Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Single parenthood -no matter how temporary it is- is absolutely exhausting, Wally decides. He has no idea how Bruce does it, with at least seven kids under his roof no less.

Although, Wally thinks as he blurs into action once again to catch Irey before she superspeeds into the countertop, Bruce never did have to deal with any kid below the age of eight. And he’d always had Alfred.

And he’d never had to deal with three superpowered kids at once, no doubt.

Tsk. His father-in-law doesn’t know how lucky he is, Wally concludes.

Usually with Dick around, it’s never this hard to look after the kids- they could always divide and conquer, and if Mar’i had somehow flown herself up into some unreachable corner of the house, Dick could always climb his way up to get her down. Unfortunately, that’s a skillset that Wally doesn’t possess, and he thanks god everyday that Mar’i is finally reaching an age where she has more conscious control over her powers.

Still, Wally would be beyond grateful when Dick’s off-world mission ends, and his husband is back with them.

The other Bats have offered to help with Blüd patrols while Dick’s away, but even with a veritable army of bats and birds offering, Wally knows that Blüdhaven’s crime wouldn’t rest if both of their resident heroes didn’t show their face regularly, so Flamebird still has to be seen on patrol on a regular basis.

Not to mention the League missions too- the downside of officially joining the Justice League, Wally thinks, is the damned paperwork.

The mission reports, the damage control, the goodwill publicity events- it was never-ending, and it doesn’t help that with some of the League’s main roster off-planet, monitor duty shifts come even more frequently than they usually do.

Basically, Wally thinks as he finally settles Jai, Irey and Mar’i down for the night, then crashes into bed, too tired to even think about getting under the covers, he’s just about operating on instinct, desperation, and sheer willpower.

(Huh. Maybe he finally gets what Tim feels like all the time. Except Tim probably doesn’t feel it.)

1.

Wally is running on fumes.

Barry can see it- it’s the monthly League meeting, and his nephew practically stumbles stepping out of the zeta tube, before zipping into his seat with a hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sorry- sorry I’m late,” Wally says sheepishly, waving at Batman when the other pauses his lecture to stare at him. “Haha, work, patrol, life, you know how it is, Bats.”

Batman just grunts, and continues the meeting, which is how Barry knows for sure that Wally is running on fumes. Bruce wouldn’t have tolerated tardiness if he hadn’t seen it too.

Beside him, Hal’s jaw drops, and he grabs Barry by the shoulder and shakes. “Barr, Barr, what the heck, did you see that? Spooky just- didn’t say anything when your kid strolled in late? And called him Bats- Bats! Barr, I was late once because I was literally fighting a genocidal maniac on another planet and Spooky still chewed me out! What is your kid blackmailing him with-”

“Lantern,” the word is low, growled in that familiar gravelled tone, and Hal immediately jerks upright in his seat.

“Right, present, here,” Hal blurts, and Barry hides his laughter when Batman glares a moment longer and Hal quails. God, he remembers the days when he’d used to be terrified of Batman too, but once he’d seen the cowl off, and Bruce absolutely buried under a dogpile of his own wayward children, he doesn’t think he can ever really get that fear back again.

Besides, like Iris had said, it was kind of hard to be intimidated by a guy who’d begun crying when walking his eldest son down the aisle.

(It felt great, being one of maybe three people in the entire League in the know about Bats and his soccer team of kids. He got to laugh at Hal’s and Ollie’s crazy conspiracy theories even more now, and then rewatch them after asking Oracle to send him the footage.)

“The property damage from the last alien battlefront was extreme,” Batman continues, and Barry tunes back in. As boring as these meetings were, it wasn’t advised to check out entirely- Batman liked to slip important bits into the middle of the most boring lectures, and then drop questions on them like a sadistic university lecturer. “Luckily, the governments of the world have decided that Earth’s continued sovereignty is slightly more important than calling for our heads, and the Wayne Foundation along with other organisations have offered to fund the rebuilding.”

Barry suppresses his smile at the sentence- ever since he’d found out who was behind the cowl, it had been never-ending amusement every time Wayne Enterprises, or the Wayne Foundation, or any other of the hundreds of charities and subsidiary companies that the Waynes had their fingers in, stepped up to take the heat off of the League.

“In any case,” Batman says, flicking through what seemed like an unending stream of property damage photos. “This should be a reminder to all of you- if able, take your fights out of the city, and out of populated-”

There’s a low thud, and Barry’s head jerks to the left, where- oh. Oh dear.

Wally’s chin is tucked into his chest, his hand lying slack against the table where it had fallen, eyes shut behind his cowl. As Barry stares, Wally lets out a small snore, and the entire table freezes.

“Oh that’s it, he’s dead,” Hal mutters beside him, and Barry surreptitiously reaches over to smack his best friend’s thigh.

“What,” Hal whispers furiously. “It’s the truth, Spooky’s gonna murder him, no one’s fallen asleep so obviously in one of these meetings since that time in the like… third ever League meeting when Ollie did-”

And got monitor duty for a month, followed by arranging the storage room, Barry completes silently. Inwardly, he begins praying for Wally’s mental health and safety when Batman turns those whited-out eyes to his slumped form.

“Hn,” Bruce says, then flicks to the next slide. “As I was saying, this is a timely reminder to take your fights out of populated and built-up areas whenever possible. Not only will that minimise civilian casualties, it also minimises the amount of ammunition the League’s naysayers have to protest against us.”

…wow, Bats really does play favourites. Barry has kind of always known that, especially once Robin -the first one, that is- stepped onto the scene, but he’d never thought he’d see that favouritism for Wally, of all people.

