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Duke doesn't remember much about his birthdays in detail. He remembers other people's birthdays more; he remembers being a kid and being jealous of his friends who had bounce houses in their backyards and the kids who could afford Chuck E Cheese for thirty kids and their parents. His birthdays were not filled with bounce houses and trips to Chuck E Cheese, they were a quiet affair, a homemade cake made from a recipe dating back to before his grandma was even born.
He remembers sitting on the stool in the kitchen, leaning on it to see the counter because he was so small —his birthday was the only day his mom wouldn't chastise him for leaning on the stools— and he would just watch her make his cake. The recipe card was dirty, torn in the corner and covered in grease and splatters of food that have since stained it. She could just write it down on a fresh piece of paper, but she never did. Duke can still recite the recipe in his head, the motions familiar and comforting to his mind now, a memory he will never allow himself to forget.
His mom would change the frosting color every year, cycling between the colors of the rainbow, she would stick recycled candles into the top and gather his dad and grandma in to sing happy birthday and take photos on their thrifted digital camera. Duke was happy, he was so happy on his birthdays, he remembers the feeling more than he remembers the toys he got that he played with until they broke, and then kept playing with after his parents patched them up.
On his birthday his parents would take him over the bridge. They never left the Narrows much, but it was a treat for his birthday. He loved the bridge, loved watching the swarming birds fly across the sky, loved the way the rough waves lapped at Gothams shores. They would go into Gotham Proper, as the kids from the Narrows called it, but it was actually called Somerset, like everything else in Gotham it was an island, just a bigger one. They would go to the beach on the North of Somerset and spend the day there after the long car ride, his mom used to say that was the best beach in Gotham, because most of the beaches in Gotham are rocks anyways, but this one had the most sand, and he was allowed to do whatever he wanted as long as he didn't go swimming.
Everyone who lived there knew Gotham water was bad, no one swam in the lakes or rivers or god forbid out from the docks. It's brown and endless, filled with god knows what, it's one of those things that just everyone knows but no one remembers being told. He would always listen to his mom though, he could run across the beach as much as he wanted, carefully shape sand castles and dig a hole for his dad to be buried in all day, and that would be enough.
They wouldn't get home until well after the sunset, after braving three hours of Gotham traffic and going back across the bridge. His parents would tuck him into bed, no matter how old he had gotten. On his last birthday with his parents they both came in, sat on the edge of his bed and told him how proud of him they were, how he was such a strong young man, and Duke had laughed them off, called them soft in their old age and jokingly shoved them out of his room. He wishes he would've cherished that time, would've asked them to stay up and watch a movie, he wishes he could've had more time. Instead he stared out the window across the water where the colorful lights of Bludhaven blinked back at him, and told himself that he would save the Narrows one day, no matter what it took.
Duke turns sixteen tomorrow. He had almost forgotten about it until he came home and looked out of his new window, his new view; he doesn't face the lights of Bludhaven anymore, instead his bedroom window faces miles of the thick forests of Bristol. Long gone are the dirty city streets and taking trash bags to garbage chutes, he still hasn't quite got used to how thick the brush is around here.
Bristol is West of Gotham, not an island like every other place here, and considered the elite part of Gotham. The land here is massive and mostly uninhabited, filled with rich families with money dating back further than even they know, with more land than they could ever know what to do with because it's a status symbol, just like everything else in Bristol. Duke is still getting used to not seeing anyone around when he goes outside, he keeps forgetting that he's not wandering around a park. They rarely see anyone in Bristol, let alone talk to them.
Bruce says they're all arrogant and self centered rich folk and Duke tries to ignore the little part of him that thinks Bruce is the very same. Duke thinks he hates Bristol, hates this house. It’s so quiet, only the sound of rustling branches and small animals snapping twigs to keep him company in the night. The Narrows were always loud, there was always music coming from every corner of the place, attempting to drown each other out, his walls used to be painted with faint lights from Bludhaven and he used to fall asleep to honking horns and feet on sidewalks. Now all he has is the trees.
Most nights he falls asleep easily, exhausted by a long day at Gotham Academy and then patrolling afterward, but some nights, like tonight, all he can wish for is the loud comfort of the Narrows, of the chaos and noise and blinding flickering lights that never actually worked when they were supposed to. He missed being able to sneak out of his unit and take the ladder up the roof and look at the sky, but never the stars, because Gotham was always too cloudy to see the stars.
He could go on the balcony, but it wasn't the same as his legs swinging off the edge of his apartment building, staring at the storm clouds. You can see the stars in Bristol, and while that would be beautiful any other time, Duke resents it, he misses the smog, misses the flickering lights of buildings and the way the city always smelled like overripe fruit and gasoline.
