This time it's more than just Jason calling Bruce 'Dad'

The first thing to register in his groggy mind is the warm sticky substance keeping his waist glued to the bed. His left hand, the only part of him not cramped up from sleeping at such an odd angle, makes its way to him of his boxers where he feels the origins of the glue-like paste.

A throb rocks through his body and he recalls last night's stabbing. Jason had been out, distracting Bruce with little tricks and annoyances. It was his own fault, he should have seen the muggers knife. He was just caught up in Jason and not the three other muggers. The man's knife had swung just right and wedged between his armor.

Making no noise to alarm any of the occupants of the manor, Bruce reopens the wound as he seats up. His entire body disclosing its anger in such an action, he ends up grunting as the last bit of the scab comes free and a new round of bleeding begins.

He uses trembling hands to pack the wound and wraps it as thin as he can. He's got three board meetings this morning and he wearing a vest to hide the gauze will only further agitate the wound.

"Bruce!" Dick waits only a second before throwing his adopted father's bedroom door open. Dick searches the room, bringing droplets of water along behind him," I'm out of shampoo." He finds his father in the bathroom and doesn't even bother gawking at the wound at his father's side. "Shampoo," he repeats opening and closing his hands in a grabbing motion. "Need it."

Bruce, with one hand over his wound, leans into his shower to hand his bottle of shampoo over to his oldest. "I'd like that back when you're done," but Dick is already scampering out of the room by the time Bruce leans over the sink. The pain is making it impossible to think and he can feel himself losing the battle of consciousness.

He closes his eyes and leans into the sink. Allowing the cold bit of the white ceramic to rest against his bare chest and legs. No sooner than he does that is his peace once again is interrupted.

"Scoot," boney hip taps against his and he opens his eyes to see Tim standing by him. Tim stands on the tips of his toes trying his best to look formal but a boy who wears converse with a suit and rides a skateboard to work can only be so professional.

"Let me see it," he moves past the agonizing pain opting to help Tim tie a square knot. As he brings his hand around to finish, Tim squirms away.

"Thank you!" Half tripping over his untied shoelaces Tim runs from Bruce's bathroom and down the stairs. Bruce lets out a breath, half out of thanks that Tim didn't split his skull open when he ran down the stairs but mostly because it's becoming harder to breath.

The rest of Bruce's morning goes unbothered, he slicks his hair back as best as he can and even manages to get his dress shoes on.

That is until the stumbling of one of his… countless teen spies.

Although her lanky legs are useful in her nightlife they tend to be grueling and troublesome by day, amazing how that seems to be something that ails every single teen in his house. He'll have to look into something but instead dwelling on a workout he sits the girl back on her feet.

"Good morning," Cass signs with a small smile, pushing herself away from the older man. When she rights herself, stubbornly keeping away from Bruce and any help he may seek to give, she smirks one last time before scampering away. Not even glancing back at him as she runs down the stairs.

He's left alone on the stairwell once again.

When he hits the bottom, swaying slightly, and sweating profusely, he's greeted by his entire family but not a single one of them pay him any mind. Instead of mixing himself in with the horseplay and antics he shuffles to the living room. Opting instead to collapse on the couch rather than on the floor.

The ceiling spins and blurs for only a minute before he sinks into the pillows, board meetings and the kitchen full of children forgotten.

"Mary had a little pig,
She kept it fat and plastered;
And when the price of pork went up,
She shot the little bastard."

Soft, meticulous humming distracts him from the pressure being put on his abdomen. It's how he knows Jason Todd has administered a local anesthetic, it's also how he knows there are numerous teenagers peering at him. Only they would call Jason.

"Language," he whispers softly, turning his head to grin at his most troublesome son.

Jason groans dramatically," but Daaaad. I only said bastard!" He doesn't look up from his work, instead of tying of his final stitch and breaking the string with his teeth. He spits him the string out of his mouth," there."

