Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He wasn't sure where the spell dropped him. It wasn't a universe he recognised. But Peter was sure of one thing. 

It stank.

Another thing he was doubly sure of. 

The villains here sucked. 

Joker sat on the chair confused.

"And so, this guy snaps his fingers and my whole body is literally falling to pieces. Like, I can feel every single atom of my body ripping apart. And I'm all like, 'I don't wanna go Mr S', but my body disintegrates anyway. And then!! seconds later, I'm back in my body again. But it's not actually a second, because it was actually five whole years later, but I hadn't aged a day. And it wasn't just me, half the population was dusted away. That's what they called it. The Dusting. It's in the history books if you bother to check them." 

The deranged boy bustled around while talking a mile a minute. It was his hide out- damn it. And yet, this idiot had marched him to a chair, sat him down, and proceeded to make him and his henchmen some tea!! In his own home!! It was clear the adolescent needed to spend time in Arkham himself.

The boy- he hadn't actually given his name- turned back to the men with some fried eggs and toast on a plate. "So anyway, there's some breakfast. It's too early in the morning to be doing crime. Kidnapping people from the streets. Honestly!! What were you thinking?!" The boy shook his head and busied himself by washing up the pans and utensils he'd used. 

Dusty- the oldest henchman- handed Joker a plate, and gestured to him to load up on the eggs and bread. His boss sighed, and took a singular egg and made a sandwich with the hot buttered toast. They'd watched the idiot make the food right in front of them, so he deemed it safe to eat. The first bite was heavenly, and Joker crammed the next into his mouth as quickly as possible. Arkham food was disgusting. Enough to keep them alive, but it was never hot, always some grey nutritious sludge- and it was always yucky. The three henchmen, seeing their boss enjoying his meal, tucked in as well. The weirdo boy watched them with a small smile on his face. 

"We'll have to get you some groceries in, because these cupboard are empty. You're lucky I had just done my shopping when you so rudely pinched me from the street. Honestly!! This is unacceptable. I managed to find an apartment with rent for fifteen dollars a month. You can definitely get a bag of groceries mate." The boy began wiping down the really grimy surfaces. "As I was saying!!" He huffed and pointed the spray bottle at the four men at the kitchen diner table. "Kidnapping at this time of day is not okay. It's never okay, but before the shops are fully open is crazy!! I had to literally wait outside the shop to be let in at six. Not to inconvenience them or anything, but I needed to get in early you know? Before the rush came in and nabbed my favourite puff pastries..." He looked over at the bags by the front door. "Which I'll be very kind and share with you." He nodded, and went back to cleaning. 

"So before I was saying that, I was telling you about the dusting. Anyway, I'll skip some things, but I was with this wizard. He has a sentient cape you know, and he did a spell. Poof!! Here I am, in the stinkiest place in the universe. Like, the cesspits back home smelled fresher than this place's green spaces. It's doodoo central. Totally needs a clean-up. We'll get to that later." 

Dusty shared a look with Panda-his subordinate. The boy was stark raving mad. He must have a really good imagination, because the way he was talking meant he had spent a lot of time formulating this story. They wouldn't do anything to him yet, because the guy had cooked for them, but the minute boss gave the signal- they'd pounce. And the guy as still yapping. 

"You can totally do your make up better dude." The teen swirled around, and shuffled off to go rifling through the Joker's things in his bedroom. 

Panda swallowed as he tried to covertly look at his boss. The man's face was strangely blank, but Panda knew that could mean anything. They'd probably be cleaning up pre-pubescent blood from the ceiling later.

The boy waltzed back into the room with what looked like a make-up bag, brushes and a comb. He set it down on the table, and yanked Joker from his seat on the singular couch, to the taller dining room chair. He pushed Meeking- the other henchman- off in the process, but he meant business. The three henchmen watched in shock as the boy wiped the white make up right off their boss' face and the man sat there passively allowing it to happen. 

In all honesty, Joker hadn't had this much fun in a long time, and he'd only been out of Arkham for five hours, so he was feeling lenient. If it was manicures and makeover day, then so be it. Plus, a home cooked meal? He wasn't complaining. 

The boy deftly removed the rest of the make up, and opened up Joker's bag. 

"You have the products, you just need to take the time to do your beat properly. Honestly, a man of such prestige as yourself, roaming around with streaky foundation? It's not okay." 

Dusty was coming to realise that according to this boy, lots of things were: not okay. Maybe it was a thing of the youth, but he'd be crying when he was an adult. So much of adulting was seriously not okay. It's why he was loyal to Mr J. His mom had been killed in front of him by her pimp, and he'd been homeless. Mr J had picked him up, rubbed him down and cared for him. Watching his dad be sent back to Arkham over and over was very disheartening. But yet here they were, and he'd be waiting to welcome Mr J with open arms every time. Messed up? Maybe. 

They sat in companionable silence as the boy did Mr J's makeup, chatting away at breakneck speeds. He was a cute little thing, and his positivity was a nice spark in the darkness that was life. Someone would snuff it out, but Joker was damn sure it wouldn't be him. He'd spread the word, this baby was to be protected at all costs.

"...we made the Lego death star together. Ned- my best friend- have I mentioned him before? Anyway, we were like a pair of divorced parents, taking it home for our half of the week. Except we weren't actually divorced parents because we were only twelve at the time, and that would be weird. Also, neither one of us is secretly a Lego person. Can you imaging a like, human Lego person, giving birth to a whole piece of Lego? I wonder if it would come out as a whole construction, or the pieces one by one, and then the Lego parent has to put it together... Some pieces take like years to finish, so that would be a whole other wait time, after being a pregnant Lego person... that's a lot to think about actually. Anyway, Ned and I kept it for half the week until we finished it. Then, Mr S put it in his Lego hall of fame room. And we visit that place whenever we like and " 

"What's your name?" 

The boy whipped his head around to blink at Meeking. He narrowed his eyes. "Peter." He answered and then went back to talking about this Lego death-star as if he hadn't been interrupted. 

Meeking caught Joker's eye, and the green haired male smirked as Peter rubbed gold highlighter over his cheeks. 

"We just need some lipstick..." Peter muttered to himself, and rifled through the bag. 

A hand came into his field of vision, and the teen glanced up at Joker who handed him a mac lipstick fresh from his pocket. It was a bright red. Peter took it with a grin. 

"Never walk around without at least one lipstick on your person." Joker said, and then extended his chin so that the smaller male could reach his lips easier. 

Peter nodded. "You hear that? Wise words. Take notes." He pointed the lipstick at the henchmen sat squished together on the sofa. Panda nodded, and actually took out a notebook to write it down. 

Silence stretched for a moment as Peter held his breath as he lined the lips first, and then filled them in. 

"If you really like the extended liner look, you can pull the lipstick up through the outer corners just a little bit, it looks really cute." Peter explained what he was doing, as he took a tiny angled brush, and swiped it across the top of the lipstick before adding sharp lines to the corners of the mouth. "Doesn't look as weird as the other thing you were doing, but still gives an exaggerated smile. See!" He handed his model the handheld mirror. 

Joker peered at his face in the mirror. Peter had respected his love of the white foundation, but made it smooth and not streaky. He'd added some gold eye-shadow to compliment his green hair, which had been styled with curtains to frame his face. He'd given him straight green eyebrows to match the hair, and a ruby blush on the high points of his cheeks to compliment the lipstick. And his lips!! They looked juicy and plump with the lip liner, but the small sharp corner was so much cuter than the villainous smile he used before.

"So!!!" Peter clapped his hands together. "What do you think?" 

Joker smiled. "It's a perfect new look for me." He chuckled. "What do you say boys?" He asked the trio on the couch. 

"It's lovely. Not that you other makeup before wasn't good. It was. But this one complements you more." Dusty said honestly. 

"Good, good." Peter checked his watch. "It gives us just enough time to spray some perfume..." He pulled off the lid of the bottle of Sauvage from the bottom of the bag and spritzed Joker's neck and wrists. 

The teen yanked the man off the chair, forced a dark blue jacket on him, and pushed him to get his shoes on. 

"You clearly need a job, if you're kidnapping kids off the street. So, I'll help you get one!! Mr Vishi across the road is hiring. Now that you're smart and smell nice, I'm sure you'll get the job. Off you go, and when you get back, there'll be lunch and a warm pastry waiting for you. Be polite, try your best and remember: You're amazing sweetie!!" Peter thrust the man out of the door, and Meeking, Dusty and Panda rushed to the window with him to watch Joker confidently stride across the street and enter the small sewing shop. Peter wiped his eyes, proud as he saw the older male shake the shop owner's hand through the large bay window. Leaving the trio to cheer on their boss, he began to prepare some spaghetti with the groceries he'd picked up, and set the oven to a hundred degrees to heat up the pastries ready for dessert. 

As Joker sat at the table with Mr Vishi in the back room of his shop, filling out the onboarding paperwork for the first legal job he'd ever had, he wondered how kidnapping a kid off the street to sell for money had gone so incredible wrong.

And later, when they were celebrating his success with bottles of soda from the corner shop, he wondered how kidnapping a kid off the street to sell for money had gone so incredibly right.

And Peter, tucked up in bed with his tv on, hot cocoa on his dresser, stroked the tuxedo cat that slithered in through his window every night. It had a glossy coat and a black and green collar, so he was well looked after, but stop by every night he did. He mused over the state of the universe he'd been dropped in, and vowed to fix it up. Because if this was where he was forced to stay forever, he damn sure wouldn't be leaving the little guy to live in doodoo central.

Chapter Text

There was knocking. Against his manhole cover. 

The one closest to his nesting alcove. 

Waylon Jones stood up and growled. 

Whoever was disrupting his peace, was a certified idiot. And he ate idiots for lunch. 

The tall mutated man lunged to yank the manhole cover down, and blinked. 

A happy pair of brown eyes bore into his own slitted pupils, and a happy voice chirruped out to him.

"Hello!! I brought you dinner!" The stupid little human thrust his hand down, and extended a large picnic hamper. Waylon automatically took the vessel as it was handed to him, very confused about what was happening.

Then, the boy turned around and climbed down into the sewer. 

Waylon Jones stood in complete disbelief as the waif of a human being grabbed the hamper back from his slack grip, and began bustling around his home. 

As the boy opened the lids off the containers, the yummy aromas of hearty meat stew filled the space. 

"My name is Peter by the way. I know who you are. You're Killer Croc. Mr Joker told me that you would be in, and that you don't get much company down here. So here I am!!" Peter began to prattle on as he produced some fine china and utensils from the bottom of the hamper. 

Mr Joker?! 

Waylon stared at the intruder. This little kid had met Joker, and lived to tell the tale. There was a subtle warning in his message too, Joker had claimed the boy. Telling Peter what to say, had let the reptilian man know that this boy was not to be harmed. Joker had taken him under his wing. This boy was obviously something very special. Waylon sat back down in his nesting alcove and watched Peter dish up the stew onto the plates. Rice and broth were piled in bowls, and warm crisp bread was placed next to them. 