He stares at his ceiling, it’s cream and textured but not popcorn ceilings like in his old bedroom. His bed feels like a cloud, still doesn't feel like his even after being here for six months, doesn't feel like home just yet, and Duke doubts it ever will.
Bruce had invited him to stay as long as he needed, but it felt more like an order. He was fourteen without anyone to take care of him, and he needed some sense of normalcy, that's what Bruce wanted to provide him, but now his life feels like he's been thrown into an alternate reality. It's been a weird six months, the days drag but it feels like everything happened so fast, he had lost his family so quickly, gained new friends and lost them just as quickly. It's not like they're dead, but they're all scattered across Gotham now, which is almost worse. They feel like a world away.
Everything feels like a world away now, his old school and friends, his old apartment, which to Bruce is still quarantined from after the Joker War. His parents are the farthest away they could ever be. They're in a facility in New Gotham, the west most part of the state, three bridges and a two and a half hour drive away; Duke has only had the time to visit them once since he came to Bristol.
A part of him doesn't want to visit them, doesn't want to see them like that, doesn't want to taint the memory of them anymore than it already has. Sometimes when he dreams of all the good moments their faces morph, their smiles grow wide and dripping with black goo, and he wakes up sweaty and chest heavy, throat tight and eyes wet. He doesn't ask to visit them anymore, and Bruce doesn't offer.
His clock beside him strikes 12, officially his sixteenth birthday, and Duke watches as the numbers change, sighing quietly. He didn't tell anyone about his birthday on account of him having forgotten about it until this afternoon. He doesn't want them to do anything, doesn't think they even will if he's honest. Duke isn't close with the rest of Bruce's brood of children. He's only been here six months, in the most isolated parts of Gotham, and the rest of them are spread out across the rest of the city.
Dick, his oldest, is in Bludhaven, he's the main hero in the city, while Bruce's oldest daughter Cassandra is in Burnside with Barbara Gordon and Stephanie Brown, Bruce's not quite daughters but still family. He thinks Cass and Steph are dating, but doesn't know for sure. Then there's Tim, who has an apartment in Somerset and spends most of his time with a team he calls Young Justice. Jason, the crime lord of the family, is in the Hill, a place pretty similar to the Narrows, but located in Old Gotham just north of the Fashion District. Duke's dad was from the Hill. He used to take him there to enjoy the food.
Damian is the only one he lives with. Damian is Bruce's only biological son and very… prickly. He keeps to himself and calls Duke 'Thomas' instead of his actual name no matter how many times Duke says he can. He does his homework quickly and sometimes even does Duke's for him, telling him the answers without hesitation and not accepting a single thank you. He sounds like an asshole, but Duke thinks he secretly cares. He saw his file on the Bat-computer, how he was raised in the league of assassins, that's bound to mess up anyone's socialization skills.
Duke flinched heavily and was taken from his thoughts by a knock on his door. He stared at it, like the longer he stared the door would become see through. He sometimes forgot that he could see through walls now, having practically trained the instinct to do so out of him, but he used it then, all he saw was Damian's dog sitting at the front of his door and a small box in front of him. Damian was fast, he must've gone back to his bedroom already.
Duke threw the heavy blankets off him and stumbled his way to his door, swinging it open to find that it was in fact Ace the Bat-Hound at his door, with a small wrapped box by his paws.
A present.
Damian had gotten him a present, an actual, well wrapped present, with a card. Duke took the gift and card while Ace let himself in, settling on the foot of Duke's bed like he owned the place. Duke just pressed his back to his now closed door and slid down until his butt hit the floor. Card first, that's what his mom always said.
It was a simple card, a cute graphic of a dog with a stupid saying, very not Damian, but the blank space on the inside was filled with writing from him.
Duke, you are an excellent addition to this family, whether temporary or not, I am glad to have you around, you are a worthy companion in the field and a worthy friend to have around the manor. This gift is to show my appreciation toward you for being you, you have a real talent you know? You are incredibly brave, Duke, and Ace is with you so you don't have to be alone on your birthday, that's no fun is it?
Damian Wayne
He bit back his tears as he opened the gift, ripping into the wrapping paper, then popping open the lid of the box, revealing a selection of what looked like high quality journals, higher quality than Duke had ever owned. He used to write his short stories down in the back of his school notebooks, hoping that his lesson notes wouldn't reach back there, he would doodle in the margins, and had stacks of old papers torn from his notebooks combined together.
