Chapter Text
Okay in hindsight, Bruce really should’ve stopped this before it got this far, but they were too deep now to stop it…and he would receive backlash from both the league and his family if he came clean. Besides for the first time in a long while, Dick is willingly sleeping on him. The younger vigilante’s head using Bruce’s leg as a pillow and cape as a blanket, while they were in the lounge of the watch tower.
Dick hadn’t done that since he was Robin, and the nostalgia might be getting to Bruce.
Still that didn’t mean Bruce supported his eldest, accidentally giving himself food poisoning while trying to fake pregnancy cravings to the Justice League…or not telling Bruce about it until Dick was vomiting his brains out in the middle of a meeting…
The door to the lounge opened and in walked, Flash and Superman. Both of whom were talking far to loudly. Bruce shushed them, and gestured towards the still sleeping Dick with his head.
Flash looked sheepish, and Superman froze mid-step.
“Sorry,” Superman whispered.
“We didn’t think you were still here,” Flash said quietly.
“It’s fine, just please don’t wake him up. He needs this,” Bruce answered.
That wasn’t a lie. Dick had been stressed out of his mind about Kori and their incoming baby. A human and tamaranean hybrid had never been born before. There was a lot of worry about a miscarriage or genetic deformities in Kori’s first trimester.
“Yeah, don’t worry, after what happened earlier, I can get it,” Flash said, grabbing a snack from the cabinets.
“Is he okay though?” Superman said, “I mean I know that pregnancy isn’t a fun ride sometimes, but his nausea was really violent earlier. And it seemed to take everyone, even you, by shock.”
Bruce reached down and began to comb his fingers through Dick’s hair, “There were a few other factors that contributed to today’s episode, some of which he didn’t tell me about. But I think he’s through the worst of it.”
Bruce still set up the bat-bucket next to the couch…Just in case.
“Sorry if we’re being weird about this,” Flash said, “It’s just you didn’t seem to have this much issue with your pregnancy. Kinda scary.”
“We faced down Darkside…and you are calling someone in a meeting throwing up scary?” Bruce said, “Now, I won’t judge you too much for it, I was panicking too, but I’ve had the reaction since Nightwing was reborn, and you aren’t his parent.”
“Okay, that’s a point,” Flash said, “I might not be his parent but he’s my friend, bats.”
“Hn…Anyway, to answer your question. My recent experience, seemed milder due to the fact I’d been through it multiple time previously. I know what makes the process more bearable for me. This is Nightwing’s first, there’s going to be trial and error.”
Superman nodded.
Dick stirred; the tuff of black hair that was the young man’s head swiveled to look up with bleary eyes.
He blinked a few times, but for slurring, “Who kidnapped us?”
Bruce snorted, “No one chum.”
“Why do I feel like shit then?”
“You got sick earlier. What hurts now?”
“My head and stomach mostly,” Dick murmured, seemingly almost asleep again.
Bruce warbled, and went back to stroking his eldest’s hair. Dick breath shifted, deepening with unconsciousness.
“He’s really out of it, huh?” Superman said.
“He just spent the last four hours curled up on our quarter’s bathroom floor. He needs the sleep,” Bruce said.
“Well, if he’s up to it,” Superman said, “My mother made chicken soup this weekend and sent me home with way too many left overs. He can have a broth bowl. I know how he’s been snacking, and well it would be easier on his stomach then cereal, or something else.”
Bruce nodded, fully understanding. Dick never really had the healthiest of snacking habits, which was partially due to the young adult still figuring out how to actually cook, and partially because Bruce had encouraged the cereal addiction when Dick was small and Bruce was ignorant about proper children nutrition. His desire to help Dick feel at home in the manor, spiraled until his eldest had at least six boxes of cereal in his apartment and four in the cave/manor at all times.
Not mention in his son’s incredibly dramatic quest to keep up the pregnancy scam, Dick had been experimenting with foods, only making his snacking habits worse. The last lunch featured rice in ranch, and Dick had claimed it was pretty good…if only Dick hadn’t used rice that was cooked a couple weeks ago to make it…hence food poisoning.
Dick did actually take up the chicken broth, once he woke up properly, and Bruce was sure he wasn’t nauseated anymore. His son decided it was a good idea to tear up while eating it…why was his house full of theater kids?
“Nightwing?” Superman said, “Is everything okay? I’m sorry I thought it would be easier for you to eat.”
Dick sniffled, why was it just as effective as it had been when he was a kid? “No. No. Sorry. The soup is delicious. It just…hormones…you know?”
“Yeah, don’t worry about,” Superman said.
Yup, Bruce couldn’t deny it anymore. He had a house fully of theater kids, and he could only blame himself.
Dick couldn’t honestly believe how easily the League, the freaking Justice League, fell for his little antics. Granted they fell for Bruce’s pretending, but Bruce never got free food out of it.
Ever since the food poisoning incident, that no one (B and Grandpa especially) let him for get about, the world superheroes seemingly made it their passive mission to never let Dick cook/feed himself.
Over the passed few weeks, he had received several home cooked meals, of all kinds. Rice and chicken. Green beans. Meat loafs. Several kinds of baked desserts. And a remarkable number of pies, made by Superman’s mother, whom Dick suspected sold her own soul to the same cooking god that Alfred had. Now, Dick was grateful for this all this TLC, but these guys were seriously over estimating how much he could actually eat. Thankfully, his siblings and actually pregnant fiancé were happy to make sure all these gifts didn’t go to waste.
Clark was having a very calm day, actually.
