It started with a fight.

Jason had snapped..over patrol limits, Bruce’s constant hovering, or maybe just because Bruce told him no. Whatever it was, it ended with Jason storming upstairs and slamming his door so hard Alfred had to double-check for drywall damage.

Bruce tried. He really did. He knocked on his door at dinner. No answer. He told him there was a burger on the table, Jason’s favorite, but he didn’t even grunt back.

Alfred left a plate in the microwave just in case. He muttered something about “boys and their hunger strikes” and gave Bruce the look when he passed by with a sigh.

2:07 AM

The manor was quiet, until it wasn’t.

Bruce was already halfway down the stairs when the first muffled clang echoes through the dark. He knows this house like the back of his hand. That’s the fridge door. Followed by a drawer. And now...a curse.

Bruce doesn’t flip the hall light. He moves through the shadows like it’s patrol, all quiet and controlled, until he gets to the kitchen doorway.

And sure enough, the fridge is open, glowing like a spotlight on a goblin crouched inside it.

Jason’s got a slice of leftover pizza folded in one hand, a spoon sticking out of a jar of peanut butter clenched in the other. His cheeks are stuffed, like a squirrel hoarding food for winter, and his eyes are wide the second he sees Bruce.

Bruce hits the light switch.

Jason freezes.

Pizza half-bitten. Peanut butter spoon mid-air. There are crumbs on his shirt and cheese in his hair. Bruce can literally see the moment Jason calculates whether he can lie or run.

“…I was checking expiration dates.” He blurts, through a mouthful of pizza.

Bruce just stares.

“I wasn’t hungry.” Jason adds quickly, voice cracking like a guilty teenager who’s been caught stealing from the cookie jar... or the entire pantry.