Archive of Our Own

“Hey Baba, can you pass me my ectoplasm?”

It took a moment for Danny to fully comprehend what he’d just said. He held his hand out, wondering what was taking Bruce so long to pass him the black and green kettle Alfred kept his ectoplasmic tea in. Once it hit, he whipped his gaze towards Bruce, finding the man staring just as dumbly back. The rest of the table had frozen with them. Damian paused in cutting his fried tofu, eyebrow raised. Steph had her fork halfway to her mouth. Cass held a hand over her mouth, hiding what Danny could guess was probably a smile of some sort. Jason gaped, his gaze swinging between Danny and Bruce.

The moments stretched on, Danny still with his hand stupidly stretched out and Bruce’s gaze unfocused as his brain seemed to forcibly reboot itself. Should he just repeat the question? But everyone had already heard him. Maybe if he just acted like it was no big deal—

“Baba?” Jason’s grin grew wide and wolfish, and Danny realized that he would never be able to live this down. Leaning forward, Jason’s eyes glinted with fresh blackmail material as he glanced between Danny and Bruce. “Aw, does Baby Spooks want his milkies from his baba?”

A flush traveled up Danny’s neck, and he glared at Jason. “Shut up, Jason.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” Damn it, it seemed that Jason was going to milk this for all it was worth. “Didn’t realize you were such a daddy’s boy. Gonna start asking for Baba to tuck you in at night?”

“Stop being an ass. It’s not that funny.” Danny tossed a dinner roll at Jason’s head, scowling deeper when Jason just caught the roll.

Taking a bite, Jason spoke through his chewing. “Actually, it is. This is the funniest shit I’ve had the joy of experiencing in the past week. I should come by for family dinners more often if I’m going to get free entertainment out of it.”

Maybe Danny could do something to Jason’s next bottle of ectoplasm as revenge? No, that was too cruel. Something to embarrass him during patrol then. “You literally have no leg to stand on, you called Bruce Dad last week.”

“At least ‘dad’ is a respectable, grown up thing to call him.” Jason leaned back, eyes sharp as he dared Danny to try and mention the slip up one more time. “Didn’t realize when we were getting a new baby of the family that meant literally. You gonna need your baba to cut up your noodles and change your diaper for you, Spooks?”

“Hey, lay off him a bit, Jason,” Steph piped up, rocketing her way up in Danny’s good books. She leaned forward, her own smile glinting under the dining room lights. “I think it’s cute that he calls Bruce ‘baba’. It’s only fitting after Bruce literally carried him like a fussy toddler last patrol.”

And now Danny had both Steph and Jason on his shit list. His twin was no help, having gone back to his dinner. Cass just kept smiling at Danny, some sort of knowing look in her eyes that made him want to hide out in the Zone forever. Leaning back, Danny crossed his arms. “You just lost Ghost Zone privileges.”

“What! Come on, Danny, that’s not fair!” Steph pouted, throwing her arms in the air. “Don’t punish me for speaking the truth.”

Jason smirked. “Yeah, Spooks. Just cause you’re having a little tantrum doesn’t mean you should take it out on Steph and me. Maybe you should go crying to your Baba.”

Danny grabbed his steak knife. “You want to go, Jason?”

Scooching his chair back, Jason pulled out a pistol (so much for Alfred’s “no weapons at the table” rule). “Bring it, kid.”

Bruce cleared his throat and smacked his hand against the table. “That’s enough, all of you.” Danny and Jason continued their stand off for a few more moments. Huffing, Danny lowered his steak knife. Jason shoved his pistol back into his holster, smirking at the clear victory.

“Thank you,” Bruce said, “Now.” Grabbing the ectoplasmic tea kettle, he handed it down to Danny. “Here’s your tea…” An awkward pause that lasted for far too long settled in the air as Bruce’s face scrunched and twisted. “… son.”

That sent Jason, Steph, and Cass laughing again as Danny realized that he was now drowning in the awkwardness of the moment. He wished the floor would just open up and swallow him whole. Then maybe he could avoid the lost puppy look Bruce was throwing around the room and the raucous laughter of his siblings. Damian seemed determined to just ignore the moment, the bastard. Danny was stuck.

… actually, maybe not. Grabbing the kettle and his mug, Danny went intangible. He relished the round of gasps as he sank down through his chair and the carpeted floors before finally ending up in the bat cave proper. He let his intangibility go, floating over to the bat computer with his tea. Maybe he could look through the files Bruce had started compiling on the Ghost Zone while he waited for the rest of his family to finish dinner. Alfred would make sure to keep Danny’s leftover’s warm.

He just had to make sure he didn’t let his tongue slip like that again.

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Bruce stared unseeing at the presentation Green Lantern was giving.

Moments like these, he appreciated having decided on a cowl for his vigilante suit. It made it that much harder for his fellow Justice Leaguers to call him out on not paying proper attention. After all, for all they knew he was simply studying the green holographic diagrams intently while the words went in one ear and out the other.

A part of him felt guilty for not paying more attention. Intergalactic politics was just as important to pay attention to, and the Lantern corp. had a premiere (if at times biased) look into what their alien allies and enemies were doing and thinking. Bruce knew later on he’d be kicking himself and reviewing the recording of the presentation along with his other usual documents. However he simply could not bring himself to focus.

As the Justice League broke for “lunch”, Bruce pat himself on the back for avoiding detection. He’d just have to try harder to pay attention to the conversation when they reconvened. He could easily glean wahatever information was missed there.

A hand clapped on his shoulder, and Bruce turned to see Clark smiling at him. “Hey Batman,” Clark said, “I noticed you were a little distracted back there. What’s on your mind?”

Oh great. If Clark knew he was distracted then Bruce clearly hadn’t been as stealthy as he thought. Grunting, he grabbed a coffee and protein bar before finding his corner of the Justice League cafeteria to sulk in. “I wasn’t distracted.”

Clark smirked and grabbed himself an apple. “Sure, sure. So nothing going on back home? Some big case that’s taking up most of your time?” Bruce sipped at his coffee, keeping himself purposefully still. Clark’s gaze felt heavy, as if he were using his x-ray vision to try and determine just what was floating around Bruce’s head. Clark leaned forward, his blue-scout blue eyes jumping as he took in every detail of Bruce’s posture.

“Is everything going okay with the family?” Clark tried again, his smile growing bright as Bruce’s mouth twitched. “How are the kids?”

Bruce weighed his options. Clark clearly wanted to know exactly what was going on in Bruce’s brain. He’d seen the man work his civilian job often enough to know that he would chase a lead to the end of the earth before he gave up on it. Bruce had been doomed the moment he garnered Clark’s attention. However, was that such a bad thing?

Clark was also a father. Kon and Jonathan both had relatively amicable relationships with their father. While he might not have the exact experiences, he could possibly offer Bruce some insight. Though, the thought of having to rely on Clark for advice on how to parent made his skin itch.

The pros outweighed the cons, and if there were anyone Bruce would lay down his dignity for, it was his children. Taking a long sip of his coffee, Bruce avoided Clark’s gaze as he said, “Danny called me ‘dad’ for the first time last night.”

Face lighting up, Clark practically beamed at Bruce. “Oh congratulations, Bruce! That’s amazing!”

“Hn.” Bruce stared down at the swirling coffee in his cup.

Clark slowly dimmed until his brow furrowed and he looked closer to a kicked puppy than a concerned friend. “Do you not agree?”

Oh that absolutely was not the problem. “I’m ecstatic. However, I don’t think I reacted appropriately.”

It was a bit amusing how animated Clark could be. His face clearly displayed his thoughts, confusion reigning supreme as he continued to frown at Bruce. “What do you mean?”

“When Danny called me ‘dad’, it was during dinner.” Bruce took another sip of his coffee, pacing himself. “A few of the kids were over, and they all started teasing him over it.”

“Why would they tease him?” Clark set aside his uneaten apple. “Most of your kids have called you ‘dad’ at least once a piece, right? It shouldn’t be that embarrassing for him to do the same.”

Oh it would have been so much easier if that were the case. Though, Bruce doubted that Danny would have been teased any less if he had called him ‘dad’ instead. “Danny didn’t call me ‘dad’.”

“That doesn’t make sense, you literally just said he called you dad last night.”

Bruce cleared his throat. “Technically he did call me a version of dad. So I wasn’t lying when I said he called me dad.”

“Look, Bruce, I can’t help you if you don’t give me all of the information.” Clark leaned forward. “What exactly did Danny call you?”