A green-gloved hand closes over Barry’s shoulder, then, “Dude, you have got to tell me what blackmail Wally has on Spooky.”

Barry just shakes his head.

(And, if after the meeting ends and he stays behind to gently shake Wally awake, only to hear Bruce clear his throat and say, “Flamebird, I’ve sent the main points of the meeting to you, review them when you have time.”

Well. Maybe his cowl is on too tight, and he didn’t really hear the words clearly.)

2.

To be honest, Hal has no idea why he’s on the Watchtower. There’s no mission, no meeting, he doesn’t even have any duties or responsibilities or reports to fill in. He’s kind of just… lounging around.

He kicks his feet up onto the couch, leaning back to stare at the ceiling and practice making weird shapes and constructs with his ring before he gets bored of that and stands to disturb whichever unlucky soul was stuck with monitor duty today.

When he enters the monitor room, it’s to the sight of Oliver and Wally seated at the monitors. Oliver is in the middle of polishing his bow, feet resting on the table and chair inclined, while Wally…

Well, Hal isn’t really sure if Wally’s all there, to be honest. The younger hero has his eyes fixed on the screens, sure, but he’s otherwise unmoving. Which is very, very odd, for a speedster.

As Hal watches, Wally blinks, slowly, lethargically, and brings a hand up to scrub at his face just as his jaw practically unhinges in a yawn so huge that Hal isn’t entirely sure if it’s even humanly possible.

Wally has been inexplicably tired this past week, Hal recalls. He’d heard Barry mutter about it to himself at some point, concerned, but Hal doesn’t know the reason why. Still, it’s hard to deny that the younger hero is pretty much checked out, especially given the way that he’d literally fallen asleep in his seat at the last meeting- and somehow avoided the Wrath of The Bat while at it.

Honestly, Hal is pretty impressed that Wally hasn’t straight up fallen asleep yet, given how boring monitor duty could be. Hal will never admit it out loud, but he’s almost fallen asleep on monitor duty more than once before, and that was when he was actually well-rested.

He waves at Oliver, then claps a hand on Wally’s shoulder.

“Hey, kid,” he says instead, wondering if talking to Wally will keep him awake. “You good? Looks like you could use some sleep.”

Wally blinks at him once, then shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah I’m good, don’t worry-”

“Flamebird.” The call is low, in that familiar hoarse voice that never fails to send shivers down Hal’s spine, and Hal freezes.

Poor Wally. Hal has no idea what the younger hero has done to invoke Spooky’s ire -unless Spooky somehow knew Wally was dozing off on duty even though he’s literally just entered the room- but Hal would not want to be Wally West right about now.

Exchanging a glance with Oliver, whose gaze is darting between the Dark Knight and the speedster before conspicuously lowering to his bow, Hal shrugs, and makes himself as inobtrusive as possible.

Sorry kid, you’re on your own for this one.

Wally spins in his seat to face Batman, and -here, Hal really has to respect the dude, because there is not an inch of fear on his face- looks up. “What’s up, Bats?”

Damn. Whatever the West-Allens were feeding this kid, Hal kind of wants in on it. It hadn’t escaped his notice that even Barry hasn’t seemed as cowed by Batman as he used to be- Hal swears, he’s even heard Barry call Batman “B” once.

B! Like, an actual, proper nickname for Spooky that wasn’t, well, Spooky! The same nickname that so far only Nightwing had miraculously gotten away with, but everyone knew that the big bad Bat had a soft spot for Nightwing.

And Wally had used a nickname too- oh, whatever miracle mind control the speedsters had on Batman, couldn’t they let Hal in on it too? Wasn’t Hal like, the Flash family’s closest family friend?

Batman just stares that unnerving, unholy stare of his that always felt like it was boring into your soul, then he-

He puts a takeaway cup smelling of coffee on the table? Good coffee, even, if the smell of it was to be trusted.

“Two sugars, no cream,” Batman says, and Hal stares. That sentence can’t be implying what he thinks it is-

“I take coffee with three sugars, Bats,” is all Wally replies, and Hal thinks his jaw might actually be on the floor now.

“Hn,” Batman grunts. “I know, but that’s too much sugar for someone who hasn’t slept in two days.”

What. Hal stares openly now, dumbfounded.

Batman knows how Wally takes his coffee? Batman brought Wally coffee?

Batman is not only allowing Wally to drink in the monitor room, but actively bringing him drinks?!

“I must be dreaming,” the whisper from beside Hal snaps him out of whatever twilight zone trance he must be in, and he jerks his head hard enough to give himself whiplash, meeting Oliver’s wide eyes.

“If you are, must be a mass hallucination,” Hal replies, one hand reaching down to pinch his own thigh.

Ouch. Not a dream then… a hallucination? Mind control? Some kind of new airborne toxin that only affected people with green in their superhero names?

Wally just laughs. Laughs. “Thanks, Bats. I really needed the caffeine, even if it’s just going to burn out of my system in a bit.”

“It’s Red Robin’s recipe.”

Wally blinks. “…yeah, that’ll work.”

And Batman- Batman chuckles.

Yep. Alright, it’s official, Hal’s crossed over into some strange alternate dimension. That’s the only possible explanation.

3.

"That’s three bad guy masterminds in jail, and one countrywide metahuman trafficking ring dismantled,” Wally announces as he steps out of the zeta, Superman behind him and Batman in front. The Leaguers who are on the Watchtower turn to face them, welcoming the trio back, and Wally offers them a grin that feels too exhausted around the edges.