"Sit. It's time to eat." Peter gestured to the two man dining chair and table set Waylon had managed to pillage from the junkyard and spruce up in his free time. Waylon obeyed the command, and sat opposite the tiny child.

Peter dug into his bowl, and Killer Croc followed suit. 

"I was telling Mr Joker the other day that we really need to do something about the loneliness pandemic in Gotham. I'm new to the area, so it's really taken me by surprise. Where I come from in New York, it's very much a community, you know? So to come to this very drab and dreary place, it's kind of disheartening. But I never let myself stay disheartened for long. I'm going to do something about it. And if that means dinner with everyone when I can, so be it." The boy finally paused to shovel a couple of spoonfuls of food into his mouth, before talking again. "Mr Delmar- he helped us out when my uncle died- gives me a free sandwich every now and then. Then, there's the churro lady. She gives me free churros all the time. And then there's the guy on the other side of town who gives the little kids free ice cream in the summer, because their parents may not have been able to afford the ice cream along with everything else they need to get. Being a parent is a lot. Not that I would know. I don't have any kids. I don't have a girlfriend or anything like that. Well, there was this one girl, but I never did anything like that with her. Besides, she totally thought I was a loser, not boyfriend material. Plus, I literally never had the time for doing nasty nasty things..."

Waylon raised a brow as he mopped the bottom of his bowl with the last of his bread. Loser was definitely something to associate with the kid. It was a random Wednesday night, and he'd knocked on a manhole cover in the middle of the road, to come down to dinner with a known mass murderer. Loser didn't actually capture the insanity that was this kid's mind. And if what he had said earlier was correct, he had managed to have multiple conversations with the Joker. The maddest of them all. And also, didn't he say he came from New York? Waylon watched Peter natter on, wondering why the hell he hadn't gone back. If he had other options besides living here, he'd have been up and out in thirty nano seconds. Gotham wouldn't see his speckled ass again. 

"...what do you think Mr Croc?" Peter asked, eyes hopeful as he looked up at the man. Waylon shook his head slightly and tried to remember what the kid had asked him. "You weren't listening were you?" Peter sighed and shook his head, standing up to wash the empty dishes. 

"My name is Waylon." The man introduced. "Croc's what they call me up there. Here in my own home, call me by the name I was given by my mother." Peter nodded frantically, and then began pulling even more containers out of his hamper. 

"I was asking if you'd like me to visit once a week for dinner. You're so lovely, and I'm sure having something to look forward to every week would do you some good. I'd love to see you Mr Waylon, I really would!!" Peter paused from where he was dishing out some apple and blackberry crumble and custard into their respective clean bowls, to gaze upon him with the deadliest puppy eyes ever. Waylon nodded, and Peter giggled. 

Waylon internally sighed. His Wednesday evenings were about to become very interesting. 

Nightwing was confused.  

Redhood was confused. 

They were both confused. 

A boy had been spotted walking straight for a known crime location. The place Killer Croc lived. Oracle had picked up the suspicious activity on the traffic cams, and they had headed to where Killer Croc had last been sighted. They had expected frothing sewers, or bodies strewn about. What they had not expected, was to see a thin toddler knocking on the manhole cover, and heading inside when it was pulled open. Like he had been invited. Except he definitely had not been invited if the glimpse of Croc's face was anything to go by. 

"So, that kid is definitely dead." Nightwing sighed. 

"Yep." The voice modulator of the mask came from his red clad brother to his left. "And I was just having a good day."

"What is this? Red Hood, Nightwing- report." The gravely voice of Batman rang through the coms. "Did you say a dead child?" 

Red Hood sighed. And now B was going to stick his nose in places it didn't belong. 

"Yeah B." Nightwing replied. "Just got taken down into the sewer. The one we've been watching for Croc activity." The only reply was a singular grunt, and then a sigh. 

"I'll be there in a moment. Hang tight, and stay down low. Who knows if he'll attack anyone else." Batman ordered. 

"That's the thing B, Croc didn't attack him. The kid knocked on the door and went down willingly himself." Nightwing explained, sitting down on the roof ready for some good juicy hours of reconnaissance. Red Hood flopped down next to him.

"Calling that a door is awfully nice of you, Dickwing." Hood smirked under the mask. "The guy's not human enough for a home. Humans have homes, murderers have hovels. That, is a manhole cover protecting his hideout from the elements. And now? It's the final resting place of some poor kid who'll be missed by his doting parents, who through some bad luck- happen to be stuck in Gotham. Once we figure out just how and why that kid came here, we'll have some sad parents to hug once or twice, and then I have a nice warm bed calling my weary bones to rest." 

Batman hummed over the com again. "Have care how you speak lad. That is a young child. We need to figure out what happened, yes, and then we need to tread delicately. Is there some kind of toxin that Croc has released that entices children to walk to their deaths, or is it something else? Something more sinister?" 

The brothers sat in silence, letting his words wash over them. Basking in each other's presence, rare as it was to see Hood these days. Nightwing spent most of his time in Bludhaven, it was just his luck that on his night home, a kid was killed. Peaceful evening my ass. He sighed. 

Batman arrived, and the three males lay in wait for an hour, just watching the manhole cover and the surrounding area. Oracle kept them updated on the movements of civilians and criminals around them, but nothing untoward was happening tonight. Besides this very strange incident. 

They were then shocked when the manhole cover was pulled down, and a bag was thrown up and onto the road. 

"This is it Dickwing. I'll shoot the motherfucker. Child murdering bastard." Red Hood pulled his sniper's rifle scope and trained it on the emerging head of hair. Wait. Hair?

"Put that down!!" Batman hissed, and pushed the muzzle of the rifle down. 

The three vigilantes watched as Waylon Jones helped the tiny waif of a child out of the hole, and steadied him on his feet in the road. 

"Thank you Mr Waylon. It was so lovely having tea with you. I can't wait to see you next week!! I'll make lasagne and garlic bread." A high pitched warble rang through the night air.The boy then lent in to hug the man. 

Hug the man!!

They watched the boy pick up his bag and trot off down the street while Killer Croc waved him away. 

Red Hood snorted. "What the actual fuck?!"

Chapter Text

Jim's Gordon's day had been going fine. 

Until that gosh dang awful voice filled the room. 

"HI!!" A tiny but loud voice came from the doorway. So, he sent Harvey over to investigate the commotion. Because there was no way every single agent in the room had stopped typing their mission reports for no reason. 

"Do you like doughnuts?" The owner of the voice asked just as clear and succinctly as before. 

Jim sighed and stood up. Guess he would be conducting the investigating himself then. He walked out of his office and into the large room where all of his officers congregated at the end of the day to do a debrief and write their reports. Forty service personnel stared at a short.. baby that was holding a hamper bigger than he was wide and smiling out at them.

Jim could only watch in confusion as the kid walked up to Officer Wilder's fairly clear desk and hefted the hamper onto it. Wilder was openly gaping as the kid then grabbed a stool and stepped on it so that he could undo the zip and then began taking out large containers. 

"My uncle was a police officer the NYPD. So I know that you all like doughnuts. So you can totally enjoy these. They're vegan, gluten free and comlpletely homemade. I really enjoyed frying them the most." The kid began to natter away as he moved around the room handing out the containers. 

Harvey turned to look at his friend and raised an eyebrow. Jim shrugged, content to watch the toddler move around his building. 

"He was shot though. My uncle I mean. We were going out for ice cream when this thug cornered us in an alley and just shot him. Well, he was aiming for me actually, cause he wanted my aunt's pearl necklace. Real pearls too. She still has it. Anyway, I guess the thug was trigger happy, because he shot at me even though my aunt had already taken off the necklace for him. Uncle Ben jumped in front of the bullet. He took it for me. I always respect the straight police officers. The not corrupt ones." Peter had made his way around the front section of the officers, and was slowly moving towards the balcony where Harvey and Jim were stood watching over them all. "Actually, that sounds weird. I respect the not corrupt ones. If you're gay or bi or pan or whatever else, I don't mind. As long as you're a competent kind officer, I don't care."

Peter scurried back to his hamper and stool to get more containers to give the very confused adults. 

"I had a friend at school that identified as a toaster. I know that is so strange right!! But I choose to respect people until they give me a reason not to. And you guys literally deal with crazy people every day. Noone is more deserving of a doughnut than you guys!! Oh. I'm Peter by the way. HI!!" The kid gave the last doughnut to Officer Berry and then waved up at the pair on the upper level of the police station. 

"I brought doughnuts!!" He said and waved a hand in a broad gesture to showcase the agents with their doughnuts.

"I can see that, kid." Jim finally spoke. 

"I love cooking, and Aunt May would have my hide if I didn't bring the local police station some gifts. She made sure that I have my head on straight between my shoulders. And she would absolutely not stand for stupidity from me. None of that shop bought stuff here. No sirree!! Homemade Pete, or not at all, she'd say. So I spent the better part of today making these. Mr Vishi tried one earlier and said it was really yummy. I took some to him to drop off at the homeless shelters after work. Mr Vishi knows me well. I love Mr Vishi. Anyway, um I was telling you why I brought them..." Peter furrowed his brows in thought. "Oh yeah!! Can I come up and give these to you, or will you come down?" The kid smiled up at them like they were the sun replenishing his very depleted vitamin D levels. 

Harvey poked Jim again and the man sighed. "We'll come to you, kid." 

Peter clapped his hands together and jumped up and down. "It's a doughnut party!! It's a doughnut party!!" 

"Someone's off his nut alright." Harvey murmured as they descended the stairs. 

"Be nice." Jim hissed. "Off his nut he may be, but we need to tread carefully. He's clearly been through a lot of trauma, and who knows what he may have laced these with as a result. We've trained these officers well, they're not eating the damn things. If we offend him, he could become violent. And we really don't need that after the shootout last week." Harvey nodded. 

Peter was even shorter up close. He had to strain his neck to look at them. "You're really tall!!" He said, and then thrust the last two containers into their hands. 

The small kid then put the stool back where he found it and hefted the hamper back into his arms. 

"Well, I didn't come to disturb you all for long. Enjoy your doughnuts!!" 

And just as he'd entered the room like a hurricane, he swept out again. 

"No one eat them. Winter, test these immediately." Jim ordered as the door closed behind the psycho teenager. 

"We met your little... friend today." The voice spoke through the phone. 

"And what is your assessment?" 

"As you said. Completely off his rocker. Uncle apparently was shot in front of him." Batman heard the police commissioner swallow. 

"Yes, commissioner?" 

"His story had rather striking similarities to your own origin." Jim's voice spoke steadily. 

"Yes, commissioner?" 

"We have concluded that he may be a little obsessed with Bruce Wayne. The details down to the pearl necklace, the alleyway, mugging, night out. It can't be a coincidence. He's taking from your story, and weaving it into his own." 

"And the pastries?" 

