Mpreurgh
"I still don't see why we have to tell him," Bart says, swinging his legs over the edge of the rooftop.
Tim leans over and scans the street below. Completely empty. "He'll find out anyway. At least this way, he'll only mangle me for one reason, and not for keeping a secret from him, too."
"Do you really think he'd hurt you? Me? Us?"
Tim flips off the nightvision on his mask and looks over at Bart, who's set his chin in his hands and is gazing out over the rooftops of Gotham with an almost thoughtful look on his face. "I don't know," Tim says honestly, then shrugs and smiles a little bit. "He'll probably want to hurt me for bringing a metahuman to Gotham in the first place."
Bart scrunches his face up. "Right. The Bat's pretty territorial, huh."
"To put it mildly," Tim says, keeping his voice as dry as possible, and turns on the nightvision again.
"You didn't really bring me here, though. I ran here from Keystone on my own."
"Doesn't matter. You're a metahuman, you're in Gotham, you're in my territory, therefore you're my responsibility."
"Geez." Bart scrubs at his face with both hands, then reaches back and plays with the wings on the Kid Flash mask. "That's...pretty strict."
"That's being Robin," Tim says, and leans back. "Okay. I haven't seen anything for two hours. Batman'll be back in the Cave by now. Patrol's over."
"All right." Bart jumps up and spreads his arms wide. "I'll carry you to the Batcave."
Tim almost laughs, but this is far too serious to risk on a little joyrun with Kid Flash. "No," he says. "We'll take my bike."
Bart grumbles at the blacked-out helmet Tim hands him but puts it on anyway. He holds onto Tim a little tighter than necessary, resting his head on Tim's shoulder for the whole ride back.
Tim parks the bike next to the Batmobile, which Bart ogles until Tim pulls him away. "I still can't believe I've driven one of those," Bart whispers.
"Don't tell Batman that," Tim mutters back and heads into the Cave proper.
Bruce has taken off the cape and is bent over a worktable, repairing one of his gauntlets, when Tim strides in, pulling Bart after him. Bart is wide-eyed and turning his head from side to side like a kid at a carnival, taking in all the unfamiliar sights. Tim clears his throat.
"Batman?"
"Get Kid Flash out of here." Bruce doesn't even turn around.
"I--we--need to speak with you."
"Not here. Get him out of the Cave."
Tim turns to give Bart an apologetic look, but Bart's over by the trophies, studying the gigantic penny.
"Don't you dare touch that," Batman says, and the next thing Tim knows, there's a bolo wrapped around a startled Bart.
"What the--" Bart starts, but Batman cuts him off.
"Leave. Now."
Bart apparently doesn't need to be told again. The bolo rattles on the floor where he'd been standing a nanosecond ago, and the Cave door slides shut behind him. Tim blinks in the breeze and turns to follow.
"Don't move, Tim."
Tim winces, but stays put. Bruce finishes with the gauntlet and strides over to him.
"You brought a metahuman into the Cave."
"Yes," Tim says, staring baldly up at Bruce.
"You brought Kid Flash into the Cave. The teenage 'hero'"--and the disdain is clear in Bruce's voice--"who used to be called Impulse. For a very good reason. You brought him here."
"Yes," Tim says. "We needed to speak with you."
"What could possibly be so important that you would bring Kid Flash into the Cave?"
"I'm pregnant," Tim says, and watches Bruce's expression drop from annoyance into shock, wallow in shock for a moment, then rocket past annoyance and straight up to fury.
"You're pregnant," Bruce says, and Tim nods. "That's not humanly possible."
Tim nods again. "You're right," he agrees, "it's not."
"Then how--"
"Remember when Bart and I got thrown into that alternate dimension by that super-villain's ray? And the effects weren't reversed for almost two days?"
"You had sex with Kid Flash in an alternate dimension."
"We got bored," Tim says, and fights the urge to laugh.
Tim watches the muscles stand out on Batman's jaw. "And now you're pregnant." A deep breath. "Exactly how pregnant are you?"
Tim fights the urge to say 'Only a little bit' and says, "Four months or so."
"And you waited this long to tell me?"
"I knew I was feeling sick in the mornings but pregnancy wasn't exactly something I considered a possibility. And it's not like I was skipping periods."
"You're...certain...that Kid Flash is the..." Batman pauses for a long moment, "father?"