“Hn,” Bruce says, turning briefly to face Wally from where he’d started typing into the monitor. It had been weeks of stakeouts and careful infiltration before they’d finally managed to bring down the trafficking ring that had started in Blüdhaven and crossed over into Gotham before finally making its way into Metropolis, but the memory of the people they’d rescued, the relief on their faces, adults and kids both, but mostly children-

God, the reason he’d thrown himself into investigating this so thoroughly, the reason he’d made sure that the kids had either himself or Uncle Barry or a Bat with them at all times- all three of his babies were metas, or at least meta-adjacent, and if the trafficking ring had gotten wind of them-

The fear had driven him, more than anything else, and god was he glad that things were finally over.

He collapses into the nearest seat, and watches as Bruce pulls up the mission report forms on the screen beside him.

Ah, hell. He’d need to do up his own part of the reports later, since the ring had started in Blüd and he’d been the one to raise the alarm, but he really just wanted to get home and hug his kids, then maybe pass out for the next three days.

…he really should get those reports done if he’s going to crash for the next three days, huh.

Wally sighs, and activates the holoscreen in front of his seat. It’s just as well that every seat at the main table had a screen attached, because there is absolutely no way that he’s going to fight Bruce for control of the main monitor. He pulls up a report template, fingers already flying as he inputs the key details.

Location, case details, date of start and end of investigation…

“Flamebird.” Bruce’s voice is familiar to him now, both the Batgrowl and the smooth baritone under it, but that doesn’t stop the way he jumps when an armoured hand clasps over his shoulder.

He blinks. The holoscreen glows in front of him, cursor blinking even as he notes the barely understandable, typo-ridden summary that he’d just begun.

“Ah,” he says, fingers already flying to fix his mistakes.

He gets two mistakes in before that armoured grip squeezes lightly, and Bruce clears his throat.

“Flamebird,” he repeats, and his tone is less Batman and more Bruce now, almost like the voice he uses when Jason jokes about his death, or Damian’s pulled a knife out of thin air, or Tim’s gone a week without sleep again. “Go home. Get some rest. I can handle the reports.”

(Somewhere in the back of the room, Wally vaguely registers a splutter that sounds like someone choking on their drink, and a voice that sounds a little like Hal, or maybe Ollie, stage-whispering, “The last time I submitted a mission report late I got sentenced to cleaning out the locker rooms!”)

Wally’s eyelids are heavy, but if he doesn’t get the beginning details of this mission out now, he never will, and he was the one who’d started this entire thing anyway. He stares at the bright screen, willing his eyes to stay open, and says, “Trafficking ring started in Blüd, Bats, that means I’ve gotta-”

“Red Robin was with you at the time,” Bruce interrupts. “He and I can handle the reports. Go home, Flamebird.”

(“What the heck,” comes another furious whisper from the back of the room. “Is that really the Bat under there? Did anyone check for mind control? Or an impostor, or some kind of toxin-”)

“I-” Wally starts, blinking rapidly.

“You have people waiting for you,” Bruce says instead. “Let me and Red Robin settle the reports.”

Bruce’s hand rubs lightly at his shoulder, just for a moment, squeezing warmly before he pulls away, leaning over to deactivate Wally’s holoscreen. “Go.”

A mental image of the kids, curled up in bed, blinking sleepy eyes up at him flashes through Wally’s mind, and Wally caves. He could really do with cuddles right now, especially after seeing how those traffickers had treated their victims, and he hadn’t spent more than two continuous hours with the kids since this whole thing started.

He stands, and wobbles. Bruce’s hand immediately clamps around his forearm, and Wally stabilises himself, blinking the spots from his vision.

Ah, right. And he hadn’t had more than five hours of sleep in the same number of days. He’s a meta, and a speedster, which meant that he could go a while without sleep, but he sure as heck isn’t Tim. Wally knows himself well enough that he knows he’ll crash the moment he allows himself to lie down, so that means that he’ll need to head home, take over from Cass and Steph who were looking after the kids, and tuck them all into bed before he can stop moving.

Yeah, he thinks as he leans briefly into Bruce’s bracing grip before straightening. Yeah, he should get back soon before this brief adrenaline dies off too.

“Thanks, B,” he offers, heading toward the zetas.

(He doesn’t see the way Bruce lifts a hand to his comms behind him, nor does he hear the low, “Spoiler, Black Bat, tuck the kids in and get them to sleep, he’s on the way back.”)

4.

Something, Oliver swears, is up with Batman.

It’s been a week and a half since that time that Wally had fallen blatantly asleep in the middle of a League meeting, and that had somehow kickstarted an entire uncharacteristic series of events where the big bad Bat suddenly acted almost human.

It was so odd, how Batman’s suddenly being nice, but only to Flamebird. Oliver himself had just gotten lectured -again- when the Bat caught him with his booted feet on the monitor desk, and Oliver hates how he was pretty sure that they were around the same age, but somehow Batman could still make him feel like a kid who’d disappointed their dad.

(Which was just wrong- Oliver himself had a kid, who had a kid, Oliver was a damn grandfather, and still felt like a scolded child around Batman!)

Doesn’t change how scarily efficient Batman is on the field, though.

Oliver watches as Batman flings himself at another mecha-robot-android-thing, grappling hook firing, and nocks an arrow as the robot turns to chase the Bat and puts Oliver conveniently in its blind spot.

He lets the arrow fly, and the robot explodes as Batman grunts once into the comms and swings away again.

