So this is my first Batman fic! And what better to write about than the Batfam?

No, I don't own DC, Batmam, the characters, etc. Otherwise there would be more stuff like this floating around.

A/N: If you guys like quality Marvel/DC art, you should totally follow my Instagram: palm . tree . dragons ! (No spaces).

~palmtreedragons

It had all started when Bruce made the fatal mistake of criticizing Nightwing's stealth mode.

"It could do better," Bruce offhandedly commented as the two returned from a rather successful night of bashing in drug lords' teeth.

The once-Robin scoffed. "'Better'?"

Bruce shrugged, beginning to strip off his heavy armor. "I can hear your footsteps. If you wanna be good, you gotta take me by surprise."

Pensive, Dick strode off. Bruce thought nothing more of it; Dick could be childish at times, sure—but he was an adult now. An adult with his own job and his own city to protect. He was a responsible citizen.

Two days later, and the Joker was blowing up hospitals. And as if that wasn't enough to put himself and all of Gotham on edge, Bruce couldn't find his cowl. The famous Batman could not fight evil without a mask—and he certainly could not fight the Joker with his bare face. And yet, his city needed him. Perhaps a ski mask would suffice.

Just as Bruce made his way to find Alfred, he heard a low whistle. Freezing on the spot, Batman immediately tried to locate the source of the sound, but the noise echoed off the walls of his lair, making it seem as if it came from everywhere and no where.

"Show yourself!" Bruce shouted. And suddenly, his hands were grasping his head as he hissed in pain. Looking to the floor, he saw what had struck his head from above: his cowl. "What the—"

"Surprise!"

Bruce grunted as a weight was suddenly set upon his shoulders. "Dick?" he spluttered. "What the hell?"

"Was that stealthy enough for ya, Brucie?"

"Stealth?" the Batman asked, voice raising. "The Joker just blew up Gotham General! We can talk about your stealth later."

"But you had to admit," Dick crowed as he gracefully dropped from his mentor's shoulders, "I surprised you."

"Yeah, yeah," Bruce muttered, stopping down to retrieve his cowl. "Now, are you going to help me shred maniacs to bits, or what?"

Unfortunately for Bruce, it didn't stop there. Over the course of the next few weeks, Bruce would suddenly find his first sidekick in the most obscene places. Dick would be in Bruce's closet, on the ceiling, sitting on the top of the refrigerator—once, he was even in the couch. Bruce was still baffled as to how he managed that one.

"Don't you have a job?" Bruce roared as he found Dick sitting in the pantry, rather than his morning cereal.

Dick only grinned. "Why go do boring stuff when I can hang out with my favorite vigilante?"

Bruce slammed the door on Dick's cackling face.

By the eighteenth day, Dick could tell his adoptive father was catching on to his plans. He would simply greet Dick when he found him hiding. Sometimes he would give a dry comment without so much as looking for him, already sensing the young man's presence.

Batman once told Dick his most admirable trait was his persistence. And that was a trait the now Nightwing still held to this day.

It was a Sunday morning, and Bruce was already regretting scheduling a morning meeting with his advisors. After stumbling out of bed, he opened his closet, half expecting his son to greet him with his too-cheery face.

But there was no Dick. Frowning, Bruce began to skim through his suits, pushing hung outfits down the rack as he decided against them. He eyed a navy blue suit and grabbed it, suddenly noticing the abnormal weight it possessed. Pulling it into view, Bruce saw with surprise that there was a person inside his hung suit jacket.

After a moment of stunned silence, a head popped out from between the lapels. "Hello, Father."

No matter how much Bruce swore against it, Damian would stubbornly stand by the fact that his father screamed like a young girl.