People would question whether you want to go through with this relationship. They would say that you’re going to be cheated on. They would be vicious about it.”

Bruce said it like he was asking a lot, but Clark was skilled in navigating people’s stares and their whispers. He hadn’t always been very good at maintaining the perfect image of apple-pie America.

“Don’t worry about me,” he said, waving Bruce’s worry off. “He’s your son. Make him family officially”

“It won’t just stop at Dick though either,” Bruce insisted. It was almost frustrating how much Bruce always insisted on presenting the worst-case scenarios. “We might need to say the same for Jason and Tim. That’s two more times. Tim is popping in about 8 years. I would be old enough that we could claim he’s my son.”

Clark rolled his eyes. “So you had sex at 15. That’s not exactly untrue.”

Bruce’s worried look didn’t leave his face and Clark flicked him on his forehead. “Stop worrying about my virtue, Bruce. I already knew you were a man-whore before me. Hell, I wouldn’t be half-surprised if you did actually have a child out there.”

Bruce scowled. “I do not.”

“Do you know that for sure? With absolute certainty?”

“Of course, I know that.”

Clark met his glare with a flat look and Bruce didn’t give up. Dick kept glancing between them and Clark wasn’t sure he was truly following. His knowledge of humans was still spotty at best.

“Whatever you say, Wayne,” Clark huffed, shaking his head a little. 

“But really? You’re fine with this?”

“Of course, I am,” Then, after a thought he added. “But only if I get to break the story.” 

*****

Richard John Grayson is announced to the world in a news article that runs on the Daily Planet. The news of his adoption by one, Bruce Wayne, is announced under the same headline. 

They say he’s a second cousin. He’s the son of a daughter of one of Bruce’s uncles (long dead), not from the wealthy side of his family (i.e. the side that the press ignores). They make up a story of the daughter having a fight with her father, cutting ties, and marrying a man in Europe. She gets pregnant in Europe and travels with a circus through the continent. Dick is born in a small Eastern European village where records do not exist, and, if they ever existed, were not kept.

They go over the story tirelessly with Dick, repeating it again and again until it is familiar enough for it to be Dick’s own.

He can say it by heart and put emotion in just the right places.

“She told me to go to America,” he says, while they are waiting in the backroom, minutes away from his first press conference. He’s less nervous about this than he was to tell Bruce about himself. He actually looks like he’s having fun with this. 

“She said I would have family there. They would take me in.”

He collapses dramatically against Bruce. His body is a familiar weight on his chest. “Would you please take a poor orphan in?” The boy says with a saucy grin. “I am very cold and hungry. I would like to be very rich, please.”

Bruce gave Dick a flat look but didn’t hesitate on keeping Dick propped up. “I’ve already signed the adoption papers.” Dick blinked his huge blue eyes in a universal puppy-dog look. “I knew I shouldn’t have allowed Alfred to help with coaching you through this.”

Dick bounced up, practically dancing on his feet. “All time with Alfred is a good time!” He declares, taking a moment to rub his cheek against Bruce and then cross the room to rub against Clark. It’s a bitty action. Usually, one that meant he was very happy.

Bruce knew he shouldn’t encourage such an action, especially not in public but… well, he really didn’t have the heart.

Then, in a second, Dick was back to Bruce’s side. 

“Alfred told me to do everything to tug the heartstrings of everyone in the room. My task is to win the hearts and minds of the people. If they are dazzled by me, they won’t have a reason to question me.”

“That’s a dramatic way to put it,” Bruce muttered, though he didn’t disagree. It would be easier if the press liked Dick. He wanted them to be taken with Dick like Bruce was taken with him. He could keep them focused on the present day instead of digging into the past.

He had made sure Dick’s past was flawless; if someone did dig there would be nothing to find. He had made sure many times over that Dick could be as protected as he could be. The most suspicious part about him was his suddenness. 

From the outside, he had seemingly popped into Bruce’s life. Because he had. Bruce hadn’t known he would grow up instead of slowing down. He hadn’t known bitties could put on a guise of humanity. 

He would have to prepare for Jason and Tim, craft up two more stories about long-lost relatives coming to live with him. At least, with them, he will have more time to thoroughly prepare. 

Bruce smiled down at his boy and his seeming human face. 

He was so grateful that Dick would be able to live more fully in his life and the boy wouldn’t have to be relegated to the Manor, but please, no more surprises. He wasn’t sure how many more of them he could take.