An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Chapter 4!!!
“I’ve never been more proud,” Dick said, watching over the footage. The Batclan was watching the footage from the kidnapping.
They watched as Marinette and Adrien dodged the attacks. They were so in sync, complimenting each other perfectly. It was almost like this wasn’t their first time fighting together. When the other girl joined in (What’s her name? Alya?), he noticed how they matched their moves.
While they weren’t as in sync as just the duo, Bruce could tell it wasn’t their first time fighting together.
“Their moves are practiced. Sloppy, but practiced,” Damian said, his arms folded.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Bruce said, rubbing his chin. Bruce watched his daughter dodge the attacks, only getting a major injury on her arm.
“She’s so flexible! Do you think she’ll let me teach her any acrobatics?” Dick asked excitedly. Damian and Jason side-eyed the eldest son.
“Pull up files about the people she was fighting with,” Bruce said.
“Her class is currently at WE. They are in Lucius’s department,” Dick said, looking at the tablet that contained the trip’s itinerary.
“Does anyone here know if she’s aware of Bruce?” Jason asked, breaking the silence in the room. The group turned to him, but no one spoke a word.
“You all made sure she knows Bruce Wayne is her real father, right?” Jason repeated, his voice filled with disbelief as he stared at them.
“For someone who’s supposed to be the World’s Greatest Detective, you really missed something important,” Jason muttered under his breath, shaking his head. Frustrated, he headed to the elevator and rode it back up to the manor.
"A triple quad black eye but make it ristretto," Marinette mumbled with her eyes half closed, thrusting a ginormous tumbler into the hands of the aghast cashier.
She stumbled her way to a counter seat and promptly collapsed onto the marble surface. The chill of it was sharp enough to keep her on the knife-edge of lucidity while waiting for her dose of sweet, unforgivable addiction.
A chuckle rang through the vacant shop amidst the whirring of the espresso machine.
"Didn't think there'd be a free range one of you nutcases out there," a baritone voice said with undisguised mirth.
Normal Marinette would've ignored the weird voice. Normal Marinette was smart, usually. Even Sleepy Marinette knew better than to jeopardize everything. Unfortunately, the only Marinette left running the show was One-Foot-Into-A-Grave-Slash-Coma Marinette.
And this Marinette was a downright idiot.
She opened a striking blue eye for a moment before turning the other way and mumbling, "...Ngh bad stranger."
"Name's Julian. Not a stranger now, am I?"
Marinette's current slower-than-a-turtle brain took a hot second to process the words and string them together before slurring out, "Mah-ree-nettie," squinting at Julian afterward like a satisfied housecat.
"Well, Nettie, what brings you to Gotham? Secret Wayne? You have the looks for it, that's for sure." The barista couldn't help but let out a snort at that. If there was anything Gotham was known for, it must be the gaggle of black-haired blue-eyed children with wildly tragic backstories.
Marinette slow-blinked like a lagging computer at Julian before sluggishly reaching to the top of his head.
"Flatcap."
"It's Paper Boy Day, y'see."
"...Weird."
"Kid, this dude's one of the resident crazies. This," the barista gestured to all of Julian, "is what happens when you live here too long. God knows, the air here reeks of insanity."
"Don't forget the water too," Julian snickered.
He eyed her up and down before adding, "And you, kid, scream visitor. Your outfit is drab enough to pass for a gargoyle here, but your scent— It's a dead giveaway. You smell too nice to be here. All lavender and cinnamon and puppies."
Before Marinette could begin to muster up a response, the barista came back and placed her filled-to-the-brim tumbler down with practiced caution.
Marinette cared not for anything but her preferred dose of insanity, immediately gulping down the still steaming drink to the resigned and amused eyes of the duo.
"Even after all that, not even a hint of hesitation, huh? Just like that Tim kid, I swear."
"Uncannily so, indeed."
Three straight minutes of inhaling the more-caffeinated-than-should-be-legal drink later, Tired-As-All-Nine-Hells-But-Still-Pulling-Through Marinette took the stage.
With scrunched brows, she turned to look at Julian then the barista then back to Julian.
"...Wayne?"
Guffawing, Julian replied, "The growing brood of Bruce, Playboy Prince of Gotham. You one of his? Last name Wayne?"
