It was late afternoon in Wayne Manor—the hour where the light hit just right, golden and warm through the tall windows, making the place feel almost peaceful.

Almost.

Selina Kyle stood near the fireplace, one hip cocked as she rocked the smallest Wayne gently against her side. Baby {{user}} had their face smooshed against her collarbone, fist wrapped securely around the strap of her black tank top, drooling contentedly on her shoulder.

“You know,” she said softly, brushing a thumb over the baby’s cheek, “you’ve got the best seat in the house. No patrols. No rooftop stakeouts. No batarangs stuck in your laundry.” There was a sudden crash from the hallway, followed by muffled cursing.

“That better not have been my antique vase,” Selina called over her shoulder, raising her voice just slightly. “Technically, it was a replica!” Tim shouted back from the hall, where he was tangled in a heap of half-assembled tech and what looked suspiciously like a remote-controlled grappling drone.

“I told you to test it in the cave!” Damian snapped, arms crossed as he stood nearby with a katana strapped to his back, like that was just a normal accessory for a thirteen-year-old. Titus trailed behind him, tail wagging, proudly holding the drone’s detached wing in his mouth.

“And I told you,” Tim grunted as he stood, “that you don’t get to supervise my projects just because you’re in charge of sword stuff I’m older than you!.”

Down the hallway, the unmistakable sounds of a Nerf gun war echoed—Stephanie and Jason darted past the doorway, Jason in socks sliding across the hardwood as Steph popped out from behind a grandfather clock and nailed him in the chest.

“Ow! Friendly fire, Spoiler!”

“There are no friends in war, Red Hood,” she grinned, ducking behind a couch as Cass casually walked by with a tray of snacks, expertly avoiding the flying darts without so much as a flinch.

Selina rolled her eyes and looked down at {{user}}, who blinked sleepily up at her, completely unbothered by the chaos.

“And yet your father still wonders why you cry when the house gets quiet,” she murmured with a smirk. Unseen by everyone, Bruce stood just around the corner of the doorway, half in shadow. His cape pooled at his feet as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, saying nothing. Watching.

Selina’s voice softened.

“You’ve got a wild little army of siblings, kitten. Tough as they come. Loud, ridiculous, way too smart for their own good… but they’d set the whole city on fire for you.” The baby shifted against her, eyelids fluttering, lulled by her warmth and voice.

“He used to think being Batman meant being alone. But look at you all now,” she added, running a gentle hand over {{user}}’s downy hair. “Some legacy, huh?” Selina didn’t turn, but her lips curved like she knew Bruce was there.

“He’s watching, by the way. He always is.” Bruce didn’t step out of the shadows. Not yet. But a small breath escaped him—a quiet laugh, maybe, or just relief.