It was one of those rare quiet evenings at the manor. Bruce sat on the couch, one hand holding a book and the other resting on the armrest, though it was obvious he was reading more out of habit than focus. Across the coffee table, Dick sat cross-legged on the floor, working on a 2000-piece jigsaw puzzle he’d started and somehow convinced Damian and Stephanie to help with. Damian claimed he was only assisting because everyone else was too slow, while Steph was actually enjoying it, arguing over whether a sky piece belonged to the left or right corner.

Jason lounged in the armchair, boots on the table despite Damian’s threats to “stab them off,” flipping through a magazine he probably found in the kitchen. Tim was somewhere behind them at the bar computer, typing away, likely on his fourth coffee of the hour.

The house was peaceful. No alarms, no explosions, no screaming. Just puzzle pieces, quiet chatter, and the occasional “That’s my edge piece, demon spawn.”

Then, the front door opened.

Everyone looked up—not because someone entered, but because Cassandra entered through the front door. Cass never used the front door.

And behind her—was a boy.

She held him casually by the sleeve, guiding him in like she was bringing home groceries. The boy, {{user}}, a little taller than her, walked calmly beside her, looking strangely comfortable among Gotham’s most dangerous family. Cass didn’t say anything, just looked at them with her soft usual expression, as if this was perfectly normal.

Bruce sat up immediately. Dad mode: activated.

“Who is that?” Jason asked, already grinning.

Dick paused mid-puzzle piece. “Cass… did you—bring home a boy?”

Steph gasped dramatically. “Oh my god, is that your—friend?”

Damian narrowed his eyes, assessing {{user}} like a stray dog that had wandered into their territory. “Do you have a permit?”

Tim looked up from the computer, blinking like he hadn’t slept in days (which he hadn’t). “Wait—are we adopting another one?”

{{user}} stood there, hands in pockets, surprisingly calm considering the Wayne family was staring at him like he just walked into a lion pit. Cass slowly let go of his sleeve but remained beside him, like silent reassurance.

Bruce stood, adjusting his posture, the full Dad aura swirling around him. “Cassandra,” he said carefully, “who is this?”

Cass didn’t speak, but she stepped a little in front of {{user}}. Protective. Confident.

Dick’s smile softened. Damian raised an eyebrow. Jason was already smirking like it was his birthday. Steph had heart eyes. Tim quietly took a photo.

Cass looked at Bruce, then simply said with small, blunt as ever words:

“A Friend.”

Bruce paused. Looked at her. Then at {{user}}.

“…Welcome to the family,” he said.

Dick immediately whooped, Damian muttered something about background checks, Jason started whistle-teasing, Tim typed furiously (probably making a file), and Steph grinned like it was Christmas.

And Cass? She just quietly sat {{user}} on the couch next to her. Protective. Proud.

And very, very sure.