With the caffeine charge belatedly rebooting her critical thinking skills, Semi-Dead-But-Not-Quite Marinette realized how much shit pre-coffee Marinette could have already landed herself in. Idle chatter with strangers was a privilege not granted to a newbie runaway.
"...No. And I- I think I have to go now."
Marinette rushed out of the coffee shop, tumbler clutched like it was her life, under the indecipherable gaze of the odd stranger.
"Hey, Nettie," the barista greeted, moving to make her drink the moment she walked in.
Over the course of a week, Marinette had kept running into the strange man on her coffee runs. After the second meeting, she indulged in the newfound paranoia her journey had encouraged. Under Tikki's disapproving gaze, she casted no less than thirty-seven different spells to be absolutely, beyond any doubt certain that he was in no way a threat to her. Her actions were morally ambiguous, sure, but that coffee shop was the only place in Gotham that didn't stink of corrupted energy.
Marinette could only either take the plunge or go coffee-free, and she's seen how well that would go.
"Hello again, little bean. Need another death drink already?"
Silently acquiescing to that, Marinette admired Julian's newest garb. "...National Bride Day?" she guessed.
He wore an ivory wedding gown, the skirt billowing out around his seat in heaps of tulle and lace. A white camellia rested on his right ear, pinning back part of his flowing blonde wig, pearls hanging from it like a star-lit waterfall.
"Tsk, tsk, Nettie, close but not quite." He bopped her on the head with a bouquet of fake carnations, eyes gleaming with an odd affection. "World Marriage Day, actually."
"What do you think, I'm rocking this one, aren't I?" he wiggled his eyebrows.
Marinette rolled her eyes at his antics. "Felix put it all together, didn't he? You and Mitch together can't measure up to a pinky of his fashion sense."
"How dare you speak to your father like that, young lady!" he gasped in mock offense.
"Thought you called me a Wayne, Jules," Marinette teased back, brow raised.
"You could be both," he joked. "I don't mind being called father-in-law."
"Ju-"
Her righteous indignation was interrupted by the clink of porcelain on marble and the chuckles the barista didn't bother holding back, much to her dismay.
"You- I- Just- No! You guys, no! Felix and I aren't anything even close to that," she exclaimed. But unfortunately for her, her reddening face hid nothing.
"...Sure, kid, sure. But hurry it up, will you? I've got a hundred bucks on the line."
"You bet on me?!"
"I want in. Twenty bucks Felix makes the first move." The barista held out a crisp fifty, adding, "Thirty Marinette avoids him after."
Julian grabbed the bill, pulling up a purse from his fake cleavage.
Before Marinette could protest more, a loud siren blasted from her phone speakers. Her eyes hardened instantly as if a switch was flicked, and without another word, she left like Cerberus himself was on her heels.
By the time Ladybug had arrived on the scene, half of Collège Françoise Dupont was up in flames. Chat Noir was nowhere to be found, but from a cursory glance, the students stayed a distance away from the burning building, seeming neither harmed nor controlled or otherwise affected aside from the bone-deep fright.
"Marinette! Where is Marinette!" the akuma—Manon—screeched.
"We don't know a Marinette," a student cried out in fear of the looming figure.
"Stop. Lying. To. Me!" She flung around her wand-holding arm in her rage of a tantrum.
Staunchly ignoring the rabbit hole of implications of Manon's demands, the heroine came up with her gamble of a plan. Trying to take the most efficient route, she cautiously approached a pastel pink Puppeteer, hand at the ready on her yoyo. From behind the akuma, she nabbed her wand and broke it in half on her knee.
But, nothing changed. Instead, her move only served to incense Manon, not unlike pouring water on sizzling oil.
"N-" Ladybug moved to shake her head, but the akuma was quick to cut her off. "You wouldn't lie to me, right? Not you, the perfect sweetheart of Paris, right? Our darling heroine would never lie to a little kid? Right?"
Marinette weighed her options. It was an innocent child versus the entire world. Faith against fate.
Manon stared at her with the same hope-filled gaze she had once had when she wanted her plush dolls. It plunged her into memories she once resolved to forget. It made her weak.
She bit her lip.
"No. I've never heard of a Marinette."
But not weak enough.
"LIAR," she screamed, flinging tiny pink sparks from her fingertips in all directions.
Spinning her yoyo into a shield, Ladybug managed to repel all but one, the littlest of the bunch. But that was enough to damn her.
