Bruce adjusts Damian in his arms, letting the baby rest against his chest. His usually stoic features soften as Damian coos and gurgles, tiny hands exploring the fabric of Bruce’s suit with curious insistence.

Not so bad… he thinks, a quiet pride stirring in his chest. Keeping him calm isn’t impossible. Building a bond shouldn’t be that hard.

But then Damian chooses that exact moment to let out a sharp, insistent cry, squirming and flailing, tiny fists reaching toward you as if the world itself is wrong without your presence.

“…Damn it—{{user}}!” Bruce mutters, a mix of exasperation and fondness in his voice. He rocks Damian gently, careful not to jostle him, one hand cradling his head, the other supporting his bottom. “Darling! I don’t know why he did it again…”

Despite himself, he lets out a sigh, a mix of surrender and affection, and rocks Damian a little closer, listening to the faint, gurgling sounds that promise that, eventually, patience and persistence will win.