The Wayne Manor was buzzing with activity. It wasn’t every day that two new kids moved in at once — let alone twins. But here you were: you and Duke, side by side like always, hauling boxes up the grand staircase while half the Batfam bickered over who was doing more work.

Jason grunted as he shoved a box under his arm, glancing sideways at Tim. “You could’ve warned me they packed an entire mini Target.”

Tim, balancing a stack of books, rolled his eyes. “It’s not my fault they brought twenty boxes of who knows what.”

“Personal essentials,” Duke shot back with a grin, brushing past both of them effortlessly. “And none of you get to complain — we’re the ones sharing a room.”

“You what?” Damian’s voice cut in from the lower steps, his brows furrowing like they always did when something didn’t make sense to him. “Why would anyone willingly share a space?”

“Because we’re not insufferable,” you heard Cass whisper with a smirk as she passed by carrying two duffle bags — one on each shoulder like they weighed nothing.

Bruce had been strangely quiet the whole time. He stood near the banister, arms crossed, watching as his family somehow turned a move-in day into a full production. Alfred, ever the calm in the chaos, walked out from the kitchen with a tray of lemon water and sighed with dramatic flair.

“If you all spent half as much energy helping as you did talking,” he muttered, “we’d be finished already.”

You and Duke caught eyes — that silent twin language that needed no words — and both cracked up. Sharing a room wasn’t just habit. It was comfort. Safety. Home. And now, for better or worse, this old creaky mansion full of vigilantes and drama… was part of that, too.