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The room was as dark as the mood Bruce was in. He lay on the couch in the media room by himself with his hands folded on his chest and his feet propped up on one of the couch’s arms. His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips were downturned in a moue (and no Alfred it was not the same as pouting, the Dark Knight does not pout). The 85’’ smart TV in the room played a series of screen savers of beautiful city landscapes with silhouettes of various Justice League heroes in their respective cities. Watching it from the periphery of his eye, his mood soured further.
One of his children (probably Tim) had set up the screen saver. They had all piled in earlier that night to marathon all of the Sean Connery James Bond films. It had been Stephanie’s turn to pick, and she preferred Sean Connery’s Scottish RP over the more classical Roger Moore. An opinion that Dick very loudly had disagreed with. But, the rota had to be followed for movie weekend, or all hell would break loose and chaos would reign.
So, the snacks had been prepared by Alfred and Jay, the drinks were doctored by Dick and Barbara, the movies had been queued by Tim, Cass and Duke rearranged the furniture for maximum viewing comfort, while Stephanie and Damian brought out the blankets and extra pillows. The whole system was a well-oiled machine now after ten months of practice. Bruce was never more thankful in his life than when he had his whole family gathered in one room, getting along for a while, no matter what happened outside the room or the manor. Dick had started the tradition, Alfred and Barbara had enforced it, and Bruce would never stop being grateful for these memories and the time he was allowed to be truly and completely happy.
Unfortunately, like all good things in Bruce’s life, they cast a darkness. He hadn’t consciously noticed it until this month’s movie session. But, when he recalled the last few months in his memory, he was sure he remembered correctly; that all of his children and semi- children had been wearing superhero merchandise every movie session. It wasn’t always obvious things. Sometimes as small as a bracelet or a hair tie, or as in your face as boxers or a t-shirt, but he was absolutely positive that all of them had been sporting some merch or the other. He wasn’t absolutely certain when it had started, but it had been going on for a minimum of three months now, and he had only just been made aware.
He’d only noticed it because Duke had been wearing a Green Lantern shirt, and Bruce would clock that atrocious symbol anywhere. Then, he’d looked around and spotted the subtle lightning bolts all over Dick’s fanny pack, that he carried extra sweets in to hand out during the movie. Stephanie had on a silver cuff that was startlingly similar to Diana’s arm braces. Jason was wearing boxers with red emoji arrows all over them. Tim was wearing a scrunchy that had Clark’s house symbol printed all over it. Damian’s watch strap was shaped like Arthur’s belt buckle and Barbara’s phone cover had Shayera’s hawk emblazoned on it. Even Cass had betrayed him and had little red crosses like J’onn’s straps painted onto her nails.
This all would have been fine and good, but when he thought back through those months, he realized, that not once had he seen any of them sporting anything with the Bat on it. Not even a stupid wallet or keychain. Bruce didn’t think he was a vain man, and he’d often expounded on how superhero merchandise trivialized heroes sacrifices and capitalized on something that was first and foremost a venture of justice, goodwill, and humanity and making a profit from it was dubiously unethical, to anyone who would listen. He was always ready to throw money at the Justice League and help support any hero that needed his help. But this. This was rather unacceptable.
All of his kids repping his colleagues and never their own hometown’s hero who happened to be their very own father, was simply something that needed to be rectified. Stupid Leaguers, thinking that they could steal his children. If they wanted kids, they should have held onto their own better or kidnapped them from unfortunate circumstances respectably, as he had. He didn’t go around stealing other people’s children’s affections.
Grumbling to himself throughout the three movies that they had sat through, he hadn’t enjoyed a single dialogue or the reenactments of the more memorable scenes by Alfred and Jason playing Oddjob and Pussy Galore respectively. The snacks tasted like sawdust and he hadn’t taken a sip of his excellent martini all night. And now he lay on the couch alone thinking of all the ways he would take retribution on his fellow Leaguers for being likable; and planning on how to get his children to wear some bloody Batman merchandise. He would buy out all of the companies that sold these damn things and destroy all of their stock if he had to. (Of course, this was an exaggeration, as he could not viably do this without irreparably ruining his public identity, but he did consider it for a mad minute.) The kids and Alfred had all gone to bed for the night, leaving the next four films for the next day. While he wallowed in his misery, he didn’t notice the grins on his children’s faces. Or even Alfred’s exasperated amusement.