With its landing point as the origin, it spread from the soles of her feet to the tip of her waist at an alarming speed. The heroine was protected by the magic of the suit, but even through that, she could feel the burn of the pink flame. It was beyond what words could describe. She felt like she was bathing in a hearth straight from Tartarus. She could feel the conflicting magics tearing her apart and putting her back together, tendon by tendon.
In her haze, she could hear Manon roaring out, "If you won't reveal the truth, then just go reveal everything else. Hmph!"
Manon shot out a pink beam from her index finger, but before it could hit her, someone jumped in the way.
Adrien.
Gritting her teeth, Ladybug aggressively blinked her way into focus. Her former friend was in a similar blazing state. His face was deathly pale and covered with a sheen of sweat. His brows were scrunched tight, but still, he held on.
"S-Storyteller! I- I-" he stuttered out, jaw clenched and eyes shut tight.
Looking closer at the school, the brightest flame within came not from the objects set ablaze but from a group of teenagers—her old classmates—writhing in pain on the ground yet unable to escape from the fires of akuma-delivered retribution. They were beneath a fallen column in the innermost part of the building, crawling like worms to hide from the akuma's line of sight.
"I never wanted to be a model." The confession was pulled from Adrien's throat, word by word. "But it's the only I can do to remember maman."
The heroine had seen plenty of gruesome scenes in her time. From a city drowned and silenced to the screams of young children being beheaded, there was no shortage of such scenes in Paris.
But Manon—Storyteller—was a first. She didn't kill, no. She kept everyone alive in a perpetual cycle of torture.
It was cruel.
And it was her fault that this happened at all.
"I have hundreds of pictures of Ladybug on my phone. My... friend says I'm obsessed. I imagine meeting her, dating her, kissing her." Words spilled from Adrien's mouth like air escaping a punctured balloon, and at that, the flames licking at his torso eased an inch.
A sliver of repulsion shot through her at the admission, but she put that aside at her newest theory.
"Manon!" she yelled, shielding Adrien behind her. "I have something to say."
Her eyes darted around, looking for the akumatized object, but her mouth never stopped.
"You want to hear secrets right? I'm adopted," she said, but there was no change to the pink flames.
"No, no!" Manon stomped her feet. "I don't want your secrets, I want Marinette! I'm not the liar, it's everyone else!"
"Manon..." Ladybug slowly approached, hands held out in appeasement.
"It's a consh-pirah-see," the child screamed, and the flames burned brighter at her rage.
As the child spun in her agitation, a flash of unblemished white caught the heroine's eye. It wasn't visible from the front, but a ribbon gleaming like arctic ice trailed from Manon's hair.
Ladybug's eyes flashed.
"Marinette..." she enunciated slowly, catching Manon's attention. She approached the child at a snail's pace, careful not to startle her. "Did she go to school here?"
Manon's eyes flashed brighter, "Yes, yes! Marinette is real. You believe me, right?"
The heroine inched her right hand to her side, but the motion attracted the akuma's attention.
"Liar! I hate you! Give me your miraculous!"
Faster than the beam could reach her, she moved to seize Manon's ribbon.
Ladybug felt words bubbling in her throat, but she resisted. Who knew what sorts of world-ending secrets could escape her lips? The list was far too long, and the risk, magnitudes too great.
With veins throbbing on her skin while her heart and lungs burned with the desire to reveal, she ripped the ribbon straight through the middle, releasing the akuma and leaving behind a child with stained cheeks and puffy eyes.
Gasping for breath, the heroine caught the akuma before collapsing onto the pavement. Her city burned around her, but for once, she wanted to take a small, selfish break. Even if only for a moment.
Sprawled out on the ground, her chest rising rapidly, she heard the whimpers of a child who couldn't know better. She tasted the flames of desperation in the air, smelled the burnt ashes of hope. She saw Manon's heart break, and she felt her lose her faith in the world.
Marinette closed her eyes.
Another failure.
Preventable, necessary, agonizing failure.
Later, she would get up and be the hero Paris needed her to be. Later, she would be Ladybug. Now, she just wanted to be what she was— a child.
Here’s my first chapter here, the only one I managed to complete before my computer died. I’ll be working on it when I can, but I don’t think I’ll be able to keep up with the demand. I will only be tagging @biodad-bruce-month, here to keep it organized.