Tim raises an eyebrow. "Well, gee. It could be Superboy. Or Beast Boy. Maybe Starfire. Of course it's Bart."
Batman moves his hands in a way that makes it plain he's trying not to clench them into fists. "Who else knows?"
"Bart. You. Alfred, if he's any good at reading between the lines. That's it. I thought we'd better tell you before Wally and Jay."
They are interrupted by the dry sound of measured footsteps coming down the stairs. "Master Timothy, Master... Batman. I found Master 'Kid Flash' in the kitchen."
There's a whoosh and Bart's standing there, halfway through a sandwich.
Bruce's shoulders tense visibly. "I thought I told you to stay out." His tone is that of someone talking to a disobedient dog.
"No," Tim says and Bart stops short. "If we're going to discuss my pregnancy, Bart should be here."
There's a slight noise as a cookie falls off the plate Alfred is carrying but he catches it before it hits the floor. "My apologies. Did you say... pregnancy?"
"Yeah," Bart says proudly. "Tim's pregnant. I'm going to be a dad."
"Congratulations," Alfred says, and Tim can't quite parse his tone.
"So you're due in five months, then," Bruce says. "How do you expect to be an effective Robin if you're pregnant?"
"That is so old-fashioned," Bart says.
Bruce looks at Bart and Bart steps back a pace. "Do you want Tim swinging over the streets of Gotham while carrying your child? Fighting men with knives and guns and bullets that Tim can't dodge like you can?"
"Oh." Bart frowns as he considers it. "Well, I want to be a modern supportive husb- boyf- father and everything. And it's not that I think he couldn't do it. But... Perhaps I should be Robin while he's pregnant. And possibly for a while afterwards. Are you going to breastfeed, Tim?"
Bruce stiffens. "You? As Robin?"
Tim buries his head in his hands.
"We worked together before and it went well. Besides, I think I'd look good." Bart zips over to the glass case. "I'm not wearing the panties though."
"Stay away from there." Bruce has another bolo in his hand. "Tim, will you please control your...Kid Flash?"
Tim sighs. "Bart. Just... Just stand here."
"Okay." Bart appears next to Tim and manages to stay there for a moment before vanishing to investigate the dinosaur.
"Bart!" Tim yells. "Get down from there!"
Bruce glares and pulls something out of a drawer in the workbench. "Put this on him."
Tim groans. "Bart. Here. Now."
In moments, Bart's down from the dinosaur and quivering to a stop next to Tim. "Yeah. Here."
Tim buckles the leash round Bart's neck. "Just to shut Bruce up," he whispers. "And try to stay still or he's never going to believe you can be a-" He nearly chokes on the words. "A responsible father."
Bart tugs at the collar and leash. "He knows I can just vibrate right out of this, right?"
"Actually, you can't," Bruce says. "It's a material I developed precisely to stop speedsters from vibrating their molecules fast enough to move through solid objects." His expression could almost be a smile. "Please feel free to try."
Bart stares at him suspiciously, then tries. He stops, choking. "I don't want you to be my baby's grandfather."
"You should've thought about that before you had sex with Robin, then."
"If I'd thought about you, I'd never have had sex with anybody. Ever. Best contraceptive known to man." Bruce's glare makes Bart sit down on the floor next to Tim. "I'll just. Stay down here."
Bruce turns to Tim. "So? What are you going to do?"
Tim shrugs, tugging slightly on the leash. "What choices do I have?"
"I think we should get married," Bart says. "We could go to Canada. Or the Netherlands. Do you speak Dutch?"
"Bart," Tim says. "You're fifteen. Do you really want to wind up tethered to m--someone for...however long speedsters live?"
"Um..." Bart considers it. "Yeah. You're probably right." He glances at Batman. "Though if I was going to be tethered to anybody, it'd be you, even though the in-laws would be scary."
"You really ought to consider...giving it up, Tim," Bruce says.
"No!" Bart says.
"It's Tim's choice," Bruce says mildly.
"I'm the father! I have some rights!" He pauses. "Though, admittedly, not that many. But I could look after it. Him. Her. Oh, different dimension. It could be an it. With tentacles. That'd be cool."
Batman glares. "I wouldn't trust you with a puppy, never mind my gra- a child."
"He did a very good job with his puppy," Tim points out quietly.
Bart beams. "Dox is a great dog. Oh! Dox! That'd be a good name. We should start thinking of names, Tim."
"If it's got tentacles, we'll call it Dox," Tim agrees wearily.
