Kimberly W.S.

“So, what- is this some kind of cult initiation?’ You ask.

You and Jason are clad in your pajamas, shuffling down one of the seemingly never-ending hallways of Wayne Manor, with a hoard of blankets and pillows in both of your arms. 

“Yeah basically.” He snickered. 

“I feel like I should be concerned. This is scarier than fighting the whole of Arkham.” You spare a glance at him before pausing before entering the theatre room.

“Meh, just don’t think about it too hard. If anything, Dickwad will take embarrassing pictures, and Tim will fall asleep within the first 10 minutes.”

As if summoned, Dick walks around the corner, an armful of blankets and pillows in his hands as well. Cheerfully he looks at the two of you, beaming with a teasing look towards Jason.

 “I see you two lovebirds have raided Jason’s room for blankets. I assumed you’d be warm enough snuggling together-“ Dick wiggled his eyebrows at Jason before stumbling back when Jason kicks out his legs.

“Very funny Richard.” Jason rolls his eyes, “I’d be more concerned about keeping on your feet than how my girlfriend and I sleep.” 

You shake your head with a small smile across your face before quickly moving past the two and plopping the pile of blankets in your arms onto one of the air mattresses set up and begin placing them however you see fit. Jason follows closely behind you, settling his things next to you before landing firmly on the mattress next to you. 

“Master Jason, your usual popcorn as requested.” Alfred walked over swiftly, handing a popcorn bucket to Jason, “And one for you Miss.” 

You smile and take the bucket from him, “Thank you Alfred.” 

“Y/N, what do you think we should watch?” 

The room goes quiet as Bruce steps in, looking at you for an answer. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you and Jason reaches to place a hand on your thigh. 

“Well- I mean what’s the mood?” You ask looking at everyone for any sort of help. Picking a movie shouldn’t be as daunting as the Wayne family seemed to make it. This was far more intense than any training could have prepared you for. 

“We’re not super picky,” Dick says feigning an innocent smile, “just whatever you think is good.”

You raise your brow in suspicion, picking up on the poorly disguised lie. With Jason’s very pointed taste in literature and movies, there was no way his family felt any differently.

“I assume a serious mystery or crime movie in this family probably doesn’t go over well.” You glance towards Tim who shifts uncomfortably knowing that the comment was pointed towards his reputation of critiquing every crime movie under the sun, “I’m assuming horror movies aren’t everyone’s preferred genre.”

Alfred nods in agreement, looking towards Bruce as if communicating telepathically. You continue listing off genres, thinking out loud hoping that you were passing whatever test this obviously was. Looking at Jason, you search his eyes for any support before finally breathing out and settling on an answer.

“I guess with all that in mind, we watch a classic more family leaning movie. We could do The Princess Bride or Swallows and Amazons, the one from 1974 of course.” You hold your breath in anticipation of whatever would happen.

Maybe this was the time where the family decides that you fail whatever initiation this is and hunt you for sport. Maybe your popcorn is secretly poisoned, and they only give you the antidote if you give the correct answer. Your thoughts race at the most likely improbable outcomes of any sort of failure. It’s only when Bruce speaks up that you are snatched from the newest idea of your demise that you’ve conjured up.

“No one’s ever suggested Swallows and Amazons.” He says with a pause. 

It’s like he knows you’re about to implode with anticipation of whatever comes next. He nods before an approving smile slips across his face, “I think that’s an excellent idea.” 

Jason pats your leg almost with the same relief that you feel as you finally breathe out a sigh of relief. His arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you close as you soak in his warmth.

The movie begins and you feel like you can begin to relax, letting your legs tangle with Jason’s as he drums his fingers against your back. Eventually, he picks up a kernel of popcorn and taps it against your mouth, popping it in when you open. 

“Holy shit Jason- did you want some popcorn with that butter?” You look up at him to see him grinning down at you.

“That’s the way to do it doll. You don’t appreciate my taste popcorn?” He cocks his head to one side and reaches to pop another piece into your mouth.

“What I appreciate,” You say, “is not dying of congestive heart failure.” 

“Do not worry,” Your head shoots to where Damian is sitting as he pipes up, “You would need to consume approximately 362 more sticks of butter before your demise. That is, unless the amount of salt Todd slathers on his popcorn causes cellular dehydration first.” 

You stare at him, mouth agape before quickly recovering with a fit of laughter, “Thank you for that information, Damian. I will be sure to properly manage my butter and salt intake from here on.” 

