Babysitting the Bats

SUMMARY: One-shot: Dick asks Wally to babysit his younger siblings. Turns out better than what Wally expected it to be.

Disclaimer: I don't own the tv show.

"Thanks for watching them for me," Dick said while hurriedly fastening on his belt.

"Uh, yeah, sure."

"Normally, Alfred would do it, but he's down with a cold, and I have a meeting that I completely forgot about."

"The one for mathletes?"

"The very one."

Wally scratched the back of his head. "Uh, you sure I'm the best choice? I mean, shouldn't M'gaan be doing this? She seems like the type to know how to handle kids."

The younger boy gave him a flat look. "M'gaan doesn't know that Dick Grayson is Robin."

"Are you sure there's no one else?"

"Wally, please. You're my only hope." Dick peered into Wally's eyes, his own blue ones widened and shining with imploration.

The redhead sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright! Just—just stop it with the eyes already!"

Dick smirked.

When Dick left the manor, Wally couldn't help but feel nervous. He never had experience in handling children before, none less five of them all at once. The predicament just seemed to burgeon along with the stretching shadows of the stately home's long corridors.

Wally especially felt nervous about Jason. From what he got out of Dick's complaints, Jason happened to be a very difficult boy to deal with. What if Jason decided to give him a hard time and the others followed suit? After all, Jason was the oldest after Dick, and younger siblings generally tended to copy what the elder did. At least, that's what he heard.

If he's lucky, the kids could be bribed with food for good behavior. Wally counted his lucky stars that Aunt Iris taught him how to make cakes and pies.

As he was wandering aimlessly, wondering where the children could be and if he was lost, he felt something bump against him.

No, it was a someone, not a something. Wally looked down and saw a little boy picking himself up from the floor. "Oh! Sorry, I didn't see you there."

"It's okay," the boy replied in a small voice. He stared up at him, and Wally could see blue eyes to go along with that black hair. If he didn't know any better, he would have assumed that this kid was Dick's biological brother. But as far as resemblance went, it only extended to those two features.

"So," said Wally, balancing on his heels, "you must be…Tim?"

The boy nodded his head, his wide eyes never faltering on his figure. "Are—are you here to watch over us while Bruce and Dick are gone and Alfred is sick?" he asked.

"Yup. So, where is the rest of the family?"

"They went to hide. You forgot to introduce yourself."

Wally blinked. "Oh, uh. I'm Wally. Nice to meet you, Tim."

"Nice to meet you too, Wally," Tim said, ducking his head.

Well, one of them didn't turn out to be such a hassle as he originally feared. He could only hope that it would be that way for the others. "Cool. Say, Tim, can you help me search for your siblings? It's almost—" he took a quick glance at his wristwatch—"four and I gotta start making dinner."

"Okay, but Jason isn't going to happy about it," Tim said, pinching his face with worry.

Wally suppressed a sigh. He didn't even meet Jason and yet he already had reservations about him.

"If he gives you any trouble, tell me and I'll sort him out, okay?"

"But wouldn't that be tattling?"

"Not if Jason is being a bully."

Tim nodded, and then took Wally's wrist with his two small hands and led him down the hallway. Into three minutes of walking in silence, Wally figured that he should instigate a conversation to lessen the awkwardness. Things would flow easier if they were comfortable with one another, right?

"So, Tim, what do you want for dinner?"

He shrugged. "Anything is fine."

"Okay… How about dessert? What do you want for dessert?"

"Anything is fine."

So hard. So very hard. "Oh, come on, Timmy," Wally insisted. "What if I served Brussels sprouts? That wouldn't be fine, now would it?"

"Alfred makes us eat our vegetables anyway."

"But Alfred is in bed and he won't know." Actually, he would. The butler seemed to know everything, but Tim didn't need to know that. "Tell me, what do you want to eat?"

The little boy gnawed his lower lip, hesitation apparent on his expression. Finally, in a smaller voice than what Wally had first heard from him, he said, "Pizza."

Wally grinned and straightened his back, not realizing that he leaned forward to catch what Tim was saying. "Pizza? We can do pizza! Say, after we round everyone up, how about we make pizza together?"

Tim's eyes widened. "R-really?"

"Of course. There's no tastier meal than one that is homemade."

"C-can I choose dessert too?"

"We might have to ask your siblings about making that debate unless everyone ends up wanting the same thing."

"Ice cream," Tim said resolutely. "No one can ever say no to ice cream."