He didn't know how Damian knew about his writing, but it was Damian, who liked to snoop, so of course he knew that he liked to write. Duke's heart felt warm at knowing Damian even liked his writing, enough to get him almost ten journals for him to fill with words, because he thought he was good.
Ace is sitting beside him now, placing a paw on his thigh like Duke had seen him do to Damian a hundred times by now, before shoving his snout under Duke's chin, pressing his warm nose to the hollow of his throat. He was comforting him, Duke realized, because he's crying on his floor over a gift he got by the man who adopted him's biological son. It was weird, everything about his life was weird now, but he just holds Ace tighter, and promises to thank Damian tomorrow for the gifts, because Damian was right, he really didn't want to be alone tonight.
School was boring. Duke didn't have any friends at Gotham Academy, he made nice with Kyle Mizoguchi, who was a family friend by virtue of Damian and his younger sister Maps being friends, but Duke didn't like many of the other people who went to school at Gotham Academy. They weren't all stuck up snobs who had been handed everything they've ever wanted since they were born, but most of them were. Duke doesn't have the energy to sort through them anymore, so he slides through his classes quietly.
He takes his notes and listens to his teachers drone on, he stares at the clock and watches the hands tick away, waiting for the bell to ring, wanting for Alfred to come pick him and Damian up so they can go home and Duke can patrol after he finishes his homework, which he'll already have mostly done after free period and doing it in the car on the way home. He has a schedule now, most of his life is just school and patrol now, and he doesn't mind it, he would rather have that than be stuck in the Manor all day.
Today he isn't let out of his last class until five minutes after the bell rings, and by the time he gets to the car Damian has his arms crossed across his chest, foot tapping on the pavement.
"We're going to be late, Thomas," Damian didn't even eye the shiny new journal in Duke's arms, as he had pretended all morning that he hadn't given him any gifts at all.
"Late for what?" Duke asks as Damian opens the door, letting him slide in first before joining him. Their backpacks hit the spacious floor beneath them and Damian immediately buckles before gesturing for Duke to do it.
"You'll see. Hello Alfred, how was your morning?" Damian asks, as he always does, and Duke listens and nods along, responds when Alfred asks him questions about his own day. His responses are short and clipped because he doesn't care about school all that much, but he tries not to sound ungrateful. He is grateful, he's grateful that Bruce pulled him from the foster system, gave him a fighting chance that not many kids have, but that doesn't mean he has to like it.
Duke's good at school, good enough that he barely has to try to get passing grades, he rarely struggles, but he's not extraordinarily smart like Tim. Duke doesn't care about school, it doesn't seem like Damian does either, but they have two very different reasons. Damian thinks it's beneath him, but Duke thinks it's a waste of his time and his skills. He wants to be a hero, he wants to change Gotham for the better, and how can he do that stuck behind a desk in class?
It didn't matter though, not anymore, because he had climbed the first hurdle of many, getting Batman's permission. Everyone in Gotham knew that all the vigilante's in Gotham reported to the Batman, and unsanctioned Vigilantes would be talked to, so most didn't even try, but there were always a few, and Duke and his friends were definitely some of them. But he had gotten Bruce's permission to patrol, so gets to go out mostly alone after school and gets to patrol any sector in Gotham he wants whenever he wants unless there's something that needs his attention, and most times Bruce comes with him then too.
Bruce wasn't around much unless it was for patrol. He still had to keep up appearances, whether it be at Wayne Industries or getting spotted by the paparazzi's with a woman who was just Selina in a different wig, he was always busy. There was Justice League stuff too, which took up a lot of his time nowadays, leaving Dick coming in from Bludhaven to play leader for 'family patrols' when Bruce was gone. Duke didn't see much of him until he got back from patrol, which is why he was so shocked when they stepped through the front doors of the Manor to see him waiting there, smiling brightly, looking a little forced, nervous even. Duke doesn't think he had ever seen him make that face before.
"Hi?" He said awkwardly, sounding more like a question as he kicks off his shoes, there were way more than there usually were in the shoe rack, some stumbling onto the ground, and he recognized those shoes, recognized Cass's big boots and Steph's obnoxiously pink sneakers. His brows furrowed as he looked up at Bruce.
"Hi," Bruce said back, and Duke heard Alfred sigh deeply behind him.
"Master Thomas, I do think it's time to celebrate, no?" Alfred asked, and Duke glanced behind him at the man. He didn't smile a lot, but he had a small one right now, a tiny twitch of the lips, imperceptible to anyone who didn't know him.