Suddenly, the idea hit him. He couldn’t very well just gift them all Batman merchandise, that would make him look very self-obsessed and vainglorious, two things he most decidedly was not. Nor could he outright ask them why they didn’t own any Bat merchandise for the same reasons. So, his only option was to buy the merchandise himself and sneak it into their respective abodes without being caught doing it. They would just appear in their wardrobes and boudoirs, and then they would have to wear it. Laughing a little sinisterly to himself in the darkened room, he finally got up and left for his own bedroom while he fine-tuned the details of his plan.
It had been three weeks since he’d come up with his stellar idea and the plan had been going absolutely swimmingly till now. He had managed to buy a whole hoard of Batman merchandise and paraphernalia, ranging from cutlery to accessories, electronics and all sorts of clothing and footwear. He’d even contemplated some light, flat-pack furniture, but thought that would be harder to sneak in through the window. He’d hit four of his children’s houses so far and left an assortment of presents lying around. None of them he’d mentioned it to him yet, but he could not wait until they start wearing some of them. He will have to get Alfred to take as many photos as possible for the family albums.
A small satisfied smirk played on his face as he waited for the next movie weekend. Whenever he saw any of them on patrol, they all seemed to be in a good mood and waved at him while they passed him by. Even Damian hadn’t mentioned the two Batman hoodies in different colours and Bat-pack that had shown up in his room, along with headphones that were modelled to resemble the cowl’s receiver units (they aren’t ears Alfred!), but he seemed to be more jovial than usual. There had been no death threats to any of his siblings and he hadn’t sulked away when benched for a minor injury for a day or two. But neither had he seen him wear any of it. Oh well, maybe they all wanted to surprise him by wearing them all together next time.
He could wait. He was a patient man. As witnessed by him hanging out in a tree outside Dick’s apartment complex, waiting for the young man to finish his nap and get ready and go for his nightly patrol. The boy (he’ll always be a boy to me Alfred, and no that is not the problem) really needed to rest more often, he carried too much responsibility and no one noticed, because he did it so well. After about an hour into his stakeout. Dick finally left, and he broke in without setting off any of the alarms. The setting out of the goodies carefully took about five minutes, and then he was done. Now he only had Barbara, Jason and Stephanie to go. He’d hit Stephanie’s student apartment while he was getting back to Gotham. The problem was the other two.
Jason shifted safehouses every three months whether someone had burnt the location or not. Never returning to a place until at least a period of nine months had passed. The locations Bruce knew about were all considered completely burnt and were never returned to ever again. They were always a home to some street kids or a refugee family within the week of Bruce finding out about a safe house. So, he’d handed Jason’s presents over to Alfred to deliver. He didn’t want his second son to have to move again for Bruce’s selfish reasons.
Barbara was possibly the hardest, and thus was the one he took a whole week to prepare and do recon on. The Clocktower was nearly as impregnable as the Batcave, and Bruce was beyond proud. But this did make things more difficult for him. Thankfully, he was also one of the only people in the world with override codes and backdoors to Barbara’s systems, and he was not above exploiting them. Forty minutes of some top-class stealth later, his mission was accomplished, while Barbara had been out for dinner with Jim on their weekly diner date. Now finally he was all set. All of the gifts had been distributed, and there were now two days left before the fruits of his labour paid off.
So, that Friday night, Bruce personally greeted all of them at the front door and was let down every single time he let one of his children in. All of them had once again shown up with at least one superhero-themed item on them, but not one Batman themed one in sight. All of them had also been the absolute picture of innocence as Bruce mustered each one with a scowl that got deeper and deeper as more of them showed up. Thus, he spent another weekend not registering a single scene of the Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit trilogies. This time picked by Jason.
Were they bad gifts? Did the clothes and footwear not fit? Were all of the accessories ugly and no one had told him that he had bad taste all along? Growing more and more morose, he spent the next week looking at catalogue after catalogue of even more expensive Batman merchandise. He even had his secretary send him women’s jewelry and clothing suggestions. He bought Titus three separate outfits and a Batmobile themed dog bed. He was going out of his goddamn mind. Damian had somehow managed to make all the things that Bruce had carefully strewn about his room, completely disappear. Bruce was spiralling and he didn’t know how to stop.