After they made a turn around a corner, a creature suddenly fell on top of Wally. The redhead shrieked and his arms windmilled as he toppled backwards and landed on his back. "Ahh!"

"Oww," the creature—who turned out to be a blonde girl—groaned, sitting up on his stomach. For such a tiny thing, she was unexpectedly heavy.

"Could you get off of me please?" Wally grunted, propping himself on his elbows.

"Oh! Sorry." The girl jumped off of him and gave him a wide smile. "Hey, you're our new babysitter!"

He internally cringed. Relegated from a superhero to a…babysitter. Artemis would have a field day if she ever found out, which she won't. "I'm Wally."

"I'm Stephanie and I'm eight-years-old!"

"Hi, Stephanie," Wally said, standing up and dusting himself. "Mind telling me what you were doing up there?"

"Jason told us that we're playing hide-and-seek and that you're it! I was hiding from the ceiling, but I lost my grip."

"He didn't tell me that we were playing," Tim said, frowning.

A little girl was hiding from the ceiling…? Wally shook his head. What did he expect? These were Batman's kids, after all. "Uh, well, we better find them in time so that we can make dinner."

"Oh! Oh! I wanna eat spaghetti for dinner!" Stephanie chirped, her hair bouncing along with her feet.

"But we're having pizza," Tim protested, crossing his arms.

"Pizza? Alfred is letting us have pizza?" she gasped.

"No, but he doesn't know that. This will be our secret, okay?" Wally said, pressing a finger to his lips.

The two children copied him. "Promise," they swore simultaneously.

"Good. Now, I think we have three others to seek for."

The Bat kids, Wally later learned, were a mixed bunch. Firstly, there was Stephanie, whose bubbly personality seemed to be a bit too…bright for a place that practically exuded Batman's solemnity and darkness. Even Dick, despite his all cheekiness and affinity for trolling others, had his serious moments.

Cassandra—or Cass, as the others refer to her as—was basically the blonde's opposite. She was silent and wouldn't talk unless spoken to. And when she spoke, her words were short and curt. Wally couldn't tell whether she was shy or reserved. For a preteen, she wasn't easy to read as the others were.

Damian was three-years-old and very strange. Tim told him that Damian wasn't adopted like how the rest of them were, surprising Wally to discover that Bruce Wayne had a biological son. Moreover, why would he teach a toddler how to throw knives with such frightening accuracy? Or climb up to tall heights as though he was a monkey? Like as mentioned before, Damian was very strange. And Bruce had problems.

Tim, Wally immediately learned, was timid and sweet. He was also quite intelligent from what Wally could speculate from the mathematical formulas that he recited to him. Wally knew that playing favorites wouldn't be fair, but Tim easily became number one.

Now there was Jason. The ten-year-old exceeded his expectations. He was gruff and insolent, and Wally did not have a clue in knowing what to do with him. He tried to channel his inner Kaldur, but there was no Kaldur for him to channel into. So, for what he lacked in patience, he made it up with his intended plan—bribing the kids with food.

Now, after a couple attempts at pizza-flipping, Jason was cracking up jokes and regaling humiliating stories about Dick. Tim directed disapproving looks at the two guffawing boys, but Wally could see the corner of his lips twitching upwards.

"Alfred is gonna be so pissed when he sees the mess that you let us make," Jason said, surveying the kitchen.

"It's a good thing that he won't see it then," Wally said.

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? And how're you gonna accomplish that? With magic?"

"You can do magic?" Stephanie excitedly inquired, grabbing onto Wally's arm. "Show us! Show us!"

"Ack, no. No magic," Wally said, scrunching his face. "You guys know that I don't need magic to clean this mess up."

The children gave him confused looks. "Uh, we do?" Jason said.

"Well, yeah. You know I'm Kid Flash. Finding out others' secret identities must have been part of the Bat training, right?"

Apparently not. Everyone's eyes (with the exception of Cass and Damian's, who both look like they don't care) nearly bulged out of their sockets. "You're Kid Flash?" Tim squeaked.

"Liar!" Jason spat. "Bruce wouldn't let a meta-human in the house. And why would Kid Flash be here watching over us anyway? Wouldn't he have better things to do? Like saving people from burning buildings or whatever."

They seriously didn't know? They were the kids of the Batman, and they didn't know? Wally chewed on his inner cheek. "Uh, Dick's a friend of mine and he called me over for a favor. And if there were people in burning buildings, my communicator would let me know of that," he said, waving the device in the air.

