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Bruce is awake at the first soft whine coming in through the baby monitor's speakers.
He keeps still for a few moments to see if maybe Jason will go back to sleep on his own-- no such luck. Jason wakes up from his sleep as he usually does these days, with cries that sound full of unbearable anguish and sadness. It's normal, apparently, some kids just wake up crying, but jarring because he had gotten Dick much after that milestone.
Clark shifts from his side of the bed, standing up after a soft pat to Bruce's hip. "Got it," he murmurs, voice deep from waking up abruptly.
The door opens quietly after Clark pads away. Bruce can hear the nursery doors opening on the monitor, and Clark's comforting voice as he speaks to the baby, the kiss on Jason's temple after he's picked up.
Bruce keeps his eyes closed.
He's still tired, still not ready to look at the world waiting for him.
Clark comes back to the bedroom with Jason and lets him down on the mattress. Bruce can feel the small hands and feet coming closer to him through the mattress and distinctly babyish open-mouthed breathing approaching him.
Jason extends a hand and touches Bruce's face, and only then does Bruce open his eyes. He looks at the baby tiredly as tiny fingers trail across his features and poke at them.
Clark lies down again, watching Bruce's face with a smile. "Good morning," he teases softly, a hand reaching out to rest on Bruce's hip.
"Hm."
It's nice, Bruce thinks. Just a few years ago, he would've been waking up alone in a cold bed at noon or later, exhausted from the weight of being alive. The bad days don't feel so bad anymore.
He tugs upwards at the covers, opening up a gap for Jason to crawl into if he'd like.
"Oh, you're soft," Clark murmurs, watching Jason crawl over to Bruce and lie on his chest.
Bruce glances over at Clark, putting a hand over Jason's little bottom while he pulls the comforter over them. Jason's arms wrap around his neck, shoving his cold little nose into Bruce's cheek.
He can't quite resist the smile that creeps onto his face as he hugs Jason back, rubbing a hand over the soft fabric of Jason's sleeper as Clark snorts in amusement and shifts closer to the pair.
"Happy boy," Clark says, kissing Bruce's cheek.
"Happy," Bruce repeats in agreement. He can believe it this time, warmth seeping out of his soul into his body like boiling liquid spilling out of a lidded pot.
He turns his head gently, leaning forward for a kiss. Clark closes the gap between them, giving him one long kiss, then many little quick kisses.
Clark stands up again. "Be right back," he announces, leaving the room once again.
Bruce nods, turns his head to look down at Jason. He's half-asleep again, lulled by the beating of Bruce's heart and the warmth of the bed. Bruce resumes his gentle back rubs, then brings his hand up to caress the downy baby hair on Jason's head, kissing his cheek.
Jason yawns.
He's still young; just a year and some weeks old. Bruce thinks he smells like sunshine and sparkles and magic.
Clark comes back with Dick in his arms, careful not to jostle the still-sleeping boy. One of Dick's socks is halfway off, dangling with every gentle step Clark takes. "I brought Dickie so he wouldn't feel left out," he murmurs, laying Dick down next to Bruce before lying down himself, pulling the comforter back over them.
Jason lifts his head drowsily, glancing at Dick.
"Who's that, Jay?" Bruce asks gently, "is that your brother? That's Dickie, hm?"
Jason babbles quietly.
"It is Dickie," Clark hums, "you love your brother, right, Jason? You think he's the greatest ever." He extends an arm to pat Jason's bottom gently.
Jason yawns again, turning his face into Bruce's neck.
Clark laughs. "I guess we're still tired." He shifts Dick under his arm. "It's early, we can sleep for a few more hours." He kisses Bruce's cheek.
Bruce hums, closing his eyes as he secures Jason against his chest, listening to the baby's little hums and lip smacks.
Bruce wakes up again, this time to Dick's voice. Dick was closer to Bruce's side, making funny noises and faces at Jason, who is absolutely eating it up. The baby giggles and squeals at Dick's every move, little legs kicking against Bruce's stomach as if needing to physically expel all the emotions he was feeling.
Clark was still asleep, face turned into his pillow and snoring softly.