He rises from his spot on the floor, uncurling his long legs from underneath himself and using Bruce's extended thigh roughly to push on as he stands. He's almost disappointed that he doesn't' get a rise out of anyone for it.

"I went to your board meetings, B." Tim throws himself up over the back of the couch, toeing his dirty converse off and letting them fall to the ground his tie falling quickly beside it. "Nothing to report except we should totally serve cookies at those meeting."

Bruce grunts in remark, a singular 'we'll see' to someone who happens to be fluent in Bruce. Tim just so happens to be a professional and clicks his heels excitedly. A plan in his mind already forming to pester Bruce until he gives.

"I put your washy stuff back," Dick says triumphantly, proud of himself for actually remembering to put his father's soap back. "Washed your sheets too. B, you got blood everywhere like it was insa- Holy Graf Zeppelin, Batman! I left you soapy on the nightstand!"

Barbara watches as Dick stumbles and falls his ways up the stairs. Glancing at Bruce as she sighs, he offers her a blank look. "There has to be something seriously wrong with that boy."

Jason doesn't miss a beat as he walks back into the room wiping his bloodied hands off on a towel. "Oh, there is," Jason smirks," undoubtedly. I gotta get out of here, I've got patrol and I believe little Dickie does as well."

Damien is suddenly inches from Bruce's face," Father, I would like to accompany Richard."

The large room erupts in shouts as Tim pushes Damien and argues that he should be the one to go with Dick. Cass jumps in, pulling the two apart but Jason pulls her back trying to keep the fight going. In just seconds the small group, which had gathered nicely around him, are throwing fist and insults.

"He's my father, of course, he'll allow me to go!"

"He got stuck with you! He actually chose the rest of us!"

"If that's the case, I'd smoke all you bitches. I hit him and stole his tires when we met."

"Yeah but- Dad, who do you love the most?"

"Me, obviously. Isn't that right Dad?"

"Dad!"

"Father, tell them."

He blinks slowly, taking in all of the faces around him. Every single one so sure that he'll choose them. "I decline to answer that." He pushes himself into a seated position and then wobbly coming to stand on his feet.

He had thought that slowly making his way back to his own room would have gotten him away from their bickering, instead, they just brought it with them. "Hey!" The yelling ceases and that's only because he sounded more like Batman than Bruce but if the other guy does the trick then hell, who cares? "I'm exhausted and my back is killing me so I'd like to just lay in my bed and try to sleep until patrol. Alright?"

Dick is the first to answer," right. I'm sorry, B. I should have known."

Bruce sighs deeply at the guilt written all over the younger man's face. "Dammit, Dick. That's not-"

He shakes his head," no. We shouldn't have argued. Just lay down, I'll go get a heating pad for your back."

"I'll go get some water," Barbara offers with a smile, following Dick.

Damien pushes past him, moving into his room," I'll get you a clean shirt, father."

"Seat down," Jason grunts, tossing his helmet to the ground," you've torn my stitches."

Cass disappears and Bruce figures she's gone to get more gauze.

Alone in the large bedroom, Jason whispers," I'm sorry I got you stabbed, B."

Bruce leans back until he feels his head hit the pillows of his overly large bed. His eyes are drifting shut when Dick returns and Jason has him running back out, telling his older brother to get a bag of blood and an IV. When Barbara gets back, he's only partially awake so with the help of Jason, they lift his shoulders and rest the pillow like pad over the large scar on his back.

The rest gather in, he can smell Tim's weird cologne, feel Damien's fuzzy socks tucking under his arm, and can feel Cass' eyes looking him over from wherever she's perched in the room. Barbara takes his hand, slowly rubbing the tension from them with rough calloused fingers.

"Do you really think he has a favorite?" It's unmistakable Tim asking the question and probably inching his way closer to Dick and as far as possible from Bruce.

Dick answers though with a small half smile," no." A small chuckle escapes his lips and he busts out laughing before deepening his voice and muttering," because he's Batman."

Bruce finally falls asleep to his kid's giggles and each one doing their own interpretation of 'I'm Batman'.