Bart claps. "All right! I hope it has tentacles. Or antennae. Or both."
Alfred clears his throat. "There is always the option not to carry to term."
"No." Bruce, Tim and Bart speak at the same time.
Bart is shaking his head so rapidly that his hair is just a blur over his face. "I lo--like Tim an awful lot, and he's pretty responsible. We can handle a kid, Batman."
Bruce sighs. "And would the child live in Keystone City or Gotham? How would you pay for its upbringing?"
Bart looks uncomfortable. "I'd sorta thought that Tim and I would...live together. With the kid."
"And where would you live? And, again, how would you support yourselves?"
Bart nibbles at his lower lip for a moment before beaming with delight. "Oh, we could totally live at the Tower!"
"Starfire and Cyborg would allow that?" Bruce says sceptically.
"Sure. They'd love having a kid around."
Tim clears his throat. "Bart. They wouldn't. Cyborg with all his technological bits and pieces? The Tower isn't exactly child-proof."
Bart pouts. "Arsenal and his daughter lived at the New York tower."
"Cyborg wasn't living there. And besides." He looks uncomfortable. "It's different for the original Titans."
"And," Bruce says heavily, "Arsenal wasn't fifteen years old."
"Oh yeah." Bart looks thoughtful. "Wally used to make people pay for his superhero services. I bet I could do that. Good source of income."
Tim shakes his head sharply. "Bart, we're not capable of raising a child. It'll be best for the kid to give it up for adoption."
Bart gets a rather petulant look on his face. "But I don't want to."
"Which says everything about your ability to be a father," Bruce says. He slowly shakes his head. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation."
"You have to go through five more months of...throwing up all the time, and hauling around extra weight, and I hate to say it but Bats is right, you couldn't really be a good Robin if you were pregnant, and then you're just going to give it up when it's born?" Bart says. He clutches his head. "Man, all I wanted to do was tell Bats and then get out of here. I didn't think we'd have to decide all of this today." He tugs at the leash. "And now I can't even get out of here. You never told me Bats was into bondage."
Tim glances quickly at Bruce and clears his throat. "Okay. We'll leave the decisions until later."
Bart strains against the leash again. "Can we go now? I want to tell Wally and Jay!"
Tim groans and, with a final apologetic look at Bruce, lets Bart tug him towards the motorcycle.
"Do I have to wear the leash again?" Bart grumbles.
"Batman would prefer it if you did," Tim answers, fixing it around Bart's neck.
"He's kinky. Really, really kinky."
"He's... territorial."
"He's a freak. A weird looming freaky freak." Bart pauses. "And he's totally standing right behind me, isn't he?"
"No, Master Bartholomew," Alfred says. "Just myself."
"Bart," Bart mutters. "Not Bartholomew."
"Indeed. Milk?"
Tim helps himself to a glass. "Thanks, Alfred."
"And your folic acid supplements," Alfred says.
Tim pulls a face as he swallows the pills. "We don't even know I need folic acid. It's not as though this is a normal pregnancy."
"Better safe than sorry."
"Can I have a Zesti?" Bart asks.
"No," Tim says and bends back a little to ease his spine. "You're meant to be providing moral support and you're not even getting sympathetic backache. You can at least suffer through the vast amounts of calcium Alfred's forcing down me."
Bart frowns. "Wait. So because you're being deprived of Zesti, I am too? That's not fair!"
"You should have worn a condom, then!"
"I didn't think you could get pregnant, Tim, 'cause you're not a girl! Not my fault I was always taught a uterus was necessary for pregnancy."
"Typical man." Tim's voice takes on a mocking whine. "You're the one who got pregnant, it's your fault." Tim's voice turns into a near wail. "I've got two months to go and I'm a whale! I just want to get rid of it!"
"That's just the hormones, Master Timothy."
"It's not hormones. It's this damn great lump. And it keeps kicking. I can't sleep because it won't. Stop. Kicking."
"Oh!" Bart's face lights up. "You didn't tell me! Can I feel?"
"No, you can't. Because I've got seven layers of kevlar between my belly and the outside world. And I hate the Robin maternity suit."
"I still can't believe Batman lets you go out on patrol."
"I don't give him a choice," Tim says darkly. "I'm not staying inside all the time and I'm only allowed out as Robin."
"Now, Master Timothy. Your parents think you're in Rhode Island on a vocational camp, courtesy of the Wayne Foundation. We can't run the risk of them seeing you in Gotham."
