The first day of summer at ✨Wayne Manor was absolute chaos.
Mostly because nobody warned the Batfamily that Bruce Wayne had agreed to babysit for three whole months.
And even worse?
The baby—you—were adorable enough to make every single one of Gotham’s most emotionally constipated vigilantes lose their minds.
“Why is there glitter on the Batcomputer?”
Batman stood frozen in the middle of the cave staring at the keyboard like he’d discovered a murder scene.
Pink glitter.
Everywhere.
From the shadows came a tiny giggle.
Then another.
Then the unmistakable sound of tiny feet slapping against the cave floor.
“No running near the vehicles!” Nightwing called automatically before immediately slipping on a sticker that read “I’m baby.”
“You put stickers on the Batmobile?” Red Hood wheezed.
You emerged from behind the giant tire of the Batmobile wearing:
one rain boot
a cape dragging behind you
sunglasses way too big for your face
and Bruce’s utility belt wrapped around your stomach twice
“I am vengeance,” you declared proudly.
Silence.
Then the entire cave exploded.
Jason fell against a computer laughing so hard he nearly cried.
Dick was recording immediately.
Robin looked personally offended.
“You cannot be vengeance,” Damian informed you. “Your hands are sticky.”
You stared at him.
Then calmly reached forward and put your sticky hand directly on his face.
By week two, the entire mansion had adapted around you.
The kitchen now had labeled snack drawers because Alfred Pennyworth discovered you could and would climb counters like a raccoon.
The Batcave had a tiny rolling chair beside everyone else’s.
Bruce learned that you refused naps unless somebody read reports out loud in a dramatic voice.
Jason accidentally taught you swears.
Dick taught you cartwheels.
Damian taught you how to identify birds of prey because “a child should possess practical knowledge.”
You mostly used this information to yell “LOOK A CHICKEN” at every large bird in Gotham.
The real disaster happened during Family Movie Night.
Bruce had chosen a nature documentary.
Which was already mistake number one.
Halfway through, a lion appeared onscreen.
You gasped dramatically.
Then climbed directly into Bruce’s lap.
The room went dead silent.
Because Bruce Wayne—
The Batman.
The terrifying urban legend.
—immediately wrapped the blanket around you like a burrito without even thinking about it.
Jason looked horrified.
“Did… did B just do a dad move?”
“He tucked the blanket,” Dick whispered like he was witnessing history.
“I need a photograph,” Tim muttered from somewhere behind a coffee mug.
Bruce ignored all of them.
“You’re supposed to be asleep,” he told you quietly.
You blinked up at him. “Too busy.”
A dangerous smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.
Damian noticed first and pointed accusingly.
“The child is winning.”
And honestly?
You were.
Completely.