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Joys of Fatherhood	By : Owlgirl Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 2043 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Batman or any of the related characters, I make no money off this writing

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Hitting the pillow felt like an epiphany. He wasn’t tired, but he felt like he had actually had a very busy day for not being in Gotham to fight crime. Keeping Tim happy had never been a chore, but the teen had worn him out. Not to mention he’d grown tired of having to act the role of playboy when the only one he ever wanted to be with had to also act like they weren’t secret lovers.

He watched Tim sleep, breathing light as he cuddled closer to Bruce to throw an arm over the man. He saw the teen’s eyes flicker as he entered REM sleep, his mouth opening and closing. He stroked Tim’s cheek several times without waking him, just taking comfort in the soft skin under his palm. Tim was his love, would always be, no one in the world could ever change that.

It made his mouth water, thinking of Tim, thinking of spending the rest of the week with the teen in such a beautiful city. He rubbed a thumb across the bird’s lower lip, almost absent mindlessly, stroking the soft, plump piece of skin.

This was the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, the one he wanted to attend all the parties with on his arm, not some spoiled, ditzy woman who just wanted him for his money. He wanted to spoil Tim, to let all of Gotham know, with one public kiss, that Tim Drake belonged to him.

It was a something he often thought about on long nights. It was an idea he wanted to talk with Tim about, but he was only nineteen. He didn’t want the people to think that he had been having sex with Tim ever since he took the teen in as a ward. A few more years, maybe, and he would bring up the proposal. He had waited this long for a lover, he could wait a few years longer.

He grinned and left a small kiss against the bird’s forehead before he got out of the large bed. He pulled on a pair of slacks and a black t-shirt and made his way into the bathroom for a glass of water. Bruce had downed half of it before he went outside to enjoy the night air of London on the balcony.

Marriage.

With Tim.

Marrying Tim.

The man watched the rest of London sleep as he thought more on the entire subject. All the gossipers of Gotham had always wondered why he never married any of the women he dated, of course those were also the people who thought he might have sexually abused Dick and Jason when they were young.

He shook his head at the image and thought again about Tim. They had a huge age gap; Bruce was in his early 40s while Tim was only just going to be turning 20. What would the press have to think about that? They would certainly assume he had probably been sleeping with Tim since he turned the age of consent, but he hadn’t. Tim had waited until he turned 18, until nobody could say anything about it. Even then, Alfred couldn’t question the teen. He was responsible, had been responsible long before he turned legal and nobody could question him on his want for Bruce.

Legality.

Gay marriage *wasn’t* legal in New Jersey, not yet. Maybe by the time Tim turned 21 and was no longer considered Bruce’s ward, it would be. But he couldn’t count on that, a civil union would have to do, no matter how *appalling* it seemed. No, at least he and Tim would be legally together, a couple.

He grinned and finished off his glass of water. Maybe he would ask Tim about it sooner, maybe even that week. It would be nice--

There was a pinprick on his neck, he grabbed for it and found a small dart, one he recognized as--

~&

“No, Alfred, I didn’t see him get up. He was there sleeping with me and when I woke up, he wasn’t in bed.” Tim couldn’t stop wringing his hands in the sheets of the hotel bed, he didn’t feel like he could even move. Bruce was gone, nowhere to be found and it took Alfred to calm the teen to understandable sentences.

“I can assure you, Master Tim, he would not leave without telling you, even if there were a problem in Gotham.” The old butler was sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to feed the young man something, but the vigilante was just too worried.

“I just…I can’t help but think something bad has happened to him. But--,” he paused and disconnected his hands from the bedding, “no, you’re right. He wouldn’t leave without telling me. Alfred, there’s no clues at all, no signs of a struggle, no nothing.” Tim exhaled and finally got out of the bed; he walked over to the closet and pulled on one of Bruce’s button-up shirts over his underwear.

“I would investigate if I could. But there isn’t anything to investigate. Uh, goddamnit…who would do this?”

“I can only think of one set of persons who have the resources and know that Bruce Wayne is Batman.”

“Yeah, the League of Assassins. But, Ra’s al Ghul is dead and I can’t think of any reason Talia would want my boyfriend…okay, besides she’s crazy and won’t stop calling him ‘beloved’.”

“Is there anything Master Bruce hasn’t been telling you?”

The teen sighed and looked over at the butler with wide blue eyes as he spoke, “You know him, Alfred…he doesn’t tell anyone *everything*, even the person he shares a bed with each night.” For a moment, there was a glint in the teen’s eyes right before they darkened. “I’ll call Oracle, tell her to see if there are any League compounds in London.”

“Very well, sir. I’ll ready your suit and supplies.”

~&

His head was swimming, he was drugged, right in the middle of the night on his goddamn hotel room balcony. Everything was still so blurry and it smelled like mold and dirty water, maybe by the ocean or in the sewers.

What about Tim?

Tim would be worried regardless that Bruce was Batman. Robin did have the right to be a bit apprehensive about his partner. But the teen was still smart, he was probably already working on finding the man.

Bruce’s head was already clearing up, finally capable of cloudless thought, and he already knew who it was before there was a voice reverberating through the compound.

“I’m glad you’re awake, beloved.”

“Talia. It’s always you, isn’t it?”

“Only half of the time, my bat. Tell me, how is your little bird?”

Bruce could see her smile in the dull light of the cavern, could feel the wood under his knees. Someone was picking him up from behind just as he was about to fall over. He finally felt the rope restraints binding his arms. Bruce was sure he could break them, if he wasn’t so groggy.