"Especially not like this." Tim slips off the cloak and folds it neatly. "But I want to see daylight"
"You shouldn't say things like that when Batman might hear you," Bart says seriously. "Aren't you bats meant to be, like, allergic to daylight?
Tim doesn't say anything as he removes his mask.
"Oh, I know!" Bart says. "You could dress as a woman. Then nobody would mind you being pregnant and your parents wouldn't recognise you and... What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"I only crossdress," Tim says through gritted teeth, "when a case requires it."
Bart blinks. "Wait. You mean you've crossdressed before? You have! You totally have! Did you look hot?"
"Yes," Tim says. "But I won't look hot if I'm pregnant."
"I think you look hot," Bart says.
Alfred gets an odd expression on his face.
Tim glares. "You're just saying that because you want sex. Well, you're not getting any till after the kid's born. And maybe not even then. And you'll be wearing five condoms."
"I still don't see why we can't get an ultrasound and find out if it's a boy or a girl."
"Because they'll notice I've got a penis."
"Well use a Bat ultrasound, then. I bet he's got one."
Alfred clears his throat. Tim shakes his head. "No, no, no. Alfred, I don't want to know if he has a Bat-ultrasound machine."
Bart looks around. "Where is he, anyway?"
"I believe," Alfred says, "he's upstairs. Knitting booties."
Bart swallows hard and stares at Alfred. "Tell me you're kidding. Please. Pleeeaase."
Alfred simply smiles enigmatically and turns away.
"He can't be knitting booties," Bart says after a moment of intensive thought. "Because he doesn't know what sex the baby is. And whether it's even got feet. I still hope it's got tentacles." He follows Tim towards the shower when Tim tugs on his leash. "Unless he's just knitting black Bat-booties. Which he probably would. Or perhaps he ultrasounded you in your sleep and he knows what our baby is. That's it! He knows what our baby is and we don't! That sucks. Couldn't you have a Bat-ultrasound and then Alfred could tell me what it is and I won't tell you? I want to know if I've got a son or a daughter. Or a green tentacled blob thing."
"He's not knitting booties," Tim says decisively. "At least, I hope not," he adds under his breath. "Now stay here," Tim says and locks Bart's leash to a hook on the wall. "I'm going for a shower."
Bart strains against the leash. "I can't come with you?"
"No. Because I'm huge and hideous and ugly. And I'd have to fight the temptation to make you accidentally slip and kill yourself because I hate you for doing this to me."
Bart slumps against the wall. "Oh."
"Have a cookie, Master Bartholomew," Alfred says kindly.
"And a Zesti?" Bart asks hopefully.
"No," Tim yells from the shower. "Milk."
"Pregnancy sucks," Bart mutters.
"Next time, you can be one knocked up. See how you like it from this end."
"It's your own fault for being such a bottom," Bart complains sotto voce.
"What did you say?" Tim asks dangerously.
"I said it's your own fault for having such a nice bottom."
"Thank you," Tim says. "That's what I thought you said."
Bart tugs absently against the leash. "I'm boooooored."
"Read some Dostoevsky."
"Have done. Not in the mood for any more. Can I play in the Batmobile?"
"No!" Tim's voice is filled with horror. "That's ended in disaster every time."
"Every time?" Bruce asks. "That suggests 'more than once'. I know about once. If there's been more than that... I may have to curtail your batarang budget, Robin."
"I'm in the shower!" Tim objects.
"I know you're capable of showering and talking at the same time. I doubt the same holds true for Kid Flash."
"I can too," Bart complains. "I can even run and chew gum at the same time."
"A veritable genius," Bruce mutters.
"Did you want something?" Tim says coldly.
"Do you need the Robin suit expanded further?"
Tim emerges from the shower, wrapping a robe around himself. "Why don't you just say I'm getting fat? Go on!"
"You're... pregnant." Bruce picks around the word as though it's offensive. "A certain amount of growth is inevitable."
"Just go ahead and stick me in a pink, flowery maternity dress!
Bart perks up. "Th-"
"Shut up," Tim and Bruce say together.
"Only it wouldn't be a pink flowery maternity dress, would it?" Tim says. "Noooo. It'd be a Robin maternity dress. The newspapers think I'm female! And the tabloids say that you're the dad, Batman!"
"Not the Weekly World News," Bart says. "They say it's a toss-up between Bigfoot and Elvis."