There’s only a few robots left, and each of them have at least one of the League’s heavy hitters already on them- Oliver nocks another arrow, but doesn’t aim. There isn’t really anywhere that needs his help. Superman had already defeated his target, Green Lantern was in the process of crushing his in a steadily shrinking cage, and the last one already had both Flamebird and Flash tagteaming it.

Even as the thought crosses his mind, the last robot falls in a blur of yellow and white lightning, and Oliver returns his arrow to its quiver, trading it for a grappling arrow that he uses to swing himself down and reunite with the rest of the League.

He’s just entering hearing distance when Batman drops down beside Flamebird and claps a hand on his shoulder. “Agent A asked me to inform you that your attendance is expected on Saturday.”

Flamebird blinks, then grins. “I wouldn’t miss it, Bats. Besides, the rest would murder me if I did, and I’m not dumb enough to cross Agent A no matter what N says.”

Batman makes what could almost pass for an approving sound, if he was capable of such a thing, and presses something on his utility belt even as he says, “Additionally, I was asked to make sure that these made it into your hands-”

With a roar like an armoured tank, Oliver watches as the Batmobile pulls up beside Batman, somehow navigating driverlessly through the rubble-filled streets with ease.

Batman opens the passenger door and reaches in, pulling out a- Oliver blinks, then blinks again. He’s not sure if there’s something wrong with his vision, because there is no fucking way that Batman, the Batman, the Dark Knight, terror of Gotham and actually pretty much the rest of the world too, just- just pulled out a stack of tupperware out of his heavily armoured war vehicle?!

Oliver reaches up and tries to rub his eyes before remembering that he has a mask on.

“These should be enough for the next week,” Batman continues, handing Flamebird the bag of tupperware and turning to pull more out of the Batmobile. “If you need more, you know the door is always open.”

“Bats, I-” Flamebird starts, eyes wide. There are now four whole bags filled to the brim with food hanging from his arms, and Batman looks terrifyingly smug.

“Agent A sends his regards,” is all Batman says, and Oliver sees the way Flamebird visibly deflates, protests dying on his lips.

“No way,” Barry says as he zips up to stare at the bags on his nephew’s arms. “Is that mealprep from the famous A?”

Batman hums, and levels a deadpan stare at Barry, who just shrugs. “Hey, I can be jealous without stealing my nephew’s food, don’t look at me like that.”

“Good.” Batman nods. “Flamebird, head home and get some rest. I expect your part of the mission report submitted by next week.”

Oliver can’t help the way he stares. The Bat was usually cryptic, but this was a whole other level of it. Oliver could swear that he was speaking English, but none of the words made sense, and-

Why did Flamebird get an entire week to submit his mission report? For a battle that involved the entire League, Flamebird really only needed to document his presence and record any significant observations he may have made during the battle, it wouldn’t have taken any longer than an hour to draft.

If anyone else had submitted their report later than the end of the day, provided they weren’t injured or recovering, Batman would have had their hides! And he hadn’t even expected Flamebird to report to the Watchtower for the debrief as per protocol- who the hell was this guy and what had he done to Batman?

As if to prove Oliver’s point, Batman lifts a hand to press at his communicator, and then his voice comes, growled lowly over their comms. “Justice League, report. Battle has ended, head back to the Watchtower for mission debrief. I expect each of your completed reports from the battle submitted in the system by twenty-three hundred hours today.”

Oliver scowls. Batman expected the reports in by eleven PM?! It was already four in the afternoon, and Oliver would still need to collect any still usable arrows and get out of this dust-covered suit before he could get started on that damned report, was Batman trying to kill him?

Oliver curses under his breath. What game was Flamebird playing that the big bad Bat was cutting him so much slack, and how could Oliver get in on it?

(And who the heck was Agent A, and how did even Barry know him?)

5.

Wally had been running himself ragged again. Barry is finally moving past the stage of concern for his nephew and into worry instead, particularly when he sees the way Wally trips over thin air even when moving at a normal human pace.

He’d thought it gotten better, when Wally had let the rest of the family, Bats and Flashes alike, help out, but it seems that his frustratingly independent, chronically incapable of asking for help nephew has finally reverted to his old ways.

(Really, if there’s one thing Barry wishes Wally wouldn’t learn from his husband’s side of the family, it's the chronic lack of self-care.)

He knows Wally’s own childhood had left scars on him that always made him reluctant to ask for help unless absolutely necessary, but Barry really, really wished that his nephew just would. It made Barry’s heart ache, seeing the exhaustion in Wally’s eyes, in every sluggish movement of his body, in the way there wasn’t a single spark of Speedforce in any of his actions.

Ah, if Iris was here she would know what to do- unfortunately, Iris wasn’t here, which meant that it was up to Barry to make sure that his nephew didn’t work himself into the ground before his husband could come back planetside and smother their entire little family in hugs.

Barry sighs, and pinches at the bridge of his nose through the cowl. He steps into the League pantry and lounge, wondering if there was anything he could make that Wally would eat without hesitation, or would make him stop overthinking and actually get some rest.

Then he steps into the lounge, and freezes. Wally is collapsed sideways on the couch, limbs splayed out in a way that clearly says he did not mean to fall asleep, and Barry stifles the small chuckle that wants to break out.

It’s been a while since he’s seen Wally sprawled out like this, not since he’d moved out of the West-Allen household, but it’s nice to see that even being married with three kids hasn’t changed the way Wally starfishes in his sleep. Barry lets a fond smile spread over his lips, recalling the way that a younger Wally had spent more time at Barry’s house than he did at his own, the way Wally’s school trophies and achievements still decorated the walls of the small guest bedroom that had quickly become Wally’s own.

