Bruce rolled his neck, straining the muscles of his back as he made his way to the front of the Manor. The incessant ringing of the doorbell sounded like a small child was standing outside. Every bone in his body screamed out of soreness— the mission yesterday had been a success, but a part of him wished it hadn't been. Meredith had taken it upon herself to call the shots, and he was irritated with himself for letting her do so. The punching bag in the cave paid the price.

Alfred was gone for the afternoon, which left the unfortunate job of answering the door to him. The bell continued to ring. Bruce bit his teeth to stop himself from yelling at whoever it was to shut the fuck up because he was tired and he was sore and he still had a multi-billion dollar conglomerate to expand across the country and he still had four kids and he still had a world-renowned organization of superheroes to run that was currently being taken over by his childhood crush and all he wanted was a goddamn coffee but he couldn't seem to find any and—

He pulled open the brass handles with ease, and standing in front of him with his arms crossed was Devin Elias. Bruce caught himself from rolling his eyes. He was right— a small child was at the front.

"What."

"I know you're Batman."

Bruce felt like he should've been more threatened, or shocked, or terrified at that sentence, and maybe it was the fact that he was on the verge of passing out, or maybe it was the fact that he knew it was coming, judging by the way Devin was staring at him the night before, but Bruce honestly couldn't find it in himself to truly care.

"So."

Devin seemed surprised. "What, you're not even going to try and hide it?"

Bruce tilted his gaze down at the cup of coffee in the older man's hand that was creating a cloud of steam in the cold Gotham air. "I'll explain if you give me that."

"Wha—" Devin looked down. "The coffee? That's really all it's going to take to get you to talk? I figured I was going to have to present you with a ten-page essay on my evidence before you even let me in the door."

Bruce was silent. Devin scoffed, handing over the drink, and Bruce stepped back to allow him inside. Suddenly rounding the corner into the foyer was Dick, dressed in flannel pajama pants with his hair sticking up in eleven different directions. He'd stayed overnight after the fiasco in Central City, too tired to drive back to Bludhaven, also informing Bruce that he didn't want to deal with whatever argument he and Kori were currently in.

It was four in the afternoon and Dick was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Hey, who the hell keeps ringing the— oh. Uh, Mr. Elias, right?"

The man groaned. "Please, it's just Devin. 'Mister' makes me feel like my dad."

"Alright, Devin, um, sorry for my lack of shirt, but what are you doing here?"

"Oh, I'm just confronting Bruce about how I know he's Batman."

Dick was suddenly standing up straight. He chuckled slightly, turning his gaze to Bruce. "Batman? Bruce? Don't be crazy."

Bruce took a sip of the coffee, eager to not feel like he was on the brink of death, but scowled at the sweet taste. He liked his coffee black— of course Devin had his loaded with more sugar than the actual drink. He supposed beggars couldn't be choosers. "Don't bother. He knows."

"Oh." Dick seemed to slightly relax. "Well, uh, welcome into the club of knowing Gotham's biggest secret, I guess. How did you find out?"

"Wasn't hard." Devin smirked, throwing a lazy arm over Bruce's shoulders. "He was always a weird kid— seems like something he would do."

Dick's eyes nearly bulged out of his head and he burst into laughter.

"Devin, if this was all you came for, you can leave." Bruce shrugged the arm off, walking in the direction of the kitchen. He needed to find something tart— something that didn't taste like what he shouldn't be putting in his body.

"No, no!" Dick finished laughing, the two of them beginning to follow Bruce down the hall. "Hang on! I don't know what's happening, but I know that everyone seems to know something but me."

They entered the kitchen, and Bruce walked over to one of the many drawers. He found a box of cookies— they were thin and high in fiber and tasted like nothing. Perfect. "This doesn't concern you. Go home."

His eldest child seemed genuinely offended, even though he carried a light tone. "Uh, excuse me? I was the first son! I've been here the longest but apparently, Tim knows Meredith, and no one knows how that happened, Damian's seen her in photo albums that I've never heard about in my life, and now this guy treats you like... like a friend and no offense, but I've literally seen him twice and have never talked to him before last night. What gives?"

He knew that Dick felt left out. The boy prided himself on being the caring one of the family— he tried his hardest to get everyone a good gift for each holiday, to show up to family events and be the most charming person in the room, to be a good role model to his younger brothers and know everything about them so he could offer helpful advice when they needed it.

