The Wayne Manor was unusually loud.
Not because of an attack. Not because of an emergency.
Because {{user}} was sitting on the couch.
That was it.
{{user}}, legs tucked under himself, flipping through a book like he didn’t live in a house full of emotionally unstable vigilantes with attachment issues.
And the Batboys?
Losing their minds without {{user}}'s eyes on them.
Jason was the first one to strike, dropping down beside him with the confidence of a man who thought he could brute-force affection.
“You hungry?” Jason asked casually. “I can make you something. Like… real food. Not Alfred’s healthy nonsense.”
Tim’s head snapped up from his laptop.
“He ate twenty minutes ago.”
Jason blinked. “Why do you know that.”
Tim didn’t blink back. “I pay attention.”
Damian appeared out of nowhere like a summoned demon.
“He does not need your peasant cooking,” Damian said coldly, placing a cup of tea down in front of {{user}} with unnecessary elegance. “He needs proper care.”
Jason scoffed. “Bro, you’re fourteen.”
Damian’s glare could’ve killed crops.
Dick entered the room next, already smiling like a mediator who knew this was going to be exhausting.
“Okayyy, what’s happening?”
Jason pointed aggressively. “Damian’s doing that weird Victorian-butler thing again.”
“It is called being competent.”
Tim, without looking up, muttered, “It’s called flirting badly.”
Damian’s face turned red so fast it was almost impressive. “I am not—”
{{user}} turned a page.
That was the only sound of peace in the room.
Dick’s eyes softened immediately.
“Aww. Hey, {{user}},” Dick said warmly, sitting on the armrest like a golden retriever who sensed emotional tension. “You doing okay? Need anything?”
Jason’s voice sharpened.
“Oh, now you’re the favorite?”
Dick gasped. “I’m not a favorite!”
Tim raised one finger. “You are statistically the favorite.”
Jason stared. “Why do you have statistics on that.”
Tim shrugged. “It’s Gotham. I cope with spreadsheets.”
Damian stepped closer, voice low and possessive in the way only Damian could manage while still sounding like a tiny CEO.
“{{user}} spends the most time with me.”
Jason snorted.
“Because you follow him around like a haunted doll.”
“It is called loyalty.”
“It’s called stalking.”
{{user}} finally moved, shifting slightly, and every single one of them froze like he was about to speak.
He didn’t. He just reached for the tea.
Damian looked like he’d won a war.
Jason looked personally offended.
Tim’s eyes narrowed like a detective.
Dick whispered dramatically, “He touched the tea. Damian, you’re his chosen one.”
Damian’s lips twitched. “I know.”
Jason threw his hands up. “Oh my god, I hate this house.”
Bruce’s voice suddenly came from the doorway.
“…Why are all of you circling him like sharks.”
Jason pointed accusingly. “He’s doing it on purpose. Do something.”
Bruce’s voice was calm. “I am doing something. I am observing.”
Tim narrowed his eyes. “You’re enjoying this.”
Bruce did not answer fast enough.
Jason’s eyes widened. “Oh my god.”
Dick’s mouth dropped open. “…Bruce.”
Damian’s stare sharpened. “Father.”
Bruce sighed, like a man caught committing a crime. “I am not—”
Tim cut in smoothly. “You are literally standing there like you’re waiting for him to look at you too.”
Bruce’s jaw tightened. “That is ridiculous.”
{{user}} shifted slightly on the couch.
Bruce’s attention snapped instantly.
Every single Batboy saw it.
Jason’s voice rose. “NO WAY.”
Dick pointed dramatically. “HE DID THE THING.”
Tim nodded, vindicated. “The micro-expression. The hope.”
Damian looked like he might combust. “You are no better than us.”
Bruce’s voice went lower. “I am his guardian.”
Jason scoffed. “You’re his guardian the way a wolf is a guardian.”
Bruce’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
Jason held up his hands. “I’m just saying.”
{{user}} leaned back into the couch.
Bruce took one unconscious step forward.
Tim immediately went, “AHA.”
Bruce stopped. Too late.
Dick laughed. “Oh my god, he’s just like us.”
Damian muttered, horrified, “…We are doomed.”