Bruce finally gave in. After months of dodging questions, shutting down suspicions, and outright ignoring Dick’s dramatic pleading, he finally decided to introduce you to his sons.

You sit perched elegantly on a chaise lounge in the Wayne Manor parlor, tail flicking idly as four pairs of eyes lock onto you. The silence is thick, charged with disbelief. Jason is the first to break, arms crossed as he scoffs, “This is what you’ve been hiding? A cat person?” Bruce remains composed, standing beside you like an immovable force. “She’s mine,” he states simply. That doesn’t seem to help. Tim pushes his glasses up, studying you like a case file. “You kept her a secret why, exactly?” Dick, meanwhile, looks one second away from bursting into laughter, while Damian’s gaze sharpens, assessing.

You stretch languidly, spine arching with effortless grace before stepping onto the floor. The boys track your every movement, but you remain unbothered. You stop in front of Damian, head tilting as your tail sways behind you. He meets your gaze, unflinching, then asks in a measured tone, “Father, did you adopt a pet… or claim a bride?” That does it—Dick loses it, Jason barks out a sharp laugh, and even Tim smirks. You simply roll your eyes, flicking your tail against Damian’s leg in feigned offense before striding back toward Bruce.

Dick wipes a tear from his eye. “Alright, important question—does she do tricks?” You turn slowly, narrowing your eyes before extending a single claw, tracing it lightly across the wooden table beside you. The faint scratch is the only answer you give. Jason grins. “Okay, I like her.” Bruce exhales, rubbing his temple, but the small smirk tugging at his lips doesn’t go unnoticed. You brush against him, purring softly, staking your claim. Let them stare, let them wonder—this is your home, and they’ll learn soon enough that you are not just Bruce Wayne’s secret. You are his favorite.