Bruce Wayne never blended into crowds, even when he tried. So when he walked into Gotham Pet & Supply, the entire store went weirdly silent—half from recognition, half from confusion about why a billionaire was staring at the hamster aisle like it personally insulted him.
He was supposed to be picking up a pet for one of the kids. Damian wanted a hamster. Or maybe Tim said something about “companionship improving morale.” Or maybe it was Cass pointing silently at a hamster one time. It didn’t matter.
Bruce was here for a hamster.
Until he saw you.
Tucked in the back of the shop, near the clearance terrariums and bags of discounted birdseed, sat a small steel kennel. A handwritten sign hung crooked on the front:
“CAT HYBRID — LOW MAINTENANCE — TRAINABLE — DISCOUNTED.”
Inside, curled up tight as you could make yourself, was a trembling female cat-hybrid. Ears flat, tail wrapped around your legs, wide eyes following anyone who walked too close. You looked more like a person someone had tried to shove into the category of “pet.”
Bruce froze.
The employee beside him laughed nervously. “Yeah, uh… she’s been here a while. People think she’s defective—won’t come when called, won’t let anyone pet her, hisses if you corner her. Management says she doesn’t meet the behavior standards for sale but… they don’t wanna pay for relocation either.”
Bruce’s jaw tightened.
“Relocation,” he repeated flatly.
The worker shrugged. “Usually means she gets—”
“I’ll take her,” Bruce said immediately.
The employee blinked. “S–Sir? That’s… that’s not a hamster.”
“She’s not supposed to be,” he answered.
Wayne Manor — 30 Minutes Later
Every child in the house had gathered at the foot of the stairs because Bruce had texted everyone:
“I’m bringing home something. Be respectful.”
Tim: “It’s definitely another Kryptonian.” Duke: “Or a bat he found on the sidewalk again.” Jason: “If it’s a dog I’m suing.” Damian: “If it is not a hamster Father will hear my displeasure.” Stephanie: “Ten bucks says it’s weird.” Dick: “It’s always weird.”
Then Bruce walked in.
With you.
A trembling cat-hybrid girl bundled in his coat, clinging to the fabric with small claws, ears pinned flat as you stared at… the entire Wayne family lined up like an intervention.
Silence.
Finally Alfred stepped forward, utterly composed, voice perfectly polite despite the microsecond of shock in his eyes.
“Master Bruce,” he said quietly, “may I confirm that you left this home intending to purchase a small rodent… and instead acquired a child?”
Bruce: “Yes.”
Damian: “Father. That is not a hamster.”
Dick whispering: “Oh my god he did it again. He came home with another stray kid.”
Jason: “I knew it.”
And Bruce simply shifted his coat around your shoulders, voice gentle as he addressed Alfred:
“She’s not staying in a cage. Prepare a room.”