“Thanks again for doing this, Clark. Goodness knows Gotham can’t be left unguarded. Alright, yes… a Kryptonite batarang… It sounds practical to me. I mean, there’s one in my main dining room, right now… Okay… See you then.” Hanging up with a sigh, Bruce sits in the back of the rental, his phone in hand as he watches the Eiffel Tower grow closer. He glances forward at Dick, who was bouncing in the front, passenger seat, next to Alfred, stretching his seatbelt out as he practically squishes his face against the passenger window. As they pass a school, on their way to a nearby park, their rental car is filled with the sweet scent of fresh baked bread.
A pair of rumbling stomachs break the silence and Alfred is immediately pulling over, replying as if they spoke to him, “I agree, it is a perfect time for lunch. Would you two like to go on ahead and save a place in line, while I find a nice place to park?” Dick is already out by the time Alfred starts, calling back a “You got it Alfred!” as he shuts the door behind him. Bruce doesn’t have a chance to reply before Dick impatiently opens his door and starts dragging him out of the back seat, causing the seatbelt to snag to his waist.
His grunt of pain draws a giggle from a little girl, standing near the bakery. The two of them glance over to her and see a little girl and her friend, couldn’t be older than five years old. Dick sees the familiar set of bright blue eyes and dark hair right away, and he smiles. “Hey, Bruce. She looks just like you. Maybe if you’re willing to give me a little sister you can adopt this one and get the full family set.” He chuckles at his little joke, and walks over to the two children. He doesn’t see how Bruce’s eyes scan her with a feeling of misplaced familiarity, as he gets out of the car as well. Neither of them notice Alfred watching them with a knowing smirk, before he pulls the car away.
Dick bends down to meet her eyes. “Hello kids! Are your parents okay with you being out alone?” The boy, seems to clam up a bit and cower behind the girl, but she simply smiles at him.
“Our Mamans and Papas aren’t far,” She replies in her accented English, “They’re in the bakery. My manan and papa are working there. Nino’s maman is buying lunch!” The boy hears his name and starts to quietly berate her for giving his name to a stranger. She gently placates him before returning her attention to Dick. “Are you going to eat from my maman and papa’s bakery? You should try some of the macarons, I helped make some of them.” She points at herself with a prideful thumb as Bruce walks up beside Dick.
Bruce responds with an amused chuckle, “Well, knowing that, how can we resist? Come on Richard”—He says ‘Richard’ instead of ‘Dick’ because there are children present— “Let’s go inside and give it a try. It’s been very nice to meet the two of you.” They say their brief farewells to the children before heading into Tom and Sabine’s Patisserie.
Immediately, as they pass through the front door, the two find themselves enveloped in the warm, delicious air of the bakery. As they simultaneously take a deep breath through the nose, the man at the counter notices them, and begins to bring his conversation with the woman in front of him to an end. He hands her a bag as the two children, from earlier, burst in through the door behind Bruce and Dick. The boy, Nino, as they recall, jogs over to his mother, at the front of the counter, while the girl slips under the counter door and practically disappears behind it as she isn’t quite tall enough to be seen over it. They can however, gauge the reactions of the man behind the counter to see that she runs over to the man to hug him before running into the back, where Bruce assumes her mother is.
As Bruce gazes at the assortment of pastries in the cases, Dick can’t help but stare at the large man behind the counter. He leans in towards Bruce and whispers, as quietly as he can, “Hey B. Look at the size of this guy, he could give Bane a run for his money.” This draws a chuckle from the man as Bruce turned his head to Dick to berate him, but he’s interrupted by the sound of small footsteps suddenly running back into the bakery. Marinette calls to the man, in French, “Papa! Maman needs you to take the cake out. She said she can take care of the customers.” The large, French man pats her head and rushes into the back.
The front door opens with a ring, drawing Bruce’s attention away from the counter, to Alfred, entering after parking the car. In Bruce’s distraction a woman Walks over to the counter. “Marinette, you aren’t bothering these men, are yo—" She freezes as Bruce turns back to her. Blue eyes, she thought she’d only ever see on her little girl, meet steel gray eyes, he thought he’d seen the last of, meet again as they stare at one another, jaws slack. Alfred walks up to the silent group, barely able to hide his knowing smirk.
Dick’s gaze hops between Bruce and Sabine before finally landing on Marinette, who was equally confused and equally glancing between them. Dick eventually turns to Alfred, to ask, “Alfred? What’s happened to them?” Marinette’s eyes turn to the older gentleman as well.