It was nice, that even all grown up like this Wally was still the boy that Barry raised and loved like his own son. Barry steps forward to smooth Wally’s curls off his masked forehead, leans down to press a kiss to the top of his head like he’d used to do when Wally had been much smaller. He pulls back, looking around for a blanket, and is met by the sight of Batman pulling out of the shadows, said blanket in hand.

“Flash,” Batman acknowledges, stepping past Barry to unfold the blanket in his arms, spreading it out over Wally even as Barry watches, mouth slightly agape.

He watches as Batman- no, Bruce, this was all tired single father Bruce, and none of Batman- begins tucking the edges of the blanket in around Wally’s sleeping form, then shifts Wally’s head slightly and props a cushion underneath it, fixing the sharp dip of Wally’s neck that had Barry’s own aching just from looking at it.

“You-” Barry starts, blinking. “You really do care for him, don’t you? And not just as Nightwing’s husband.”

Bruce grunts, but years as the Bat’s in-law have given Barry a somewhat rudimentary understanding of his speech patterns, and Barry knows that the lack of an outright denial in this case says more than an agreement ever could.

The long silence that follows is finally broken by Bruce blowing out a breath, one hand smoothing out a crease on the blanket. “He’s made Nightwing happier than I ever could have, and has been for over a decade at this point. He comes to family nights, diffuses the fights between the kids, runs additional art supplies to Robin without even needing to be asked. He makes waffles with Spoiler, talks chemistry with Red Robin, babysits Speedy when Hood and Arrow can’t. He plays board games with Signal and watches Black Bat practice for her recitals and always has words of encouragement that god knows our family needs more of-”

Bruce pauses after the barrage of words, the most that Barry has ever heard from the man, and Barry stares. His heart is full in his chest and his vision blurry with emotion as he sees the way Bruce smooths a hand over Wally’s curls almost the same way Barry himself had just done moments before, and abruptly realises that Wally has found himself yet another dad.

“He’s driven himself into the ground since Nightwing has been off-world for the past few weeks, and he won’t ask for help even though any of us would be willing to.”

Barry chews at the inside of his cheek, then nods in agreement. “It’s… what happens when you grow up thinking love has to be earned, I think. But now he has us, and someone has to take care of him. You have been, you’re not subtle about it, and I know you’re not doing it for me, but thank you.”

A low chuckle, and Bruce adjusts the blanket slightly. “Well, I’m willing to admit that I’m doing this in part for Nightwing as well.”

Barry laughs. “Oh, definitely. I would not want to be there if he comes home and realises that no one’s been looking after his husband in his absence, and said husband has run himself straight into the ground.”

“A good thing then, that that’s not going to happen."

(And, if Barry settles himself into the seat beside the couch that Wally is on, carding one hand idly through Wally’s hair and watching as Bruce fixes the Batglare on anybody who enters and is just a little too loud…

Well, he can keep his amusement to himself. And to Iris.)

Chapter Text

Wally runs a hand through his hair frustratedly. There's a League meeting scheduled for today since the League delegation that had been sent off-world was finally coming back, and most of the major League members are required to be around so that they can get the latest updates on the intergalactic situation.

Wally had been looking forward to it, because it meant that he would finally see Dick again after almost a month apart.

Now, though… Duke had just called to say that he couldn’t come over to keep an eye on the kids as planned because there’d been another Arkham breakout and it's all hands on deck for the Bats and Birds. It's a smaller breakout, nothing that required them to call in reinforcements or even pull Batman away from the League meeting, but it does mean that none of the family will be free to babysit the kids, and Aunt Iris has an important interview today too, so she's also out of the question. Alfred would have been an option -he was almost always the best option, to be honest- but given Gotham’s current state of being in an Arkham breakout, Wally thinks that he’s justified for not wanting to leave his kids there unnecessarily no matter how safe Wayne Manor is.

Wally sighs. It's starting to look more and more like the only option will be to bring the kids with him to the Watchtower, which has its own set of concerns, albeit far less dangerous ones than bringing three metahuman children below the age of seven into an active battlefield.

Well. At least the kids are already more than well-taught to avoid using real names when their family members were suited up, and already know to respond to the codenames the family had come up with for them. It’s unlikely that there’ll be any identity leaks just from letting the kids meet the Justice League, although Wally can’t say for sure if their relationship with the Bats will come out. This will definitely expose them as Flamebird’s kids though, but whether it would expose the Batfamily, and Nightwing’s and Flamebird’s relationship is another question.

(Not that him and Dick had ever been very secret about that, Wally thinks. Besides, anyone who knew about the Kryptonian myth that they’d gotten their names from would already have guessed, although Clark had already been in the know from the start.)

Still, it's just as well that this meeting is only for the more senior members of the League, all of whom Bruce had already decided to trust with the Batfamily’s secrets a while ago. Wally doesn’t think Bruce would mind that much, if this was how the existence of the Batfamily came to light.

Decision made, Wally begins sticking on the little child-sized domino masks that they’d made for the kids a while back onto their faces, watching as three faces light up with joy at the realisation of where they’re going.

“No way no way no way,” Irey says, domino shifting in a way that Wally knew meant her eyes were as wide as could be under the mask. “Are we really going to space? Dad dad dad are we gonna meet the Justice League?! And grandpa and gramps will both be there, right, they can’t not be there?”

Mar’i perks up, smile bright. “Grandpa!”

