Chapter Text
Looking around the table, Bruce notices that it’s the first time they’ve sat down to dinner together in months. Tim is stopping by for the night so he can avoid the red-eye to London, and Jason had said that he was only dropping in for a free dinner that he didn’t have to cook himself (although Alfred definitely has plans for him and the dishes). Dick is at the Manor for a week helping Bruce with a case.
Bruce puts his utensils down and clears his throat, watching as all of his boys stop their debate and look to the head of the table. Alfred leans in with curiosity.
“I think it would be a good idea to do something as a family.”
There’s silence. Damian is the one who breaks it. “Like…we all go on patrol together?” It garners a little laugh from Dick. Bruce looks at his youngest. He’s done family things with him, right? Or had it been so long since their last outing that it predated Damian?
“I mean like a vacation together. I can’t remember that last time we did that.” Bruce moves his attention to the rest of the chicken on his plate. “How long since we’ve gone to the beach house?”
Alfred pipes up. “Master Bruce, I believe the last several times you’ve gone, you’ve gone with a date, not a Robin.”
“I never went.” Tim offers. “Jason must’ve been the last one to go.”
“Well then, I say we go once the weather gets better. How does mid-May sound to you?”
“I need more than a month’s notice, B.” Tim says. It seems like he’s always busy these days.
“June. We’re going in June, then.”
“What about the city? Who’s going to take care of your precious Gotham?” says Jason. He’d been too quiet through the entire process.
“I’m sure some one in the Justice League wouldn’t mind spending a week keeping tabs here.” Bruce stands and gathers the plates on the table. “Who wants dessert?”
. . .
Damian sits in his room, playing with Titus. Today is the day they leave for the beach house. It’s a sunny morning—warm, pleasant. They should be leaving soon.
“C’mere, Titus.” He calls. The dog trots over and drops his toy in Damian’s lap. Somewhere down the hall the phone is ringing.
“Good boy.” Damian tells his dog. He rewards him with a few pats on his side. “Are you ready to go to the beach? Are you ready, boy?” Titus wags his tail and licks Damian’s face. Damian wipes the spit from his cheek and pulls his legs back onto his bed. “Well that makes one of us.”
Dick pops his head in the door, and Titus runs from his place next to Damian to greet the visitor, who scratches the dog’s head absently. “Hey, that was Tim on the phone, he’s running late.”
“I bet he’s still in San Francisco saying good-bye to everyone and making a production of it.”
“Actually, the Titans couldn't wait to get rid of him—“ Damian bursts out laughing. Dick sighs and tries talking again, sterner. “because they want him to take a vacation with his family because they love him.” Dick makes sure that he makes eye contact with Damian when he says the last part. “He’s late because his flight from Oklahoma City into Gotham is delayed. Thunderstorms or something.”
“So an extra hour or so before we leave?”
“Probably.”
The front door slams downstairs, and Jason’s voice carries through the entire Manor. “Who’s ready to start the Extended-Wayne-Family-Passive-Aggressive-Vacation-Bonanza?”
Dick and Damian exchange stares.
“Please just promise me you’ll be pleasant this week?”
Damian sighs and Dick rushes downstairs to help Jason with his bags.
. . .
Tim arrives (an hour and a half late, a fact that Damian won’t let anyone forget) and they all pile into Alfred’s van.
They’re barely out of Jersey when Dick suggests playing license plate bingo.
Somewhere near Providence Jason threatens to detonate the bomb he stuck on the engine if Dick doesn’t stop.
There’s an impromptu search of the car at the next rest-stop, and when the van is cleared, Jason is sent to the last row of seats with the dog and the luggage.
. . .
The boat ride out is much better than the 3 hours it took to drive to the ferry, because they all have room to spread out and away from each other. The water is choppy, and Tim spends most of the ride in the bathroom being sick (he’d always been bad in boats but now there were 300 other people around to make him anxious, too).
Dick leaves Damian and Jason alone at the table they’d found near the window for a bit to get drinks, and when he returns the two are asleep on each other. He fumbles for his phone to take a picture, and Bruce wanders toward them.
“I can’t believe they’re already this tired.” Bruce checks his watch. “It’s only five.”
Dick takes a swig of Damian’s hot chocolate. “Yeah, but they've had a long day full of traveling and brooding.”
“So have I.”
“Yes, but you’re the Batman.”
Bruce checks to make sure no one is within hearing distance. “I am the Batman.”
. . .
By the time they are off the ferry, fed, and at the house, it’s about ten. Dinner had taken a while, and it didn’t help that Jason gotten them lost in the dark on the way to the house with bad directions.
In the true Wayne fashion, it’s located as far away from the city and tourism as possible. But, it’s a small island, and far away only meant fifteen minutes from the edge of town. Unlike any other Wayne home, however, this one is modestly sized—a traditional saltbox house that might have once boasted several guest rooms but now barely fits the minimum.
“Boys’ rooms are upstairs,” Alfred states as he sets down a few bags. “Master Bruce and I will be down here, if you need us.”
Dick, Jason, and Damian race upstairs to claim rooms, but Tim remains in the backseat of the car, fast asleep.
“I’ll go bring him in, Alfred.”