Jason still didn't look convinced. He crossed his arms across his chest and demanded, "Prove it."

He rolled his eyes at the peremptory display. "Alright, I will."

And so he did. In a flash, Wally sent the bowls and plates flying into the sink, wiped away all the residue ingredients, and mopped the floor. In another flash, he set the table and did some of the dishes (only because the water coming out of the spout didn't run fast enough).

He stopped short before the children and swiped his forehead with the back of his hand, letting out an exaggerated "Phew!"

To his amusement, they have yet to pick up their jaws from the floor. He even got a reaction out of Cass (yet Damian remained disinterested). "You—you really are Kid Flash!" Stephanie laughed out incredulously. "No way!"

"I can't believe that you didn't know that. When Dick was about your age, he already figured out my identity."

"Dick always gets to do the cool stuff," Jason huffed out petulantly. "It's so not fair."

"We're still in training," Tim mumbled despondently. "And we don't pick up as easily as Dick did."

"Says you," snapped Jason, leveling a glare at the younger boy. "Bruce just doesn't want to do anything with us yet."

Tim's lower lip wobbled. "B-but that not true…"

"It is! Why do you think that—"

"Whoa there," Wally intervened. "Whether Batman has use for you or not, he's still training you guys, right? And there are a lot of you, so it makes his scheduling a bit…crowded. You know, juggling from Batman to boss of a big-time company to mentor of you five."

"A-are you saying th-that we're a hindrance to him?" Tim forlornly inquired.

"No! What I'm saying is that he's busy, but he'll always try to make time for you," Wally clarified hastily. The last thing he wanted was a family fallout with him being the main cause. He began to usher them out. "Anyway, how about we go to the living room while we wait for the pizzas to cook? We'll play a game!"

"I know a game we can play!" Stephanie announced.

"Games are for sissies," Jason sneered.

"I want to play a game. Are you calling me a sissy?" Wally snorted.

"I guess so."

He shook his head. "You can join when you want to. So, Steph, what game do you have in mind?"

She grinned. "It has to do with your speed! You grab us by the ankle and spin us around super fast, and then you let us go and have us crash into the sofa!"

"That…doesn't sound like an indoor game to play."

"But won't the sofa be too heavy to carry outside?"

"Uh, let's play a different game instead. One that doesn't have to do with my speed."

Stephanie pouted. "Oh, fine."

"What should we play?" Tim asked curiously.

"We'll play… Oh, I know. We'll play a game that my friend Linda taught me. It's a game called 007. Everyone has to sit in a circle." Wally plopped down and gestured the others to follow. For some reason, he felt a slight shiver of nervousness when Damian sat across from him, eyeing him with a contemplative gaze that wouldn't normally be found in a three-year-old.

"How do you play 007?" Stephanie piped up.

"This can be done with talking or in silence, but it's more fun when talking's forbidden. So the first person, who is 0, points to another person. That person is 0 as well, and points to another, who then becomes 7. The person who is 7 points to one last person who, in this game, is shot. The people from the shot person's left and right have to raise both of their arms up, and then the game continues with the shot person being the first 0."

"What does the 0 and 7 stand for?" Tim asked.

"I don't know. I think it has something to do with James Bond."

"What does the numbers 0 and 7 have to do with James Bond?"

"Why is there shooting involved?" added Stephanie. "And why do the people around the shot person have to raise their arms?"

Wally shrugged. "That's how the game is. Wait! Let me add another thing before you ask any more questions. You see, if the person, whether 0 or 7, fails to point to someone right away, he or she gets punishment. If the shot person raises his or her arms or points to someone, there's punishment. If either one or both people sitting next to the shot person don't raise their hands, there's punishment."

"What's the punishment?" Jason asked, looking vaguely interested.

"Linda calls it 'Indian bap.' Basically, the person is pushed into the middle of the circle while everyone has to slap his or her back."

Jason squeezed in between Tim and Stephanie. "Sounds fun," he said with a grin.

Tim paled. From what Wally can understand, Tim didn't get along with Jason or Damian, and he ended up being sandwiched between the two. He just hoped that Tim won't end up being in the hotpot of bruises.

"Okay, guys, remember, no talking. Cassie, why don't you start?" Wally said.

The silent girl erected a finger at Wally, who then pointed at Damian. Damian directed his finger at Stephanie, who stifled a giggle and hugged herself. Wally quickly threw his arms in the air, and Jason belatedly followed suit.

Wally leaned forward and dragged Jason into the center whereas the others pushed him in and started slapping his back.