“He’s mine and that’s all you need to know.”

“All?”

“Besides that I’ll hunt you down if you hurt him.”

“Don’t worry, detective, your darling is safe and sound. Probably worried to death about where his big bat has gone.” There was a hint of vehemence in her voice, but he trusted that she hadn’t hurt Tim at all.

“Get to the point. What do you want? Your father is dead, shouldn’t you be carrying on his legacy.”

Her fists clenched at her sides, ruffling the flower pattern of her oriental dress, a few long strands of brown hair falling in her face. “*This* has nothing to do with my father. It is between you and I.”

“There’s *nothing* between us, Talia. There never was.”

“Ah,” she stepped closer to the man, further into the light so he could clearly see her and the assassins located at her back, ready to strike if she ever gave the order. “Do you not remember our one night of passion all those years ago?”

“I distinctly remember being drugged and forced into one of your father’s deranged…goals. There was no passionate night.”

“And yet, you cooperated.”

“If you call giving you a black eye cooperation, then yes.”

She laughed loud, shifted her weight to one hip and again Bruce focused on the flowers wilting around the edges of her stomach. “I suppose you were always a bit…*rebellious*. But none the less…the plan worked out perfectly. I was with child.” Talia looked on as Bruce’s eyebrows angled and his eyes turned into small slits of blue. “But now, just like his father, he himself has grown rebellious of me and of the teachings passed down from my father.”

“That child, whomever he may be…is. Not. Mine.”

“Deny whatever you want, beloved, but it is the truth. I have raised him as well as I can, but now it is time for him to be taught by the hands of a great man, a king and conqueror in his own right.”

“I’m not teaching him anything. I have my own apprentices, ones that I *chose* to teach. Don’t think that you can simply thrust this child upon me.”

“But that, my dear, is exactly what I plan to do. Damian,” and she ushered her hand towards a part of the darkness, then there was a boy, young, coming out into the light.

~&

“This is absolutely disgusting. Bruce is going to suffer for making me go through this.”

Robin had been wading through the sewers of London for the last four hours and yet he still hadn’t found any signs of a supposed League of Assassins hideout. Sure, he trusted Oracle’s information, but he still felt like he would be walking into something big. Maybe even a crocodile, if he was lucky.

There was dirty water in his boots, muck attached to his cape, and he felt that he needed at least three showers to get clean, but he couldn’t give up the search when there was still miles of sewers to explore in that sector, and somewhere along the line he would find Bruce, hopefully before meeting the crocodile. He wasn’t really in the mood to fight one of Killer Croc’s family members.

Suddenly, he caught something out of the corner of his eye: a glint of light, not coming from his flashlight but from a crack in the wall of the sewer tunnel. He immediately started to search for some kind of switch, anything to open the secret door with, hoping it wouldn’t be too late to help Bruce in whatever mess he’d landed himself in.

~&

“Father,” the dark haired boy stood in front of him, sword in hand, a smile just on the edges of his lips. “For some reason, I thought you would look different.” Bruce couldn’t help but growl defensively at the teen.

Talia grinned as she walked forward to place her hands on the shoulders of her son. She watched the way Bruce’s body moved at the sight of the young teen. His muscles tensed and became rigid and there was a visible strain as he pulled against the heavy rope binding him: he really didn’t want to be there right now.

“Damian has been waiting to meet you for a very long time.”

“I couldn’t wait, father, still cannot.”

“I’m not your father.” The teen let off a lewd little smile and suddenly he placed his sword up against the skin of his father’s neck.

“You’re right, I know that my father is a strong man. And you…are weak. My father has no fear and he is the greatest man to grace this earth.” The teen’s sword slipped a bit, cutting one smooth, small line along the man’s neck. His expression was empty, except his eyes: they were full of contempt and rage. Something Bruce had seen before in another young man, once long ago, before a near death experience changed all that.

“Well,” and Talia was back in the conversation like that, her tone and voice carrying throughout the cavern as a small submarine splashed out of the water, greeting her. “I’m so sorry, beloved, but it’s time for me to leave. I do have…places to be. And I do hope that you and Damian get along.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll get along just fine.” A familiar, beautiful voice filled the tunnel, echoing until Bruce could hear the movement at his back.

“Ah, Timothy, I wished that you would have stayed out of this.”

“And I wish you would just leave us alone.” Talia snapped her fingers twice in the next second and pointed behind Bruce and Damian to Robin. The assassins were jumping at the teen in the next second, though Damian’s eyes never strayed from his father’s as Tim fought the ninjas and Talia fled to her sub with a few close men.

Smoke filled the chamber and Bruce could hear the sounds of man after man hitting the stone floor. Everything had gone quiet, still, and Damian’s lips pursed in anticipation. He raised his sword high, ready for Robin to attack, but the only thing that came was a batarang flying out over Bruce’s shoulder to knock the sword out of the teen’s hand.

“I am so glad that I finally got the chance to save you.” Tim’s scent filled Bruce’s nostrils in the next moment, glorious and so fresh over the stench of the London sewers. “I was pretty sick of being Robin, Teen Hostage.”

The man could finally feel his arms free and he stood up and turned to face his young lover. “Tim--”

“Would you mind telling me what the hell is going on?” The edges of the black domino mask rose with the teen’s eyebrows. Bruce sighed and looked over at Damian. It would be a long story.
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Joys of Fatherhood