Jon was doing well in school. Perry had had enough coffee this morning to keep him from flipping his lid about deadlines that were still two weeks away. He and Lois successfully pulled off having a very romantic evening last night. Even Lex was still too busy dealing with lawyers from his last escapade to cause any issues.
It was a good day.
“Okay if you try to stand up again. I’m going to shoot your other leg!”
“Aren’t you supposed to be nice to me?”
And Clark spoke too soon.
The man of steel stopped in his tracks and turned towards Batman’s quarters. Every one had a small apartment on the Watchtower, but they rarely were in use unless someone was just completely wiped out from a recent mission and needed to crash. These room were at their fullest after alien invasions, or other world ending scenarios. The only people who really used these rooms the most, were the lanterns who most likely didn’t have houses on planet.
Batman, almost never used his. So why, were two of his sons, Nightwing, and…Clark thought the second voice belonged to Red Hood. Batman’s second reborn if he remembered correctly. Which was odd…Hood rarely ever came up to the Tower. From what Clark understood, the younger bat had established his own territory with in Gotham and defended it on his own. So, he was too busy to deal with League issues.
Why was he up here?
Curiosity, got the better of Clark and before he realized it he was knocking on Batman’s door.
Hood opened it, “What?” the mechanical voice growled.
“Is everything okay in here?” Clark said.
“Oh, it’s fine, just making sure, Goldie doesn’t oh I don’t know aggravate his injuries!” Hood said turning to look back into the room.
Clark followed Hood’s whited out gaze, and nearly choked. Nightwing was sitting at the small table next to the apartment’s kitchenette. The young hero’s right leg was propped up on a second chair, his entire thigh wrapped in white medical bandages, and foot in a black cast. His left arm was also in a sling.
“What happened?!” Clark said shoving his way into the room.
“Got shot,” Nightwing said.
“Then he fell off a roof,” Hood said, snickering, “It was hilarious!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, muck it up little wing,” Nightwing said.
Hood was laughing. Why was he laughing? His brother got shot and fell of a roof, while pregnant. How is this funny?
“Please!” Hood exclaimed, “The universe has decided it was time to remind everyone that you aren’t perfect. Let me relish in this.”
Well, Clark never has had sibling rivalry so he can’t be the judge of just how bad Hood’s comments were, but he didn’t agree with them. Still not his place to correct. He’d just tell Batman later.
“Are you okay?” Clark said.
Nightwing waved him off with his good hand, “I’m fine, not the worst thing to happen on patrol.”
“You’re still going on patrol?” Clark said.
“Uh, yeah,” Nightwing said.
“Why are you still on patrol? Hasn’t Batman told you to stop yet?” Clark said.
Nightwing looked confused.
“Why would Dad…no better yet, how would you suggest that Dad stop Wing from going on patrol?” Hood said, “That’s a near impossible task. Trust me.”
Clark turned to Hood, “Because your brother is pregnant?”
“Oh, that’s not an excuse. Dad had suffered far worse on patrol while expecting,” Hood said, “besides, he was going stir-crazy. Had to let out that energy somehow before brought the batcave crashing down.”
“I was not stir-crazy!” Nightwing said, “I was excited. For the first time in months, I hadn’t woken up with nausea. That meant I was finally progressing regarding the baby. I wanted Batburger to celebrate.”
“And in the end screwed up a mugging rescue,” Hood said.
“We all screw up!” Nightwing near shouted.
“Wait, wait,” Clark interjected, “Batman went on patrol while pregnant? I thought he was only doing League work?”
“Yeah,” Nightwing said.
“All the time,” Hood said, “He broke his back, when he was carrying Robin,” Hood turned to his brother, “Remember?”
“Oh yeah, he couldn’t walk for the rest of the carrying. Grandpa had to take up patrol duties, so the rogues didn’t get any ideas,” Nightwing said.
Clark left the room after that, suddenly far more impressed that Batman managed to keep himself alive, much more all of his children, with such poor preservation skills.
And he would wonder why the two young vigilantes were laughing so hard…
Dick traced his fingers over the rim of the pearly white baby crib. The excitement that bubbled up in his chest, made it feel like he was about to explode into a rainbow that was made of sprinkles…that was an odd description, but no less accurate for it.
1 month. That was all he had to wait, and he and Kori would be parents. The smile that stretched across his face could never be big enough.
Dick flicked the mobile above the crib, making it spin. The little bells on each of the little hanging robins (his siblings though they were being funny but he just found it endearing) chiming gently. Soon the robins’ song would be soothing his child to sleep…or make them laugh hysterically…or scared them to death…really depended on the kid’s temperament.
1 month.
“Dinner’s ready.”
Dick looked up finding Bruce at the nursey door.
“I’ll be down in a second,” Dick smiled, “This is really happening.”
“Yes, it is,” Bruce said, walking to stand at Dick’s side.
“Once more I need to thank you, for letting us set up in the manor, just until we find an apartment,” Dick said.
“Dick, you are always welcome here, and Kori and the baby by extension,” Bruce said.
“Are you really that excited to have a grand bat crawling around?” Dick said.
“This is the one child in the manor that I am allow to spoil. I’ve been watching your grandfather doing that for the past few years, it’s my turn,” Bruce said.
“Do you really not have any advice that could help me?” Dick said.
“Not until the kid is able to walk and talk do I think my advice would be relevant,” Bruce said.
“Great, I’ll ask Grandpa then.”
“Dick, you’re going to be fine. You’re going to make mistakes, but you can only learn from them. And you remember where I messed up and can adjust accordingly.”
Dick snorted.