"What? Hey! I raised my arms, didn't I?" Jason protested in irritation.

"We had to do it simultaneously. You were too slow, sorry," Wally said. "So now that we cleared this up, new rule: whoever talks gets the Indian bap. Jason, you start since you got the punishment."

Tim shot his arm in the air.

"Game pause. Yeah, Tim?"

"What if there are two people who get the Indian bap? Who gets to be the first 0 then?"

"Oh, I forgot to mention that. You both have to rock-paper-scissors for that right. Anyway, Jason?"

Jason huffed and pointed at Cass, who pointed at Wally, who pointed at Jason. Jason's shoulders made a jerking movement, but he did not raise his arms. Stephanie and Tim's arms flew in the air, and Wally nodded in consent, in which Tim gave a soft sigh in relief.

Jason smiled and pointed at Tim, who momentarily froze before pointing rigidly at Damian, who pointed at Stephanie. Stephanie lifted her arm to point, but then Wally shoved her into the center where everyone proceeded to slap her while her titters sounded the quiet room.

Stephanie pointed at Tim, who pointed at Wally, who pointed at Cass. Wally and Damian raised their arms, and Cass continued the game.

Soon, almost everyone's arms were bright red. The only one who did not receive punishment was Damian, which hardly surprised anyone. Wally, however, was surprised to see Cass forgetting to raise her arms when he was shot, but it wasn't a bad thing to see a tiny upturn on her lips and her eyes lighting in joy.

Finally, the pizzas were ready and the kids raced to the dining hall. There were two massive pizzas cooking in the kitchen's grand oven. The kids insisted on helping, but Wally had them sitting in their seats as he carried the two trays out.

"So, one pepperoni and sausage and one vegetable on the table," Wally exclaimed. The children instantly reached out for their desired slices and nearly reduced the meaty pizza into none. Wally, though preferring to have a couple slices of delicious meat, settled for the vegetable pizza along with Tim, who was nibbling and savoring his thick slice.

There were leftovers since the kids overestimated how much their stomachs could handle. Wally couldn't help but chuckle as he engulfed his twelfth slice.

"How can you eat so much?" Stephanie said, watching him bewilderedly.

"A speedster's metabolism," Wally explained after swallowing. "I burn off a lot of energy, so I need to eat a lot in order to replenish that lost energy."

"How much can you eat until you're full?"

"I don't know. I haven't eaten until I was full."

"You mean you've never experienced feeling full?" she gasped.

"Sure I have. Just never as a speedster."

"Wait, you weren't born as a speedster?"

"No."

"You mean you were human before?"

"Hey, I am human! I'm just a human with powers."

"What about Superman?" Jason interjected. "You telling us that he's not an alien?"

"Oh, he's an alien, alright. But, unlike him, I happened to be born as an ordinary human. I just got involved in a chemical freak accident and gained powers."

Tim looked puzzled. "Is that what happened to the Flash?"

Wally nodded. "Yup. What happened to me happened to him too."

"Does he have to eat a lot?" Stephanie asked, leaning over.

"That's right."

"Has he ever felt full?"

"Not even with his civilian and hero budget combined could buy him enough food to fill his stomach," Wally answered wryly.

Tim looked at him concernedly. "Wally, are you and your family impoverished?"

"What? No! Flash and I happened to have middle-classed lives. Sure, we may never feel full, but that doesn't mean we're always on the verge of starvation—unless, of course, we've been running for some time trying to beat the bad guys."

"You should live with us!" Stephanie cried out, her thin arms waving behind her head. "Bruce has plenty of money to provide you and your dad food to last a century!"

"No thanks, I—dad?" Wally blinked. "Did you call Flash my dad?"

"Isn't he?"

"No. In fact, we're not even related by blood."

"Well, we aren't related to Bruce by blood, but that doesn't mean that he isn't our dad," Stephanie insisted.

Wally sighed. Should he be disclosing this much information about him and Uncle Barry? After musing about it for a few seconds, he shrugged. Why not? They would find out eventually regardless. "That's true. But Flash isn't my dad in any form; he's my uncle."

"Oh! So that means that your aunt married the Flash! Was the wedding recent? How was it, by the way?"

"No, no sissy stories at the table," Jason groaned.

Wally rolled his eyes. "How about I tell you about the wedding another time, Steph? For now, we better get the dishes washed."

Moans and complaints sounded from the table.

"If not, no ice cream and movie night."