In the flickering light of the film, you swear that you can see a small smirk appear on his otherwise stoic face. Stephanie tosses an M&M at you to get your attention, earning a glare from Jason who was popped in the cheek by the ricochet. You and Stephanie snicker as he takes the offending projectile and begins to eat it, aggressively chomping the chocolate candy to demonstrate his annoyance.

“Don’t worry diva. We wouldn’t let you die of something like butter.” She says, “That’s like, almost as embarrassing as almost being drowned by Condiment King.” 

Stephanie reaches to fist bump you as Dick’s head pops out of a fort of blankets like an offended prairie dog.

“Hey! That was a very traumatic incident, Stephanie!” His hand was perched against his chest indignantly, “We agreed never to discuss that again!” 

You laughed hard, clutching onto Jason’s arm, “Condiment King, Dick? Really?” 

“In my defense, he upgraded his equipment! I’ve never seen more mustard in my life!” Dick threw his hands up in the air trying to defend himself, “I still can’t eat a hotdog without a chill going down my spine.”

The room begins to burst into laughter before Tim finally cracks an eye open, rejoining the world of the living.                    “Could you guys keep it down? We’re trying to watch the movie” Sleep forces Tim’s eyes closed.

“I didn’t know you had installed a tv screen in your eyelids Timmy.” Stephanie says earning a groan from Tim before he promptly fell back asleep.

The movie continued without further incident, and you settled comfortably against Jason. 

“Do you think I passed my initiation test?” You whispered.

“With flying colors.” He says, quietly pressing a kiss against the top of your head. 

His hand rubs up and down your arm, lulling you to sleep. You feel his gaze lingering, a welcomed comfort after whatever you just had to do. Jason felt your body totally relax and breathing even out. He settled in closer, wrapping both arms around you and holding you firmly against his chest. 

“Awwww you two are the cutest!” He heard Dick whisper yell from across the room.

“Can it Dickhead.”

The next morning you and Jason were still asleep as everyone else began waking up. Your head was tucked under his chin, shielding your eyes from any light that could have disrupted your sleep. His nose rests against your head and your hands are wrapped around his bicep as if you pulled him closer in sleep. 

Quiet chatter fills the room just enough to keep the two of you from waking up.

“I like her!” Dick whispered excitedly, “I mean look at them, they’re so cute” 

Bruce nods ever so slightly observing the reactions of everyone else.

“I’ve never seen Jason sleep that hard.” Stephanie says, “I feel like I could poke him and-“

“Stephanie.” Bruce says sternly, “I’d like to avoid unnecessary hospital visits.” 

“I shall begin to prepare breakfast. I suggest we leave the two alone until food is prepared.” Alfred says wisely, “I think pancakes are in order.”

Dick spins around quickly, “Alfred’s famous pancakes?” “The first time I brought someone back we didn’t get pancakes!”

“We’ll leave you to solve that mystery chum.” Bruce begins to head out of the room before Tim finally gets up out of his blanket nest to follow.

“The first time you brought someone over we considered permanently banning you from dating Dick.” Tim said, “You didn’t get pancakes because no one liked your date. We like Y/N, so her visits get pancakes.” 

Dick paused, thinking for a moment, “fair.” 

Jason started taking classes at Gotham University so that he could learn more about the book he loved so much

He's not sure that he really ever intended to get a degree, just take some classes here and there on Bruce's dime

Then he met you and suddenly he's fully enrolled as a student majoring in Literature with a minor in History

The two of you become inseparable, creating schedules to ensure that you have as many classes together as possible

It's to the point that if one of you shows up alone, people automatically ask where the other is

You sit next to each other in every class, probably in the second or third row

The two of you are perfectly coordinated, both working together to take notes, answer questions, and study whatever material you need

He likes to sit as close to you as possible, letting his leg sit against yours, and blushes when your elbows bump

Jason is a stationary dude through and through

you best believe that Bruce gets the best of the best stationary for his boy

You're the only one Jason shares his nice stuff with and he makes sure to bring extras for you

He's also got a beat up old waterbottle that is 100% covered in stickers

it's probably a Hydroflask or Yeti that Dick got him as a joke when they were trending and Jason just ran with it since, it might have been funny, but it was useful

Jason will eventually get bored in a class and begin doodling on the side of whatever you're writing on

If you're typing or writing on a tablet, he's drawing on your hand

During long lectures, he finds himself reaching for your hand or letting his hand find its way onto your thigh

He melts if you reach for his hand first

College is the first time that Jason doesn't mind group projects because he always does them with you

