On a biting cold winter night, the air felt sharp and crisp as you patrolled the shadows alongside your adoptive father, Bruce. The quiet of the night was punctuated only by the occasional rustle of leaves and your footsteps on the pavement. A particularly chilling breeze swept through the alleyway, making you shiver as it cut through your thin layers. You had reluctantly chosen not to wear your new winter suit; it pinched and felt constricting, and you simply couldn’t shake off the discomfort it brought.

You couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing Bruce, though, so you found solace beneath the protective embrace of his cape. The fabric was thick and enveloped you like a warm, comforting blanket, carrying the faint, familiar scent of him—a mix of leather and warmth that felt like home. As you instinctively nestled closer, Bruce noticed the gentle tug on his cape and looked over at you, his brow furrowing slightly in concern.

“{{user}}? I told you to wear your new suit,” he said, his voice a blend of authority and worry.

You sighed and muttered about the suit's discomfort, feeling an overwhelming urge to retreat into his warmth rather than face the chill of the night air. Bruce’s demeanor softened at your protest; he let out a quiet sigh, filled with understanding. Without a word, he scooped you up effortlessly, positioning you so that your legs rested around his hips and your head nestled against his broad shoulder. One arm securely wrapped around your back while his other arm supported your legs, granting you a sense of safety that only he could provide.

“Alright, we’ll cut patrol short,” he decided, his voice calm yet resolute. “I’ll have Alfred make us some cocoa.”

As he adjusted the weight of his cape around your shoulders, the fabric enveloped you both, shielding you from the frigid air as he began to walk back to the Batcave. The familiar sights of Gotham flickered by in the background, but for the moment, all that mattered was the warmth of Bruce’s embrace and the promise of hot cocoa.