"They came out clear on all substance tests. I sent some officers round to the local homeless shelters, and had one subtly question Mr Vishi. Apparently he's been taking pastries there for weeks, and none of them have noticed any adverse reactions." 

"So it's a slow working undetectable poison then?" Batman hummed. 

"That is a large possibility, yes." Jim agreed. 

"Peter, you said?" Batman suddenly broke the calm silence as they both thought. 

"Yes. Peter." 

Batman spun around in his chair and looked at Nightwing who had been standing behind him the whole time. 

"So." Nightwing smirked. "We have a name." 

Batman nodded. 

Peter. 

What are you up to?

Chapter Text

Bruce Wayne was very confused. 

That wasn't unusual in itself, because it was common knowledge that Brucie Wayne was a bit of an idiot. However, Bruce Wayne was confused. 

It was the annual charity gala at the Thomas and Martha Wayne foundation. All the residents of any safe house or homeless shelter that wanted to come, were welcomed at the large ballroom to eat, socialise and receive the freebies at the end of the night. The room was bustling with waiters and waitresses floating around the dance floor handing out drinks. Bruce could see his kids mingling with the other patrons, and he kept an eye out for any suspicious behaviour. Everyone sat down for the meal and he stood up to give his speech and he cast his gaze over the room and paused his words. 

That damn kid was hovering in the doorway near naked, looking lost. 

Why was he naked?! 

Bruce cleared his throat and continued his speech, and watched the kid edge his way into the room and head closer to the toilet, eyes locked on Bruce's the whole time. Bruce smiled as his speech came to an end, but he wanted to scowl at the audacity of the fetus in front of him!! It was defiant even in it's rawest form- clothe-less. And what was up with that actually? Who turns up to a formal even in their boxers and a single sock? 

Bruce would get his answers. 

"You see the kid?" Barbara asked as he retook his seat at the table. Bruce nodded slightly. 

"Hn." was all he said. 

"Kid? What kid?" Tim chimed in. 

"The very obviously naked child that walked into the room halfway through father's speech. Honestly Drake, you would think you'd use the eyes you've been given!" Damian snapped. Tim tried to kick him under the table, but managed to catch Jason's leg instead. 

"Watch it idiot!" Jason scowled. 

"But what are we going to do about this naked child? That is not normal on the best of days. What if something happened to him?!" Barbara brought the conversation back to the original subject. 

"I would say that we need a plan of action, but Dick's already gone." Jason shrugged his shoulders in the direction of the toilet. 

"He what?!" Bruce huffed in annoyance. They didn't know what this malnourished freak was capable of and Dick had just thrown himself into an enclosed space with him!! He would excuse himself for the loo when it was not too suspicious. Weave his way through some tables to check on them on his way, so it didn't look like he was following his son to the toilet. 

"So, I was walking along right? Because tonight was supposed to be special. My friends from the shelter invited me to come, Lana and Jared. They're so sweet, a little bit older than me, but look out for me when they can." Peter talked rapidly as Dick wrapped his sore foot with some bandages from the first aid kit. "And as I was walking along, some thug pulled me into an alley and demanded all my money. Which I don't carry on me because I'm not an idiot. I literally never go anywhere with money on the me in this stupid city. Gotham? Really?! That's asking for more problems than my admittedly sad life is worth." 

Dick hummed as he worked, cleaning as he went. 

Peter continued to natter on. "So there I am, no money- no nothing but the clothes on my back. Get this. He bends me over backwards, and rips them off!! What does he want to do with my clothes!!??" Peter sighed, clearly aggravated. 

Dick paused his careful ministrations. "He didn't do anything else did he?" He frowned not liking the story Peter was telling. Peter raised a brow. 

"Nooo..?" He answered tentatively. "He ran away after that. And seeing as I was already nearly here, I thought I'd raid the lost and found box before I came to the dance. I just didn't realise the only toilet here is through the ballroom. Seriously, who planned that?" 

Dick's eyes flickered up to where Peter was thoughtfully picking at a fresh scab on his lip from the run in with his attacker. "Stop that." He said, and Peter lowered his hand from his face.

"No-one hurt you in any way, besides beating you up and stealing your clothes from you?" Dick questioned in a different way, he knew kids. Sometimes you have to be a little direct. "No-one touched you in your privates?" 

Peter stared at him for a moment before hopping off the counter he'd been sat on. "Look Mr. I don't know you, and I appreciate the help- I really do. I'm just going to go in there and put these on okay?" He yanked the smart shirt and jeans Dick had procured from who knows where from off the counter, and headed into the toilet cubicle. 

Dick washed his hands with a worried expression on his face. Peter hadn't answered him directly, and that concerned him. He didn't look hurt down there, he did have his boxers on after all, but that didn't mean he wasn't hurt. 

Bruce pushed through the door a moment before Peter came out of the toilet. And wasn't it perfect timing? Dick giving Bruce subtle looks as the kid came through. He didn't want to know what it must have looked like to an outsider, because the kid hurried to leave. 

"Sorry, I'll give you guys a moment. Do you want me to hang a sock on the door?" Peter asked worriedly. 

"NO!" 

"No." Dick and Bruce yelled and muttered at the same time. Peter took a step back at the loud noise. 

"He's my dad!!" Dick said, waving his hands in distress. Peter's eyes widened and he winced. 

"Sorry!! I didn't know! Oh my god I'm gonna leave now. Yeah- I'm leaving." He pointed at the door, and then yanked it open so hard it bounced off the all and nearly hit him on the way out. 

The audacity of that damn fetus!! Bruce scowled. 

"I can't believe he thought that... that we were, together." Dick shuddered. 

"It at least answers the question I was wondering the most." Bruce said as he helped Dick clear up the first aid kit. Dick looked at him. "He's not from Gotham."

"How'd you figure?" Dick smirked. 

"Besides the accent?" Bruce teased. "He didn't know you're my son." 

Dick chuckled at that, and then straightened up. "I think he was raped. He wouldn't answer me when I tried to ask, both subtly and directly. He said that someone attacked him and took his clothes." 

Bruce scowled. "I'll have Barbara check the security cameras later." He decided. "We'll keep an eye on Peter and follow to see where he goes. He must have a guardian or parent that he lives with." 

They didn't get to catch Peter, because he'd disappeared before they got out of the toilet. Jason said they'd tried to place a tracker on him, but the by was nimble and fast. He'd vanished from one moment to the next. 

They did find something interesting when they went on patrol later that evening. 

"Hey B?!" Tim called it in. "I think you'll want to look at this." His voice was strangled, like what he was looking at was shocking. Which it was. "Robin, go home."

"I will not. Curfew is a way off yet. I will not miss out on this." Damian snapped angrily. 

Red Hood joined the coms. "I think Red Robin is right. Head on home Robin." He and Dick had been patrolling together tonight, and had been near Tim when he called out to them. 

Clearly the youngest bat was not listening, because he landed on the closest rooftop with Batman right next to him. 

"They told you to go home Robin." Bruce growled. 

"And I said no. I can handle it whatever it is." Damian retorted, and grappled down to street level to join his brothers. As he saw what they were looking at, he turned to the side slightly to gauge his father's reaction.

It wasn't pretty. 

The mangled corpse was flayed so severely, bone could be seen. The closer they looked, they realised the skin had been cut off in a precise manner. It was words.

"Ha. Ha. Ha."

The man's head was twisted to the side and his mouth cut classic Joker style. At least they knew who did it. 

The question of why was answered by the bloody writing on the wall. 

"I will not take what does not belong to me." 

"That's not good right?" Tim asked. "He's out of Arkham again." 

Dick hummed. "We already knew that though. It's been too quiet. He's probably planning something big." 

Jason piped in. "I would agree, but I think it's something else. This guy probably stole something from Joker, and he's got his payback." 

Damian had moved over to the other side of the body when he noticed something poking out from under the guy's torso.

"Maybe it's something else entirely." Damian said as he yanked the fabric out. It was a tiny child's shirt. Admittedly it did say 12-14 on the label, but Damian was nearly seventeen and he had worn adults clothes at that age, he wasn't the best judge of size. "Wasn't your little friend from earlier missing his shirt. What would you like to bet, if we look around here we'll find the rest of his outfit?" 

Dick and Bruce shared a glance. 

If Joker had found Peter before them, they may be in more trouble than they originally thought. Bruce was under no illusions- this wasn't simple revenge. This was Joker avenging a wrongdoing to one of his own. He didn't avenge lightly. Gotham was going to be in hell if they didn't sort out this kid. 

"I'll call Gordon." Dick sighed. 

It was going to be a long night.

Chapter Text

It was normal routine for Bruce to take Damian and Tim out shopping on Thursdays. So that is what he was going to do. 

"Can we get ice cream B?" Tim asked as they took off in the car to head into the town centre. 

"Sure." Bruce agreed. It wouldn't be going out of their way, and both boys had excelled this week- according to their school reports. 

"I would like to go to Mr Vishi's." Damian requested. "I really liked the kimchi Alfred bought from there last week, and I told him I could get some today." 

Bruce caught his son's eye in the mirror and smiled. "How about you nip in there while Tim and I get the ice cream, and then we can meet up to eat it in the chairs at the front of the building?" Bruce suggested. 

"That sounds acceptable." Damian agreed, and Bruce turned on the radio.

Peter sat at the counter next to Joker. The man was busy serving customers and he loved to bask in the sound of the shop chatter washing over him. Joker had bought the young boy a colouring book, and he enjoyed the motion of staying within the lines. 

"You alright for a moment squirt?" The older man asked. "I just need to go into the back to get some of the New Zealand manuka for Mrs Hargreaves." Peter looked up at that and waved at the mother with her two kids. Mrs Hargreaves was a regular, and very used to seeing Peter hanging around when Joker was on shift. Mr Vishi's shop tended to attract more of the less socially accepted customers. Peter knew Mrs Hargreaves worked in that sketchy lounge Joker went to sometimes. He knew that she also was married to one of Joker's goons. Mr Vishi ran a pay as you can system. Sometimes that was one dollar for a whole basket of groceries, sometimes that was fifteen dollars for two baskets. They never judged. It worked well because the richer folks would pay in full and that would help the man make a profit. 

"We'll be fine!!" Peter nodded and the man slipped into the back where they kept all of the expensive honey. 

"How have you been darlin'? I heard from Mr J about what that horrible man did to you. I couldn't even imagine!!" Mrs Hargreaves shook her head. Benny- the younger boy at six copied her. Tommy- older by a year- sighed like an old man withered by years of living. 

"It's real terrible that you got hurt." Tommy agreed with his mum. 

Peter chuckled. "It's not all terrible. Mr J helped patch me up, and he gave me extra hugs too." 

"Mummy gives me lots of extra hugs." Benny chirped excitedly. Tommy jumped up and down agreeing with his brother.

"That I do." Mrs Hargreaves smiled. 

The door opened and a tall teenager sauntered in. He stopped as his eyes landed on Peter and lingered for a moment. But that was probably because Peter was still in his pyjamas. It had been a long day. Sue him.