"Celebrate... what?" He knew it was his birthday. Of course he did. He just didn't think they would be celebrating it, his not-family full of not-siblings and his not-dad who took him just because he felt guilty about his parents.
"Your sixteenth birthday, sixteen is a big deal," Bruce joked, he sounded almost fake, like he didn't know how to not be awkward about this, and Duke just nodded.
"Everyone came for your party, Thomas, even Aunt Kate, and she didn't even come for Father's party," and then he was being lead into the living room, where the whole family was gathered, streamers hung on the high rafters and a banner celebrating him, they were all smiling, even Jason oddly enough, as he walked in.
"Happy birthday!" They shouted, and Dick came at him with a hug, lifting him slightly off the ground and squeezing him tightly. Duke hugged him back nervously, feeling out of place. He didn't know how to hug pseudo siblings, he had never had any real ones, and he had never had streamers and banners and balloons at his birthday, he never had this many people gathered for him, never had a table of presents in the corner and an even bigger table full of food.
Dick let him down eventually and everyone dispersed, leaving Duke to his own imposter syndrome as they all talked with each other like this was normal, like this was a perfectly normal family get together. Even Bette, his... cousin maybe, was here, talking to Steph by the fireplace about something, maybe how they were both Batgirls at one point.
The first to come up to him was Tim, who slid next to him on the bay window and took a bite of some weird looking hors d'oeuvres that Alfred must've made.
"It's weird, isn't it?" Dick asked when he finished chewing, "When I first got adopted it was only me, but I was still so shocked when I came home, he invited the Titans too! I almost cried, I thought he hated me."
"Why would Bruce hate you? You're his son," Duke said dumbly.
"We weren't always, it's not like he's my bio dad, I mean c'mon, do we look alike?" Dukes eyes raked over Dick's features, brown skin and thin angular face, floppy black hair and his eyes a striking dark blue, then looked to Bruce, skin so white it resembled porcelain, blue eyes, thin eyebrows and strong jaw, they looked nothing alike at all, but they just seemed like they had always been together, that they had always been father and son.
"No... I guess I just can't imagine a time where you would've thought he hated you," Duke shrugged.
"I think we've all thought Bruce hated us at one point, and you know what I think? I don't think he ever has," Dick chuckled, "I don't think he could hate us if he tried, I mean Jason's here, and he's still a murderous crime boss."
"I think you guys hate me," Duke blurts out, and immediately regrets it. "That's not true, I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that. I just... feel weird about this whole thing."
"Duke... we don't hate you," Dick placed a gentle hand on his knee, rubbing it awkwardly. Clearly no one in this family was good with socializing, but Duke couldn't exactly judge them for that.
"I know. It's just... weird. I'm thrown into this weird family and you guys aren't even here half the time, so it's like I have a fake dad and even faker siblings who I never see? I don't know." Duke sighed, rubbing a hand down his face, and looked at the people at his party, laughing, talking, having fun, Selina had appeared out of seemingly thin air, and was dancing to the quiet music with Bruce in the corner, ignoring Damian's glare.
"Yeah, it is a little weird isn't it? I'm sorry we're not around more... I know that... I know that we'll probably never be family, not in the way the rest of us are, and if you don't want that, that's okay. None of us call Bruce dad, at least not often, and none of us expect you too either, but just know that, even if we're not around that much, we want you to be apart of our family, and we'll wait until your ready, or even if you never are, and you want be like Steph or Babs, we would still love you then."
"Thank you," Duke blinked back the tears building in his eyes, and laid his hand over Dick's. "I've been feeling so... isolated? Or just out of place? Like I don't belong here. I miss the Narrows and I miss my parents and my friends."
"Hey," Dick removed his hand from his knee and placed both on his face. "We all get that, none of us were raised like this, we came into it. Wayne Manor is weird, Bristol is weird, we're all weird, but you're sixteen now, you can drive, you can go to the Narrows whenever you want, can see your friends whenever you want, hell you could even take the subway! And you can always, always, come visit any of us, just call. You're not alone here Duke, you'll always have Bruce around."
"He's never around," is all Duke could think to say. Dick chuckled.
"Next time you get a chance I want you to do something for me, in the middle of school call Wayne Enterprises, say you're Bruce Wayne's ward and you need to speak with him, and when he picks up just tell him you're having a bad day and want to go home, trust me, it'll work."
"How many times did you pull that trick?" Duke asked sarcastically.
"Enough that he caught on, but even then, he always came running, took me out to the Fashion District and went shopping, he would take Jason to that really old library in Old Gotham, he'll take you anywhere you want to go."