Then the final straw that broke the camel’s back, happened on a balmy Tuesday two weeks after the LotR marathon weekend. Some of the kids had organised a barbeque cum pool party at the manor, and all of their friends had been invited. Bruce was for some godforsaken reason in charge of the grill eventhough he barely knew the theory of it. Thankfully he did have Clark to help him out. Tim had explained that Alfred would be in charge of the rest of the food anyway, so he didn’t have to worry if the meat didn’t turn out perfectly; and that they basically just needed a dad to stand at the grill for true blue barbeque atmosphere and aesthetics. Honestly, with that explanation, he should have just stayed in bed that day, but he wouldn’t disappoint Tim now after saying he’d be there.
It was only when his kid’s friends had started to arrive that he truly regretted having gotten out of bed. Each and every one of them had shown up with at least one item of Batman merchandise on them. Roy Harper was wearing the Armani Bat-glares, Bizarro was wearing an Urban outfitters Batman tee, that had been cut to fit him as a crop top. Kon El was sporting Batman Crocs. Wally and Donna were in matching batman swimming trunks, and so on and so forth. Bruce was beginning to feel an ache deep behind his eyes, and could only sigh and admit that he had been thoroughly defeated for once.
Diana, asked him if he was feeling tired when he rubbed his nose bridge too many times, but he didn’t answer, ‘cause how does one begin to explain the exhaustion of having as many kids as he did all hell-bent on breaking their father. He’d thought at least two of them would take pity on his old bones and not make him have to beg them to wear his insignia. But that too apparently had been too much to ask for.
Anyway, regardless of Bruce’s inner turmoil, the day had been a huge success, and only three mini brawls had broken out. Which was much better than the usual average of eight. All of the very overdone meat and Alfred’s incredible spread had been consumed. The pool had a lot less water in it than they had started out with, and the lawns were littered with happy and content family and friends. Some napping under the rare sun, while some sprawled around in groups chatting. A few of them were throwing around a frisbee for Titus. The tight knot in Bruce’s chest that had formed while everyone had been arriving had slowly but surely dissolved. He no longer minded that his family wanted to support their friends and brothers in arms and show their appreciation by wearing or carrying their merchandise. He could only support it. Gone were the days where he still thought that all of them could manage on their own. That he could manage on his own. The warmth that he was surrounded by right now, he wouldn’t exchange for the world. Not even for an extra day with his parents. With these thoughts slowly coalescing in his mind as he sipped an ice-cold Pimm’s lemonade, he realised what he had to do.
For the rest of the summer, the Gotham newspapers and gossip rags went absolutely wild, as Bruce Wayne was spotted through the city, going to work, attending a party or a charity function, or even a gala as usual, but with the added detail of him always wearing some or the other hero’s merchandise every time. He wore a tie printed with the Red Robin symbol in a very tasteful repeat pattern to WE. The board members and one Timothy Drake-Wayne were both flabbergasted and very very amused. Timothy and Bruce were spotted at an ice cream parlour later that day.
The second time, Bruce was photographed picking up Damian Wayne from school, with Robin’s crest decorating the Lotus Evora’s rear. They were reported to have peeled off to go visit Metropolis for the day by one Clark Kent. He was later that month spotted wearing Nightwing cufflinks to the police ball and a gorgeous leather jacket reminiscent of the Red Hood to a soup kitchen where he volunteered in the Bowery. The small brooches and pins that he constantly switched on his lapels, were of Spoiler, Orphan, and Batgirl, and did not go unnoticed. A Signal yellow wallet was seen flashing in and out of his pockets as he paid for various activities with a whole slew of young men and women that mysteriously seemed to hang around him at all times.
Even after the hullabaloo of it all had died down after a month or two, and the sales of all Gotham based hero related items had gone through the roof, Bruce Wayne always had at least a single piece of memorabilia with him at all times. For he had finally realised that his kids wore his sign every damn night that they spent patrolling and risking their lives for him and the city. He did not need to claim ownership over their day lives. But as their father and mentor figure, they would always have claim over him, and it was about time that he started to wear that claim out loud and proud. Bruce Wayne may fund Batman, but it was the Bat’s children who owned his heart, and not even Alfred had needed to point it out.