"Can I help you?" Peter called out to the well dressed male. He stood with impeccable posture. Not a hair out of place, and his skin was shining from how clear and smooth it was. Okay, hello Edward Cullen. Peter thought. 

"I am looking for the kimchi. My butler purchased it from here before. It was delicious." The guy stated. 

And a posh one too!! The day was getting better and better!! 

"Mr Vishi makes it himself. So you know it's fresh and authentic. He learned the recipe from his Korean great-grandma." Peter explained absently as he coloured a flower on the current page he was working on. A tiger in a leafy jungle. 

"That sounds...lovely." The teenager said and then moved closer to the counter. 

"I had to go down into the basement to get some more honey. I'll be out in a mo!!" Joker called from behind the bead curtain that led to the back rooms.  

Peter watched as posh guy's eyes widened and he turned to stare at the curtain like he would be able to see through it. Which he very well might. Peter reasoned. Enhanced individuals came in all shapes and sizes. 

"I'll tell Mr J that you want some kimchi." Peter slid off his stool. "Did you want the small medium or large jar?" Peter asked, pointing at three empty jars on the shelf behind him. Stored for this exact reason. 

"I shall have the largest jar you can provide. Thank you." Posh guy requested. 

"Scuse me Mr. Are you really Mr Wayne's baby?" Tommy tugged on the guy's shirt. 

"I would say he is." Mr J came back into the room with the jar of honey. 

Damian couldn't believe it. 

He thought his mind was playing tricks on him, but he knew that voice. 

He knew it!! 

The Joker himself came out from the back curtain and placed two jars of high grade manuka honey on the counter. 

"This shoud get rid of your cold Benny boy!!" The tall man said and packed them into a hamper already on the counter. 

"Thank you Mr J!!" The two young boys jumped up and down excited for their sweet treat later. 

"And because you've done so well helping mummy with her shopping, you can have some ice cream. Run along to the ice cream parlour." Mrs Hargreaves got out her purse to pay while her son's ran to the door to leave. 

Damian whipped out his phone and sent his father a quick text.

"Joker works here now apparently. Unarmed and friendly, but be cautious. Also, Peter's here."

Bruce texted back a heartbeat later. 

"On the way." 

The Joker was handing out some change and Peter was back to colouring in his book when Damian looked up again. 

The woman left the shop a moment later, smiling at Damian as she went. 

"Mr J. This guy wants a large jar of the finest kimchi please." Peter told the green haired man. 

Damian had to admit- his make-up did look rather lovely. Well, compared to what it was before. It didn't scare the little kids like it used to. So he had that going for him. 

"I shall go and get that for you. Please bear with me a moment." The Joker gave a crude little bow, and scurried off behind the curtain again. 

Damian stared as Peter coloured contentedly, ignoring him. 

Bruce and Tim burst through the doors and ran over to him. 

"They'll keep the ice cream for us until we're ready. Did you get your kimchi?" Tim huffed out. 

Bruce stared at the embryo colouring in front of him. 

At least it was dressed this time. 

"One jar coming up for the young Wayne!!" A veeeery familiar voice called as it approached. 

Bruce watched the boy smile as the Joker came through the curtains.

The Joker placed the jar on the counter and rang up the total. When he looked up, Bruce was shocked at how different he looked. 

His hair was styled perfectly as usual, but his gothic white face pain was laid perfectly. His lipstick was nice and tasteful rather than that horrible smile he used to draw. He looked good. And that concerned Bruce.

"Oh hello!!" Joker smiled genuinely as he saw Bruce staring. "Three Waynes in my shop in one day. Look at this Petey!!" The Joker nudged the boy sat next to him. 

"I met him the other day." Peter shrugged and went back to his colouring. 

"And you didn't think to tell me!!" The Joker pretended to faint.

"It was literally for a second." Peter scowled at his dramatics. "He's not that cool anyways." 

The tension in the room thickened as the green haired man smiled while packing the jar into a bag. 

"I didn't know you worked in a shop now." Bruce finally broke the awkward silence. 

"Ah yes. I have done for a few weeks now. I passed my probationary period with flying colours, and even got promoted to do opening shifts." The Joker grinned. 

"That means he has to leave super early in the morning, but he gets to finish early. It's annoying hearing him wake up at like five in the morning, but Mr Vishi opens at six, so he has to be on time." Peter chimed in. Joker looked down at him with a gentle fondness that had Bruce narrowing his eyes. 

Peter lived with the psycho??!!

"And I am yet to have a tardy to my name. I try to be on time." The slim man saluted Bruce. "And there has not been an incident in the eleven weeks I've worked here." He leaned in close as if to tell a secret to the billionaire. "This is a no violence shop. All disputes and weapons left at the door." 

Bruce straightened up. 

Joker blinked calmly at the movement. "Besides. I don't. Hurt. Children." His eyes flickered over to Peter swinging his legs with his hands clutching his crayons. 

"Anymore." 

"He's mad." Tim whispered harshly as they ran to the car to suit up. 

"He's up to something." Bruce stated. And he was annoyed, because they had left the ice cream back at the shop!! He'd been looking forward to his nutella swirl cone. 

"That is obvious." Damian scoffed. 

They sped back to Wayne manor to suit up, and rushed out to watch the shop without even consulting Alfred. The man was used to their antics by now, so he simply sighed as the Batmobile zoomed off. 

They landed on the building opposite Mr Vishi's shop and settled in for a few hours of waiting. 

They weren't waiting for long as Peter came out of the shop moments before the Joker. Then, the Joker placed his hand on the teeny tiny shoulder and steered him to where a group of thugs were waving at them. 

When had they got there?! Bruce was watching that corner literally a second ago.

He needed to up his vigilance game.

"Hello Mr J. Peter!!!!" One of them called. 

"Did you have a good day at work Mr J?!" The other asked. 

"Are you excited for ice cream now?" The tallest asked Peter, ruffling his hair as he hugged them all in turn. 

Bruce was so annoyed. Joker had taken that too good for itself, absolutely deformed embryo before he could get to it. There was clearly something very wrong with that child. He would get to the bottom of it. 

If it was the last thing he'd do, it would be adopting that minuscule anomaly and feeding him to size. 

If it took him to his dying breath. 

Chapter Text

If there was one thing Peter loved. It was being helpful. 

And when Mr Oswald had told Mr Joker that he needed some pies for a special poker night at the Iceberg Lounge, Peter knew he was the man for the job.

He'd been down to the lounge before. And he'd helped Mr Oswald deliver little food packages to the homeless. It had been absolutely amazing. 

Peter had been absolutely adamant that he could deliver the package of baked goods he and Mr Waylon had spent the afternoon creating together, to Mr Penguin without problems. And he was right. He had delivered them without a hitch.

It was on the way back, that a building fell on top of him. 

Peter could admit he hadn't been paying attention to where he was going- too busy talking to Esmeralda; the cat he sometimes saw at home. Mr J had said they could have a Chinese take-away, and Esmeralda loved the prawn cracker scraps they made for her. So, he was a bit surprised when the building he was walking past, crumpled on top of his little form. Esmeralda had hissed at him in warning a few seconds before the debris hit him, and Peter had grabbed her into his chest to protect her precious little body. 

The thing was, Peter had not been able to have a proper hug since the spider bite. He needed at least a Captain America kind of strength to be able to feel it. Sure, Aunt May hugged him lots, but the pressure felt like a tickle to him. And weighted blankets were made for standard humans- not super powered spider boys. 

The building just felt so nice he had to enjoy it for a moment. And that moment turned into many minutes.

And then there was a pair of hands shaking his head to try and wake him up. And he did not want waking- at all. 

"Anyone available? The condemned buildings in Park Row's empty street just blew up." Oracle said as she picked it up on the monitors. "Gordon and his men are on the way, and we have a fire crew as well." 

"I'll take it." Nightwing sighed. The man began his way over to the crime scene, and met up with Jim Gordon just as he got out of his patrol car.

"Nightwing." The commissioner nodded to acknowledge him. 

"Commissioner." Nightwing replied. "What are we looking at exactly?" 

"From some chatter I've heard, Scarecrow was supposed to be testing a new silent bomb in the coming weeks. He's clearly brought the test date up in his schedule. We have many men on stakeouts watching him and his lackeys. They didn't find anything." Gordon admitted. 

"Any injured?" Nightwing asked. 

"As far as we are aware, these buildings were abandoned due to structural issues. So my guess is no." Jim chewed his lip. "But we can not be too cautious, so the fire boys have brought the heat signature detector. They're getting it set up right now." He pointed to where a few members of the fire brigade were setting up the scanners at various heights around the bomb site. "From my knowledge of these things, they'll have scanned the whole area within twenty minutes. Not that I expect anything from there." 

Nightwing accepted the explanation and went over to where some of the younger police sergeants were gathered, to eavesdrop on the local gossip. Because he was a gossip himself, and he loved it.  

It was ten minutes as the scanner ticked over, and Nightwing had learned a lot about the GCPD interpersonal dynamics.

Sergeant Westly and Officer Dooman had adopted a stray dog and fed it behind the station. Everyone was pretending they didn't know about it. But Commissioner Gordon had been seen slipping behind the dumpster with suspiciously dog treat shaped hands. PC Fisher had a baby on the way he didn't know about. His wife had recruited everyone to do a baby/gender reveal together later this month. (He would be telling Bruce about this, and he'd make sure an anonymous donation was added to the shower gifts.)

"Heat signature detected!" One of the fire brigade boys called out, and Nightwing fell into hero mode so quickly he almost gave himself whiplash. 

"Let me have a look." The blue vigilante demanded. Then, spent a further five minutes planning a path to the prone heat source on the little map the sensor had produced. The Chief Fire Officer kitted him out with some first aid gear, and then sent the acrobat on his merry way. Nightwing would report after he'd found the potentially injured person. 

The vigilante swung himself over rubble and chunks of walls, ceiling and broken furniture. When he reached the place the scanner had said the person would be, he prepared himself to find a terribly injured and trapped soul. 

Nightwing didn't see him at first. In fact, he wouldn't have suspected anyone was there if the scanner hadn't said they were. The place was a deserted load of dry wall and concrete. 

Nightwing sighed. 

A tuxedo cat shot out from the rubble, revealing some brown hair as it shifted the debris. 

"Oh!!" Nightwing knelt down and dusted off the small head. The cat rubbed itself against him. 

"I'm going to help them, okay?" Nightwing reassured the feline. The cat meowed in agreement, and sat to the side cleaning itself as Nightwing shook the exposed shoulder. 

"Hello! Can you hear me? I'm Nightwing and I'm here to help. We're going to get you out of there." 

No movement. 

"Hello? I'm just going to get some assistance. I'll stay with you so you're not alone- okay?" Nightwing pulled at his little emergency pack so as to activate the walkie talkie to Gordon. 

"Nightwing here. Over."

The com crackled. "Gordon. Over." 

"Found the injured. They're fully trapped under this rubble."