Oh Bruce hated how Clark was pushing, but he was absolutely right. Bruce knew how hard it was to plan for missions on limited information. He had to be honest with Clark. He wasn’t even embarrassed. Not by the name itself, no. Rather, he could still hear Jason, Steph, and Cass giggling at Danny’s slip. He wasn’t embarrassed, but Clark would surely think so if he continued to hesitated like he was.

“… Baba. He called me ‘Baba’.”

For a moment, Bruce braced for laughter. He had a million and one quips, better responses that he should have given the night before while his brain was still processing the fact that Danny had called him Baba. Had looked at all of his flaws and all of the times he’d failed him as a father and still found him worthy of such a precious title.

Instead of laugher, Clark’s face once again beamed as bright as the sun. “Oh Bruce, that’s wonderful! I can remember when Jon used to still call me ‘Daddy’. He says he’s too old to be calling me something so childish.”

“Jason seems to think that Danny calling me Baba is also too childish.” Really, Bruce should have stopped the teasing after the first jab. There was no way Danny would ever feel comfortable calling him anything other than Bruce after that fiasco. He’d been gifted one of the most precious things by his child and he’d already blew it.

Clark’s expression sobered. “Ah, so that’s what the kids were teasing him about.” He leaned back, his expression as neutral as he could make it as he studied Bruce. “How did you react?”

And that had been the problem hadn’t it. “… I froze up.”

What did it say about Bruce that Clark didn’t look the least bit surprised. “You never expected him to call you baba, did you?”

“Of course not.” Bruce tore open his protein bar. “I missed 15 years of his life. I only found out he existed via a summoning ritual, and then the first time I saw him he was bleeding out and being dragged into the bat cave’s med bay for emergency surgery. I have done nothing to earn the title of baba from him.”

“Okay, putting aside your guilt complex for a second.” Bruce needed to have words with whoever taught Clark that term. “Let’s ignore whether you deserve to be called baba or not. Because frankly, Bruce, that’s not up to you to decide.”

Bruce grunted. “That still doesn’t erase the fact that I reacted poorly to him expressing such trust.”

“I’m getting there.” Clark leveled Bruce with a stern gaze. “Firstly, no matter what you think you did wrong, Danny clearly thinks of you as his baba. That’s not a normal kind of slipup. If he called you baba, then he’s probably been thinking of you as ‘baba’ for a good while. You don’t get to decide for him if he can call you baba or not. Clearly, he’s already made his choice.

“Secondly, you said you froze up when he first called you baba?” Clark waited for Bruce to nod. “Okay, but did you do anything else? After you got over the whole freeze up.”

Ah, yes, the interaction that had made his son literally sink into the floor. “I called him ‘son’. He left the dining room after that.”

“Were the others still laughing?” Clark really was letting his journalistic skills lead the conversation. Bruce nearly wanted to roll his eyes at the thought of the Batman being interrogated, but he might be getting actual advice on how to deal with Danny calling him baba.

Taking a bite of his protein bar, Bruce responded, “yes, the others were still laughing. I believe they were laughing more at my awkwardness than Danny at that point.”

“But you don’t think Danny saw it that way?”

“No, he wouldn’t have left the room if he hadn’t.” Bruce thought he would have been used to Danny’s displays of power since he’d been living with them for almost four months, but he wasn’t too proud to admit that his heart had dropped into his stomach when he saw Danny begin to sink into the floor. Steph making a joke about Danny letting the floor swallow him whole and the alert that somebody had started working on the bat-computer eased the worries that had started to crop up.

Clark nodded, taking in the information Bruce had given him. “Disregarding the whole ‘I’m not worthy of the title’ stuff you were spouting earlier, you enjoy Danny calling you baba, right?”

Bruce nodded. Of course he did. He loved when any of his kids saw fit to call him any form of ‘dad’.

“So then the problem isn’t that Danny is calling you baba, the problem is you’re worried he won’t do it again.” Clark folded his hands, his elbow nudging the long forgotten apple as he stared Bruce down.

Oh it physically pained him to say that Clark was right. Why would Danny ever show that kind of vulnerability again if he was just going to get mocked for it? “I doubt he wants to endure ridicule from his siblings over something as insignificant as a nickname.”

“But you didn’t ridicule him.”

Bruce frowned. What did that matter? “He was still laughed at for attempting to be vulnerable like that.”

Clark shook his head. “But you weren’t the one laughing. You said that after he called you baba, you froze for a few moments before trying to reciprocate by calling him ‘son’, right?”

“Which clearly embarrassed him further—”

“Ah bup bup!” Clark held up a hand. “Not the point. The point is that you, the baba in question, did not reject him or him calling you baba. Instead you tried to let him know that you accepted the name by calling him something similar in return.”

Even if Clark was right, that didn’t erase the fact that Danny still ran away. No matter what kind of “reciprocation” Bruce had initiated, Danny still fled the dining room in embarrassment. “He’s never going to call me that again, so I shouldn’t be worrying about it.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You didn’t see how he looked when he literally fled the dining room.”

“Bruce.” Clark’s tone forced Bruce to look over. His friend looked all too serious, as if he were trying to convince an unruly child that the monsters under their bed truly were not out to get them. Bruce supposed he had been compared to such a child at times, described as stubborn and bullheaded to a fault. However, there wasn’t just that sternness in his friend’s expression. Bruce’s eyes were soft, empathetic in a way that screamed that he understood.

“Bruce,” Clark started again, “the first few times Kon called me dad, I literally flew out of the room.”

Huh. Bruce hadn’t been aware that Kon referred to Clark as his dad in any sense. He kept his focus on Clark, trying to show how attentive he could be.

Clark continued, “I thought for sure it was some kind of fluke. A slip of the tongue like when you call your teacher ‘mom’. However, it kept happening.” He shifted, his expression turning fond. “Kon kept calling me dad. He’ll never admit it to anyone else, but it’s common for him to refer to me as dad when it’s just family.”

He could see where this was going. “You think Danny will continue to refer to me as Baba.”

Clark smiled. “I know he’ll keep calling you baba. Maybe it might become a private thing between you two, maybe he’ll switch to calling you baba full time. However that turns out, I know that this isn’t just a one time thing.”

There was no way Clark could be so sure. His evidence was anecdotal based on a singular case study. It was far more likely for Danny to resume calling Bruce by his name rather than any sort of nickname. To believe that Danny would continue to call Bruce baba, continue to bless him with that nickname, was foolish. Still, Bruce found himself saying, “what do I do if he calls me Baba again?”

“You don’t make a big deal out of it.” Bruce raised an unseen eyebrow as Clark smiled at him. “Whenever I had a big reaction to Kon, it just made things worse. If you have a big reaction to Danny, then it’s just going to discourage him and make him feel uncomfortable. While him calling you baba is a big deal, you can’t let him know you think it is. He’s being vulnerable with you, so you need to make it safe for him to call you baba and have that not be a crisis every time.”

How completely unhelpful. Bruce had tried to be nonchalant about it, and his own rigidness had prevented him from helping Danny when he was clearly overwhelmed by his sibling’s teasing. Bruce wouldn’t even be given another chance to put this advice into practice.

His Justice League comm began ringing. Bruce frowned. Most of the League’s main members were at the Watchtower. What could possibly be happening that they needed Batman specifically? He clicked answer, leaving it on speaker in case Superman could be of help. “This is Batman, what’s the emergency?”

“Hey Baba!” Danny’s cheery voice filtered through the staticky comms. Bruce could feel his thoughts crashing into one another as Clark smirked at him in the smuggest most asshole way. “I’m not interrupting your League meeting, am I?”

Bruce still felt like he was reeling from the fact that Danny so easily called him baba. Clark kicked him under the table, not even bothering to completely hold back his super strength. His shin was going to bruise now. Asshole. “No, Danny, you didn’t interrupt. Is something going on in Gotham?”

“Not anything too important—” Bruce could hear the sizzle of one of Danny’s ectoblasts as a scream rang out in the background. “—just normal patrol stuff. I actually called because I have a question.”

A question. Bruce supposed his other children had already called him for a million inane reasons while he’d been on missions. Danny calling while he was having a break was simply par for the course. “What is it?”

“Is the Watchtower actually orbiting Earth in Space right now or is that just a cover to hide the fact that it’s at the top of Mt. Everest?” Another scream rang out as Danny grunted into the comm, sounding like he was dodging something.

Bruce frowned. Where did he…? “The Watchtower is actually in orbit, yes. The idea that the Watchtower is hiding in Mt. Everest is nothing but a rumor.”

He could practically hear Danny’s excitedly flapping hands. “Really? Like, actually, really? You mean you’re in actual space right now?”