"The point is," says Tim. He stops and gasps. "The point is." He grabs his stomach. "The point is that I'm going into fucking labour."
Bart tries to run towards Tim but gets jerked back by the leash. "You're only seven months gone! Stop it! Stop being in labour!"
"How is this going to work?" Tim asks, his voice strangely calm. "I don't...have the necessary equipment."
Bruce helps Tim towards a chair while Bart keeps bouncing off his leash. "It's your fault, Batman! You made him all stressed and angry!"
Alfred clears his throat. "I have been consulting with Dr Thompkins and believe I am capable of performing a c-section."
"You've gotta be kidding me," Bart says.
Bruce doesn't bother looking at Bart. "Alfred is a fully certified field medic who has saved both mine and Tim's lives on a number of occasions."
"He's the butler" Bart yells. "You're having the butler deliver my baby! I want a doctor! I want an operating room! I want seventy doctors!" He tugs at the leash. "Let me go and I'll bring them here!"
"Bart. If you don't shut up, I'll leave you tied there for ever," Tim says through gritted teeth. "I don't care who does it. Just knock me out. Now. Because it fucking hurts."
Alfred reappears, carrying a rather large medical kit. "Everthing will be fine, Master Timothy," he says.
"Epidural. Gas. Whatever. Stop. It. Hurting."
Bart twists against the leash. "Can I at least hold his hand?"
"Yes," Tim says. "So I can crush every single bone in your hand to dust." His grin is slightly reminiscent of the Joker. "Come here, Bart. Please."
"Um." Bart steps back to the wall. "I've changed my mind. I'll stay here."
"I'm going to kill you," Tim says but the words are lost in an anaesthetic haze as Alfred delivers the injection.
Bart covers his eyes with one hand. "Do I have to watch?"
"Feel free not to," Bruce says, and knocks Bart out with a well-placed nerve strike.
Tim has a headache. He's pretty certain there should be a description involving elephants, timpani drums and little gnomes but he can't be bothered thinking of it. He's not thinking about the pain from giving birth because that's just too weird to consider. So instead he manages to crack his eyes open. And discovers that Bart is staring at him from approximately 5.4cm away.
Bart screams, vanishes, then reappears. "You're alive."
"Barely," Tim croaks.
"Sip some water," Alfred says, helping Tim sit vaguely upright.
Tim obeys, then looks around. "Where's the kid? And what is it?"
"It was so cool!" Bart says. "All green and slimy with little wavy tentacles and antennae."
Tim seizes on the salient point. "Was?"
"Yeah." Bart pouts. "It exploded."
Tim stares at him. "It exploded? This is Bart-speak for 'It really needed its diaper changed so I handed it off to Alfred', right? Because if I had to lug it around for seven months and then you couldn't even stop it from exploding-"
Alfred clears his throat. "Master Timothy," he says. "It appears that what you were carrying was not a child at all but instead..."
Bart's grinning. "You had a parasite from the other dimension! It was really cute. It had these adorable little gaping jaws with needle-sharp teeth."
"I gave birth to the thing from Alien," Tim says blankly.
"Nah. Dox was green."
"Dox?"
"You said that if it was a green tentacled blob thing we could call it Dox."
"Yeah. So I did." Tim blinks a couple of times. "Is Batman around? I'd kind of like to confirm this is reality and not some hideous, morphine-induced nightmare."
"And you want to see Batman?" Bart says.
"Yeah. If it's morphine, he'll be wearing a rainbow-striped suit. Or he'll be happily married with a kid. Or buying flowers for Superman. Something like that."
Bart zips away and returns half a second later. "He's in the Cave and is on his way."
"He isn't dancing the can-can or anything?"
"He threatened to turn my molecules inside out if I didn't leave him alone."
Tim relaxes. "Okay. So I did just give birth to a parasite from another dimension."
Bart nods enthusiastically. "At least we don't have to fight over giving it up for adoption anymore."
"I'm not a mother." Tim tastes the phrase. "That's far more of a relief than it ever should be."
"Well," Bart says, "if you're disappointed...we could always try for another baby."
Tim blinks a couple of times. "Bart. Is Batman bringing your leash?"
Bart zips off and is back. "Yeah."
Tim grins. "Oh good."
Later that evening, Alfred sighs to himself as he packs away the tiny, black booties with their dropped stitches and painstaking bat motif.