Bruce was proud of his son, but that was also the reason why he tried to keep information about his own childhood locked away. His kids— specifically Dick— liked to pry. They liked to be involved in most aspects of Bruce's life, especially the parts that weren't as serious or dark or Bat-themed. Dick loved to be in the loop, if for no reason other than that he could crack jokes at Bruce's expense in the field. Dragging Wayne humor into Bat business was something Bruce had never managed to breed out of his eldest son. He didn't need to add any more fuel to Dick's fire— he was still hearing Cat and Bat jokes with the name Selina Kyle being thrown around almost weekly, and Bruce had stopped romantically involving himself with her more than two years ago.

Bruce was different now. He had put in tireless amounts of work to reinvent himself, his body, his public image. His first years as Batman were harsh, with long, brutal nights and a sleep schedule that was borderline more dangerous than any villain at the time. (He'd only slept for twenty-minute intervals after every four hours, because there was so much to learn and do and perfect and sleeping even somewhat regularly got in the way of that. That had gone on for years). At least now, with four trained sons and a mostly stable Justice League, Bruce had transitioned into getting three or four— maybe five, if Alfred got his way— consecutive hours of sleep.

Anything pre-Batman was almost like a different life. His kids didn't have a place in that.

They knew that his parents died. Alfred raised him. He went to Gotham Academy. Then he went away for five years to become what he is now. He came back. That was all they needed to know. He could've even done without mentioning the Gotham Academy part, but it was the only way to convince each of them to go— because that's where their father went and as kids, they all wanted to be like him.

"Tim knows Meredith through Wayne Enterprises, Damian is just getting into places he shouldn't be. Devin isn't a friend, he's an irritation that should be heading back to Florida." Bruce didn't need to look behind him to know that the older man was either rolling his eyes or mocking him.

"That's the vaguest and horribly understated thing you've ever said, Shortstack." Devin turned to Dick. "He's seriously never told you about me? I've only known him for his entire life— I literally held him as a baby."

Dick furrowed his brow, crossing his arms and leaning against the kitchen counter. "Honestly, if it weren't for the media, I wouldn't even know you exist."

Bruce bit into the cookie and the dry crumble of it combatted the sugary drink. He could feel the caffeine working its way into his system. Slightly less on the verge of dying, but now annoyed with Devin's unexpected visit. He was getting there.

"For real?" Devin slapped Bruce on the shoulder. "You've failed to mention me at all? I taught you how to drive!"

"You what?" Dick widened his eyes.

A growl was starting to make its way up Bruce's throat. He didn't want to be having either of these conversations. He turned to the taller man. "What are you here for."

"You said Alfred taught you how to drive!"

Devin gave a mischievous grin. "That's what we always told people."

"Who even are you?"

"I'm the original oldest sibling in this house, kid."

"Huh?"

"Devin." Bruce put the box back in the drawer and slammed it shut. "Either tell me what you want or get out."

The brunette sighed. "Well, honestly, I thought most of this conversation would be taken up by me trying to get you to admit you were actually Batman, but I—"

Bruce narrowed his eyes.

"Okay, okay! I wanna know what's going on with you and Meredith and the Justice League. Why is she working with you? I assume that means she doesn't know you're Batman, because she would never have agreed to it if she knew it was you. But I don't get how you pulled that off since it's, ya know, Meredith, so... what, did you sell your soul to the devil or something? How did you even get into the Bat business? Everyone says you have a cave? What the fuck is a ca—"

"Meredith," Bruce interrupted, "got interested in the League because Oliver messed up—"

"Oliver?" Devin narrowed his eyes. "Oliver who? Oliver Queen? Why the hell is he—" Devin drew in a long gasp. "Holy shit, he's that archer guy from Star, isn't he? Oh my God. Why didn't I see that sooner? They have the same facial hair! Why does no one else notice that? He's always been a good shot, it's no wonder..."

He froze as the older man continued to ramble. Devin was picking off the League's identities like cherries. Bruce didn't mean to expose Oliver, but he supposed he should've known that Devin would connect the blond to Green Arrow. A part of him didn't care. If Oliver wanted to be so frivolous and get Meredith involved, maybe it's what he deserved.

Besides, it wasn't Bruce's issue that he was the only one who could keep a secret identity. It was Barry's fault for telling Devin who he was, and Clark's fault for not being more cautious around Meredith. And it was Diana's fault for blatantly introducing herself. Bruce could only assume Hal would soon follow in suit— the Lantern had a hard time staying away from pretty women. At least Victor seemed composed.

It had been a whole five days and everything was already spiraling out of control. If Bruce didn't start doing damage control soon, she would eventually find out who Oliver was, and then Bruce himself, and then they would be screwed.

That is, if Meredith didn't already know who he was. He wouldn't put it past her. He did let his guard down long enough to allow her to pull a smoke pellet from his pocket, which he still beat himself up for every night.