The other Leaguers were leaving the room. He and Clark should begin leaving too, but Bruce really didn’t want to cut Danny off when he sounded so genuinely interested. “Yes, Danny, I’m in actual space. I can send you some pictures when we next get a break if you’d like?”

The comm squealed, crackling with ice and glitching before Danny’s voice returned. Clark glanced at Bruce, mildly horrified, but Bruce took his son’s enthusiasm in stride. “That’s so cool! I can’t believe you’re in actual space! What type of orbit are you guys in? Are you geosynchronous or something else? Are you guys near any other satellites? What do the stars look like out there? Can you see any of the constellations like you can on Earth? What am I saying, of course you can’t. Ancients, you’re in actual space!” The sounds of a fight continued on as Danny rambled, the sounds of his ice and ectoblasts interspersing his rapid fire questioning.

The whole exchange had Bruce’s heart melting, but he couldn’t stay on the line. “I need to get back into my meeting now, Danny. I’ll answer all of your questions when I get home.” An idea popped into his head, and Bruce spoke before he could doubt himself, “I can take you with me next time the Justice League has a meeting.”

The sound of fighting stopped with a sudden crackle of ice. Bruce worried for a moment before Danny’s voice trickled out of the comm. “You’re serious? I could come with?”

How had Bruce not taken him sooner? Ignoring the fond look Clark was sending his way, Bruce felt his own soft smile light up his face. “I’m serious. Next time the Justice League has a meeting at the Watchtower, I’ll take you with me.” All of his other children had visited the Watchtower after all. It would only be fair to take Danny along on a trip.

Another squeal, this time high pitched and piercing as Clark and Bruce flinched away from the technology. It stuttered out before being replaced by Danny saying, “Thank you, thank you, thank you so much! You’re the best baba ever! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Something warm and gooey pooled in Bruce’s chest. “Of course, Danny. Now, I need to get going. I’ll see you at home after your patrol.”

Danny took a breath, the first one Bruce had heard him take the whole conversation. “Right, right. See you after patrol! Love you!”

“I love you too, Danny. Be safe.”

“You too!”

Smile still on his face, Bruce hung up the comms device. He slid it into his pocket, looking up to see Clark looking all kinds of smug and fond. Settling fully back into his Batman persona, Bruce glared. “Not a word.”

Clark threw his hands up. “I didn’t say anything!”

Bruce rolled his eyes. As if his friend could resist gossiping with J’onn during the meeting. Downing the last cold dregs of his coffee and shoving the rest of his protein bar into his mouth. He threw his trash away, swallowing the half-chewed granola and nuts so he could school himself back into the intimidating figure of one of the Justice League’s founding members.

He promptly ignored J’onn and Clark’s frequent glances between each other and him. That was fine. They could make a spectacle however they wanted. Bruce allowed his own affection for his youngest to simmer in the background as he caught up on what Green Lantern ahd presented on.

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

“I still do not understand what it is that you are so embarrassed about. Father is our father, it is only natural that you would call him a title denoting such,” Damian said as he held Danny’s hand carefully in his, “and stop squirming so much! You will make me smudge your nails.”

To be honest, Danny hadn’t expected Damian to take to painting his nails as much as he did. Jazz had never been a nail painting girl, but Sam had frequently invited Danny and Tucker to paint their nails black with her. When he offered up the activity as a potential option for Demon Twin Thursdays, he’d expected Damian to turn up his nose and decry the activity as beneath him.

Yet, here he sat with Damian painting blob ghosts and mini ghost portals on his nails. Damian’s own nails were a mess of colors, Danny’s pitiful attempts at recreating the block color look Damian had gravitated towards staring back at him. He supposed nail painting would have to be a more regular activity with how Damian took to it. He’d have to practice though so he didn’t get nail polish all over Damian’s skin and flood in his cuticles.

Danny forced himself to still as he pouted at his twin. “It’s literally the most embarrassing thing, Dami. I called Bruce Baba on patrol! In front of Two Face! I’m never going to be able to live it down!”

“Again, it is natural to refer to our father as our father.” Damian kept his gaze focused on the tiny brush strokes he was making, recreating the swirling skies of the Ghost Zone with startling accuracy.

“Okay, but you call him father which is like the most respectful and pretentious way to call someone your dad.” Danny resisted the urge to wave his hands around to properly demonstrate his conundrum. “Like, calling him dad isn’t the problem. The problem is I called him baba.”

Damian paused to raise an eyebrow at Danny. “Isn’t that the same thing as calling him dad?”

Danny pouted harder. “Of course it isn’t! Calling him baba is like calling him Daddy or Papa or Dada or something. It’s a kiddie term.”

“Then why don’t you just call him dad if it bothers you so much?”

Danny felt his throat close up. Why didn’t he call Bruce dad? That seems like it would be the logical choice. After all, Danny had been pretty Americanized by the time he reached Wayne Manor. He had no issue calling the Fentons ‘mom’ and ‘dad’. If he wanted to call Bruce dad then why didn’t he just call him dad?

He could feel the answer just at the back of his mind, sharp and slimy and ready to make him bleed. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. He’d come back to that thought later. For now, he opened his eyes and looked back at the art his twin was creating on his fingers.

“It just… Calling him dad doesn’t feel right.” It was a lame excuse, one he knew that Damian would normally not have taken, but his twin nodded along nonetheless.

Capping the green, Damian grabbed the white nail polish and an impossibly thin brush. “But calling him ‘baba’ feels correct?”

It did, and part of Danny hated that it did. There was a certain safety calling Bruce Baba in his mind. A lack of judgement or rejection or any other complication that could come from him so directly labeling Bruce. The question of if he was taking this too fast also popped into his head. He had only known Bruce for four months. Surely it’d take much longer for him to grow attached, right? Sure, he’d introduced him as his dad to Frostbite, but that was just factual. Bruce was his biological dad as well as his current guardian. It’d make sense to refer to him as such.

But calling him baba to his face… Acknowledging the relationship in a less logical way… Danny wondered if Bruce thought Danny was just jumping from one parental unit to the next. Desperate to get some form of affection, trying to find that stability that he had lost (or maybe never truly had). Bruce was kind to Danny, so maybe a part of Danny figured this would be proper repayment. To acknowledge that he saw the effort Bruce was making and wanted to reward him for this.

The thought nearly made him snort. Him calling Bruce Baba a reward? Yeah right. Bruce had seemed so uncomfortable the first time Danny had dared to utter the term out loud. Surely, his call during his patrol was simply Bruce humoring him. There was no way Danny was just suddenly okay with calling Bruce anything other than Bruce. He needed to slow down and think.

(He’d called the Fentons ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ from day one. They tried to reassure him that it wasn’t necessary, that they would be more than fine if he called them Jack and Maddie for the rest of their lives, but they’d introduced themselves as his new mom and dad. It would help his cover if he called them mom and dad, and they looked so pleased whenever he’d call them by their parental titles. It was awkward at first, but it became easier with time. Danny hadn’t realized there’d be a day when calling them mom and dad would become awkward again.)

“If it feels correct to call him baba then call him baba.” Damian stated, bringing Danny back out of his thoughts. His strokes were delicate yet quick as he added white highlights to the ghost zone on his nails. “If Todd continues to poke fun at you over it then I will be more than happy to take care of him.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Jason and the rest of our siblings can’t make fun of me over it forever. Not when there’s still the active ‘called Bruce dad on patrol’ counter going.” Last he checked, Dick was still in the lead, though Damian had been catching up. He shifted, ignoring the glare from Damian that told him clearly to stop fidgeting. “I’m pretty sure Bruce is uncomfortable with me calling him Baba.”

Damian paused to give Danny a deadpan stare. “You cannot be serious.”

“How else do you describe the look he gave me?” Danny stilled as Damian maneuvered his hand, gripping it tight so he had a steady hold on his thumb. “He literally froze up at dinner. Clearly he doesn’t want me calling him baba.”

“You are taking our father’s lack of social skills and general social awareness to mean that he disliked you calling him baba?” Damian twisted Danny’s wrist, and okay this had to be payback for his comment because there was no way Damian needed to put him in such an uncomfortable position to get all of the required details in.

Dipping his brush into the white, Damian continued his detail work. “Father tried to reciprocate, did he not? He also did not scold you for not using our vigilante names when you called him during patrol last night.”

Heat rose in Danny’s cheeks. “Okay yeah, but—”

“But nothing.” Damian raised Danny’s hand, deeming it done before moving to his other hand. “You are being foolish if you think that Father would not be ecstatic to have you calling him baba on a regular basis. Jonathan informed me that apparently our father spoke to his for advice surrounding this exact situation.”