Alfred simply smiles at the children before beginning his explanation, patting Bruce’s shoulder to draw him from his stupor, “Have I ever told you, Master Richard, about Bruce’s first serious relationship before he married his work?” He paused for dramatic affect as he thoughtfully rubbed his chin, “I believe that they must have broken up for her to move to Europe… I would say, a little over five years ago.”
At that, Marinette perked up, lifting her chin over the counter to shout, “I’m five years!” This draws Sabine from her stupor as she looks down at Marinette and smiles as she gently brushes her fingers through her daughter’s hair, responding, “Yes you are dear…” She returns her attention to Bruce, “It’s nice to see you again Bruce. Have you already met Marinette Martha Cheng?” Bruce stares speechlessly down at Marinette. Dick looks between them for a moment while it processes in his mind, then suddenly, an audible gasp as he brings his hand up to cover his wide grin.
One moment Red Hood was giving his rundown of patrol to the rest of the team, and the next, sparkling purple-blue liquid suddenly flooded into the Batcave. Jason could see most of his family sinking under the weight of their armors that they were quick to shed in response. Nightwing seemed to fare the best with his light suit. The liquid felt no different from water, but no one wanted to risk it containing any toxins. Visually, though, it felt like what would happen if a magical unicorn herd simultaneously bled out in a lake.
The liquid was rushing in quickly, already almost to the ceiling in under three minutes. Jason could see the rest of his family holding their breaths while trying to look for an escape. Dick was diving towards the exit to the manor, and the others were attempting to move elsewhere too, but the undercurrent was too strong and constantly pushing them upwards, much to the illogicality of the fluid.
The water level was only getting higher, but right as the liquid was about to push them against the ceiling, they felt themselves hit a soft surface instead. It was like moving through cotton.
Pop.
They phased through the ceiling and somehow ended up in the middle of a lake. On the banks, Jason could spot a large unmoving white mass. Swimming closer, he noticed that it was a herd of dead unicorns, as crazy as that was.
What the actual fuck?
"Where are we?" one of his siblings asked. Jason knew he shouldn't know the answer to this, but there was a niggling feeling that he did.
He looked around to see looming dark pine trees surrounding the lake, but Jason's instincts told them the trees were edible. And that they were sweet. The place was fucking with his goddamn mind.
Suddenly, a bell-like giggle rang through the air.
Jason looked up to see a blue-haired pixie in a lavender petal dress flying toward them. She had one glittering blue-green wing while the other was a translucent pale lilac.
"Hi, Jason, remember me?" she said airily.
"Who the fuck are you? Where did you bring us?" he fired off at the thumb-sized girl floating above them. His family was on guard, silently reaching for whatever weapons they had left as they emerged from the lake.
"Here's a present~" she tinkled, not paying Jason any mind despite her initial acknowledgment of the boy. At her words, three blue-purple petals, the same color as the mysterious liquid in the lake, floated towards the group.
Everyone was wary of what magic the fairy had brought, but in Jason's mind, a word suddenly appeared. Pixie-pop. He didn't know what that meant or how he knew that was what those petals were, but he just knew. With the same mysterious sixth sense this whole place was giving him. Like some sort of déjà vu, except he's never been here before. He was fucking sure he'd remember if he was. It was hard to forget the dead unicorns, cotton candy tree bark, and magic pixie that his mind just seemed to know.
One suddenly sped up and reached Dick before it disappeared into purple sparkles with a pop. Everyone waited with bated breath but nothing happened.
Another flew straight for Damian. He tried to dodge but it followed him as if on a tracker. He threw a birdarang at the petal, but the throwing weapon poofed into pastel blue feathers before it could make contact. The petal caught him while he was mid-air, and his entire body was enveloped in blue smoke. When the wind blew the remains away, Damian was gone.
Tweet-tweet.
Jason looked down to see a small, chubby robin. Damian, his mind supplied. It occurred to him absentmindedly that the blue smoke was the color of a robin's eggshell.
Tweet! Twee-tweet! TWEET!
The small bird tried to fly from the ground but kept falling from the unfamiliarity with his new appendages. With a huff, he circled around in search of the target of his ire, the goddamn pixie.
But she was gone.
Magically, as if they were all suggested to forget, the last petal slipped past them unseen to tap softly on Batman's lips, leaving white particles the taste of sugar in its wake.