I mean- even if it isn't a group project, he's doing whatever assignment you're both assigned with you

He whispers comments into your ear during lectures, quietly snickering with you

Very protective of you, especially around the frat guys

if you go out to the bar or parties together, he's watching your drink like a hawk

He's making sure that there's no funny business

suddenly this dude that everyone sees only in the literature classes is standing there like the most menacing guard dog

The two of you have a place in the library that you usually sit at

He loves bouncing ideas off of you and having someone to rift with

Whenever the two of you have had a hard week, he asks Alfred to make your favorite foods and the two of you have a "do nothing all weekend" break at the manor

You camp out in the tv room or his room to eat and sleep so that you can recharge

Snowfall in Gotham always felt like a trick, as if the city was pretending to be something gentler than the rabid beast it was known to be. Under the blankets of cotton white frost, the city tried its best to hide itself. Sometimes, the thick blizzarding didn’t aid in hiding the rugged brutality of the streets but instead gave it a new prickling coat of barbarous makeup. Other times, the beast become docile, replacing its raised hackles with the soft warmth of a gentle embrace. 

Today, the city wrapped its arms around all its inhabitants in a Wonderland dream. You watched out of the window as snow drifted from the sky in slow, lazy spirals, and settled itself on the metal bars of your balcony like a well wrapped scarf. Jason sat next to you, quickly tying the laces of his boots, his knee bumping against yours comfortably. The two of you had decided to venture to a new coffee shop which had just opened down the street from your apartment.

After a few minutes, the two of you walked to the front door, fumbling with coats and scarves to shield you from the cold. 

“Lemme zip you up doll.” Jason has a gentle smile when he pulls you closer to him from your zipper, “Can’t have you getting cold on me.” 

“You’re one to talk.” You pull the scarf around his shoulders gently around his neck, padding the wool around his ears.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you sweetheart.” He leans down to gently kiss your nose and brush his hands over your coat one more time to ensure himself you were taken care of.

“You’d freeze apparently.” Jason huffs out a laugh before pulling the door open. 

The two of you walk out, taking care to lock the door behind you. Jason eyes the hallways for trouble as he guides you towards the elevators. Every few steps, his arm brushes against yours from how lose you’re walking together. He blushes at the contact, light pink dusting his cheeks and ears. 

The two of you stand patiently in the elevator, listening as the gentle ding reminds you of every floor you pass. 

“Dick asked if we were coming to the next gala.” Jason says quietly, glancing down at you to gauge your reaction.

“If you want. You know I don’t mind going, but I know you don’t love them.”

You linked your arm around his and pressed yourself into his side. Jason sighed contently, finally snapping out of his love-struck stupor once the elevator dinged for the last time and opened the doors. The two of you stepped out, giving a polite wave to the doorman on your way out. 

“Here, let’s switch sides doll.” Jason waits for you to unlink your arm with his. He won’t admit it, but he can’t bring himself to unloop his arms around you first. You know that he’s only suggesting the temporary separation so that he can barrier himself between you and the traffic.

Jason guided you carefully along the sidewalk towards the café. A frigid breeze pushed you forward, catching against the edges of your coat, sending a chill up your spine.

“Cold?” He asks with a smirk in his voice. 

“No, I’m just out here shaking for fun.” You said, poking his side.

“Hey, can’t blame a guy for asking.” 

“Oh sure, that’s what you were doing. Not being facetious at all.” 

Jason pauses, pressing the arm not linked around yours across his chest, feigning indignance. 

“I can’t believe you’d accuse me of such a thing. It’s downright preposterous! Insulting!” 

You laugh at his display, pulling him into a quick kiss. It leaves him stuttering around his words before he surrenders to his fluster and continues moving forward. You notice that despite his shyness, he pulls you ever closer to him, easing up when you rest your head against his arm while walking. Snow falls around you, illuminating the streets in sparkling dust. Cars carefully whiz past the two of you in practiced chaos. A few minutes of randomly placed banter pass the two of you by, helping Gotham’s new comfortable façade. 

When you arrived at the café, Jason opened the door for you, gently ushering you inside. 

“You’re gonna overheat in all that doll.” He said, helping unravel your scarf and unzip your coat. 

“Thanks Jay.” 

Inside, the café was painted a light blue with a little white trim. Paintings of famous writers hung on the walls, each with their own gilded frame. There were people sitting around in mismatched chairs sipping drinks from mugs that looked like oversized teacups. Many were working on laptops or having quiet conversations related to work, while others sat contently staring out at any bundled passerby on the street. 

