Yet another prompt fill from my Tumblr.

This was beta-read by some of the lovely people on the Maribat Discord server.

Bruce is done. So painfully done, that the only one who can't see just how thin a line he's walking is the source of his annoyance. Hal Jordan, the very man who makes homicide look more appealing every day. Did Bruce really need a moral code?

It just seemed to get in the way.

From behind him doors slam, people scatter, and yet Hal won't catch the hint. "All I'm saying is that, isn't it time you guys settled down, and had a whole flock of little birdies?"

Bruce has never, not once in his life, desired friends. He hadn't wanted a relationship either, yet here he is, six months into a decades in the making relationship with Clark Kent. If Bruce had known that the League would take his relationship as a sign of him getting soft, he would have sworn Clark to secrecy.

"I'm going to the training room." Which should have roughly translated to 'follow me, and I'll use you for target practice'. Several people within hearing distance shudder at the implication. Bruce is darkly satisfied; he hasn't seen this much fear directed at him in months. Hal Jordan, well Bruce has theories on how green lantern cores affect intelligence.

None of them are particularly positive.

"It's never too early to start working on your ninja kid army," Hal says lightly, as if he's talking about the weather, and not something as morally bankrupt as child soldiers. Sure he trained Robin young, but it's not like Bruce had a choice. Dick would have been fighting mob bosses with or without his consent. Training had been the only thing keeping him out of even more danger. "Who's going to carry on your terrifying legacy?"

"I already have Robin." And because Bruce can see Hal's next sentence before he even says it— "And Clark has Conner. Aside from procreation being wholly unnecessary, it's also physically impossible. You are aware that it requires a woman to produce off-spring, right?"

"Yeah, tell that to LexCorp," Hal mumbles under his breath. Bruce would be lying if he said he hadn't ever wondered about that. Sure Conner's a clone, but he's also the most stable clone Bruce had ever seen. He wouldn't put it past Luthor to have spliced in a secondary set of DNA. "Just think about it Spooky. Combine your brains with Clark's powers and bam! You've got the one person on earth who could defeat Doomsday without breaking a sweat. Isn't that a better tomorrow?"

Bruce stops, because things make a lot more sense now. Doomsday had been terrifying, he opened up a whole world of possibilities. Of threats too strong for the League to deal with, just waiting. There's no escaping this conversation. Even if he tunes it out now, Hall will just bring it up again and again, until Clark finally catches on. That will make the man pout.

Bruce really doesn't like it when Clark pouts.

He might not have the patience to deal with Hal's solution to apocalypse inducing threats now, but he'll have even less later when Barry no doubt joins Hal's crusade. One idiot is bad enough. Bruce is not willing to explain to Dick why he killed his best friend's uncle.

"That's why the Young Justice League was formed," Bruce points out slowly, his voice careful, like he's explaining the concept to a toddler. Hal probably has an I.Q that stalled around the fifth grade, so same difference. "Their role is to carry on our legacies in protecting earth after we're unable."

"That's not what I mean! Sure, by the time they graduate out of the little leagues they'll be ready to take over, but that's just it. They're a miniature Justice League. They'll have the exact same blind spots as us. I'm talking about combining skill sets here."

Bruce actually hadn't thought of that, and as much as the words choke him to admit, Hal is right. They would be subject to the exact same failings as the current League. They're a group trained to take over specific positions. They've been trained for years and no one, not even Robin, would be able to break close to half a decades worth of habits.

They make it to the training room, and a flash of vivid, bright red catches his eye. The newest member, Ladybug is talking to Clark. Bruce hadn't been aware that he would be joining him for this training session, but it all works out nicely.

Ladybug looks worn, and Bruce doesn't doubt she is. The girl is Diana's apprentice, not sidekick. They've both been adamant about that. No one, not even Diana, knows her identity. Bruce could respect a healthy dose of secrecy, but she's only around Dick's age. The information on her is scarce, and Diana is tight-lipped. Partially out of ignorance and partially out of some vague magical pact her mother made.

A combined skillset.

Ladybug doesn't have years of habits to break. If her own admissions are anything to go by, she doesn't have any formal training outside of noncombatant magic. She's dangerously smart too. Bruce has seen her improvise enough times. Sure, she might not have as much super-strength as Clark, but Bruce has seen her lift far more than her frame should allow. Maybe strength proportional to a ladybug's? Her skin is certainly reinforced by what has to be the tensile strength of an exoskeleton.

Which is glossing over her ability to create solid matter through pure will—maybe he'll have Hal train her a bit, her powers are similar enough to a Green Lanterns'.

"You have a point, Lantern."

There's a suspicious pause. "I do?"

Bruce offers him his most deadpan expression. So even Hal knows that ninety percent of what leaves his mouth is garbage, good to know. "The League will be comprised of individuals with the same failings as current Leaguers. In the event of world-ending threats, we can not afford these failings. So I will be taking your advice."

"Oh, that's...good." Hal looks perplexed, like he hadn't expected his argument to land him anywhere but in a body cast.

"However," Bruce continues, walking over toward Clark and Ladybug. "I have no interest in experimental science that's no doubt illegal in numerous countries. So, we'll be adopting."

"We will!" Clark shrieks from his left.

Everyone else in the room gasps. Bruce ignores them, reaching out instead to grab Ladybug. "She'll be the perfect candidate."

"Bruce," Clark whines. "That's not how adoption works. You've skipped so many steps."

Bruce sends him a pointed look, the one that says play along or you're sleeping on the couch. Clearly, Clark gets the message because he shuts up. The look on his face also implies that Bruce is going to be out in the dog house for this stunt, but he chooses to ignore it anyway.

So what if Alfred likes Clark more. Bruce still owns the house.

Ladybug, to her credit, only blinks.

Wide blue eyes stare at him, she looks eerily similar to Dick and Conner. They all share the same coloring: black hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. She has Dick's delicate bone structure, Bruce could probably pass the two of them off as twins.

Dick is going to be roped into teaching her some actual acrobatics as soon as possible. Would a grappling hook be an appropriate 'welcome to the family' gift? Bruce doesn't trust her yo-yo.

A beat passes. "I already have parents."

"Not superhero parents."