"Assess and report." Gordon ordered. 

Nightwing went quiet as the head of hair shifted and an angry brown eye glared put at him. 

Oh no. 

Oh. 

No. 

He knew that face. 

He knew that hair.

He should have realised sooner. 

"Peter?!" He gasped. 

"Yeah?" The boy snapped. "Are you constantly in the habit of waking people up from their naps?" 

Dick nearly snapped out of his professionalism. But caught himself. Just. 

"I could hear you stomping from a mile away. Esmeralda was definitely sure of you from farther than that. You should get some new shoes. Or learn how to walk quieter. I was having a reeeally nice dream."

Dick was actually speechless. 

"I'm sorry. I think I just hallucinated." Dick stuttered."You are aware you're trapped under a building right?"

Peter opened his eye again. 

"Not trapped. Taking a nap. Big difference." 

Dick was glad the camera in his suit was recording. The others would not believe him otherwise.

"So." Nightwing floundered for a moment. Trying to get his unflappable aura under control. 

Right now. His aura was definitely flapped. 

He was severely whelmed actually. 

Overwhelmed if you would. 

Very chalant. No nons to be found. 

"So." He tried again. 

"A bomb went off here. This is a crime scene." Nightwing tried to explain. But Peter was snoring now. 

He shook the exposed shoulder, and jumped back when Peter hissed at him. 

"Okay. Investigate around me then. I'm having the best sleep of my life right now, and you're interrupting it!!" Peter shooed him away. 

"You're not hurt?" Dick asked, exasperated. 

"Nope." Peter shook his head, dislodging some dried paint from his hair. "I'm trying to have a nice nap in the early evening hour. But someone won't let me." 

Esmeralda the cat, had finished washing herself, and came to groom Peter's head. 

Dick squinted at the cat. 

"Oh! Hey Esmeralda!!" Peter cooed, and began telling her how irritating Nightwing was being. 

That cat looked rather familiar. 

"Alfred?!" Dick hissed. 

Esmeralda/Alfred sent him a smug look before stretching and showing off the collar Damian had given him. 

"Who's Alfred?" Peter asked, yawning. 

"The cat." Nightwing replied. 

"What cat? Can I pet him?" Peter said, suddenly wide awake. Pleading with his eyes to meet the cat. 

"That cat!!" Dick lost all composure. "The cat grooming you!" 

"That's Esmeralda." Peter corrected. 

"No. That's Alfred!!" Dick argued. 

"How do you know that? They might just look similar!!" Peter frowned. 

"Because that is the collar Alfred wears. And that cat is a boy." Dick explained. 

"Esmeralda is a girl." Peter was adamant. 

"Esmeralda is a boy. Called Alfred. Look!" Dick picked up the cat and tried to show Peter the evidence. 

Peter was not having it, jerking his face away from where Dick was showing off Alfred's rear end.

"Why would you do that man?! I don't go shoving my face in every cat's behind. I just assumed he was a girl. Because he really likes watching football. My best girl friends at school all played football. They're going to play for women's nationals. I just know it. And my Aunt May said you should be whoever you want to be regardless of gender." Peter smiled at the cat. "But if you're a he that's okay too. Don't worry Esmeralda. I'll call you Esmerald. Mama Peter doesn't mind. I'll love you whatever your gender." 

"Esmeralda has a name already!! It's Alfred. He belongs to my... colleague's younger brother." Dick exploded. "And he's going to be in so much trouble when I get him home. Sneaking out. Honestly, Alfred. You're an indoor cat!!" 

Peter yawned again. "Tomayto tomahto. Esmeralda/Alfred. Either way. The building fell as we were walking. I made sure he didn't get hurt. Then, realised I was a little tired. So now I'm trying to relax. Please accept that and leave me be for a few hours. Then excavate me later."

Dick couldn't believe it.

"Just to clarify." He coughed. "Because I'm severely concerned and slightly confused. You were walking along and a building blew up. But you were too tired to care?" Dick rubbed at his face. 

"So you're just having a nap under the building that fell on you?!" Nightwing asked the head of curly brown hair sticking out from the rubble.

"Yeah. It's a nice blanket. Now shut up. You're interrupting my sleep." The kid pulled a brick from next to him, and placed it over his head- dismissing the vigilante.

Dick walked away from the small twat, and gave Alfred a two fingered salute as the cat refused to go with him even after he called him to heel. Which he knew the cat could do. Damian had trained him well. And wasn't that going to be an interesting conversation. Damian was not going to be happy. 

And Dick knew his evening just got even more difficult to deal with when he saw the emergency services waiting for him. 

Now he had to explain why he was empty handed. And why a teenager was taking a nap under the husk of a bombed out building. 

Chapter Text

"Hello. My name is Bruce." The tall man let out a shaky breath. 

The other people in the room nodded in understanding. 

"It's really hard for me to admit this. My kids have forced me to come here." Bruce sniffled and raised his handkerchief up to his face. 

Natalie- the group organiser- rubbed her hand up and down his arm. "Take your time dear." She smiled at him softly.

Bruce took another hesitant breath and opened his mouth ready to speak. 

But he burst into tears before he could.

When Nightwing returned home after the building... incident... Bruce was angry. 

"You left him there?!" He shouted. "You left that small child alone under the rubble of a bombed out building? You should have brought him home with you. To me. To care for." 

Dick stared at his father figure, and rolled his eyes. "You should have come and tried to convince him to come out then. He was not going to be moved by anyone. The fire department actually began moving the debris off him, but he kept moving to other places to slip back under the building. Like, he did not want to be moved. And he only left because Joker called to tell him dinner was waiting. That kid has a problem." 

Dick headed out of the room to go upstairs and have a shower. Besides watching over Peter, he had joined the police to make sure that there were no more bombs in the area. Peter could clearly handle himself, but it was weird watching the fire department boys chase him all over the bomb site. 

Bruce shook his head, and scowled. 

This was not acceptable. It was not. 

And so that's how it began. 

Peter and Mr J stood in the shopping centre trying to find a suitable present for Harley Quinn's birthday. She and Joker were giving the dating thing another go. 

Henchman Panda said it was because Peter had mellowed the man out. 

Peter said it was because he actually had a legal job, and that provided stability. That was all a partner would want, love and stability.

They were paying twenty five dollars rent for the lovely house they lived in, and Peter knew Joker was in the middle of negotiating to buy the house for cheap. He couldn't wait to do some extensions on the property. Because then he could have more space for his precious son. That was all that mattered to him. 

(Peter had large ears, and used them efficiently. He made sure that everyone knew that he knew their business, and it had not gone wrong yet. Mr J found it hilarious how Henchman Meeking could never seem to understand how the teen was five steps ahead of everyone else. He was a really proud dad, and the underworld liked the stability that afforded them. Before, he was unstable- unpredictable. Now, Peter had a no kill rule, and the green haired man stuck to it religiously. Just because he worked in a grocery store- it didn't mean he didn't still have a tight fist over the underdogs of Gotham. He did, and his little Prince stood next to him like a cute little trophy.)

Either way, they were dating again. And he had dragged the boy out for his opinion on a good gift. 

Peter was well known in the shopping district. Mr J sent him out to buy things for him all the time, and he'd gotten to know the shop owners pretty well.

"Good afternoon Peter!" A lovely short woman called out. She owned the crystal stall. 

"Hello Ms Janine!" Peter waved back. Joker smiled at her over the top of his head. And they moved over to the next shop. 

"She'd like this Mr J!" Peter bounced over to the shop window of a woodwork shop. There was a statue of two hyenas twined around each other. Peter thought of the two cuties that he loved petting. Bud and Lou were the cutest little babies ever!!

"Hmmm. Well done my pet." Joker stroked Peter's hair and smirked down at him. "She'll love that." 

Joker pulled his wallet out of his pocket. "Wait here little duck. I'll go and pay for them, and I'll be back in a minute." 

Peter giggled as he did just that. 

An odd sensation made his skin crawl and the teen sighed as he felt to a tall man approach him the minute Mr J went gone inside. 

"What can I help you with today?" Peter asked. 

"I just wanted to ask a few questions." Brucie Wayne said. 

Peter swung round to look up at the man. "Are you constantly in the habit of just approaching random children on the street?" He asked. 

"Well. I never!!" Bruce Wayne gasped at Peter's coldness. "I just wanted to check on you. Make sure everything is okay with you. I saw you in the store the other day. My son was getting some kimchi? Do you remember that?" Bruce muttered to himself. "Are you even old enough to remember that?" 

Peter huffed. "I'll have you know- sir- that I'm plenty old enough to remember that." He scowled. "Did you want anything else besides harassing me?" Peter's patience was wearing thin. 

"It's just. Not right that you're living with that mad man!! I could help you find somewhere safe. Somewhere warm and comfortable." Brucie floundered, waving his hands around wildly in an a-synchronous fashion. 

Peter took a step back to avoid being hit by a flailing limb, and gave the man the stink eye. "I am fine and comfortable and safe and warm and all manner of other things- right where I am. Now please kindly remove yourself from the vicinity of my person, or I'll get my dad." 

Bruce watched the small being walk into the shop he'd seen Joker go into moments before. And through the window, could see the brown haired child pointing at him as he clung to Joker's arm. 

The Batman scurried away in shock. That little blastocyst had tattled on him?"

And what was up with that? 

Dad?

He'd adopted him? For real?! 

Ew.

So he was concerned. 

There was nothing wrong with that. 

It was recon. Not stalking. 

No. 

And so there was no reason for his other kids to be worried about how much time he was spending on rooftops watching the tiny individual go about his business. 

There was nothing wrong with his Peter Watch journal. 

Or the fact that he updated it three times a day with precise details. Completely factual and not full of ramblings about how he'd be a better parent than the Joker was.

And there was nothing wrong with him standing across the street to look through Joker's house windows with his binoculars just to see what they were up to in there. 

(It was a really nice house actually. The criminal had done it up nicely, and the living room had cosy arm chairs and sofas all surrounding a huge coffee table that had different games and puzzles strewn across it at different times of the day/week. And it was not weird at all to know the Peter played Monopoly with various heads of the criminal underworld on Thursdays, or that he sat in Joker's lap for his hair to be braided while they watched Married At First Sight every Monday. Or that Joker hated mushy peas, but loved boiled peas with his food. Or that Peter loved pretty much all food, except peppermint. And he'd watched Joker get angry on his behalf when one of the lower level henchmen had done their weekly shop and accidentally got the wrong hot chocolate flavour, and so Peter had thrown up at the mint flavour in his cup.)

There was nothing wrong with following the boy along the rooftops while he walked to and from Killer Croc's 'house'. It had nothing to do with his itching need to grab him and cuddle him close. 

Nothing.

Bruce had followed Peter back and forth for two weeks before the teen had had enough. 

He had not told Mr J about the man, but he was fed up of the constant prickling feeling at the back of his neck. His Peter tingle was always going off, and it was annoying. He needed it for real danger- and yes the man was a threat, but he wasn't a dangerous one. 

