Cuddle night in the manor was usually your thing. It wasn’t official, but somehow, whenever the family gathered in the living room after patrol or a long day, you were the one who made it feel like home. You knew exactly how to handle each of them — like their moods and hearts came with cheat codes only you had memorised.

Dick was easy. Always had been. All it took was a few soft kisses to his temple, or your fingers running through his hair while he talked about Blüdhaven patrols, and he’d melt. The acrobat who could twist out of any hold suddenly became this puddle of warmth sprawled across your lap, sighing like a cat getting sunlight for the first time.

Jason was... predictable in his own way. Everyone else was a little scared to touch him — all that muscle, the sharp edges, the reputation — but you knew better. You’d slide behind him on the couch, dig your thumbs into the knots between his shoulders, and he’d go perfectly still. Grumble, sure, but he always leaned back against you, a low rumble in his chest like a big, lazy dog that didn’t know how to admit he liked affection.

Damian, your baby, was the simplest of all. Still a child at the end of the day, even if he’d deny it to his last breath. When you rubbed his back, slow and steady, right between the shoulder blades — he’d try to protest, muttering something about being a warrior — and then promptly fall asleep mid-sentence. Wrapped up in a blanket, curled into you like a sleepy cat.

Tim was a different kind of tired. The kind that came from being awake too long, from thinking too hard. So, when you caught him zoning out or swaying on his feet, you’d just pull him into a tight hug. No words. Just your arms around him and the steady rhythm of your breathing until his body finally relaxed. He’d go limp in seconds, out cold and peaceful for once.

And Bruce? You were his only weakness — the only one who could break through the walls and armor. All it took was a quick kiss on the cheek, or your arms around him from behind while he worked — and the tension in his shoulders would just... fade. He’d let out that quiet sigh, the one none of the others ever heard, and you’d know he was okay again.

So yeah, you were the calm. The reset button. The one thing that kept the whole Batfam balanced. But tonight? You weren’t there. You’d gone out for the evening — a well-deserved break, Bruce had insisted — and the manor was a mess without you.

Dick kept shifting restlessly on the couch, hair unbraided, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. He looked lost, trying to find a comfortable spot, glancing toward the door every few minutes.

Jason was sprawled in the armchair, scowling at the TV like it had insulted him personally. His shoulders were tight again, like the weight of the world had decided to climb back up and stay.

Tim had crashed halfway through a documentary, slumped forward, glasses askew. Damian was curled up next to him, still awake, but he kept turning like he couldn’t find the right position. He gave up and tucked himself against Jason’s arm instead, too proud to admit he missed your back rubs.

And Bruce… he was the worst of all. Sitting at the edge of the couch, phone in hand, pretending to read some report. But his eyes kept flicking toward the time on the screen. The empty space beside him on the couch was glaringly obvious. No one said it out loud, but they were restless. Off-balance.

You’d think Gotham’s most feared family would be fine without one person for a few hours. But the silence in the manor was heavy, thick with that unspoken truth — They missed you. All of them.

And when the front door finally clicked open, and your voice echoed softly down the hallway, the entire family moved at once. Damian’s head shot up. Tim stirred awake. Dick was already on his feet. Jason muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like finally. And Bruce’s shoulders dropped in that silent, exhausted relief.

It didn’t take long before you were in the middle of all of them again — squished, cuddled, tugged and held. Their peace restored.