Their reactions were instantaneous. Soon, the tables were cleared, the dishes had been washed and put away, and there were five children surrounding Wally with expectant eyes.

"Any particular flavors?"

"Alfred actually keeps a lock on the freezer," Tim said. "Not even Dick can unlock it."

"Oh." Of course Alfred would do such a thing. "I guess I should go ask him then."

"Don't tell him that it's for us," Jason quickly said. "Otherwise, we'll never get ice cream!"

"Okay, okay. How about you guys go to the living room and pick out a DVD?" Wally said. Everyone, with the exception of Damian, left. Wally knelt down to the youngest boy's height and asked, "Is there something you need?"

"You forgot to fix Pennyworth a meal," Damian said with his toddler lisp. "You must make soup for him. How else is he going to get well?"

"Oh yeah." The redhead rubbed his neck. "Thanks for telling me. I didn't think that he'd be here."

Damian sniffed. "Where else would he be?"

"In his home…?" Wally replied, approaching the cabinet.

He executed an impressive sneer. "Tt, Where else would he reside other than here?"

Wally could hardly say he could see Bruce in Damian other than that brood. His mother must have been one heck of a woman. "Well, don't mind me and my lack of knowledge of how the butler system works," Wally said. He placed a pot on the stove and poured in the contents of the can. "Hey, mind showing me where Alfred's room is?"

"I suppose," Damian sighed.

And to think that he had to worry about Jason having attitude problems.

Stephanie poked her head through the kitchen door and exclaimed, "Hey, you're here! Why are you making soup? You're still hungry?"

"It's for Alfred," Wally replied.

"I wanna help!"

"You can get a plate and a few fruits."

Stephanie bounded off and returned with an armful of apples and oranges; it was Damian who pulled out a plate. Wally took two oranges and an apple and set them on the plate, and then requested for Damian to fetch a tray. While he stirred the soup, Stephanie disappeared elsewhere after proclaiming that she was going to draw a picture for Alfred to help him recover.

Jason, with Tim and Cass trailing after, came in and demanded what was taking so long. After hearing Wally's explanation, the three wanted to do what Stephanie was doing, and raced to their rooms to gather their supplies. Jason and Stephanie were sprawled on the kitchen floor, Tim was seated by the counter, and Cass was leaning against the fridge. Damian sat across from Tim, occasionally scoffing at the display of "childishness" his siblings were participating in, but that didn't stop him from sketching a picture of Batman and Robin.

Once the soup was done, the kids shoved their drawings in Wally's face. "Look! Look! Is my drawing good?"

Wally later dismissed the kids to the living room to finish their debate on what movie to watch, and then followed after Damian up the stairs. When they came to their destination, Wally was about to knock on the door until Damian seized the doorknob and entered without preamble.

Alfred, who was tucked under his blankets, glanced up from his book. "Master Damian? What are you doing—? Oh, Master Wally, good evening. Master Dick did mention that he was going to have a friend come over to take over my duties for the night."

"Yup, that'd be me," Wally said, grinning sheepishly. He placed the tray on the elderly man's lap. "Made you chicken noodle soup. Hope you get better, Alfred."

"Thank you. I take it that the task of watching over the children wasn't too arduous?"

Damian clicked his tongue. Wally forced out a laugh while rubbing his neck. "What? Nah. They're not too bad."

"Master Wally, you have a smear of flour on your cheek."

Wally blushed and ran the back of his hand across his face. "Making dinner was a bit of a hassle—but don't worry! I took care of the mess. Err, not that there was that big of a mess in the first place."

"So you say," Alfred said wryly.

"Anyway, the kids made you drawings."

Alfred accepted the papers and drew up an eyebrow. "Is this a picture of Master Jason stabbing the Joker with a machete?"

"I'm kind of shocked that you didn't notice Stephanie's first."

After some light conversation (and trying and ultimately succeeding in getting the combination for the lock on the freezer), Alfred folded his hands on top of his lap and said, "Well, I must say, you are doing a splendid job."

Wally grinned. "Well, what can I say? Kid Flash has loads of tricks up his sleeve."

He pretended not to see Alfred and Damian exchanging looks.

"Anyway, c'mon, Damian. Let's head down before your siblings engage in war over what movies to pick. See you later, Alfred."

Alfred smiled. "Good luck, Master Wally."

When Damian and Wally left the room and closed the door, Damian said, "Pennyworth knows."

"About the pizza? Yeah, I know. He knows everything." Wally was surprised that Alfred didn't berate him on it. Must be sicker than he thought.