Scarecrow was a threat. A real one. 

Batman- was irritating. 

So Peter set up his master plan. 

He delivered his daily food to the homeless shelter for Mr Vishi (he was the best delivery boy. And he had been officially employed in that role with pay!! Ten dollars a day. That was a full month's rent in two and a half shifts. Pretty awesome.) 

He then began twisting and winding his way through the back streets of Gotham. He waved at the working girls on the corner, and waved at the henchmen of various members of the rogue gallery as he passed them. He was slightly notorious for his kind demeanour, and he used that to his advantage. All. The. Time. Mr Penguin's goons bought him ice cream if he so much as looked at a billboard with the treat decorated on it. Mr Riddler bought him puzzles whenever he finished one and got bored. Mr Waylon invited him over for baking evenings if he so much as even looked sad. And Mr Black Mask would come over for hot chocolate and nail painting if Peter sent him a text asking him to. 

He owned these streets, and he knew it. 

Batman. Did not. 

He could hear the man following him every step of the way. 

Once he'd gotten far enough into the centre of Park Row, he stopped and sighed.

Then, the small menace turned his head one hundred and eighty degrees- slowly- and looked directly into those cowled eyes and walked away. 

Batman, screamed.

"And how did that make you feel?" Natalie asked. 

Bruce's shoulders shook. "It made me so sad to see him walk away without me. But when I got home, my kids sat me down and told me that I needed help. He clearly has a caring guardian out there, but I want him. I need to make sure he's safe with me, you know?" Bruce sobbed into the tissue for a moment. 

"It almost felt like he was threatening me. Making sure I knew that he knew I knew where he was. You have to understand. Joker is not a good dad for him at all. But I can't make him see that. He doesn't want anyone else." Bruce let out a shaky breath. "It felt like he was telling me to back off." 

Natalie gestured for everyone else to acknowledge his pain. "We're here for you Bruce. Is there anything else you'd like to tell us?" 

Bruce burst into another round of tears. 

"My kids say that I have a problem. I don't agree. I just want to see every little child protected and provided for. I don't think Joker can do that for him." 

Carlos, another addict who had been attending the session for two months, spoke up. "You have to look at it objectively Brucie man. Is the kid dressed in weather appropriate clothes?"

Bruce nodded. 

"Is the kid well fed, and never thirsty?" Carlos poked. 

Bruce nodded again. 

"And is he happy whenever you see him? Is he happy when his dad's around?" 

Bruce wailed into the handkerchief at that. "YES!" He moaned. 

"Then you need to leave him where he is." Carlos prompted gently. "Removing him from somewhere that he is happy, will be detrimental in the long run."

Bruce sighed into the hankie. "Do you think my kids are right? Do I have a problem?" He sniffled. 

Anna-Berrie- another member, nodded emphatically. "Oh you do man. You really do."

Natalie stood up. "We're all here to support you. If you can maintain composure for a week, you'll get your first Addicts Anonymous chip. And we want you to have all of the chips we give by the end of the year. Three claps for Bruce everyone." 

The support circle clapped. 

Bruce stood up. 

"Hello. My name is Bruce Wayne and I have an adoption problem." 

Chapter Text

Dear diary,

Today, Peter and Joker went out for coffee. I watched them walk down to the shopping district, and followed them to Tea Time Fancy. Their favourite coffee shop, as I have observed them going in there for a drink at least once a day. Yes, sometimes they go twice. 

I sat on the roof and listened to their chatter. Inane ramblings today. 

I will update you when something more interesting happens.

Bruce

So Bruce's therapy wasn't going quite how Peter had imagined it would. 

The teenager had seen a glimpse of the man out of the corner of his eye more often than he would have liked when he was out and about. 

This was about to get personal he knew. 

But he kept his mouth shut as Joker pointed out a new frappe flavour on the summer menu at Tea Time Fancy. 

He liked things the way they were. He was loath to change it. 

Dear diary,

I just can't stop wondering what it would be like if Peter came over for tea. 

I know he's a small thing, and Alfred would love to make his favourite cookies. I've gathered from their tea breaks at work, that Peter loves custard creams. Joker even makes sure they're stocked up in their house.

If I asked Alfred nicely, I'm sure he'd make some every week for him.

I'll let you know what Alfred says. 

Bruce.

Dear diary,

Alfred said no. 

I'm not talking to him now.

Bruce.

Dear diary,

I have now started talking to Alfred again, as I realised I wanted some of his special cookies. He accepted me coming down for elevenses, but there were only cucumber sandwiches on offer. 

I was duped. 

Now I have cream cheese stuck in my gum, and dill in my back tooth. 

Bruce.

Dear diary,

I suggested that Damian should invite Peter over for dinner. Damian told me I'm a: bumbling old fool who should mind my business.

He's grounded for the foreseeable future, and now my only hope is gone. 

I shall let you know when I come up with a new plan to entice Peter over to stay. 

Bruce. 

Dear diary,

I went to therapy and got my one week sober chip.

Dick says he's proud of me. 

I'm worried that they'll be disappointed when they realise I've relapsed. 

I really miss Peter. 

Bruce. 

Peter scratched his nose as he yawned simultaneously. 

It had been a long day, and he'd spent some time at the library. Researching. 

Joker was keen to get him a pet, and he'd been tasked with looking into what he would like. 

So far, he'd come up with an Appaloosa Filly, and a Komodo Dragon. Neither one would be practical, but a boy could dream. 

Packing up his things, Peter waved to Miss Barbara at the desk and ignored how she picked up her phone immediately after he left the building. Probably calling Bruce to tell him he was on the move again. 

The whole lot of them needed help. 

Peter had just reached the outskirts of Park Row when a hand whipped out and slammed a fist into his jaw. 

"Ow!!" Peter shouted, and looked up at the masked face in front of him. 

It was Scarecrow. 

This was going to hurt.

Dear diary,

Today Babs called me to tell me Peter had left the library. So I went to follow him and found the most peculiar sight ever.

Scarecrow had poor precious Peter in a headlock, while pumping some kind of liquid into his neck via a needle and syringe. 

I, the kind and loving father that I am, socked Scarecrow around the head and rescued my precious Peter from his evil grasp. But whatever was in the syringe had already taken effect, so I cradled the tiny sweet one to my bosom to comfort him. 

He cried for a Mr Stark, and May. But they are not names I've heard in relation to the small boy before. I will endeavour to ask him about them later. 

He screamed for them, so broken and weak, that I have made my final choice on the matter. 

I will bring him into my home, and nurture him better than the Joker has. 

I am shocked that the lousy man even let such a precious, tiny lovable sweetness out on his own in Gotham. 

I will not allow him to be hurt any more.

I shall update you on what happens next. 

Bruce.

Bruce had lulled them into a place of safety. Peter thought as he watched Mr J throw furniture around the garden. He'd given them a whole two weeks. Two weeks of different people reporting that he had been attending his therapy sessions. He had even received his first week sober chip. 

It had all been a facade. While he had been play acting the serious recovery, he had also had his lawyers working like crazy in the background. 

Main Henchman Panda shielded Peter from a flying table leg. 

"I WILL NOT ALLOW THIS TO HAPPEN!!" Joker screamed, and threw the last of the living room decor at the farthest wall from them all. 

"Who does he think he is? Attempting to fight for custody?!" Joker continued to yell. 

Peter sighed and looked down at the official court documents. 

Bruce Wayne was fighting to relinquish custodial duty from his dad, and it was kind of funny just how tapped the man was. He had lost all of his marbles.

And that was saying something, Peter didn't think he had any to begin with.

"So, we go to court and prove that he's stupid." Peter finally spoke up. 

Joker rounded on him with a grin. He advanced upon the pair, who had stood up from their place behind the bins. 

"You, my sweet, are an absolute genius!" Joker pulled the short male into his arms, and pressed butterfly kisses all over his forehead. 

"Stop it!" Peter giggled. 

"We'll show that Bruce Wayne exactly what's what." Joker began to laugh.

Dear diary,

The first day of court did not go well. 

When I went to give my testimonial, I was laughed off the stand. 

I fear for tomorrow. 

Bruce.

Dear diary,

The trial was extremely quick. 

Joker retains his parental rights, and I am not able to appeal this. 

Bruce.

Dear diary,

I am depressed. 

Bruce.

Dear diary, 

Alfred convinced me to go out. 

I found myself by Peter's bedroom window, just hoping for a glimpse of him. 

He threw a tomato plant at me.

Bruce.

Dear diary,

I'm never going back outside again. 

I'm now depressed and covered in tomato juice.

Bruce.

Dear diary,

I received a cease and desist in the mail. And I have no idea what to do. 

Joker clearly is not willing to give Peter over to me. I will go and speak to him in person about it. 

Bruce. 

Dear diary,

They got a restraining order against me. 

I fear for Peter's soul. 

Bruce. 

Dear diary,  

Bruce is in Arkham, getting help for what is a severe case of Impulse Adoption Disorder. Clearly the AAA was not the right care he needed. We've rectified the issue. 

He'll let you know more when he's home. 

Richard. 

Chapter Text

It was a lovely morning, Peter thought as he walked through the park. 

Nothing crazy had happened the night before, and Joker had finally been introduced to Esmerald/Alfred. (The two had been napping together on the sofa when he had left.)

And most importantly, it was Bruce Wayne free. 

So, he stopped to smell a couple of the flowers before heading over to Uncle Waylon's for tea. 

And as he dipped his cute cheeked face into the flower bed, a plastic bag was thrown over his head. And he was yanked backwards and onto the floor. 

"Peter, Peter, Peter." A horrible grating voice greeted his ears as he came around. He didn't even realise he'd been knocked out. 

When had he been knocked out?!

He didn't remember being knocked out. 

"Peter!" That voice snapped, and the teenager dragged his eyes up to look at the masked face of the Scarecrow. 

"We're going to have some fun." Scarecrow grinned, and stabbed another needle into his neck. 

"So what do we do with him?" Damian asked as he looked down at the root of Bruce's current problems.

"We definitely don't tell B that we picked him up from the side of the road." Dick sighed, rubbing his had over his face. 

"What? Set back his treatment sixty years voluntarily? Why on earth would we do that? Hmm, Dickhead?" Jason scoffed. 

Peter groaned, and rolled over on the bed they'd placed him on in Thompson's surgery. 

"Where's my cupcake?" Peter moaned as he stretched his arm out. 

Damian frowned down at the boy. 

"Mr Waylon, where's the cupcake you promised me?" Peter waved his hand about, then opened his eyes. "Oh. You're not Mr Waylon." His brow furrowed in concentration. "Who are you?" 

Jason rolled his eyes. "Little shit is probably concussed." 

"Well, he was thrown out of a car window. While it was moving, might I add." Damian agreed. 

"Did I actually?!" Peter gasped. "Where are we?" 

"We're in Gotham buddy. Dr Thompkins' clinic." Dick calmly explained to the confused male. 

