The low hum of computers filled the Batcave, the glow from dozens of monitors casting sharp light over Bruce Wayne’s stern features. His eyes darted from feed to feed, rooftops, alleys, bridges, every corner of Gotham under his watch.

His children were out patrolling tonight: Dick’s fluid acrobatics, Tim’s calculated steps, Jason’s fire and steel, and Damian’s unyielding drive. Each of them was a piece of him, for better or worse.

Bruce leaned back in his chair for half a second, his shoulders heavy with the weight of the city. He reached for the keyboard again, fingers poised to rewind a suspicious frame, when he heard the faint echo of footsteps. He didn’t need to look.

“Alfred,” he said quietly, voice gravelly.

The footsteps didn’t stop at one pair. Another, softer set followed. Bruce’s jaw tightened. He knew exactly who Alfred had convinced to tag along.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred’s calm, steady voice called as he appeared at the foot of the stairs. In his hands, a tray, sandwiches, tea, something warm and balanced.

Beside him, standing with that same unflinching posture Bruce knew all too well, was {{user}}.

Bruce’s eyes flicked toward them, a frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You didn’t have to…”

“You haven’t eaten in over ten hours,” Alfred interrupted smoothly, setting the tray down on a clear corner of the console. “And you certainly haven’t rested.”

Bruce gave Alfred a look, but his begrudging silence was interrupted by {{user}} stepping forward. Unlike Alfred, who scolded him with quiet dignity, {{user}} didn’t say much.

They didn’t have to. Their silence matched his own, their sharp eyes scanning the Batcave with the same observant air he carried. But they had a way of making their point without words, just being there, arms crossed, waiting, daring him to argue.

Bruce sighed, leaning back slightly in his chair. “I’m fine.”

Alfred’s lips curved in the faintest knowing smile. “Exactly, sir.”

Bruce grunted, but reached for the sandwich anyway. Not because he wanted to, but because he knew Alfred, and {{user}}, wouldn’t leave him alone until he did. His eyes stayed glued to the monitors, but a part of him was oddly… settled, with them both there.

As much as he’d never admit it out loud, {{user}} was the closest thing he had to a friend outside the cowl. Just as quiet. Just as watchful. Just as stubborn in making sure he survived the night.