Wally laughs, leaning down to press a kiss to Mar’i’s head. Ever since Bruce had gotten her her favourite plushie for her birthday last year, he’d officially become favourite grandparent for Wally’s youngest. “Yes, sweetheart, both grandpa and gramps will be there.”

Jai tugs at Wally then, pulling his attention away from his daughters. “Dad, masks on means no names?”

“Yep,” Wally confirms, ruffling a hair through Jai’s dark hair. “Do you all remember your codenames?”

Jai grins. “I’m Bluejay!” 

“Redwing,” Irey announces, flashing Wally a bright grin with a little peace sign, and Wally laughs again. Irey’s always been the most exuberant of the kids, and Wally has a feeling that that energy isn’t going to change anytime soon.

“Nightstar?” Mar’i asks, fingers curled into the fabric of Wally’s pants, and Wally nods, ruffling all three of his kids’ hair.

“Good job, guys,” he says, watching as Irey begins vibrating in excitement, Jai following just a step behind her. “Ready to head on up?”

Irey had already zipped multiple laps around the room by the time the words left Wally’s lips, and Wally smiles, scooping Mar’i into one arm and resting a hand on Jai’s back.

“Dad, let’s gooo!”

"B-03 Flamebird,” the zeta announces, and Barry looks up just as the announcement continues with, “Guest access authorised: Bluejay, Redwing, Nightstar.”

He blinks. Why would Wally bring-

“Who-” Oliver starts, but before he can answer the question Barry sees twin streaks of yellow and orange blur across the room, and habit has him on his feet and reaching for the kids before he can process the action.

Barry scoops up a grandkid in each arm and deposits them on the floor. “Kids, what have we said about running unaccompanied?”

Jai ducks his head, and Irey scuffs her shoe against the ground.

“Not to,” both children mutter, and Barry pats both their heads.

“Redwing, Bluejay!” Wally’s voice echoes as he speeds to a stop beside the kids, Mar’i giggling in his arms. “What have we said about- oh, Uncle B, you caught them.”

Barry laughs, pushing Jai and Irey towards Wally and reaching for his youngest grandchild instead, who lunges out of her dad’s hold and floats into Barry’s instead. “Gramps Flash!”

“Hey, kiddo,” Barry says, tickling Mar’i’s side lightly and grinning when she squirms.

Mar’i looks up at him with eyes so wide that Barry can see them move behind her mask, and asks, "Can we go fast, gramps?”

A flick of his gaze to Wally, and Barry only has to see the way Wally hides a smile and waves a permissive hand before he’s darting off, hugging Mar’i tight in his arms and wrapping the Speedforce around her. She bursts into peals of laughter at the feeling of the wind tousling her hair, little hands clinging tightly to Barry and feet kicking lightly against him. He laps the Watchtower twice before finally coming to a stop beside Wally again, just in time to see Hal’s eyes bug out of his head.

“Gramps?!” Hal bursts out, staring at Barry. “Barry, since when were you-”

“Forget gramps,” Oliver says, staring at Mar’i in Barry’s arms. “Did that kid just fly? The speedsters, I can sorta understand, but as far as I know, Flashes can’t fly!”

Beside him, Wally is trying so hard not to laugh that his entire body is shaking, the soles of his boots partially vibrated through the ground, and Barry can’t help the snort that escapes him either.

“But- but,” Hal starts again, looking back and forth between Wally, Barry, and the kids. “Since when does Wally have kids?”

It’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back. Wally bursts into laughter, snickering so hard that he bends double.

“Hey!” Irey yells, pointing at Hal. “You’re really rude, Mr. Green Lantern! Dad’s had us forever!”

It’s Barry’s turn to start laughing, Irey’s words ringing through the air as Hal stares at the little girl yelling at him, speechless.

“Redwing,” the low voice announces its owner before Batman even steps into the room, and then Barry abruptly finds his arms empty as Mar’i launches herself out of his hold and flings herself into Bruce instead.

Bruce, to his credit, catches Mar’i without a moment’s hesitation, gaze still fixed on Irey. “It’s rude to yell at people, you know.”

Irey offers Bruce a sheepish smile, and rubs at the back of her head in a gesture that reminds Barry entirely of Wally. “But he was being mean to Dad!”

(Behind Irey, Hal’s jaw drops. “Is… is Batman defending me?”)

“He wasn’t really,” Wally finally stops laughing to say, zipping over to ruffle Irey’s hair. “He was just shocked, sweetheart.”

Irey blinks. “Okay… I won’t yell anymore.”

Bruce smiles, and Barry is pretty sure that he heard at least one other League member collapse in shock behind him. “Good girl, Redwing. Although, if it’s Lantern, I suppose it’s not much of an issue.”

Wally snorts, and tries to hide it -badly- behind a cough. “Bats, stop teaching my kids the wrong thing.”

At the same time, Hal lets out an indignant squawk, and flails a little. “Hey! What do you mean it’s not an issue- hang on, how does the Bat know these kids, why do these kids act like they know him-”

Ignoring the squawking Lantern in the background, Barry watches as Mar’i tugs at Bruce, then presses a hand to his cheek when he turns to her. “Grandpa, can I have a snack?”

Ah. That will do it. Barry knows that Bruce has been more lax with his secrets these days, and the amusement that bubbles up in him when he sees the League’s eyes widen, multiple jaws dropping across the room at the word that had just fallen from Mar’i’s lips.

“Grandpa?!”

