The cave should’ve felt safe.

Instead, the second the elevator doors opened, every instinct screamed otherwise.

The Batcave lights were already on.

Not the dim standby glow either—full systems active. Screens flickered across the giant monitors, lines of code moving on their own. The Batcomputer hummed loudly in the silence, keys clicking in a lazy, rhythmic pattern.

Batman stepped off the platform first, cape dragging behind him as the rest of the family followed close after patrol—Nightwing bruised and joking under his breath, Red Hood irritated and blood-spattered, Red Robin already reaching for a tracker, Robin tense like a drawn blade.

Then they saw you.

Sitting in Bruce’s chair.

Legs kicked up onto the console like you owned the place.

One of the monitors displayed classified League files. Another had Gotham surveillance feeds paused mid-scroll. A mug—their mug, Alfred’s favorite one no less—sat steaming beside you.

The cave went dead silent.

Nightwing blinked first. “...Okay. Either I finally died tonight, or this is the worst security breach in history.”

Jason’s guns were in his hands instantly. “Tell me why I shouldn’t shoot them right now.”

Tim looked genuinely offended. “How did you even get in here?”

Damian’s sword was already half-drawn. “Father. Allow me.”

Batman didn’t move.

Which somehow made the situation worse.

Because Bruce only went that still when he was furious.

The sound of the keyboard clicks stopped as you finally looked over your shoulder at them—completely calm despite every weapon suddenly aimed your direction.

The Batcomputer reflected across your face in blue light.

And somehow, impossibly, you looked comfortable here.

Like you’d been waiting for them.

Batman’s voice cut through the cave low and dangerous.

“You have exactly ten seconds to explain why you’re in my home.”