"Oh. Is that in America?" Peter asked. 

Dick glanced at his younger brothers. 

"Yes, it's in America. What do you remember?" Dick asked. 

Peter crinkled his nose as he tried to remember. "I was going to Uncle Waylon's for cupcakes. Have you seen him? We were going to discuss the importance of cooking with the right ingredients. It's very important you know? If you're aiming to make a cupcake- like we were going to- it wouldn't be good to start frying fish. Unless you want a fish cupcake, but I don't think that would taste very good. In fact, that would be disgusting. Imagine that, a fish and chocolate cupcake." Peter actually gagged, and Jason dove to grab the nearest sick bowl for him. 

Peter threw up delicately, and rolled back over. 

"One time, Mr Stark and I were going to try baking an apple pie. We left the pie out to cool while we tried whipping up some custard. Homemade with eggs and everything. But we forgot DUM-E was there, so he poured his favourite motor oil on it. And we didn't notice until the first bite, so we had motor oil sauce on our apple pie. DUM-E loves motor oil, obviously. But it's hilarious that he thinks we would appreciate it in the same way. We don't." 

"Who are you calling dummy?" Damian scowled. "I do hope you're not addressing another human being like that. And why were you even anywhere near motor oil while cooking. I have been taught to be sanitary in the kitchen. It does not sound very sanitary." 

Peter turned his huge eyes towards the teenager. "DUM-E is my baby brother!! The bestest boi. We have Butterfingers and U as well. They love motor oil, and try and give it to us whenever they can. It's their love language. I'm the best brother to them ever. I am. I AM!" He began crying, huge shoulder shaking sobs. "I miss them. I miss Mr Stark. I miss May!" He began choking on his tears and Dick jumped forward to soothe the small child. 

"Oh, dear. Don't cry. You can see them soon." Dick reassured, rubbing his shoulder. 

"But, but I can't!" Peter wailed. 

Damian scowled at the snot positively pouring down his face in rivulets, and gagged as Peter sniffed hard enough to suck one particularly stringy bit of mucus back into his nostril. 

"Here is a handkerchief. We are civilised beings here, utilise it." Damian thrust the material into Peter's face and watched approvingly as the male blew his nose. 

Just as Peter got his crying under control, he turned his head to Jason who had retreated into the corner of the room. 

Which was weird because that was a full one hundred and eighty degrees that he did not move his body. His head rotated around on his neck. 

His head. Rotated one hundred and eighty degrees. 

On.

It's.

Own. 

"Where's my cupcake?" Peter snarled and lunged from the bed. 

"Okay what the fuck!?" Jason yelped as the younger male latched onto his arm with his teeth, and began chirping angrily at him. 

"What the hell did Scarecrow do to him?!!" Dick shrieked as Jason managed to yank Peter off the offended appendage. 

Peter's glowing brown eyes locked onto Damian and the tiny assassin smirked, excited and ready for a fight. 

"Where's my cupcake?" Peter burst into more tears and sat down in front of Damian's feet- begging like a dog. 

"Where's Mr Stark?" he whispered, and then turned his head back the way it should have been on his shoulders, and curled up in a ball on the floor. 

Jason nudged Peter's leg with his boot, and was rewarded with a loud snore. 

"So that just happened." Dick said. 

"What the fuck did Scarecrow do?" 

While his sons battled a creepy teenager craving sweet treats, Bruce was having the time of his life in Arkham asylum. 

"Grab that cake and throw!!" Bruce shouted. He whooped as his newest friend Gavin did as instructed. 

"Yeah! YEAH!" Bruce screamed as the cake hit its mark.

One particularly vile resident psychiatrist took the brunt force of the grey covered brick of sweet pastry. Bruce smirked as the man wiped frosting out of his eyes. 

The food fight was going to go down in the history books. And most importantly, Bruce cast a calculating gaze over the medical professionals huddled in the corner, it would inspire some change. 

They deserved better staff, and better care than they got. The current team enjoyed borderline torturing the patients, and Bruce knew they had no qualms torturing the criminals serving their sentences here. There were people with mental health issues and no criminal record, and some mentally unwell criminals. Either way, they did not deserve the disgusting food that they were being served. They did not deserve the challenges and obstacles the professionals put in their way to hinder healing.

He didn't think it was right that they had only started to get better food because he had written a letter of complaint to the newspapers about it. 

Once again, the Wayne name would come to the rescue. And he wouldn't let it be in vain. 

They deserved five ply toilet paper damn it. And if it took him throwing food to start a riot to get it, then so be it. 

His ass hole was itching.

Chapter Text

His asshole wasn't itching anymore. 

Which was a good thing. But he now had another problem. 

He had scabies. 

Or he thought it was scabies. 

There was definitely the distinctive feeling of itching underneath his skin. 

It could also be the terrible bath towels that were made of plywood. 

It might just be that actually!!

Bruce scowled as he rubbed down his back with the decaying-autumn-leaf thin blue fabric. 

He was a Wayne. 

And Wayne's deserved no less than plush Egyptian cotton towels.

So he was going to do something about it. 

"Ma'am?" Amantha the new nurse knocked on the office door of the nursing director of the mental hospital.

Since the food fight incident, a man named Alfred Pennyworth had asked for the Gotham region to do an overhaul of the hospital. It had resulted in less than satisfactory findings, and the previous staff had been overturned. 

Patient quality of life had significantly improved. In the past week that the new team had been working there, three patients had been sent home on day release and one had been discharged completely. 

Amantha didn't know what the previous people had been doing. But it certainly wasn't caring for the clearly ill people in here. She couldn't wait for their trials to watch them go down for the blatant mistreatment, abuse and neglect they had dished out on those relying on them for help. 

She was a little blood thirsty when it came to protecting her patients. Sue her. 

Director Carla Simmons looked up from where she was filling out some day release paperwork for Phineas Wildwood. He was meant to be going out to the local park with his mother and two best friends. It would be the first time he'd seen them in a year, because the other people hadn't let him out in the garden- let alone outside the walls of the asylum. Carla hoped they all had a nice time. 

"Ah. Amantha!! How are you today? And how can I help?" Carla smiled at her colleague. 

Amantha smiled back. "I'm very well ma'am. But I don't think Mr Wayne is very happy. He's um. He's not behaving like he usually does. We have a problem in the lunch room." 

Carla stood up and followed her younger colleague to the ward Mr Wayne was staying on. 

He really wasn't doing well. 

"There's itching under my skin!!" The man shrieked as he grabbed his thin pants and shredded them right off.

Greg and Jane, two more psychiatric nurses, were trying to calm the erratic man down.  

Bruce screamed and fell to the floor, before taking the deepest breath possible and smirking inwardly. 

"MY ASS IS ON FIRE. MY SKIN IS ON FIRE!!" 

He then screeched loudly, and sharted right across the dining room floor. 

Alfred Pennyworth was not impressed. 

Bruce sat in front of him with a smug smile on his face. 

"And what possessed you to think it would be a good idea to defecate on the floor of the dining hall Master Bruce?" He asked in exasperation. 

"I saw some of the other patients do it and get their way. I had to give it a try." Bruce shrugged. 

Alfred raised his eyes to the sky and sighed. 

"And was it worth it? They've added another two weeks to your treatment plan before you're allowed on day release." Alfred stated- blandly.

Bruce, curled up on the sofa in the visitor room with three big and fluffy white Egyptian cotton towels wrapped around his person, just gave Alfred a look. 

And Alfred could barely hold in the laugh that was bubbling in his chest. 

Bruce looked like a Russian Babushka with the third towel wrapped around his head. 

He would do it all over again if he had to and Alfred knew he didn't care about the extension to his stay here. 

He wasn't doing it for himself.

He was doing it for those that would come after him. 

And Alfred couldn't help but smile at his son adjacent. 

He really was proud of him. 

Even if he had smeared fecal matter all over himself and the floor. 

Chapter Text

So. 

Peter had an explanation. 

He could really definitely explain what he was doing camping outside Arkham waiting for visiting hours to start. 

And Mr J definitely knew where he was. 

BIG grin.

******

Bruce's morning had started out as it always did now. 

He had a shower, brushed his teeth and trundled down to breakfast. Then, he had a session with the addiction counsellor and spent some time outside in the secure garden. 

Bruce had made a new friend. Melissa, another resident, had shown him the raised beds where they could grown things. Now Bruce loved spending at least two hours a day out there. 

But his routine was broken today. After speaking to Monsieur Adap, he was told someone was waiting for him. 

Alfred visited every day. But that was in the evening. 

Bruce checked the clock on the wall in Monsieur Adap's office. It was half past eleven. Lunch was at one. 

Who could it be? 

Monsieur Adap, a thin kind man, led Bruce to the private visiting rooms they had for the patients. 

Bruce entered slightly nervous. 

There, sat in the armchair was Peter. 

Bruce sat down gingerly in the armchair opposite Peter. 

The last time he'd seen the boy, he'd been about to kidnap him. 

"I heard you're doing lots of gardening." Peter shifted nervously in his chair. 

Bruce nodded.

"I brought you something." Peter turned to a Hermés bag he'd brought. 

 Bruce watched the small teenager rummage through it and pull out some seed packets. 

They had just raked over the new compost for the new seeds to be planted next week. 

The seeds were a mix of wild strawberries and wildflower seeds. 

The raised beds would look so pretty and Bruce was sure the strawberries would be delicious. 

"Thank you. Peter." He said stilted. 

Peter beamed. 

"Mr J and I made some white chocolate blondies yesterday. I thought you might like some. So I brought you a few of those." Peter pulled out a tin and showed off the blondies. 

Bruce nodded his thanks. 

"They look delicious. Thank you." 

Peter beamed at him. 

"I brought some tea to drink while we eat one." He pulled out a whole tea pot out of his teeny tiny bag. 

Bruce frowned slightly. 

"It's my new favourite brew. Garden Party Oolong tea." Peter chattered away. 

He pulled out some tea cups and saucers next. Pouring the golden tea into the bone china, Peter hummed happily. 

"I also brought some cake forks. I would not want Mr Alfred knowing you ate a patisserie with your fingers." Peter pulled the silver out of the bag next. 

He somehow procured a tablecloth and set the low coffee table.

Then, he pulled out a stand of finger sandwiches. "I picked these up at the bakery."  

"Let's sit and eat." Peter encourages Bruce to eat. 

They sit in comfortable silence munching on the lovely sandwiches. They sipped the tea.  

Peter pulled a dishwasher out of the bag and stacked the dishes in it next. And then pulled out a fridge freezer and yanked out some raspberries coulis and vanilla ice cream. 

He placed a blondie on a dessert plate. Drizzled some raspberry coulis on it and placed a dollop of ice cream on it. 

Then, he pulled out a KitchenAid red and blue customer stand mixer and plugged it into the wall. Whipping up some cream with vanilla bean paste and packing it into a squirty cream contraption, making cute rosettes of cream and serving it up with a final flourish of coulis. 