“Bruce talked to Superman about it?!” Danny groaned. “Kill me now.”

Damian kicked him. “Even if I did, you would still be a ghost. Death cannot save you now.”

“I think I missed when you were angsty about me being dead,” Danny grumbled.

Rolling his eyes, Damian switched back to the green nail polish, adding a whole new set of blob ghosts and Ghost Zone skies. “Suffer. Either way, Jonathan made it clear that Father was quite pleased to be called Baba, but worried that you would feel too embarrassed after Todd so rudely ridiculed you for it.”

“You didn’t help in that situation, by the way. I thought it was twin duty to make sure we have each other’s backs.”

“If you were truly upset then you would have been able to dish back twice as hard as they gave.” Damian finished his last stroke of green, reaching once again for the white as he blew gently on Danny’s nails. “Besides, I seem to remember you grabbing a steak knife despite Alfred having a strict no fighting at the dinner table rule.”

“Jason broke the rule first by bringing a pistol to dinner,” Danny mumbled, frowning as he stared at Damian’s handiwork.

Damian snorted. “Which would have done more to damage the dining room than yourself. Unless you managed to conveniently forget that you could go intangible again.”

Oof, okay, so maybe Damian was still a bit upset about the whole getting shot in the chest thing. Still, it seemed a theme that Danny kept interpreting Bruce’s concern as distaste. Maybe if he kept fighting Damian on it, he’d get his twin to admit that him calling Bruce Baba was weird. However, Danny really didn’t want to start another fight. Especially not on Demon Twin Thursday.

“What did Jon think about the whole baba thing?” Danny glanced away as Damian looked up with a question in his eyes.

The two stayed silent for a moment, Damian finishing his detail work. “He was more curious as to if I had ever called Father ‘baba’ before.”

Oh, that was a good question. “Have you?”

“No.” Damian’s response was honest, but Danny still felt the ache that a blunt answer left on his core. “We were taught that it was improper to refer to our father as anything but Father, after all.”

“Do you still think that?” Danny shifted so he was sitting on his knees, the best substitute he could think of to curling around them when he couldn’t move his hands for risk of death by nail brush. “That calling Bruce baba is improper.”

Another eye roll. “Obviously not. While I still would like to show Father respect, I have come to realize that terms of endearment are not the sign of weakness that the League seemed so determined to train out of us.”

Ah. Shit. Spite against the bullshit the League had drilled into them licked at Danny’s core. What better way to say ‘fuck you’ than to wholeheartedly embrace a term of endearment for their father? Still, Danny felt hesitance crawl up his throat. Damian and Bruce clearly were just lying about their comfort, trying to lure Danny into that false sense of security before ripping his newfound vulnerability away from him.

Danny bit at his tongue. Stupid. As if Damian would ever deliberately hurt him like that. Even Bruce had shown time and time again that he cared about Danny first and foremost. There was no way they’d turn this against him.

Damian hummed as he finished painting on the top coat. “Finished.”

Danny finally pulled his hands from Damian’s grip. On his thumbs, a swirling portal to the ghost zone sparkled up at him, Damian having added some sort of sparkly top coat before the final layer. Across his nails, blob ghosts floated against a dark black background, ending with a smiling little blob on his pinkie nail. Danny whistled as he raised his hands closer to the light.

“Damn, Damian, do you have a secret job as a nail tech that I don’t know about?” He wiggled his fingers, smiling at the way his nails glinted under the lights.

Rolling his eyes, Damian began to put away the nail polishes they’d borrowed from Cass and Steph. “Painting one’s nails is no different than painting with acrylic paints. The canvas is simply smaller.”

There had to be more to it, but Danny wouldn’t question it when he got to wear his twin’s art. “We’ve gotta take pictures. This looks so cool, Damian.”

Oh how his twin preened under the praise. “Of course it does. You should have expected no less.”

Before Danny could respond, a knock echoed through the room. “Boys?” Bruce called, “May I come in?”

“The door’s open!” Danny called back, not wanting to get up and risk ruining Damian’s work.

The bedroom door swung open, revealing Bruce in all his turtlenecked glory. Sure, autumn was around the corner, but Danny couldn’t understand how Bruce could wear a sweater in the late September heat. Bruce looked between the twins. “Am I interrupting?”

Shaking his head, Danny instead held his hands out for Bruce to see. “Nope! We were just painting each other’s nails. Look at what Damian did for mine! Aren’t they cool?”

Bruce gently took Danny’s hands, leaning forward and squinting in the way most dad’s did when analyzing their children’s art. “Very nice,” he said, “is this inspired by the ghost zone?”

Damian nodded. “Danny said to ‘go nuts’. He painted my nails in return.”

Letting go of Danny’s hands, Bruce stepped over to look at Damian’s hand. Danny felt shame bubble up his throat and words spilled out before he could stop them. “I did nowhere near as good as Damian did. I mean, it’s not even anything fancy, it’s just a bunch of colors put together, and I ended up getting a bunch on the skin which you’re not supposed to—”

“It’s a grunge look,” Damian interrupted, head held high as he showed off the red, green, yellow, and black nails, “oftentimes those in alternative scenes will purposefully chip their nail polish or aim for an ‘imperfect’ look. Even if this were not the intention, I could easily clean up the nail polish on the skin surrounding my nail.”

Bruce smiled as he let go of Damian’s hands. “I think it looks lovely. Are the colors supposed to represent your Robin suit?”

“Of course.” Damian settled his hands back in his lap. “Was there something you needed from us, Father?”

Straightening himself, Bruce cleared his throat. “Ah yes, Jason and Dick got called for an unexpected off-planet mission. Damian, would you be able to cover Jason’s patrol tomorrow night?”

Damian frowned. “Of course, but why did he not simply ask me himself?”

“You know how Jason is.” Ah, so he’d been too proud to ask himself. Danny could understand it to a certain extent. Bruce continued, “their communications are also going to be limited due to being off-planet so by the time Dick would have thought to ask they wouldn’t have had a way to contact you.”

Damian and Danny both nodded. “Is there anything else you need?” Danny asked.

Bruce shook his head. “Nope. I’m sorry for interrupting you boys’ hang out time. I’ll see you at dinner then.”

“Okay! Love you, Baba!”

The words left his lips before he could think twice about it. Danny froze, eyes wide as he also saw Bruce stumble for a moment. Time stretched, as if Clockwork had decided to slow it down just for Danny to wallow in his embarrassment. Nerves, questions, and doubts swirled in his core as he waited for Bruce to show something besides the carefully crafted neutrality that seemed to fall onto his face out of instinct.

“Love you, Baba.” Danny whipped towards Damian, mouth agape as he found his twin staring almost defiantly back at Bruce. Damian and sounded much more monotonous, but still confident as he so casually called Bruce Baba. He felt a nudge against his calf, and saw Damian reaching over to nudge him with his foot. Danny supposed Damian wanted to show his support without ruining their hard work painting each others’ nails.

Bruce’s face melted into a smile as he said. “I love you both too.” With that, he closed the door, leaving the twins to their own devices.

Danny turned to Damian. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“Calling Bruce Baba.”

Damian shrugged. “It just felt right.”

Danny’s anxieties melted away as he smiled at his brother. “Thanks.”

Rolling his eyes, Damian bumped shoulders with Danny. “Do not thank me, it was quite literally nothing. Now come on. We need to take pictures and then we can watch this Zoboomafoo show that Foley seems to believe I would greatly enjoy.”

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Danny stared at the ceiling of the lab, vision hazy as he lazily traced the cracks. Mom and Dad had been quiet, fiddling with something that Danny knew he had no hope of seeing. He’d endured enough by now to know that the anticipation never helped. Sometimes it was easier to just let them surprise him with whatever experiment they wished to try that day.

His mom hummed as she began cutting the left leg of his hazmat suit. She peeled the latex off, dropping it in a biohazard container along with the white rubber boots. Funny how he’d been wearing rubber gloves and boots yet still the electricity had seared through him, glove melting into his hand as he screamed and screamed and became unmade and remade and unmade again.

A low hiss filled the room, and mist of some sort began to float around him. It didn’t last long though, dissipating fairly quickly into nothingness. Danny lifted his head, a morbid curiosity filling him despite everything in his core telling him it wasn’t worth it. His dad hobbled over, holding a silver jug that almost seemed like a more metallic version of the water jugs he’d had to haul for the football team once as a detention punishment. The mist billowed out of the top spout, and dread filled his stomach at the way his dad hauled the container onto his table.

