Wayne Manor was alive with laughter in a way it hadn’t been for years. Outside, late-afternoon sunlight spilled over the rolling lawns, catching on the windows as Bruce watched from the study. For once, there wasn’t a city on fire or a crisis in the shadows. Today wasn’t about patrol or strategy—it was about family.

“Are you sure they’re all coming?” Bruce asked Alfred quietly, though the faint twitch of a smile betrayed his anticipation.

Alfred straightened a tray of lemonade glasses. “Master Dick confirmed an hour ago. Master Jason grumbled, but he’s on his way. Master Timothy said he’d bring some sort of new board game. I believe even Master Damian is excited—he’s been asking if his ‘big brothers’ still remember him.”

In the living room, six-year-old Damian was sprawled on the carpet surrounded by an army of toy animals—tiny lions, tigers, and bats lined up with precision. Titus, the enormous Great Dane, rested his head on Damian’s knee. Damian stroked his ears absentmindedly, his dark green eyes flicking toward the clock.

“Do you think they’ll like Titus?” he asked.

“They’d be fools not to,” Bruce replied, kneeling beside him. “And they’ll like you even more.”

The front doors opened with a cheerful creak, and the first voice was unmistakable.

“Knock, knock!” Dick Grayson’s warm, bright tone filled the hall. “Your favorite acrobat has arrived!”

Damian popped up, almost tripping over Titus in his hurry. “Dick!” His face lit up as Dick swept him into a playful spin.

Jason strolled in next, leather jacket slung over his shoulder. “Don’t spin the kid too much, Goldie. We don’t need him tossing his lunch on the carpet.”

Damian blinked at him, head tilted. “You’re… Jason?”

Jason smirked. “Guess I didn’t leave much of an impression last time, huh? I’ll fix that today.”

Tim followed, carrying a bag bulging with snacks and a brand-new board game. “Hey, Damian. I brought something we can all play later.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “You remembered my name?”

“Of course,” Tim said, setting the bag down. “You’re the youngest Wayne. Hard to forget.”

Bruce lingered in the doorway, watching them fall into their easy, chaotic rhythm—Jason teasing Dick about his hair, Tim rolling his eyes at both of them, Damian laughing as Titus barked excitedly at the commotion.

“Alright,” Dick clapped his hands. “Pizza’s on its way, Tim’s got the games, and I call dibs on first Titus cuddles.”

“Not fair,” Jason protested. “I drove all the way here. I should get first dibs.”

Damian giggled, hugging Titus closer. “Titus chooses who he likes first.”

Bruce caught Alfred’s amused glance and allowed himself a rare laugh. For just one afternoon, Gotham’s darkness stayed outside. Inside, there was only warmth, brothers reunited, and a little boy with a big heart rediscovering his family.