Bruce's mouth was actively on the floor as Peter put the fridge freezer back into the bag and washed the stand mixer in a sink he'd produced somehow magically. 

After washing and drying it, the KitchenAid went back into the bag as well.

"Let's eat the blondies!!" Peter clapped his hands together. 

Bruce takes a bite and his mouth explodes in flavour. 

Peter giggles and starts shoveling his own forkfuls into his mouth. 

It's a very calm visit. Not much talking, but sharing in companionship. 

And absolutely ignoring Peter packing everything neatly into his tiny little man bag at the end of visiting hours. 

"I'll see you later Bruce." Peter waves at the man and then skips out of the room. 

"Did you have a nice visit this morning?" Nurse Amantha asks.

Bruce, nods.

Chapter Text

FamChat

Duke: Yo peeps. You'd never guess who is here at the Martha's House's Dinner tonight.

Dick: If it is that hot volunteer babe from last time, give her my phone number. We'd make cute babies.

Jason: You're disgusting!!

Jason: Being related to you is horrifying.

Jason: And who was it Duke?

Damian: The fact that I have opened my phone to see Grayson's disgusting sexual thoughts is horrifying. And yes please, Thomas- update us on the individual of interest.

Steph: @Tim, Dick is being horny on main again.

Tim: It's kind of embarrassing that a gown man needs a teenager to be his wingman. Can't get a sexy babe on your account? @Dick.

Steph: It is super, duper embarrassing.

Dick: When did this become pick on Dick hour?!

Duke: When you decided to start thirsting over a lesbian woman. A trans lesbian woman. 

Dick: She's a beautiful woman.

Dick: I see a beautiful woman, I want her. 

Dick: Trans or not. She's stunning. 

Damian: We have established that Grayson is a bundle of sexual disappointment and frustration. Please inform me of this individual that has you interrupting us at this hour!!

Duke: Sorry Damian. Dick's stupidity distracted me.

Duke: I'm slightly concerned that our lovely Joker has taken a turn and chucked Peter out. He's sitting here- as a guest, not a volunteer- enjoying the roast chicken dinner.

Jason: I'm sorry WHAT?!!

Cass: What?

Damian: Father must not hear of this until we have figured out what is going on with him. This would set back his progress by months.

Dick: Forget the old man, what's happening with Peter?!!!!!

Duke: So he's making plans to bunker down for the night...

Duke: ...

Duke: Yeah, this isn't looking too good everyone. He's making friends with the little kids, probably so the older residents don't see him as a target. We see this tactical manoeuvring all the time. This is super bad.

Duke: Bruce can not find out about this.

Damian: I am with Todd and Drake right now. We shall make haste immediately.

Steph: Who says make haste in this day and age?!

Cass: Coming.

Peter had made a new friend! 

When he went to visit Bruce in Arkham, he had bumped into another boy- Beau- who had a parent in Arkham too. Beau's father had been admitted after a nervous breakdown when his manager had fired him for being 'too good' at his job. Peter was going to make sure the man had his own comeuppance, but for now, the father was receiving the help he needed. Technically, Bruce wasn't Peter's parent, but that didn't matter. Beau and his little siblings had all been taken away by social services, and had been placed in Martha's House Central shelter. They were well taken care of, and had plenty to eat. But Beau didn't really have friends of his age. 

So the other teenager had invited Peter over for Friday dinner and a sleepover. 

Peter had told Mr J about it, and the other man had fawned over Peter making a new friend. 

****

"Panda!! Have you seen, my Petey has made a friend!!" Mr J had said, hugging the teenager close.

Panda had nodded and turned to Meeking and encouraged the man to smile.

"Absolutely wonderful that our Peter has a new pal to spend time with!!" Dusty had agreed. 

The evening had then turned into a whole celebration. Mr Vishi and Mrs Hargreaves and the other adults Peter had come to know and love all came to put together gift baskets for Beau and his siblings. They gathered in the lovely warm kitchen and living room in  Mr J's house, music playing as everyone put the hampers together. Toys from Mr Vishi the centrepiece of each hamper, plenty of snacks and school supplies, and toiletries too. 

"My word Peter!!" Mr Vishi had smiled. "Any friend of yours is a child of mine just like you are." 

At that, Mr J had burst into proud tears, whisking himself upstairs to clean up as he didn't want anyone to see his make-up streaking down his face. 

****

So that was how they had ended up here. 

Mr J had dropped Peter off with his goodies, and Peter had given everyone their hampers. Beau had practically jumped on him to hug him so overwhelmed by gratitude. 

Beau had three sisters- Barbie, Bridget and Bianca- and two brothers, Brett and Brody. The three girls were triplets aged ten, and the boys twins aged six. Beau was the oldest at fifteen, same as Peter.

Peter spent the afternoon playing with the new toys in the hampers with the youngest two, as Beau helped keep them entertained. The girls had made an older friend- one of the teenagers, who was teaching them how to apply their makeup upstairs in the women's quarters. 

And Peter was having a whale of a time!! 

It didn't escape Beau's notice how much Brody and Brett loved spending time with the other teenager. 

Beau grinned at Peter when the other boy smiled at him, and then went right back to driving his monster truck up the wall with the six year old twins cheering him on. 

Beau also noticed one of the volunteers watching them with an odd expression on his face. 

He thought the volunteer was rather new, as he was spending a lot of time staring at them, but then again it kind of was their job to take note of any odd behaviour. So Beau pushed that to the back of his mind. 

He was going to beat Peter in this race damn it!!

"Look at him!!" Duke hissed to Damian. 

The boy's other brothers had arrived just moments ago, and they were watching Duke watching Peter who was watching a couple of young twin boys play in front of the huge hearth.

"I am looking, Thomas!!" Damian hissed. "And if my eyes are not deceiving me, I am seeing father's latest... obsession... making friends with some small children." 

Jason nodded. "Exactly!! He's making sure he's not a target. Everyone knows that you don't pick on someone the kids love!!" 

Duke furiously wobbled his head. "He's making moves to get himself on the good side of people here. Because he's planning to be here a while!!" 

Tim looked back at Peter as he picked up one of the twins and swung him around, the other one clutching at his leg for his turn. "Well then, we better tackle this carefully so that we can find out what is happening. Bruce can not find out about this, or he will flip his nut." 

Duke sighed. "This is going to be fun, we have to be tactical about how we handle this... Damian!!"

****

Damian walked right over to Peter and plucked the boy right out of his arms mid swing.

"Hey!!" Peter said.

"Oh this is not going to go well!!" Duke shook his head.

"Did your guardian abandon you?" Damian asked with all the tact of a bull in a china shop. 

Peter blinked. 

And blinked again.

"Sorry, who are you?" Peter said slowly, clearly not remembering the younger male from bumping into him in Mr Vishi's shop. 

Beau smirked as he saw Damian puff up in indignation.

"I am a concerned citizen!" Damian hissed. 

"And what exactly are you concerned about?!" Peter asked incredulously. 

"It has come to my attention, that you- a person who had a guardian before- are now sleeping in a shelter reserved for individuals who have fallen down on their luck." Damian stated. 

Peter's eyebrow raised in confusion. "Huh?" 

Damian scoffed. "Are your mental faculties impaired?!" He snapped. "I was very clear. My family and I have been made aware by one of the shelter's... volunteers, that you have become a resident here!!"

"But I'm not a resident!" Peter said, and then paused. "And why does your family care where I stay anyway?!" 

Damian balked at that. 

"Are you watching me?!" Peter gasped. 

Damian swallowed, he'd been caught.

"You are watching me!!" Peter said. 

Beau snorted again. 

"You're just like your dad. You all have that adoption syndrome thing." Peter huffs.

He then ran his eyes up and down Damian's short form. 

"You can't adopt me anyway. You're younger than me." The fifteen year old smirked. 

Damian bristled at that. "Why!! You little!!..." 

"Uh uh uh!" Peter waggled his finger. "I'm taller than you." 

Damian turned red, and drew himself up to full height, which was up to Peter's shoulder.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't decapitate you with my Katana right here, right now!" Damian hissed in anger. 

Peter blinked. "Because that would really distress the kids?" He said. "I promised the boys a super cool sleepover tonight, so now isn't very convenient for me. I could meet you outside tomorrow and you can behead me then, if that works? If not I can get in touch with your secretary to arrange a better day..."

Damian looked disgusted at that answer. "NO, you dolt. It is not fine with me. You are supposed to possess some level of self preservation!! I have just uttered a serious threat and you are taking it as a joke." 

Peter shrugged. "I don't have any strawberry preserve on me. But I do have some chips in my rucksack if you want some." 

Damian looked about ready to burst from how red he'd gone.

Duke and Jason took that moment to step over and save the day.

"So Joker kicked you out then?" Jason said with about as much tact as Damian before.

Peter looked up at him. "Who are you? Are you another one of Crazy Wayne's children? You all need help. All of you!!" He hissed, waggling his finger at him. 

"Isn't it normal for kids to have playdates and whatnot? I am perfectly capable of making my own friends. Mr J gave me permission to sleepover with my friend Beau here." Peter continued. Beau waved at the three Wayne children.

"We're going to have a midnight feast with these two." He chucks Brody and Brett under their chins.

"Yeah!!" Brett laughed. 

"We're gonna have so many sweets!!" Brody chimed in too.

"That we are." Peter grinned. 

He then turned a glare on the others. "Just to be clear, you are not invited." 

"I do not want to be there anyway!" Damian snapped. 

Beau raised a brow. "You sure? You sound a bit jealous." 

Damian scowled. "I would not wish to partake in such frivolities." He sniffed haughtily. 

Peter nodded slowly. "You sure do sound jealous!!" He smirked. 

Damian huffed. "I was called here to establish that you have not been made destitute by your current guardian. If you can confirm that you shall be returning to your less than savoury companion on the morrow, I shall take my leave."

Peter just nodded unsure of what else to say.

Beau, Brody, Brett and Peter watched as Damian walked away in long unhurried strides. Jason and Duke cast the small group a look before scurrying after Damian. 

Later on at that night, Duke, Dick and Jason barged into Damian's room. 

"We come bearing treats!!" Dick said with a laugh. He hopped right onto Damian's bed, half landing on the poor teenager's legs. 

"Get out of my room you heathens!!" Damian shrieked. "What is the meaning of this disturbance??!!" 

"It's a slumber party!" Duke grinned. 

"With midnight snacks!!" Jason smirked.

Cass, Steph and Tim all came in a moments later, with hot drinks and bowls of popcorn on trays. 

"We come bearing drinks and popcorn!" Steph announced. 

"Midnight snacks!" Cass signed. 

Damian's scowl deepened as his siblings made themselves comfortable.

When the clock struck midnight a few hours later and Damian was given a handful of Swedish Fish- he bit into one with a small smile.

Unbeknownst to them, Peter and Beau were sharing their own bag of Swedish Fish while watching over two little boys who had fallen asleep hours ago.