Chapter Text
Part I - The Parents’ Edition
Felix hoisted the baby up against his hip as he looked inside the bag to make sure the supplies were complete. Bottles, check. Formula, check. A stockpile of diapers, check. Various toys made in the image of the kwamis, check. The beloved onesie, check. There was also a list of extremely specific reminders tucked in the pocket so the babysitter wouldn't forget.
“Are you ready to go, mon chou?” He asked the eager-eyed baby, who giggled and squirmed in his hands.
“You haven't seen your uncles in quite a long time. Are you quite sure you'll be alright?”
“Oncleeeeee,” Francis babbled.
“Hmm. You seem excited seeing the extended family. Won't you miss papa and maman?”
“Papa. Papa miss.” Francis’ pudgy face scrunched up. “Maman, Tikki, Pwagg?”
“We'll check on you from time to time, of course, to make sure you're okay.”
Just then, Marinette strolled into their room, groaning. “Why am I starting to regret this decision?”
Felix could understand her sentiments. Tom got sick and Sabine had to manage the bakery all by herself, leaving the grandparents barely any time to take care of a baby while he and Marinette were away on vacation. Their friends were out of the question, too, since they were already too busy with work or taking care of their own children. An unexpected offer came from Marinette's brothers, who both insisted they could take care of Francis; it took Marinette almost a week to say yes.
“Did you not say and I quote, you will ‘have their necks if there's a single scratch on Francis’?” Felix chuckled, kissing his wife's cheek.
“What if I track down ummi? Do you think she'll take him?” Before he could reply, she groaned again. “No, kwamis, she'll take him on assassin missions like she did with us!”
“Breathe, my love. He'll be safe with his uncles. It's not like they will take him to their fights, will they?” He assured her.
“Oncle, oncle!” Francis agreed.
“. . . I think I'm giving them more credit than they deserve.” Marinette rubbed her face.
He had his own apprehensions, too, but what sold him on the idea was that Alfred Pennyworth would be at the Wayne Manor and Jazz in the Fenton residence in case things actually go wrong. The problem was he wasn't sure if either responsible adult actually knew about Francis’ existence.
“You've made your decision.” Felix handed the baby to his mother's waiting arms. “I'm sure Damian and Danny wouldn't want you to back out.”
“You're right,” she huffed. “I should trust our little one.”
“Not your brothers?”
“Nope.” Marinette held Francis close in her arms. “Mon chou, what do we say if your uncle wants to take you to a Rogue fight?”
Francis stared up at her. “Oui?”
“No, no! You're supposed to say non!” She lectured. “And if your other uncle wants to take you to the Ghost Zone?”
“Oui!”
“Non, Francis! Repeat after me. Non.”
After a few minutes of convincing Francis to deny his uncles of any dangerous venture, they both finally opened a portal to the baby's first sitter, in Gotham city. Felix slowly counted off in his head. Damian would take care of Francis for three days, and in the next three it was Danny's turn. On Sunday, they'll finally pick him up.
Felix pecked the top of his son's head. If all went well, that was good. If everything went to chaos . . . well . . .
They had contingency plans for that.
Part II - The Waynes’ Edition
Damian Wayne being busy in the kitchen was definitely an odd scene in the early morning. It was also strange that the same Damian Wayne was going around with a gurgling baby strapped to a carrier at his front.
“Darin, are you certain you don't want to go back to sleep?” He asked the child, who was curling his fist on his shirt. Damian didn't want to admit that the cries cut his precious sleep short; he'd wake up at more ungodly times during assassin training. This wasn't any different!
“Non, non,” replied Darin. Though his first name was Francis, Damian liked his second name better since it was in honor of the baby's uncles.
Footsteps strolled in and the first of the Waynes (apart from Alfred) to witness the reality-changing sight was none other than Jason Todd himself. He froze in his tracks and pointed at them, eyes widened at the tiny baby head peeking out curiously. “What the fu—”
Damian caught him in a sharp glare.
