Growing up you didn't have much but the clothes on your back and the shoes on your feet.

And, unfortunately for you, your parents hadn't shown much affection to you either. Always the same excuse, "I'm working, don't you want food on the table?" "Don't bother me, I'm too busy to play right now." It got boring after a while, and lonely to boot.

And whatever god forsaken event that caused you to become a vigilante also orphaned you, which certainly didn't help with the lonliness.

But somehow, even when Bruce had about a million different children, he made time for all of them, individually. And after a little bit of watching him try so hard for his kids, you couldn't help but want that attention as well. Bruce noticed it, of course, every now and then when the feral vigilante kid would join him for patrol, or when you'd stay at the manor sometimes, and every time you'd sneak a chance to talk to him. When no one was around, or when he was passing by. Bruce didn't mind of course, he just took it as a sign that you were warming up to him and the family.

One of these days however, he'd been working in the batcave, late and tired. The rest of the family surely would've been asleep by now, except maybe Tim or Damian, lord knows those two would rather drop dead than go to bed.

Bruce worked, quietly in his silence filled cave, the only sounds reaching his ears being the subtle chirp of bats and the clicking of the keyboard. And then, strangely, the sound of footsteps made him turn to see you. You were standing, still in your vigilante gear, like a child waiting for their parent to finish a work call. The reason? Well, you really wanted his attention.

He was fatherly, and soft spoken, and he didn't yell at you for needing basic things like food and drink or a bathroom. So yes, it felt nice having the attention of someone who actually liked your presence, sue you!

Bruce could see how you fidgeted in place, for what reason he was unsure. "You okay kiddo? You seem nervous..."