“Got the liquid nitrogen ready to go whenever you’re ready, sweetiecakes,” Dad said, his gloves off of his hands for once.

Mom hummed. “Give me a second to grab the stopwatch and we can get started.”

Oh. Danny remembered the safety lecture Mr. Falluca had given when they’d been granted a single tiny cannister of liquid nitrogen to play with. They’d be fine to not wear gloves as long as they immediately shook the nitrogen off. If they let it stay on their hands then they could get frostbite. They’d spent the rest of lab freezing oranges.

With a triumphant grin, Mom pulled out the stopwatch and settled around Danny’s middle. “Ready, sweet fudge!”

Unlike the spray nozzle that they’d been given on science class, the liquid nitrogen in the cannister poured out almost silently. A gasp ripped itself from Danny’s throat as that same mist—nitrogen, he realized—billowed around his leg. Cold, sharp and stinging but manageable, radiated from his shin. It stretched down towards his toes as his dad moved the cannister, pouring more and more and more on him.

The cold began to grow unbearable, painful to the point of a burn as the nitrogen fog began to dissipate. Danny stared at the white growing across his leg, panting as the liquid absorbed into his skin. He’d never thought he’d get to see frostbite spread so quickly before. Black, a dead dark black spread from the middle of his shin, almost as if the liquid nitrogen itself was further soaking into him. He could feel his skin hardening, going dead as the cold seeped into his muscles and the marrow of his bones. He hadn’t realized cold could burn, but oh how it burned.

He stared as the skin just below his knee reddened, almost swelling in comparison to how the blackened skin of his legs shrunk. He tried to move his leg, twitch his foot but it simply laid as dead as his heart. The pain began to fade, the burn receding until Danny was left with a terrifying numb. His mom clicked the stopwatch, her mouth quirked into a pleased grin as she ran a gloved hand down his leg.

“It seems the Leidenfrost effect doesn’t last as long for it as it does for humans.” She tapped on Danny’s shin, marveling at the results. Danny’s breath hitched because he couldn’t feel his leg. He couldn’t feel his leg just like he couldn’t feel his arm when they had cut it off—

His dad grunted and set the jug down, out of Danny’s sight. “Maybe that has something to do with the temperature difference? Its base body temperature is far lower than a human’s typically is.”

Another hum filled the room as his mom fidgeted with his foot. His big toe bent with a cr-cr-crack! Danny stared at the pooling green ectoplasm bleeding through the now open tear along his big toe’s first joint. Crystals formed along the sinewy tissues, his bone shining with his own ectoplasmic ice. His mom just kept pushing, her expression hidden by those stupid fucking goggles as his toe kept creaking and cracking and ectoplasm spilled over his unfeeling skin until finally a loud SNAP run through the lab.

Vomit danced at the back of Danny’s tongue as he stared at his own blackened toe in his mother’s grip. He could hear the ectoplasm drip, drip, dripping but he couldn’t feel anything. Not when his mom had his toe in her grip and he just wanted this all to stop.

“Fascinating. I’ll have to study some of the structures later, see just how similar this form of frostbite is to our own.”

“Wait, Madds—” Dad grabbed Mom’s shoulder, pointing to the empty space where his big toe once laid. “Look at what it’s doing!”

Danny turned his attention back to his foot, wincing as a sharp cold once again shot up his leg. Ice, green and shining, crawled out of the space left behind. His ice shifted, creaking so similarly to his toe earlier yet also scraping against itself as it formed itself into the shape of his missing big toe. Green continued to fill the ice, almost as if it were a blood blister. Danny wondered if it might pop like one.

The green kept spreading, until the ice looked more or less like an ectoplasm-filled rock than his ghostly ice. A sharp crack filled the air, and Danny felt the ice slough off his ectoplasm covered big toe. It ached, oh how it ached, but he wiggled it back and forth as if that would somehow rid it of whatever leftover pain the frostbite had left him with.

His mom and dad stared, open glee on their faces as they poked and prodded at his toe. “Fascinating,” Mom breathed, a smile stretching on her face, “it seems its regeneration methods depend on the injury. Will it regenerate the whole calf and foot if we break it off? Or will it be missing the big toe?”

Dad straightened up. “Only one way to find out.”

Panic poured from his core as his dad bounded up to just below his knee. Bare hands gripped his thigh and the blisters that had begun to form around the deadened skin. Danny hadn’t had skin to skin contact with his dad in ages. His parents never took their gloves off, their hugs and affection always given with a layer of latex between them. A part of him marveled at finally having his dad touch him, to feel the warmth from his large fingers and calloused palms without the squeak or sticky smoothness of rubber.

Fear overpowered that small bit of joy as his dad clenched tighter, veins popping in his hands as he wrenched—

Danny woke screaming. He scrabbled at his leg, feeling below the knee for the bloody blisters popped open by Jack’s firm hand. His scream scraped against his throat, leaving it raw and tingling as he felt nothing but scarred skin beneath his fingertips. He wasn’t given time to breathe as footsteps pounded through the halls.

His bedroom door flew open. Bruce stood, his chest heaving as his bed robe fluttered into stillness. He scanned the room, trying to find the threat before realizing that it was just Danny, clutching at his leg as he sat in the middle of his bed. With three great strides, Bruce crossed the room and knelt in front of Danny, hands hovering as he stared down at the leg. “Are you hurt? What’s wrong? Show me where it hurts, Danny.”

And oh, how the care dripping from Bruce’s tone made his core ache. Danny’s lip trembled as he threw himself at Bruce. Bruce immediately held his arms up, cradling Danny as he continued to try and find the hurt. Danny sobbed, scrabbling at the silk robe. His adrenaline was crashing, and he couldn’t form words out of the wails leaving his mouth.

Finding no injury, Bruce seemed to pause before the realization clicked. “Oh, did you have a nightmare, chum?” Bruce asked with a softened voice. Danny nodded. Bruce cooed, a mournful thing as he lifted Danny up. Danny clung to Bruce as Bruce settled them back in Danny’s bed, beginning to rock him back and forth.

“It’s okay, chum. You’re safe now,” Bruce murmured, planting a kiss on Danny’s head as he rocked him.

Danny hiccupped and whined, burying his face into Bruce’s neck. This should be humiliating. The one night Damian wasn’t there to coddle Danny after a nightmare, he screamed and sent Bruce running. Now here he was, being cradled like a child. Yet, Danny couldn’t find it in himself to feel any shame. His core rang in distress, and the instinct to let out a chirp, to have an older ghost come and protect him settled at the back of his throat. However, he didn’t need an older ghost. Bruce’s arms were strong and well muscled, similar to the way Jack’s had been the few times Danny had seen him out of the hazmat suit. Bruce could protect him. Bruce would keep the nightmares away.

Still, he couldn’t stop the tears as he wailed into Bruce’s chest. “Baba,” he warbled, “Baba!”

He could practically feel Bruce’s heart shatter. A soft shushing sound filled his ear as Bruce held him tighter, closer to his chest. “You’re alright, Danny,” he said, gentle yet so, so firm, “Baba’s here. Baba will protect you.”

Danny wondered if he’d ever cried so much in such a short amount of time. It felt like he’d been nonstop sobbing ever since he came to live with the Waynes. Sure, he’d laughed and he’d smiled and he’d settled into a new role to play, but he’d also found himself breaking down more and more at the Wayne’s unwavering support. It felt wrong, to be so consistently vulnerable with them.

But then Bruce held him so gently, like he was precious, like he was still a child. He thought of the hugs Jack used to give, back when Danny was still young and would wake up with silent tears and meet him in the kitchen for tea. He’d seemed a bit like a competent father back then. Always smiling and reassuring as he promised Danny that whatever ghosts were haunting him, he’d get rid of them just like that. Jack promised the world to Danny as he’d scoop him up, surround him with those big arms and make Danny feel so small yet so safe.

He sobbed harder into Bruce’s arms, a repeating call of “Baba! Baba!” on his lips. Bruce responded in kind, reassuring him that Baba was here. Baba wouldn’t leave him. Baba loved him. Baba would protect him.

“It hurts, Baba!” Danny gasped out, clutching at his chest as his sobs racketed up and his core seemed to twist in on itself. “It hurts so much!”

Bruce rubbed Danny’s back, firm and steady. “I know, chum. I know. You gotta breathe with me, okay? Breathe with Baba.” Bruce took in a large breath, exaggerated in a way Danny had seen him do with panicking civilians. His own breath hitched and caught, shaky as he tried to follow the loud and exaggerated breathing. Bruce’s chest rose up and down with each breath, almost a wave that promised to bring Danny to calmness.