All of a sudden, Bruce turned paler, his eyes more slitted and glowing against the dark surroundings. His canines lengthened, and his lips turned a deep, blood red.
Vampire, Jason knew.
Right after he thought that, out of nowhere, a pale purple-blue circle appeared below where they were standing, and they all promptly fell through it.
Landing in a crouch on sky blue grass, Jason observed his new surroundings. The sky was dark forest green. They were still in a forest, but compared to the light-hearted fairytale vibe of the previous woodland, this place had a doom and gloom rivaling Gotham's. It might have been the lack of proper sunlight, but all the shadows had a sinister look to them. Jason felt he should be more cautious.
TWEET!
The literal robin jumped angrily on the ground, hidden by the tall grass. Dick lifted him up on his palm, and Jason could see Damian's feathers all puffed out and ruffled. It was hilariously adorable for the stabby Robin of the crime capital. A sibling, Stephanie probably, stifled a laugh at the sight.
The dark forest kept giving Jason a sense of déjà vu, but he couldn't recall from where.
Whoosh. Thud. Whoosh. Thud.
Jason felt called to the sound and approached slowly. In the distance, he could see a lumberjack chopping wood with a... lightsaber?
"Fuck!" he said under his breath. "I know where we are."
Everyone turned to him, waiting for an answer.
"We're in a fever dream. My fever dream. Back when I was ten."
"What the hell, Jason?"
"Twee-twee-tweet! Tweet!"
"Dead unicorns? Really, Jay?"
"Enough," Bruce silenced the bickering children. "What's important is finding an escape path."
"Red Hood, any ideas on how to leave?"
"Portals. I think. Yeah. Probably. Shit, it's been more than a decade, I don't know."
"Tell us what you do remember, Hood," Tim said.
"Magic, sci-fi, this place is just one huge mess. The petals from earlier are pixie-pops, a harmless but permanent prank. I don't know what's up with Nightwing, but Robin and B likely won't turn back until we get out."
"Shit."
"Yeah, shit."
"Is there really no way to reverse the... pixie-pop?" Barbara asked.
Jason groaned, he could barely remember this place.
"A test!" it suddenly came back to him. "There's a test to turn time back, but I don't know how to find it. It randomly moves places every hour."
Out of nowhere, a pink sun was shining brightly against the grass green sky. There was no need for sunrise or sunset in this place; time was relative and random. Everything was meant to occur as a surprise.
A hiss escaped Bruce's lips as the pink rays reached him. His pale skin turned a bruise-like purple. His red lips turned black. Jason couldn't see it, but he knew underneath the cowl, Bruce's hair was dyed a bright bubble gum pink.
Coming back home, Marinette was blindsided by the chaos that greeted her. Egg whites and pieces of shell were stuck to the walls. The pastry display case was covered in flour. Bread dough was hanging from the ceiling. Some of the children her birth father brought - their siblings - were circling around the counter as if in a game of chase. Others stood on the tables, throwing salt at a black blur like some antiquated demon purification ritual.
Noticing the three's entrance, Jason screamed, "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!"
"The what?" Lewis asked, taken aback.
"That! That Inspector Gadget from hell!" Dick yelled, hanging precariously on the ceiling fan.
A black blur rushed from around the counter, jumping straight into Lewis' waiting hands. It was a metal robo-hamster in a Cat Noir-styled mask and cape with a matching tiny bowler hat.
"One of you better explain what happened here," Bruce eyed each of his children.
"It was not our fault, father," Damian started. "There was a slight miscalculation."
"As much as I hate to agree with the gremlin, that little shit started it," Jason pointed aggressively at the small ham-bot nestling in Lewis' palm, the black bowler hat floating slightly above its head.
"You mean, Goob and Doris? They're the bakery mascots!" Marinette defended her brother's inventions. "They know better than to make a mess."
"Mascots?" Dick questioned, appalled. "Those demons? They attacked everyone but Tim!"
"I'll have you know, they're very friendly," Marinette shot back. "All the regulars love them, even!"
"Your parents were called away by a catering client," Tim interrupted the escalating conversation.
"Did the new people scare you two?" To the side, Lewis comforted the two robots. "Shh, it's okay, we're back." The bowler hat nuzzled his cheek while the robo-hamster cuddled his thumb. It was an adorable sight only for Bruce who did not experience firsthand the wrath of the tiny creatures.