Dick glances at Bruce with a sunny smile. "Hi," he begins, "I fell asleep in my bed but I woke up with cuddles."
"Yeah. We missed you too much, Chum," Bruce murmurs, "had to bring you in for some family time."
Dick seems to light up even more at that. "You really missed me?"
Bruce hums. He lets Jason down on the bed to play with Dick. "Of course, we missed you. Especially Jason. He's just obsessed with you."
Jason proves Bruce's point by immediately crawling over to Dick, trying to get in his lap. Dick giggles, going back to playing with the baby.
Bruce shifts onto his side to watch over them.
Dick makes silly noises as he bounces Jason gently, then leans forward to blow a raspberry into his little cheek. It might as well have been the pinnacle of comedy, as far as Jason was concerned, laughing his little face pink.
Bruce smiles at all the laughter and closes his eyes for a moment. Just to rest his eyes.
"Baby, wake up."
The third time Bruce woke up was from Clark peppering his face full of little kisses and a warm hand on his hip. He opens his eyes to that familiar smile he still doesn't quite feel he deserves.
"The boys are in the kitchen with Alfred," Clark mentioned, squeezing his hand gently. "C'mon, we don't wanna miss breakfast."
Bruce moves onto his back again, closing his eyes with a protesting hm.
He feels warmth flutter in his stomach as Clark laughs, that hand on his hip shaking with each giggle. Bruce has felt that sensation since the first time he'd made Clark laugh-- Clark tends to laugh at all his jokes, so he makes them sparingly.
"Silly man," Clark murmurs, gently tugging Bruce up by the armpits. "Don't pretend to be difficult right now, you'd be so sad if the boys ate breakfast without you." He kisses the tip of Bruce's nose.
Bruce exhales, opening his eyes again. "Hm," he considers, then leans forward to kiss Clark himself.
Clark's hands trail down to his waist to hold him steady. He's already dressed in a brown sweater and possibly the world's oldest pair of denim jeans, glasses on his head keeping his loose curls out of his face.
"C'mon," Clark repeats against his lips, "up time."
Bruce sighs. "Perhaps."
Clark kisses him one last time before standing up. "Get dressed, I'll meet you down there."
Bruce dresses himself in just a black shirt and sweatpants before joining the others in the kitchen. Clark and Dick are chatting Alfred's ear off while the man makes breakfast, and Jason's sat in his high chair drinking from a bottle of milk.
Jason spots him first-- rips his mouth off of his bottle's spout so fast that milk spills out onto his clothes. He points at Bruce excitedly. "Bee! Beebee!"
Bruce smiles. "Hi, Jay," he replies, wiping Jason's mouth with a towel. He leans down to kiss Dick's forehead before sitting down.
Alfred places a hot cup of tea down on its matching saucer in front of Bruce. "Good morning, Master Bruce. You're looking well, if I may say so." He's very pleased about Bruce's newfound desire for self-care; the days of Bruce trudging down to the kitchen looking like an oily raccoon with two black eyes mostly in the past.
"Alfred," Bruce responds, smiling against the delicate rim of his cup. It's somewhere between a thank you and I also like the changes. Alfred knows him better than anyone, Bruce is sure he understands.
Clark perks up when the coffee machine near the stove beeps, making a happy noise as he gets up to pour himself a cup.
He's right, Bruce thinks in the back of his mind. Bruce is a happy boy.
He's happy as the five of them sit together for breakfast.
He's happy as he's included in the meaningless, hyper conversation Dick is commandeering, his opinions and thoughts on childish nothings valued and wanted.
He's happy as they all take turns feeding Jason with his food with his little utensils (and happier whenever Jason turns his face away because he decided he wants Bruce to feed him that specific bite-- not that he'd admit it).
He's happy watching Dick try to copy Alfred's poised style of eating, struggling between keeping a straight back and keeping the food from falling off his fork as it reaches his mouth, and Alfred's resulting amusement.
Bruce is happy, just as he was as a child with his own mom and dad, when he'd spend breakfast choosing whose lap (and consequently, whose plate) he'd be eating from and sneaking sips of tea or coffee from porcelain cups he wasn't trusted with yet.
Bruce is happy and he deserves it, he thinks.