"...and of course both of you got into the 'billionaire by day, vigilante by night' biz. Only you two would be crazy enough to do it. Hey, why didn't I get an invite? I have enough money..."

Bruce needed to get Devin alone. He didn't feel like catching Dick up to speed— he had about forty years of history he needed to go through in order to do that— and the sooner he got Devin out, the faster Bruce could work on regaining control of everything.

Bruce let out a breath. "Come with me."

He led them down the hallway towards the study. He opened the large oak doors, allowing Devin in, but putting a hand out to stop Dick. He glared. "Not you."

His son's mouth dropped, tilting his head. "You're not serious."

"Go shower. You look like a mess." He closed the door on Dick's gaping face.

Complaints were heard echoing down the hall as Bruce turned around to face Devin, who was eyeing him suspiciously.

Bruce huffed. "Meredith figured out Oliver and I are funding the League. She wanted in, so she announced to the public she was handling League collateral damage. Lois Lane broke the story, the media ate it up, and now we're forced to work with Elias Incorporated."

"...Because you'd all be seen as dicks who don't care about destroying cities if you didn't?"

"Essentially."

"Okay," Devin hummed. "Next question, how does she not know you're Batman? I figured it out in, like, two seconds."

Bruce was silent.

"Do you know if she knows or not?"

Bruce wanted out of this conversation. He didn't owe Devin any of this.

"I'll take that as a no. Honestly, I'm no help in that department either. My dad could probably get it out of her, though. Do you want me to ask?"

"No. I can handle this myself."

He snorted. "Yeah, obviously. Because her standing in the middle of Central City yesterday ordering you and your team around is totally you handling it."

Bruce crossed his arms.

"So, apparently, you're looking for my advice, or else you would've already forced me to leave."

"I don't need advice."

"Right. Well, here's an unsolicited opinion anyway: you should kick her out."

Bruce was mildly surprised. He didn't think Devin would promote that. "You are aware who your sister is, correct?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. The 'powerful and feared' Meredith Elias. Big whoop. Listen, Bruciecakes, I like you, and while I also like Meredith, I don't want to see her totally destroy your career. Which she will, if she finds out about your nighttime dress up, and if she does, I can't exactly say I'd blame her."

A pause

"What the hell does that mean?"

"C'mon, you can't seriously be that dense. You know what you did."

Another pause.

"That doesn't matter anymore."

Devin scoffed. "Really? Tell that to my dad's face then."

Bruce clamped his jaw shut. He wasn't interested in the pre-Batman era. At all. Devin needed to leave.

Devin finally sighed. "Oh, Bruce. Listen, there's a lot of stuff you don't know, but just trust me on this one. Kick her out. It'll spare everyone a lot of trouble in the end."

He narrowed his eyes. A lot of stuff he didn't know? There wasn't much to the history between him and the Elias family. It was fairly straightforward. Rocky, and maybe not the easiest fallout, but straightforward. In another life, he might've been able to see where he was somewhat in the wrong, but it was all for Meredith's benefit, anyway. Even if she didn't realize it.

"It's not that simple," Bruce finally said. "You know it's not."

"Yes, it is. Tell her she's not allowed, announce to the media that it just didn't work out, and I'm sure Meredith can go home to her downtown penthouse and cry over her pile of money. I'll even send her some flowers to help cope."

Bruce let out a sharp breath at the image in his head. He hadn't seen Meredith cry in over twenty years— he doubted she could anymore. "I'm not jeopardizing the public reputation of the League just because a few people might get their feelings hurt."

"You'll get your feelings hurt."

No, he wouldn't. Batman didn't have feelings, and Bruce Wayne had gotten over his. "That doesn't matter, either."

Devin was silent. Bruce studied his face— it'd been years since he'd had a conversation with him. He looked exactly how he used to, except with lighter hair bleached by the Miami sun and more freckles along the bridge of his nose. He was still taller than him. Bruce almost scoffed.

The brunette rolled his eyes. "Fine. Then you need to make sure she stays as uninvolved as possible. Barry already told me he likes her, and Clark was gaga all over her last night. It's literally not even been a week, Bruce. What kind of operation are you running here?"

Bruce paused. He bristled at the insult in the back of his mind but furrowed his brows at the latter part of the sentence. Clark was not gaga all over her— he was too busy being in love with Lois.

Bruce decided to address the insult. "Tell her to knock it off then."

"Oh, no," Devin raised a hand, shaking his head. "No, no. Bruce, you're about to turn forty. I can not still be mediating your fights with Meredith because of your bullshit excuse of how she won't listen to you."