"Regardless of who started it, you're all responsible for the mess."
When Tom and Sabine returned a few hours later, Carl, a flexible humanoid robot, was entertaining the Wayne family with stories of the siblings' childhood mishaps.
"Their English teacher had encouraged them to try saying one sentence in English every meal, and a teeny tiny Marinette was setting out the utensils one night. And then, I kid you not, she said with complete seriousness, 'The stabby fell down.' Apparently, she had thought that that was the word for a fork for months!" Carl gestured wildly, engrossed in showing more of Sabine's video hoard of the twins' childhood.
Bruce and his eldest son were leaning around Carl to see more baby pictures. A young man was napping on the chaise, surrounded by the nineteen colorful ham-bots and a floating bowler hat crowding around the twins sitting on the floor. The last four of the Wayne children were on the opposite side of the room, as far away from the robots as physically possible, watching the group for any sudden movements.
"We're back," Tom announced, breaking the wary Waynes from their staring contest with the colorful group of ham-bots. "Is everything set for dinner, Carl?"
"Sure is, dad!" Carl sent the large man two rhythmic finger guns.
"Everyone, kindly remain where you are seated," the robot gave the Waynes a wide, human-like grin. "Dinner will be served shortly."
Right as he finished his sentence, the robot's chest opened to reveal miniature versions of himself carrying plates of spaghetti and meatballs. The army of tiny robots jumped onto the floor before each running over to a different Wayne with their steaming hot pasta dish. The mini-Carl who ran to the Dupain-Chengs all settled on some part of their bodies. Lewis' hid in his hair. Marinette's sat on her shoulder. Tom and Sabine's both sat on their laps.
In the middle of this, Tim was awoken by the smell of the fresh coffee human-sized Carl was brewing in his chest.
"I'm awake!" The horde of nineteen ham-bots turned to stare the young man in the eye in unison. It would have been highly unnerving if the creatures' eyes glowed red like demons, but the tiny hero costumes each of the robo-hamsters wore made them look like a startled family of lovable meerkats; it was very deceptive. The ham-bots packed more strength than one would expect, as evidenced by the hidden bruises on some of the Wayne children from the squabble with Goob and Doris. Each adorable robo-hamster had the power to lift something fifty times an adult man's weight, enough to protect the Dupain-Chengs from most of the usual akuma damage.
Over the course of the meal, the Waynes kept eyeing the various gizmos and gadgets Lewis brought out. From the PB&J gun to the most recent pudding-thrower, as inspired by Crème Brûlée, culinary inventions of different sizes graced the table all throughout dinner.
At the end of dessert, Bruce stated, "I would like to invite Marinette and Lewis to spend their summer vacation in Gotham, with your permission, of course."
"Kids?" After a few beats, Tom looked at his hushed children. "That arrangement would be perfectly fine with your maman and I. We know you two may want to get to know the Waynes better."
"You were always curious little stars," Sabine smiled at the two.
"Maman," Marinette said but her mother only smiled and tilted her head in response.
"We'll go," Lewis suddenly broke his silence. "But, just for this summer."
"Great, I can show you two around all over the city!" their eldest brother grinned at them.
"It'll be fun!" The smallest Wayne tutted at that statement.
Arriving in front of Wayne Manor, Marinette hurriedly let go of the vigilante, her cheeks the same color as his suit. Lewis grinned widely at the two idiots pointedly avoiding looking at the other.
Just as the pair were about to say something, the front door opened to reveal a tall, elderly butler.
"Miss Marinette, Master Lewis, welcome back," he greeted, interrupting the ongoing awkward standoff.
"See you two around," Red Robin said quickly before zooming out of view on his bike.
The twins spent the rest of the time until dinner in Lewis' room, surrounded by the ham-bots. Carl was in the kitchen helping Alfred cook the meal.
Dinner that night was a more awkward affair than usual. The rest of the Waynes kept shooting each other looks when they thought the twins weren't looking. Their father kept staring at them and opening his mouth as if wanting to say something before cutting himself off.
Finally, before dessert was served, Bruce said with his ever-beaming smile, "So how was your day, Marinette? Lewis?"
"It was fine. We had milkshakes at a diner," Lewis said tersely.
"We're just worried," Dick tried to explain for his emotionally-stunted father. "We heard you were caught up in a robbery."