Danny sat and breathed until his tears dried to nothing and the terrible twisting of his core settled back into a dull ache. He leaned heavily against Bruce, exhaustion tugging at his limbs. Bruce held him tight, humming some sort of lullaby as he sat with Danny. Bruce wasn’t the best singer, but his voice still brought with it a familiarity Danny wished to cling onto.

He hadn’t realized he’d been falling asleep until Bruce moved. He whined, high and annoying and uncaring of how childish he sounded. Bruce chuckled, smacking another kiss on Danny’s head before continuing his endeavor to tuck Danny back into bed. Danny made no move to help, letting himself ragdoll about as Bruce pulled his covers back and oh so carefully laid Danny back on the bed. He grabbed the covers from where Danny had kicked them off in his panic and tugged them off of the bed.

With a simple wave of his arms, he threw the covers back over Danny. They fell softly, covering Danny so wholly in warmth and comfort and safety. Bruce patted down the covers, smoothing out any perceived flaws and wrinkles as he ensured that all of Danny’s limbs were tucked in properly. Danny let his eyes slide back close, a sense of contentment beginning to wrap its way once again around his chest. He felt a shift on the bed as Bruce leaned over, pressing a final kiss to his forehead. “Good night, Danny.”

Danny hummed and with a sleep heavy tongue murmured out, “Good night, Baba.”

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Bruce thought himself a master of breezing through press conferences. After twenty plus years of fielding reporters and spinning his words just right to maintain his image as Himbo Billionaire Extraordinaire, he’d perfected the art of giving a press conference. He always came out with a smile, waving to the dozens of reporters sitting in their various assigned seats. He caught sight of Lois Lane sitting towards the front and sent her a wink. It helped to keep up his playful and flirty persona, even if more times than not he settled back into the role of Proud Father rather than Flirtatious Playboy.

Still, he’d like to keep his top ranking on the Dads Gotham Would Like to Fuck list.

(For cover purposes, of course.)

Lights flashed as camera men rushed to get the perfect picture, desperate to provide something their writers could spin a story out of if the information from the conference itself wasn’t juicy enough. Bruce made sure to provide, a fumble with a mic here, a charming smile there. A quick check of his appearance to affirm that he was, in fact, still as vapid and vain as he was kind and loving. Everything he did assured that there was a clear line between Batman and Bruce Wayne.

After all, how could the dumb, attention whore Bruce Wayne ever be Batman? With the way he had to put his face and name on every single one of his endeavors, there’s no way Brucie Wayne would be fighting crime and not shouting about it to the highest hills. No one would ever see just how truly private he was if he pretended he was an open book.

Everyone settled as Bruce finally finished his Brucie routine. He smiled towards the cameras recording the press conference, sure that they would catch the glint his white teeth made from the room’s overhead lighting. Clearing his throat, he addressed the reporters. “I’d like to thank everyone for gathering here today. I know you all are quite busy trying to find the latest scoops and spreading the news for not only the people of Gotham but for everyone around the country. I want to assure you that you will not be disappointed by the topic of today’s event.”

Words flowed easily from there, a prepared speech he’d memorized while working a quiet patrol the night before. He could see some reporters writing notes furiously, still determined to work in a more traditional way. Others held recorders, the multiple microphones set up to let each major news station capture audio of the event. He made sure to catch the eyes of some of the reporters in the audience, giving them his attention as if were there to speak to them, specifically.

It was almost comical how easily others fell for his performance. Back in his early years—when he’d just started his career as Batman and had already taken a far too young Dick under his wing—he’d struggled a lot more with paranoia. It felt that if he made even a single misstep, everyone would realize the ruse. They’d make the connection between Gotham’s wealthiest man and the caped crusader desperately fighting the streets every night. After all, who else would have the means to be able to get the equipment that Batman does? There was no way a normal Gothamite could make half of the things Bruce used.

Now a days, Bruce felt secure in his persona. He knew the part he played intimately, and he played it well. Slipping into his Brucie mask felt as natural as slipping into the Batman cowl. While others called him foolish, arrogant, all sorts of insults, he knew the truth behind it. He protected others with this presentation of an affable business man. The media, his investors, everyone not in the know could question his competence all they liked. His results spoke for themselves, and he had a family to protect.

He threw the crowd a smile as he finished up his speech. “And as such we’re proud to announce that starting in 2023, Wayne Enterprises will be moving to using completely clean energy sources for all of our projects. We have been working hard to make this transition possible, and we are excited to start 2023 off by making Wayne Enterprises one of the first major corporations in America to fight climate change by completely cutting out all of our fossil fuel use.”

A round of applause filled the room. Some of it was simple polite applause, a reaction that felt necessary after someone completed a rousing speech. Others seemed genuinely excited. Lois herself looked like she was ready to interrogate Bruce on every aspect of this plan. He shifted his posture, easy smile still on his face as he let the applause peter out. “We’ll now open up the floor for questions.” A tidal wave of shouts and hands raising fell over the crowd. Bruce smiled as he picked a random reporter, glad to hear a question he’d already prepared for.

The majority of the questioning went mostly how he’d anticipated. Questions about the feasibility of this, if he were making more changes to try and make Wayne Enterprises a more eco-friendly company, how much this would cost him. All things he’d battled his board of directors and investors on as he, Tim, and Lucius had drafted up the plan. He let a bit of his business knowledge shine through, just enough to show that while he may be perceived as nothing more than a figurehead, he was still the owner of Wayne Enterprises for a reason.

Nepotism only took him so far, after all.

Even with fifteen minutes left in the press conference, Bruce felt that he could call this a success. Most of the questions were petering out into semantics, and he’d managed to curb any arguments about Wayne Enterprises going ‘woke’. If things continued at this pace then they could call it early and Bruce might even be able to pick up some extra groceries for Alfred on his way home.

His phone vibrated, a chiming ringtone he’d set to only go off for his children filling the room. Fishing out his phone, he sent an apologetic smile out to the crowd. “I’m so sorry, everyone, I need to take this.” He pushed his seat back, fumbling a bit with his phone as he pressed the answer button.

Of course, fate would choose now for a moment of genuine clumsiness to hit him. His phone began to slip from his grasp, and in his desperation to catch it, Bruce hit the speaker button. Danny’s voice crackled through his phone’s speaker into the microphone. “Hello?”

The room froze. A hush fell over the crowd as Bruce quickly realized that he’d screwed up. Danny wouldn’t be calling his civilian phone if there was a Batman emergency, right? But then again, Danny often spoke freely of his ghostly needs both in and out of the costume. What if he accidentally outed himself to all of the reporters in front of him?

Sweat beaded at the back of Bruce’s neck as he realized he couldn’t make his escape now. It’d be far too suspicious for Bruce Wayne to duck away when he’d accidentally put his son on speaker. There had to be a way to do damage control, to let Danny know that he wasn’t in the safest place to chat.

Taking a deep breath, Bruce tried to mix his Brucie and dad voice. “Hey Danny! Just to let you know, chum, you’re on speaker phone right now.”

A pause filled the room before Danny’s voice picked back up. “Oh, okay! I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

Bruce’s smile felt a bit more real as he stared down at the picture of Danny he’d set for his caller I.D. “Nothing too important, Danny. Did you need something, chum?”

“Ah, yeah, I was wondering if I could invite a friend over to hang this weekend.” Oh thank God, Danny had realized this wasn’t a safe time to talk about whatever was actually on his mind. If he’d actually wanted to invite Sam or Tucker then he would have asked for plane tickets to get them to Gotham.

Relief settled in Bruce’s chest as he settled fully back into his Brucie persona. “Of course! Your friends are always welcome at Wayne Manor.” He’d have to check in with Danny later about whatever he actually wished to talk about.

To his son’s credit, Danny played the part of excited kid well. “Really? Thanks Bruce!”

“Not a problem, Danny.” He swept his gaze over the crowd, pleased to see that he was playing into their ideas of what kind of father Brucie Wayne was. “Is there anything else you needed?”

“Nope!”

“Alright, then I need to get back to my meeting here, okay? I’ll see you at dinner. Love you!”

“Love you too, Baba! Bye!”

Bruce felt his mouth drop open in shock as a beep indicated that Danny had hung up the call. A few aws rippled through the crowd as Bruce stared at his phone.

Like Clark had predicted, Danny had been occasionally calling him Baba as time wore on. However, those times were always either in private or with Damian present. Danny had never, never dared to call Bruce Baba in public when both were in their civvies.

Murmurs started to rumble amongst the crowd before people started calling out questions, as if they were reporters mobbing him at the airport rather than invited guests to Wayne Enterprises’ exclusive press conference.

