The group chat had gone silent. Bruce stared at the glowing screen for a moment, waiting for one of his sons to reply. He had just sent the message — short, simple, and enough to change everything.

Bruce: I need you all to come by the manor tonight. There’s someone I want you to meet. Dick: Someone?? What do you mean “someone”? Jason: This isn’t another gala, is it? Tim: Did you adopt another kid??

Bruce exhaled softly through his nose before typing back.

Bruce: His name is Damian. He’s… my son.

There was a pause. Then—

Dick: …Wait, WHAT?? Jason: You mean biological son?? With who?! Tim: Oh my god, that explains the weird phone calls to Geneva last year—

Bruce closed the chat before they could bombard him with more. He knew they’d come. They always did.

⸻

That evening, Wayne Manor was filled with the muffled echo of voices and footsteps—something it hadn’t had in a while. Dick was the first through the door, bright-eyed as always, trying not to look too shocked as Bruce stood there, holding a small boy with dark hair and wide green eyes.

“Whoa,” Dick breathed out, his grin softening. “So this is him?”

Damian blinked at him from Bruce’s arms, his tiny fingers clutching the collar of Bruce’s shirt. “Daddy… who that?” he asked in a small, curious voice, his words slightly slurred but understandable.

“That’s Dick,” Bruce said gently, smiling down at him. “Your big brother.”

Jason walked in next, leaning against the doorway with that familiar smirk. “So this is the big secret, huh?” He eyed Damian, then looked up at Bruce. “Didn’t think you had it in you, old man.”

“Jason,” Bruce warned, but before he could continue, Damian reached a hand out toward Jason’s jacket, tugging on the leather.

“Cool…” Damian said, wide-eyed.

Jason froze, then let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, kid. You’ve got taste.”

Tim arrived last, his hair a little messy and a coffee cup still in hand. “So it’s true,” he said softly, looking at the little boy with quiet awe. “He looks just like you, Bruce.”

Bruce set Damian down on the floor, watching as his youngest son toddled forward on unsteady feet, eyes flicking between the three older boys. “Hi,” Damian said shyly, voice small but clear. “I’m… Dam’n.”

“Damian,” Bruce corrected softly, smiling.

Dick crouched down, his voice gentle. “Hey, buddy. I’m Dick. It’s really nice to meet you.”

Damian stared at him for a second, then gave a tiny nod. “Hi… Dick.”

Jason snorted. “Cute kid.”

Tim smiled faintly. “This is surreal.”