"Yeah, squirts, and we had to hear about it from someone else, too," Jason butt in.
"It was nothing. We were fine, and we told Alfred afterward."
"Indeed, they did," Alfred suddenly appeared at the doorway. "And, might I suggest, Master Bruce, that you move on to your better news, hm?"
"Right, of course, Alfred, here," their father handed over a black card to each of the twins. "All of the children have one, and these ones are yours. The password is your birthday, but feel free to change that."
"...A bank card?" Lewis asked. Marinette could see whatever faith her twin still had in their birth father rapidly fading.
"Yes," their father once again gave them that goddamn press-ready smile. "And, there's something else, but that will have to wait for after dinner."
For the rest of the meal, both twins were silent among the chatter of their siblings. Marinette grabbed her brother's hand and gave him a shaky smile in support. None of the world's greatest detectives missed this gesture, but no one moved to comment on it.
Afterward, Bruce together with Dick and Tim led the twins to the building behind the manor.
"This is the annex," Tim introduced. "There's a gym and a lounge here on the ground floor, but from the second floor up are each of our private hobby rooms."
"It took a while to get some of the items from abroad, but I can assure you, all of these are state of the art, especially yours, Lewis," Bruce smiled at them, but Lewis didn't react to his practiced grin. Marinette gave a very hollow-sounding laugh in response.
"Thank you," she gave their father the same grin back.
On the fourth floor, Dick opened the doors to two opposite rooms. On the left was a room in soft pinks and whites with several mannequins and a wide table inside. A door on the side was left ajar, showing bolts and bolts of fabrics. In the right room, various power tools were hung on the wall. Another wall was coated completely in chalkboard paint, waiting for the teen's next big idea. The connecting room revealed empty shelves ready to be filled by its future occupant.
Both rooms had a small bed in a corner next to a kitchenette with a brand new coffee machine. "The coffee was my idea," Tim smiled at the two, though his eyes kept straying to the ravenette. "You both looked like the type to live off of the stuff."
"Thank you," the twins told the young man, but this time, it was completely genuine. They could feel the co-CEO's sincere welcome for them.
Tim moved his hand to the back of his neck, but as he did that, he brushed the back of Marinette's arm, and she froze. Tim turned red and looked anywhere but at the ravenette, but Marinette stood stock still, eyes wide.
It was the first time Tim had physically touched her, but that wasn't what had the teen shocked. It was the familiarity of his life signature; it was lively and strong and had the same aura as coffee beans.
Oh.
It was something she was in contact with just a few hours earlier.
Tim Drake was Red Robin.
Lewis noticed his sister's odd reaction and pulled the attention away from her.
"I think we'll stay here for now. Thank you, we really appreciate the gifts." Immediately, he pulled Marinette into his room and slammed the door shut in the trio's face before they could reply, locking it.
"What's wrong?"
Paranoid, Marinette dragged her twin over to the inner room before whispering in as low a voice as she could manage, "Tim is Red Robin."
"What-"
"Holy crap, Lu, but wait, if Tim is Red Robin then that means he's close with the other vigilantes, but we haven't seen him with any friends from Gotham, so, that would mean that our dad is Batman, maybe! Wait, is that what everyone has been keeping from us?" Marinette said in an anxiety-fueled rapid fire.
Lewis squeezed Marinette's face, interrupting her tirade, "Mar, breathe. Now, how did you find out about Tim?"
"His life signature. It's the exact same as Red Robin."
"When he brushed against you?" Lewis said in a fact-like tone. "Well... that changes things."
"Yeah..." Marinette trailed off. That would explain why their siblings would shift the conversation whenever they enter a room. It might also explain why their father always put up a facade in front of them.
In the middle of the silence, Plagg phased out of Marinette's bag, "Why don't you get them back?"
"Ooh, yes! A prank!" Duusu popped out of Lewis' bird's nest of a hairstyle.
"No!" Tikki yelled at the two kwamis.
"Come on, sugar cube," the cat kwami spun around Marinette's head where Nooroo also popped out from. "It'll be fun. And, don't you think Nooroo and Duusu deserve some laughs after the last few years?"
The two kwamis both looked at the creation goddess pleadingly.
"Fine." After a few beats, Tikki gave in, much to the pleasure of the other three kwamis in the room. "But no going too far!"
"Please, sugar cube," Plagg drawled. "Going too far is my thing. The kids'll be fine."