“Mr. Wayne! How long has your son been calling you Baba?”

“Mr. Wayne! Is this a new occurrence? Do all of your other children also call you Baba?”

“Mr. Wayne, what does Baba mean?”

Clearing his throat, Bruce scrambled to reassemble his Brucie mask as he held a hand up. “Quiet down, quiet down. I apologize for the interruption, but this is a press conference about the future of energy at Wayne Enterprises. This is not an invitation to ask about my private life.”

The reporters quieted down, cowed for only a moment before a familiar face, one Vicki Vale, stood up, “Mr. Wayne, sir, I believe most of our questions about Wayne Enterprises’ newest Green Deal, so to speak, have been answered. I’m sure the people of Gotham would love to know more about one of the two youngest Wayne children.”

Instinct made Bruce want to shut it down. These vultures deserved none of the information they managed to glean about his children’s private lives. However… he glanced to the cameras. The moment had already been recorded. There’d be no stopping the gossip rags from taking Danny’s newest name for Bruce and running. As much as he had a love-hate relationship with Miss Vale, she was giving him a clear cut chance to engage in damage control.

Putting on a sigh, he gave the crowd one of his most charming smiles. “I suppose I can never resist a chance to speak about my children. Ask away.”

The bidding war began once again and Bruce pointed to a random reporter. They stood up, rattled through an introduction Bruce couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to, and asked, “Is this something your children call you frequently? Baba?”

“No, it isn’t,” he replied, easy as if he weren’t carefully plotting out his next words with the same precision as one defusing a bomb, “most of my kids just call me by my name.”

Another reporter stood up. “So then is this something that Danny has recently started calling you?”

Bruce took a breath. "This is a new development for all of us. Danny's just gotten to a point where he feels safe at home. I do not expect him to call me Dad or Baba with any sort of regularity. If Danny wishes to call me Baba, then I will not discourage him. However, I ask that others please respect his position and do not pressure him into it."

“So you admit to not liking being called the term,” another reporter shouted out, as if catching Bruce in some big contradiction.

“I have said it before and I will say it again,” Bruce started, pinning the reporter with a stern glare, “I quite enjoy my kids calling me dad in any way, shape, or form. It feels like a great honor every time they decide to give me the name. However, I will not ever expect my kids to call me Dad or Baba or anything other than my name if they are not comfortable doing so. My enjoyment of being called Dad is a non-factor.”

The questions went in circles from there, trying to get Bruce to say that Danny or any one of his kids should be calling him dad by now. He ended the press conference right as their allotted time came about, marching off the stage without a care for the questions still being thrown at him.

They’d already gotten their scraps. Now he had to deal with the aftermath.

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Tim: www.gothamgazette.com/2022/09/20/celebrity/bruce-is-baba.html

Duke: No wait, that’s legitimately so cute???

Steph: He did it again???? OMG Danny!

If you guys start teasing again I’m going to murder you all :me

Jason: Then stop being so easy to tease, Spooks

Dick: I think that’s sweet, baby ghost!

Dick: I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to call Bruce something like that!

Yeah, but I didn’t want to do that in PUBLIC :me

Dick: It’s nothing to be embarrassed about!

Dick: Like Duke said, it’s super cute that you call Bruce Baba

Tim: You’re not the only one with an embarrassing article out today, Danny

Tim: www.gothamgazette.com/2022/09/20/celebrity/top-50-guns-puns-by-richard-grayson.html

Cass: Gun puns?

Steph: Seriously, Dick?

Dick: What can I say? Not a single pun I make misses

Jason: Banned

Duke: Yeah, gotta agree with Jason there, that was pretty terrible

Steph: Oh, I found a higher res clip someone got of Danny calling Bruce Baba!

Steph: bruceisbaba.mp4

Danny groaned as the clip played, showing the moment Bruce’s face slackened in shock as Danny uttered that damning phrase. He shouldn’t have gotten so comfortable. Bruce had told him it was on speaker, and he still managed to screw up and let something important slip! He resisted the urge to scream in his pillow, wishing he could borrow Clockwork’s time powers if only to stop himself from uttering that stupid name.

Bruce still hadn’t come to talk to him about it. Alfred mentioned that he’d probably be busy with work after coming home from the press conference, but Danny thought he’d at least get a briefing about the slip before an article got written about it. Of course, with how quickly the internet and information moves now a days, Danny shouldn’t have expected his slip to stay quiet for long. He was part of the famous Wayne family now, after all. Every move he made would reflect back on them somehow.

Maybe he should suck it up. Privacy wasn’t something he was guaranteed anymore. With how high profile Bruce was, hell even with their vigilante personas, Danny should have expected something like this to come out. He’d been dumb to think that maybe this could have stayed just a him and Bruce thing.

Slipping from his bed, Danny steeled himself. If Bruce wasn’t going to come talk to him about the whole Baba thing then he’d just have to go to Bruce. Surely the man wouldn’t mind another interruption from his work. After all, it was getting close to dinner time and he knew Alfred would be much harsher in getting Bruce to come down and eat.

The path to Bruce’s office was a familiar one, and Danny found it easy to knock on the door a quick tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. Bruce called, “come in!” and Danny slipped in, his shoulders relaxing at Bruce’s smile.

“Danny! Are you here to chat about what happened on the phone?” Of course Bruce would figure him out too quickly. Though, that at least took the pressure of bringing up the topic off of his shoulders.

Sitting in the chair across from Bruce’s desk, Danny nodded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was interrupting your press conference.”

Bruce waved him off. “Your siblings have interrupted me in far worse circumstances, Danny, you’ve got nothing to apologize for. If it truly was that important then I would have let you leave a message.”

Right, Danny supposed Bruce could judge when it was okay to pick up and when it wasn’t. He squirmed a bit in his seat. “Did you see the article already?”

“The one the Gotham Gazette just published?” At Danny’s nod, Bruce let himself frown a bit. “Yes, I did.”

“I can stop calling you Baba.”

Bruce’s frown deepened, and he closed his laptop to set aside. “Danny, what are you talking about?”

“In the article,” Danny said, words feeling heavy and awkward in his mouth, “that one reporter said it was childish to call you Baba. And Jason and Steph think it’s childish, and you seem kind of flustered every time I call you it so I just figured it’d be more comfortable for you if I stopped.”

Oh there was that concerned Dad look. It settled along the lines of Bruce’s forehead like an old friend, leaving Danny wanting to look away. “Danny,” Bruce said, words slow and careful, “I am not bothered by you calling me, Baba. In fact, I enjoy you calling me Baba. It makes me feel special every time I hear you say it. I’m more concerned over your comfortability.”

Bruce leaned forward, and asked with a face so fucking sincere, “do you want to stop calling me baba?”

The answer came to his tongue, an immediate and instinctual no, but Danny bit it. It shouldn’t matter what he thought, he was moving too fast. He was jumping onto Bruce’s affection like he could just replace the father figure who once held that position in his heart, and Danny needed to stop treating Bruce like a replacement. So he couldn’t call him Baba, but he so desperately wanted to.

Bruce leaned back then stood up. He pulled his office chair along with him, dragging it around the desk until it sat right in front of Danny’s. He sat back down then leaned forward to grab Danny’s knee. Danny looked down at that hand, too afraid to see the open care on Bruce’s face.

“It’s okay if you want to call me Baba, Danny.” Bruce’s voice was too kind, and Danny wondered if the phrase kill them with kindness was meant to be taken literally rather than figuratively. The affection was too much when he couldn’t stop comparing Bruce to Jack and he knew he was just latching onto Bruce because he was the only adult to show him such care in so long and—

“I think I hated you when I was younger.”

The confession came out of nowhere. Danny wanted to shove the words back down his throat. Bruce froze, his hand squeezing his knee tighter before mechanically loosening. Danny risked a glance up at Bruce’s face and oh his core began to squeeze. Bruce’s face was crafted into a carefully neutral look, hiding any sort of shock or hurt or emotion that could have come from Danny’s confession.

Silence stretched between them, Bruce either processing Danny’s words or waiting for him to continue. He found himself shoving his foot further into his mouth rather than have to bear the weight of Bruce’s potential judgement.

“I don’t hate you now, I mean!” As if that were a comfort. Danny’s words had always been fast flowing, escaping before he could reel them in, and he was fucking himself over so much, but he had to explain otherwise Bruce would get the wrong idea and he couldn’t have him hate him, he couldn’t.