Bruce ignores them all, as he is wont to do, and pulls a pack of animal crackers from his utility belt. The moment he hands it to Mar’i, Jai and Irey are immediately beside him, one speedster tugging on either side of his cape.

Bruce takes turns to ruffle both their hairs with his free hand, then reaches into his belt to pull out more crackers.

“Here, sweethearts,” Bruce says, voice softer than Barry has ever heard him use in the cowl. “Why don’t you three go take a seat in my chair, alright? I’ve got a meeting to start.”

A meeting which, Barry thinks privately, is going to go nowhere. Everywhere he looks, he sees a stunned Leaguer. Hal’s eyes are so bugged out that Barry's almost afraid that his friend has somehow gotten a silent stroke, or an aneurysm, and Oliver’s mouth is opening and closing soundlessly, one hand frozen in midair and finger twitching from Bruce to the kids and back again. Not even the usually more composed members are spared- Arthur is doing a remarkable impression of a statue, silent and unmoving with only his rapid blinking as a sign of life, while Dinah looks outwardly composed, but Barry can still see the silent arch of her eyebrows, and the part of her lips.

Only Clark, having met the kids before, is unfazed, an amused smile playing at his lips even as he alternates looking between them and the other Leaguers, letting a curious Jai climb into his lap and prod at the emblem on his chest.

“Before the off-world delegation returns,” Batman starts, and sighs when none of the League members react.

“I will answer one question each after this meeting is over,” Bruce relents. “If we can get this meeting started.”

The League is abruptly a flurry of motion, and everyone is in their seats almost faster than even Barry can blink, staring at the screen with rapt attention.

Barry shares a look with Wally, both of them grinning identical grins, and can’t help the snicker that bubbles up when Bruce sighs again, pinches the bridge of his nose, and finally turns back to the screen.

“Alright, let’s recap what the off-world delegation’s mission was meant to accomplish.”

Chapter Text

When Dick hops off Diana’s invisible jet into the Watchtower, fresh off an almost month-long off-world mission and missing his family like a lost limb, he expects to see Bruce, prepping for a debriefing like the paranoid paperwork monster that he is, and Wally, impatiently waiting for him. Maybe even Barry, or the rest of the major League members, summoned for a simultaneous debrief-and-update on intergalactic politics.

What he does not expect, is to enter the Watchtower’s main hall and immediately be met with three identical screams of, “DADA!” followed by twin streaks of orange and yellow crashing into his legs, and an enthusiastic ball of blue and black cannonballing straight into his chest.

It’s only the instinctive reaction to the sound of those excited yells that allows Dick to brace himself in time, stumbling back a step but just barely able to keep his balance.

He curls his hands reflexively around Mar’i’s small body, laughing as he stands still and lets Jai and Irey cling stubbornly to a leg each.

“You were gone for so long!” Irey cries, and Mar’i nods frantically in his arms.

Arms still clinging tight around his leg, Jai echoes a resounding, “Yeah! Dada, we missed you!”

Dick’s heart swells in his chest at the way his three babies look up at him, expressions clear even behind their domino masks, and he can’t help the way he folds himself down to sit on the floor so that all three of them can clamber into his lap. He hugs them close, pressing countless kisses to their foreheads and ignoring the way they squirm away, giggling.

“I missed you guys too,” Dick tells them, tightening his hold around his kids and laughing along with them when they giggle and pretend that they’re trying to escape his grasp.

A familiar chuckle sounds in Dick’s ears, and he looks up to see Wally grinning widely at him, arms open. “What, no hug for me too?”

Dick shakes his head, scrunching up his nose. “You’ve gotta come down here, KF. Your kids aren’t going to let me up anytime soon.”

“Oh, so they’re my kids now, huh?” Wally asks, but drops down to the floor to wrap an arm around Dick anyway. “What happened to for better or for worse, hm?”

“See, I never actually said those words in my vows-”

“Yeah, because you said ‘in aster or disaster’ instead.”

Dick laughs, and presses a kiss to Wally’s cheek. “And I stand by those words.”

Wally blinks, and suddenly there are warm, chapped lips on his own, and Dick’s eyes flutter shut out of habit, one hand coming up to card through Wally’s hair and-

“Ewww dad and dada are kissing again!”

Small hands shove at Dick’s chest, and Dick lets his kids topple him backwards as they push their way in between him and Wally, laughing as he goes down.

“Okay, okay,” he says, one hand coming up to stabilise Irey when she sits herself down decisively on his chest, just beside Mar’i. Jai clambers up to join them as well, plopping down just behind his sisters, and Dick sideeyes Wally when his husband just sits there and laughs.

“I’m trapped,” he says, pouting. “By your children, and you’re just laughing at me!”

Wally shrugs. “Hey, your fault for leaving for almost a month. You should have known this was coming the moment you came back planetside.”

“Yeah!” Mar’i says.

Jai’s head bobs up and down rapidly. “You were gone too long, dada!”

“We’re trapping you here forever,” Irey declares, patting Dick’s chest assuredly.

“They get the drama from you, by the way,” Wally says.

Dick lets his head drop back to rest against the floor in a show of resignation. “Oh no, whatever shall I do-”

“Nightwing,” the low voice is a growl, but one that Dick has known for too long not to hear the fondness underneath it, and he lifts his head back up to see Bruce making his way over to him, expression unamused. “This is still the main hall of the Watchtower.”

Dick waves a careless hand. “Come on, B, I haven’t seen my kids in a month. Besides, if your concern was about the Big Secret, then you really shouldn’t have coded them into the zeta tubes. I bet everyone already knows who they are to you, hm?”