"Anywhere?" Duke asks quietly.
"Yeah, anywhere."
"Do you think he would move the party to ‘anywhere’?" Dick smiled at him softly.
"You got something in mind?"
"Yeah, but it's gonna be a long car ride."
Dick grinned, "We love road trips."
They did not love road trips.
They took three cars and argued the whole time, no matter how many times they stopped to switch the lineups because Jason was threatening to kill Tim, or Damian had actually attempted to kill Tim. They went over two bridges, Duke still stared at the window at soaring birds like a kid with wide eyed wonder, and they drove to North Somerset, to the beach, and they placed dusty umbrellas in the sand and ignored everyone gawking at the Elusive 'Wayne Family' out and about just acting relatively normal.
Duke swam in the water for the first time, he dunked Damian under and played chicken on Jason's shoulders against Cass and Dick, knocking them both over. He taught Damian the art of making sand castles and collected sea glass with Steph to put in a jar for decoration, and then he walked up to Bruce, who was watching Selina read a book under an umbrella.
"Can I bury you in the sand?" He asks bluntly, maybe he can't socialize well, but at least the rest of them can't either. Bruce looks shocked, like actually shocked that Duke would even ask, and Duke thinks he's fucked up for just a moment, until he smiles, a real genuine smile, and nods.
"I would love to," and he hauls himself up, looks to Selina, "wanna see me get buried in the sand?" She waves a hand at him, and he just grins even wider. Duke thinks he might have a new not-step-mom soon.
So he gathers his not-yet-siblings and their army of plastic shovels, and they get to digging, they somehow get Damian in on their plan, even Kate, who jokes the entire time about how the hole needs to be wider to fit his shoulders, but they're smiling the whole time as they finally get him in the hole and start covering him up with sand. They keep smiling when Steph asks a random lady to take their picture and they all surround Bruce's head popping out of the sand and beaming like he had never been happier.
They don't get home until so long after the sun has set that it's almost risen again, but none of them complain as they head to their old bedrooms. Ace follows Duke back to his bedroom and lies on his bed again, not letting him be alone. Duke stares out the window, at the wide expanse of dark trees, the rising sun barely peeking through them.
"Did you have a good birthday?" Bruce asks from his door, there's still sand in his hair and he smells like sea water and whatever is in Gotham's rivers and oceans.
"Yeah, it was great," his voice is shaky and he sounds like he might cry again. He wipes at his eyes before the tears have even come.
"I know I'll never be your parents, I'm not trying—"
"I know," Duke croaks, "thank you. But... you can act like a dad to me if you'd like, I don't mind. I don't want you to feel like a roommate."
Bruce slid onto his bed, next to him. "Okay, I will, but I want you— need you to know that I will never try to replace your parents, I just want to be here for you now, no matter what happens, and you can always tell me to back off if I get too overzealous."
Duke thought for a moment, "how long have you been wanting to act like my dad, Bruce?"
"Since the second you came here," Bruce said, and awkwardly, but with a sort of practiced care, he laid his arm over Duke's shoulders, gripped his arm and pressed them close. "Dick says I get overeager."
Duke had heard the same thing from him. "Like a puppy" he agreed, and Bruce laughed heartily, a real laugh, not the one he fakes at galas and for the press, but the laugh he saves for them, for his family. And Duke's apart of that now, even if he never thought he would accept that he was, he feels it now, he knows it now, that he even though they're not there he can always rely on them, can always run off to Burnside or Bludhaven for anything, even if he just missed them. And they'll always take him in with open arms, because that's what siblings do for each other.
"You're not my dad," Duke said hesitantly, "but you're a really good one."
Bruce's breath hitched, "thank you Duke," he laid his head on his, facing the window. The dark branches swirled with the wind, the leaves scattered to the ground, fall was coming soon, and the rare sun would turn to dark gray clouds again, and Duke was excited for the change.
"In the Narrows, at my apartment, you could see Bludhaven out of my window, the lights over the ocean, it helped me sleep at night when I was a kid, I used to be so scared of the dark," Duke made the lamp glow softly on his bedside table. He wasn't afraid of the dark anymore, not that he could control it, contort it to his every whim, but he still held on to that childish fear of his, not of the dark, but of the unknown, of what can be lurking in the dark, lurking right around the corner of his life. He was scared of change, disruption.
"I think we can get some lights, hang 'em in the trees, would that make you feel more at home?" Bruce asked.
Duke leans into him more, savoring the feelings, he says, "it would help, but I'm already feeling pretty at home nowadays."