Bruce gritted his teeth. "Devin—"

"I don't know why you haven't figured it out yet. You can't tell Meredith anything. You can't let her have advanced notice. If I told her I was coming into town this weekend, I'd have my schedule overflowing with back-to-back events today. So don't tell her what time anything starts, where to be at any point, any plans of what you're doing. Give her the very basics she needs to manage the funding and that's it."

There was a moment of silence.

"Why are you here?"

Devin grinned. "Cause I love you, Shortstuff. Duh."

Bruce's skin prickled at the blatant use of those words. That wasn't a phrase thrown around in his house unless it was spoken by Dick in a teasing manner. He knew from the look on Devin's face that he meant it, too.

"And, Meredith sometimes needs to be knocked down a few pegs. It's healthy for her."

As he replayed the conversation over in his head, Bruce let the tension release from his shoulders that he didn't know he was holding. He liked to keep the people who knew he was Batman to a minimum, but a part of him was somewhat appreciative for Devin— maybe it wouldn't be awful to have an ally who actually understood all the nuances of the situation.

Another part of him, the more prominent voice in his brain, told him to absolutely be on guard and never talk to Devin again or allow him anywhere near Batman, regardless of their history together. He had a feeling that side of him was going to win out.

He looked back up to find the older man staring at him with a strange smile. "Well?"

"Well, what."

"Well, let's talk about the fact that you're Batman, dude! That's pretty fuckin' awesome."

Bruce finally let himself roll his eyes. "Are we done here?"

"Do you seriously, like, jump off of buildings and throw metal things and shit?" Devin grinned at him like a ten-year-old boy as they walked out of the study and back towards the front of the manor.

"I don't throw metal things and shit," Bruce found his voice slightly exasperated.

Devin let out his big, loud, vibrato-filled laugh, that familiarly echoed down the hall. It was a small comfort— that noise had once been a weekly sound to bounce off of the manor walls. There was a deep feeling that settled in Bruce's chest. Something old and something foreign. For a split second, memories of wrestling in the living room and being forced into snowball fights on the front lawn flashed across his mind.

He scowled as he opened the door, tucking that feeling away yet again. He had to finalize Tim's west coast expansion proposal draft (that Meredith had supposedly already done) and he still had his second workout of the day to complete. Devin was already putting him back a few minutes late for his five-mile run. This wasn't important.

"Anyway," Devin said as he took a step out the door. "I'm off to a family dinner, but next time I stop by, I expect to see this elusive cave of yours."

Regardless of how long it had been, there was a pang of jealousy that Bruce could never seem to get rid of at the mention of the event. He could picture the dinner at the Elias household— he and his parents used to be a part of those every other Saturday night.

Bruce raised his brows, humming in feigned interest, signaling a goodbye. Burying himself in work almost sounded pleasurable right now. He began to close the door when Devin put his hand back on the wooden surface.

"Hey, you know you're always allowed to come, right?"

Bruce just stood there blankly. His blood started to curl at the way Devin stared at him— with his stupid green eyes full of hope like they were still kids and Bruce's parents weren't shot dead in an alleyway and Gregory Elias didn't hate his guts and like he actually told his own children about the family that practically took him in as their own. Like Devin understood struggle or sacrifice or losing himself in the discipline of a character with a cape. Like Bruce would actually be welcomed back in with open arms.

Devin was such a fucking liar.

"I'm serious. Yeah, maybe my dad might be a little mad at first, but you know my mom would die to meet your kids."

This was all so incredibly childish. So childish and stupid and outrageously insignificant that if he were a different person he would've laughed. He shouldn't be inviting Devin into his home, telling him he's Batman, drinking his coffee and listening to his advice. He shouldn't be reminiscing at his laugh or getting jealous at hearing about family dinners. That's what friends did and aside from the very sparse personal conversations he had with some of the League members, Bruce didn't have any real friends. Only women who wanted his body and businessmen who wanted his money and criminals who wanted him dead.

"Right," he managed to spit out. A distant part of him was aware that Devin wasn't trying to be rude or piss him off, but his fingers still itched to slam the door in his face.

Devin tilted his head, his lips pulling into a half-smile. "Think about it anyway." He turned around, sauntering off down the long path where a silver sports car was parked. "Love ya, kid!"

Bruce let out a snarl only to himself and gave in to the satisfaction of slamming the door with a loud bang. He had a run to go on.

* * *

Okay here's my two chapters for the day haha. Question: what do you want/hope to see later on in this book? Thank you for all of the love and support so far! I'm really excited that everyone seems to be enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it :)

xo Alexa