“Fudgesticks . . .” Jason rubbed his eyes. “Am I dreaming? Whose kid is that?!”
Damian clicked his tongue, shaking the milk bottle gently. “None of your business, Todd.”
A crowd of other Waynes soon followed, each with various reactions to the kid. Dick began pinching himself. Tim was guessing he was hallucinating from either the lack of sleep or caffeine overdose. Stephanie seemed to want to get close to confirm what her eyes were seeing, but a stunned Cass was holding her back by the hem of her sweater. Duke nearly dropped his tea mug.
“Oh my god,” Dick sucked in a breath. “He's–he's becoming like him!”
Francis waved at the others, almost cheekily.
“You must not address those below you like that, Darin,” Damian told his nephew.
The baby closed his hand into a fist and lifted his middle finger instead. “Oui?”
“No, no, not like that!” Damian immediately put the finger down. “Do not do that again, especially in front of your mother. If she finds out, I will be chopped to pieces the following day and she will take away my sitting privileges.” He added with a grumble under his breath, “I will not lose the privileges before Danyal.”
“What the heck is going on, Demon Spawn?” Jason asked again.
Francis pointed at him. “Demo shpo?”
“Not me! Him!”
“Don't pay them any mind, Darin,” Damian mumbled.
At last, Bruce Wayne himself entered the threshold, still half-asleep himself. “Damian . . . what—” He blinked several times. “Who is that?”
“A Wayne if I ever did see one,” Stephanie snickered.
“No, but he doesn't have the blue eyes, does he?” Duke tilted his head.
Lucky for Francis, he did not in fact have the trademark blue eyes from his grandfather, mother, and one of his uncles. He did, however, inherit his father’s grays, which were just as striking.
Damian faced the others with a scowl on his face. “This is my nephew–”
Bruce looked at his children one by one. In turn, they looked affronted.
“Do you really think any of us are emotionally stable enough to have kids?!” Tim cried out.
“But who–”
Francis whimpered, his eyes welling with tears. Panic mode gripped the Waynes. Damian quickly picked up the bottle of milk and started rocking him. “Now look at what you've done! He isn't any of yours so it is best if you leave us alone.”
Damian walked out of the kitchen, leaving the rest of his family equally confused and stupefied.
𓆩𓆪
While the Wayne family was left to figure out that odd encounter as if it were some conspiracy, Damian went down to the Batcave with Francis. Marinette didn't say the cave was off limits for the child anyway, just missions. Plus, it was good to expose Francis early to these things. He positioned them in front of the large computer and opened up the files he had been working on since the previous night. There were clues about the illegal smuggling of some animals–it was something Damian had been absorbed in recently.
“Voila!” Francis pointed to a spot on the screen when Damian pulled up a map.
“You're right, ya ammour, it is best to intercept them at the docks.” He looked down at him. “There is not much time. I would like for you to help me but . . . your mother was very strict on taking you to missions.”
“Maman?” The boy's eyes brightened.
“Well I suppose if we make it quick, it will be fine.” Damian weighed his options. In no world would he trust the rest of his siblings, much less his father, to take care of his dear nephew in his absence. Alfred was the safest bet, but he figured their butler would be very busy around the manor.
Damian stood up, having made up his mind. “Darin, you have a suit of your own, yes?”
The ‘suit’ in question was one of Francis’ beloved onesies. Marinette had made several for him each inspired by different heroes: the Parisian duo (of course), Robin, Phantom, Batman and the other miraculous-wielding ones. Damian proudly put on the green, yellow, and red onesie on the baby, and then stole a small domino mask to put over his eyes.
“Le masque, oncle?” Francis curiously put his hands over the textured mask. “Capot vouloir. Cowl want.”
Damian scoffed. “How do you even know that word? We do not have miniature cowls lying around here. The mask will have to suffice.”
“Gwand-père?”
“Is that why you want a cowl? Believe me, you do not want to be like him.”