Bruce comes to a halt beside Dick, veritably looming over him since Dick is literally lying on the floor, and Mar’i smiles brightly at him. “Grandpa, look! Dada’s back!”

Dick raises an eyebrow. “Case in point.”

Bruce sighs, but there’s a twitch to the corners of his lips when he reaches down to pick up Mar’i the moment she makes grabby hands at him. “Point taken, Nightwing. Welcome back. Get Redwing and Bluejay settled, and take a seat. We’ll start the debrief in five.”

Dick laughs, then gestures at Jai and Irey. “Alright, you heard your grandpa, kiddos, time for dada to get to work.”

The twins scramble off of him, and Wally pulls Dick upright, then pulls him into a tight, no-child-interference hug. “I missed you so much, Rob.”

Dick briefly curls himself into Wally’s hold, letting himself bask in the feeling of finally being back amongst his family, his love, and presses his face into the crook of Wally’s neck. “Missed you too, Walls. I’m so glad to be back.”

When Wally lets him go, Dick finally tunes into the background buzz that had only been steadily growing louder and louder, and sees Oliver with his jaw on the ground, Hal spinning around rapidly, pointer finger raised and darting between Bruce, him, the kids, and Wally.

“You- what- he- Spooky- kids-”

“Did you break Hal?” Dick asks, turning to Wally. “You know Barry’s not gonna be happy if you broke his best friend.”

Wally shrugs, smile crooked. “It’s been a while coming- ask O for the footage of the past few weeks. He’ll be fine with more time to process.”

Dick blinks. That sentence implied that the League had already been suspicious of some part of the family's hidden or not-so-hidden relationships, which was a level of reveal that Dick hadn't expected Bruce to reach quite so quickly.

"These are the children, then?" Diana asks, drawing level with Dick as she bends slightly to meet Jai's and Irey's awestruck gazes. "Batman has mentioned them before, but I have not had the honour of meeting them prior to this."

Dick smiles, and briefly rests a hand on both Jai's and Irey's heads. "Yep. Aunt D, these are the twins. Redwing, mine and Walls' daughter, and Bluejay, our son. Nightstar is with B right now, but I'm sure she'll want to say hi later."

"Dada," Irey breathes, gaze not straying from Diana. "Dada, look, it's Wonder Woman."

"You can call me Aunt Diana," Diana says, reaching out to ruffle Irey's hair, then Jai's in turn. "That goes for you as well, little one."

Behind their little masks, both Jai's and Irey's eyes go wide, and Dick turns to share an amused look with Wally. Looks like they'd have to start looking into getting some Wonder Woman merchandise for the twins' birthday, then.

A cough, from the front of the meeting table, and Dick looks up just as Diana turns. Bruce is standing at the front of the lit up monitor, details of the off-world mission that Dick had just come back from already onscreen, and Diana shrugs.

"You must introduce me to the littlest one later," she says, ruffling the twins' hairs one more time. "But for now, your father seems to be getting rather impatient."

(And as Diana turns to take her seat at Bruce's left hand, she either doesn't, or pretends not to, notice the way Hal almost falls out of his seat with a startled, "Father?!")

"Hey," Dick murmurs after the meeting ends and he's curled against Wally's side in the Watchtower lounge. "You've been tired the whole time, what's wrong?"

Wally sighs lowly, curling his arm tighter around Dick and leaning his head against his shoulder. His eyes flutter shut slowly, and Dick lets Wally melt into his side.

"Mm," Wally hums, turning his head to nuzzle against where the collar of the Nightwing suit ends to reveal skin. "You try taking care of three meta children by yourself, and let me know how it goes."

Dick's heart aches in his chest, a pang of guilt and love both shooting through him. He shifts, letting Wally ease further into his warmth, and turns to press a kiss to those windswept red curls. "Get some sleep, Walls. Barry and B have the kids, and Diana has been clamouring to meet B's grandchildren since the day she found out he had them. They're in good hands."

"'S not so bad," Wally mumbles into Dick's skin. The words belie his actions as he sinks further into Dick's embrace. "Could've been way worse, but your dad took really good care of me."

Dick blinks. "B did what?"

"Pfft," Wally breathes softly, amusement barely a puff of air over Dick's throat. "Played favourites with me, like he does with you all the time. 'N front of the League."

Oh. Dick doesn't bother holding back the laugh, his grin bright even as his shoulders shake slightly. Man, to have been a fly on the wall when Bruce levelled his double standards on a hero supposedly unaffiliated with the Bat. Dick was certain that the League's expressions would have been priceless, maybe only beaten by the way they had reacted today, when meeting the kids.

"Dude, I would pay to see that," Dick says, still laughing.

Curled up against him, Wally lifts his head ever so slightly, green eyes blinking open lazily, then reaching out a hand to smack at Dick's chest with no strength behind it.

"Ask O for the footage," Wally says, eyes slipping shut again as his head lolls back against Dick's shoulder. "Now stop laughing, Rob, 'm trying to sleep and you're shaking my pillow."

A snort escapes Dick at that, but he obediently stills himself and reaches around and tug Wally closer instead. "Alright, alright, your perfect pillow at your service, your highness."

"That's more like it," Wally hums, and Dick blows out an amused breath in lieu of a louder laugh that would shake his shoulders. "'Night, Robbie. Wake me when the kids are ready to go home."

Dick presses a kiss to the top of Wally's head. "Sleep tight, Walls."

In the meantime, he thinks, he has a certain other redhead to contact about some footage to watch.