Chapter Text
Listen very closely. Lois is about to lose what little she has left that could be considered a mind.
She loves Bruce, technically speaking. He’s a dear friend, surprisingly intelligent(if you listen to what the tabloids have to say about him, which she had, but she knew better now), deeply empathetic, and broadly loving.
He is, definitively speaking, one of the most, if not the most, dedicated men she knows, and helping him is an honor, generally.
But she’s at work.
And she’s press.
They call her that because she’s supposed to be here, pressing for answers.
So what the upside-down fuck is she doing, trying to help Bruce through a public fit.
“Please, Bruce,” she groans. “I asked one question.”
“I’M. GOING. TO KILL MYSELF.”
“Ohhh… come on…” Lois Lane mumbles, sighing. “Don’t say that… Y’know I’m not good at comforting people, party boy. You’re drunk, yeah, baby? Don’t… uh.”
“Well, you ASKED me how I feel about my sons growing up so fast, there’s your answer! My babies aren’t babies anymore! And…” he’s sniffling. He’s fucking sniffling. Please. “And I’m about to become a fucking sorcerer just to look at a one of them and not cry. Timmy is my favorite now, since he’s not going off and gettin’ all fuckin’ tall! And even he is just…”
He clutches at his chest and groans.
“You know what? I’ll bite. You’re a press leech, Lo,” she says, steeling herself. “This seems deeper than normally missing simpler times as your kids get older, do you know what might be causing that?”
“Other people’s kids must just suck,” he groans, dropping his head down onto the marble countertop.
“Would you like to expand on that? What’s the logic here?” she says, gritting her teeth.
“I mean, I know I’m not the wild one here.”
“That’s debatable.”
“Whatever. So, since I’m not crazy, but every time I think about my babies I’m so proud I can’t breathe, my kids must just be better.”
“That’s… certainly a theory.”
“I mean, Dick is just so talented. I couldn’t tell you where he gets it from, it must be his parents. He’s hardworking and brilliant, and he’s so kind and generous. And he’s always lending a hand, but he’s wise with extending his trust. You know I never am, Lo. Did I tell you I’m still mooning over Khoa?”
And, okay. That catches her off guard.
“Oh… no? You told me you didn’t want to think about… anyway, you said Khoa doesn’t give a damn about you.”
“I have never been physically able to not give a damn. I’m gonna love that heartless bastard till the day I dieee!” he wails.
“Oh, that’s not…” she mutters. “Jason?”
“Good, kind, generous, endlessly so. He’s so much better than me, even though he’s gone through much worse. I’m glad he’s back, but Lo! What I wouldn’t give just to have kept him safe, to have just succeeded the first time. To have been better. On my mother’s pearls, he’d be at home asleep, not a hair on his head harmed.”
“That’s a… strong sentiment.”
“But I mean it. Tim, he works so hard I can’t even get him to take a break. He’s so intentional and determined and generous, they’re all so generous, so giving. They soar past all expectations, were the first hallmarks of my hope for humanity, still are to this day. They inspire me toward a better future for everyone. They keep growing, and succeeding at everything they put their hands to, and it makes me so unbelievably happy, of course it does, but I’d love them without any of that!” he insists, and she awkwardly puts a hand on his shoulder. “If everything went to shit, I’d still love them: just because they’re mine. I feel like I turn away for a second and then I look back, and they’re all breaking six foot. I just wish they’d always know I love them more than anything.”
“Aw, man,” she mumbles, feeling distinctly frazzled.
“Shit,” he groans. “Where’s the wikiHow on turning back time to hug your baby?”
“So,” Dick says calmly, pausing the YouTube video that’s made up the first slide of his presentation. “This incomplete meeting of the Batkids has been called. Harper and Steph have dragged Duke to Italy, Cass is in Hong Kong, Barbara has told me that we need to go “figure this one out amongst ourselves”, and Damian is spending some time with his mother. As the remaining available council members, it is our responsibility to come to a decision on the following topic: What the ever-loving fuck do we do about this.”
He steps to the side, allowing Jason and Tim to see the slide that says exactly that on it.
“Whoa, man,” Tim says, putting his hands up. “This is not my problem. He explicitly stated that he has no problem with me.
“Technically,” Jason pipes up. “He did say he wishes you’d take a break.”
“Oh, fuck off, Jaybird,” he crows, grinning. “Let’s call a spade a spade here, guys. My breaks—”
“—or lack thereof.” Dick coughs.
“Fuck you, Dixie cup— are not the same as you two and your obvious daddy issues. If you want help, I’m gonna need you to put up. I trade in blackmail, favors, and shiny things. Hand up whenever, ‘cause you sure can’t do it without me.”
He trots toward the door of Dick’s apartment with a pettiness befitting of Stephanie Brown’s best friend, and Jason yells “Fuck you,” as Tim walks out the door.
Dick turns to him with a bemused look, and Jason bursts into laughter, digging his nails into his arms.
“Only us, Dickie, y’know that? Only we could spend so long complaining that our dad isn’t— isn’t proud of us, won’t realize we’ve grown, doesn’t acknowledge our successes, just for the whole internet to find out he loves us, literally more than he can say. Fuck,” he says emphatically.
“Fuck,” Dick agrees, feeling a hysterical urge to laugh with him.
“He said we ‘succeed at everything we put our hands to’,” he groans, pulling his hands from his arms and burying them in his hair.
“And you know what they say about drunk words,” Dick says, a laughing rush of air escaping his lips.
“Oh, don’t I?” he says wryly.
“This is insane, Jay,” he says breathlessly. “Man, fuck what Tim says, I need to talk to B.”