Damian suited up himself and strapped the baby carrier to his front. In a last minute decision, he put on a black helmet over Francis’ head. “You will need a hero name of your own.” Damian put on his comms. “What do you suggest?”
“Wouge-gowge.” Francis gurgled.
“How about something simpler? Perhaps Robin-Petit will do?” Damian tapped his chin.
“Oui, oui.”
𓆩𓆪
In no time, Robin was grappling between buildings with a masked Robin-Petit strapped to his front. Though he made the choice to bring his nephew along, he would die first before letting anything happen to the baby. This mission was for experience; even he and his siblings had been brought along by their mother in certain missions at a younger age than Francis.
“What the . . . Robin, where did you get that kid?” Oracle said through the comms. “Are you taking a child to a mission?”
“This is Robin-Petit; he is no civilian and I am doing this for his education. His insights will help in this mission as well.”
“Oui,” Robin-Petit sounded out in agreement despite not having a comm of his own.
After a few thrown Batarangs, well-placed kicks, and a mocking speech about animal cruelty, they intercepted the smugglers without a hitch, with Robin-petit even warning his uncle of a surprise attack with a yell. Fortunately, the child didn't seem displeased with accompanying the vigilante on the short mission; in fact, he cheered each time Robin landed a good blow on his opponent and spat out a gibberish word (that very much sounded like a curse in toddler-speak) whenever another smuggler fell unconscious on the ground.
“You were excellent out there, ya ammour.” Damian beamed with pride when they returned to the Batcave to write up a quick report.
"Wobin-petit,” Francis preened. “Mowe?”
“We can discuss the next possible mission to include you perhaps when we get your mother's official permission.” Damian sighed. “As much as I do not doubt your abilities, most of the missions require experience that you are yet to earn. It is best we inform your mother first given that she does not kill me for taking you out today.”
Francis nodded. “Boss maman.”
Meanwhile, the rest of the Wayne children, still astonished, were watching at a careful distance behind the two. Francis’ wandering eyes suddenly caught theirs. His eyes lit up as he pointed at Jason. “Demo shpo!”
Cue the laughter of the rest. Jason only rolled his eyes. “Are we not over the fact that he knows how to take care of the kid?”
“He is my nephew, Todd. Of course I would know how to take care of him.”
“You count bringing a kid to vigilante work ‘taking care'?” Asked Stephanie.
“Well, by Bats standards, kind of?” Duke wondered.
Damian let out another long sigh. It was apparent that Francis was getting curious about the others, and the others would certainly pester him until he divulged a little bit of truth. He readjusted the baby in his arms.
“His name is Francis Darin Dupain-Cheng Graham de Vanily,” Damian said. He would add ‘al Ghul’ and ‘Wayne’ into the name but that would raise more questions and the name was already a mouthful as it was. “If you do a background check or even look up his last name I will hunt down all of you.”
The others took it as a cue to come closer to coo at the boy. Even Cass stole a picture, no doubt to share it immediately to the family group chat.
“Bonjour,” Francis greeted, waving his hand excitedly.
“Bonjour, little guy.” Dick grinned widely. “You're French?”
“Considering his lineage, Darin speaks English, French, and is also beginning to understand Arabic as well,” Damian explained. “Is that correct, Darin?”
“Oui.”
“I guess we're not allowed to ask about his parents?” Tim stared at Francis. Francis returned the same calculating look.
“Tt. Not knowing will be better for you, because his parents will hate to be investigated. Take my word that it is for your own good,” Damian replied cryptically. He raised Francis towards Jason since the baby was making grabby hands at the latter, but then immediately proceeded to pull at the man's tuft of white hair.
Francis pointed at the hair enclosed in his fist. “Oncle Danny.”
The corner of Damian's lip twitched. “It is smart of you to make the association, but he is not quite the same.”
Jason seemed to have accepted his situation since he was just bending down to let Francis keep a hold on his hair. “Ow! Who's he talking about?”
“Again, not your business” Damian pulled Francis away from Jason and began to walk out. “Darin is due for a nap — you all better not make any noise upstairs.”