Danny continued, “I mean, I just… Mother used to talk about you. She’d say you were this great warrior and that you would have loved me and Damian so much and Damian thought you were just the greatest thing, and when I was a kid, like still with the League, I thought the same. I mean, how could I not? My dad was the Bat, one of the greatest detectives that even Grandfather admitted was a talented man. Mother painted you as if you were the greatest man in the world, and Damian and I believed her.

“When I got adopted by the Fentons… I started to question that. Jack was… He was so nice. He’d hug me and he helped me put up stars in my room and he had this family fudge recipe that he shared with me because I was a Fenton now so obviously I’d get the Fenton secret recipe. He used to talk about how I’d grow big and strong like him because obviously I inherited the Fenton genes. He was silly like that.”

Danny had many fond memories with the Fentons. Before they’d been tainted by the weeks in the lab, before they’d pled guilty and tossed him aside, he remembered being taken on fishing trips with Jack. Early in his time with the Fentons, when they were still learning what he enjoyed and what he tolerated, Jack tried to get him into fishing, just the two of them. It was one of the few times Jack would shed his hazmat suit, trading it for jeans and a flannel.

He'd marveled at how much bigger Jack was than him. How his new father could throw his line out far into the lake and real it in with no real troubles. Jack had sat Danny in his lap, and Danny wondered if this was what a dad was supposed to do. Even when Danny dumped half the bait off the side of the boat, Jack never disciplined him. Not how the League had. He’d laughed and patted Danny on the head and mentioned how the fish would be eating good tonight. Dads were supposed to be gentle then. To use their strength to hold their children and protect them.

Mother had always described Father as strong, as fierce. She had shared that he was a great warrior, a protector of his city and a destroyer of his foes. She had never expressed a gentleness in him. Father was a legend, someone to aspire towards rather than any sort of real figure that Danny could look up to. When he’d left the League, he’d wondered how disappointed that Father would have been in him.

Danny took a shaky breath. “The Fentons were my first experience with a real family. They were neglectful at times and they… the shit they did in the lab isn’t excusable, but they were kind. When Jack cared, he cared hard and loud and I wondered why you didn’t save me and Damian.”

Bruce’s breath hitched, but he stayed otherwise impassive. Danny held back a rueful laugh. “It’s so stupid because you didn’t even know we existed! Like of course you couldn’t have whisked us away from the League because you didn’t know there was anyone to be whisked away!

“I just… After seeing how differently the Fenton’s treated me, I wondered what kind of Father would leave his kids in a hell like that. I hated that I couldn’t get Dami out, and I hated you that you couldn’t get either of us out. After all, Mother said you were this great warrior. Surely, if you were so powerful then you could have done something. When I was with the Fentons I thought that maybe… maybe you just didn’t care.”

The words fell like sledgehammers from his mouth. He could see the guilt swirling in Bruce’s eyes. Guilt that Danny knew plagued the man like an old friend, but still he didn’t speak. Bruce simply waited for Danny to continue. He wasn’t sure how he could sense that Danny’s tirade wasn’t finished. Maybe Bruce just didn’t trust himself enough to speak. That was fine with Danny. He could talk and talk and talk as his world burned down around him.

“It wasn’t until I met with Dami again that I realized just how powerless you were in that situation.” Danny took a breath, looking up at the ceiling so he didn’t have to keep looking at Bruce. “I mean, Dami mentioned how when he showed up at your doorstep you were taken aback at the fact that you even had a son. If you didn’t even know we existed then how could you come save us?”

“I’m sorry, Danny.” Before Danny could wave off the apology, Bruce kept going. “I know that this situation wasn’t one where I could have helped. You’re right that I didn’t know either of you existed. That is fully on Talia for keeping you both from me. However, I am still sorry that you had to experience that in the first place. Neither of you should have been forced to go through the training that you did.”

Danny shrugged. “Not much we can do about it now.”

Bruce’s face scrunched, but he smoothed it out. “We can’t change the past, no. But I want to try and make sure you don’t experience pain like that again.”

“And you are!” Danny pushed himself away from Bruce, pacing the room as he felt his core buzzing with nervous energy. “You’re doing so much for me and Dami! You got Dami a barn and you encourage his art and you figure out what we like and yeah, you’re not perfect at it and you fumble a lot, but you try to fix it! You’re trying to be better and nobody’s ever tried for us before!” Nobody had ever tried for Danny before.

He continued to pace, unsure how else to deal with the nerves dancing up and down his arms, the energy swirling angrily in his core and threatening to burst out. “I just—you’re the best parent I’ve ever had and that’s scary! And it’s scary to just say that shit out loud! Like, for a while Jack was my golden standard, but then he went and tried to literally pull me apart molecule by molecule and Mother and Maddie aren’t stellar either and I used to call them Mom and Dad.”

“The Fentons?” Bruce stayed in his chair, simply watching as Danny paced around the room.

Danny nodded. “They introduced themselves as my new mom and dad and I thought that was what I was supposed to call them. I called them Mom and Dad from day one, and it was great, and they were actually nice, and then I turned that stupid portal on and everything got ruined.”

How much talking was too much talking? Danny felt like all he did nowadays was talk and talk and talk. He wondered how the Waynes even found time and energy to listen to him as he spouted whatever bullshit his mind was turning over for them to hear. He could feel Damian’s rolling eyes as he reminded him that calling Bruce Baba was not weakness, that it was fine and natural but Danny had called Jack Dad and that was fine and natural and then Dad became Jack and Dad hurt him and Dad tore his leg off and Dad took that ice pick and swung and—

“Danny.” Bruce’s face filtered into his vision, and when had Bruce stood up? “Danny, buddy, I need you to breathe with me. Can you do that for me, chum?”

Breathe? But Danny was breathing. Fast and hard and oh. He gulped down air, wheezing as he felt Bruce put his hands on his shoulders. He gripped Bruce’s forearms, something to steady himself as flashes of Jack reaching and twisting and tearing filled his brain. He tried to focus on the counting Bruce was leading him through. In for four. Hold for four. Out for four. Hold for four. In for four. Hold for four. Out for four. Hold for four.

For a few moments they stayed like that, focusing solely on Danny’s breathing. Bruce’s thumbs rubbed into Danny’s shoulders, a reminder that he was there and ready to help as needed. When Danny’s breathing finally evened out, Bruce led him back to the chairs. Danny slumped into his, suddenly feeling boneless as he stared at the ground in front of Bruce.

“Danny.” He looked up, meeting Bruce’s gaze. “Danny, do you… do you see me as a dad?”

Oh that was the crux of the issue, wasn’t it. Of course Danny knew factually that Bruce was his father, but to move it into that familial realm… He nodded.

To Bruce’s credit, he didn’t let the information fluster him. He laid his hand back on Danny’s knee, a focus point as he worked through his words. “Are you having trouble because you saw Jack as a dad too?”

“Dad hurt me.” Oh how it hurt to call Jack by that title, but he’d been the one to taint it. Danny took a shuddering breath. “Dad hurt me, and it sucks because I love him. I don’t…”

“You don’t want me to turn out the same way.”

Shame crawled up his neck, but Danny didn’t refute Bruce’s words. Fear and conditioning like that was hard to shake, and Bruce had already fucked up in so many ways. But he’d also been wonderful in so many more ways. Danny wanted to hide in his baba’s arms, but how could he know that Bruce wouldn’t turn into Dad?

It took a moment, but Bruce opened his arms. Danny wasted no time in accepting the invitation. He crawled into Bruce’s lap, soaking up the warmth Bruce offered him as he held him close. Tight, but not overbearingly tight like Jack had. Strong, but not with the threat of crushing and tearing and maiming. Danny shoved his head into the crook of Bruce’s neck. “I want you to be my baba, I don’t want you to be my dad.”

Bruce hummed. “What’s the difference?”

Danny thought it over, glad to not have his statement immediately ridiculed. “Dad hurts. Dad held me too tight and ignored me when he was busy and he chose his research over me and Jazz. When we were younger, Damian and I used to hear other kids talk about their babas. Babas were always kind and gentle but stern when they needed to be. Babas protected them and loved them, and they were someone special. I don’t want a dad because the one I had hurt me in a way he can’t fix. I want a Baba who never means to hurt me but always fixes it if he does.”

Bruce nodded. He rubbed his hand up and down, up and down Danny’s back and Danny wondered if this was what security truly was like.

“Okay,” Bruce said, “if you want me to be your baba, then I’ll be your baba.”

“You don’t think it’s weird?”

“Of course not, Danny.” Bruce leaned back, letting Danny more fully lean on him. “I would love it if you called me Baba.”

Emotionally exhausted, Danny let himself be held for a while.

“I love you, Baba.”

“I love you too, Danny.”