“This place smells amazing.” Jason says softly. 

You nod in agreement, walking towards the counter to get a better look at the menu. Jason rested his chin on the top of your head, examining the options. 

“I think I’m getting a coffee,” Jason murmurs, “and probably a muffin.” 

“Let me guess- dark roast with cream and sugar?”

Jason smiles, “Right as usual. Do you want your usual?” 

“Of course. And I think I’ll get a muffin too.” 

You hear him register your request before something grabs his attention, “Holy shit- doll, I gotta get one of these.” 

Before you can register what’s going on, Jason grabs your hand and begins walking towards a rack with various clothing options on it. There’s a light blue hoodie hanging on the wall, facing towards the rest of the little café. On it, was a white print of Jane Austen’s house along with smaller embroidered details from her books. Jason began sorting through the racks, trying to find one that would fit comfortably. You see his smile light up when he finds one that meets his demands, and he pulls it off the rack to show you. 

“Very nice, Jay.” You say, arms crossed in amusement.

“Yea, and it’s really soft, so when you steal it-“ Jason begins to tease you. “Hey, hey, hey, I didn’t come here to be bullied!” You laugh, walking over to feel the material, “But I totally will steal it.” 

“See, it’s not bullying you if I was right.” 

Jason takes your hand again and begins towards the counter. There a smaller woman with glasses and bright curly hair takes your order, nodding politely as Jason relays the information. He carefully slides the hoodie towards her to pay, noticing that she has a matching hoodie.

“Ah, nice pick!” She says cheerfully, folding it into a paper bag.

“Thanks. You too.” Jason turns and smiles at you giddily before paying and taking the bag from her. 

The two of you wait in the corner where a sign hanging over the counter reads “pick up here”. Jason hooks his arm around your shoulder, watching you intently as the two of you carry on in comfortable conversation. “I heard the snow was going to pick up later this afternoon.” You say, “It’s going to be cold tonight.”

Jason nods in agreement, knowing that you were alluding to your nightly patrols through the city. He only moves away when the barista brings your order to the counter. He thanks her and walks back towards you, handing you your drink and bagged muffin.

“The heated gear should take care of it. We’ll just have to listen to the others complain about it all night.” He pauses before looking back down at you, “Do you want to eat here or head back to the apartment?” 

“I wouldn’t mind going home if you’re okay with that. I don’t really want to get caught up in the heavy snow.” 

“Yea same.” 

You link your arm around Jason’s again, pressing as close as possible to his side while walking down the streets. There often weren’t moments of peace in the city like this. At every crosswalk while waiting for your turn to travel across the road, Jason leans down and presses a kiss to your head, also moving as close as possible to preserve the warmth between the two of you. He didn’t like the feeling of being cold, but when it was with you, hot coffee in hand, it didn’t remind him of the cold he felt as a kid growing up trying to survive the streets. 

When you finally make it to the apartment, the two of you strip off your coats and scarves as fast as possible, making a quick bolt for the couch. Jason pulls you against his chest and finally wraps his free arm around you once you pull a fuzzy blanket over your legs. He presses a kiss against the crown of you head again, resting his cheek against the top of your head. The sounds of car horns and the wind screeching against the building are the only things you hear, other than the occasional comment from Jason about whatever he was thinking and his steady breathing. 

In your opinion, living a double life as a student and vigilante should be enough to at least earn some sort of honorary degree. Damian jokes that the two of you could earn an honorary doctorate in masochism. The pain of the complexities hit when you’re neck deep in exams, or in the early mornings, when your unfortunate class schedule demands your attention. 

The alarm from his phone begins to coax the two of you awake. You’re tucked into his side, arms thrown around his waist and legs tangled with his. Damian wakes up first, shifting to silence the alarm. Sunlight creeps through the curtains, shining against his skin in a golden hue. He looks down at you, hair disheveled and his old t-shirt framing your figure. 

“Beloved.” His voice is deep, still entranced in sleep. 

In an attempt to gently wake you up further, he begins to trace patterns against your skin and gently brushes pieces of hair out of your face. You stir and look at him, eyes still heavy with sleep. Your body is sore from whatever stray hits you may have taken last night, and the weight of carrying Gotham’s burdens were heavy against your bones. 

“I know we’re paying for this class,” You mumble “But I don’t wanna go.” 

Damian chuckles, pulling the covers off the two of you and sliding out of bed, “Unfortunately, we do not have the luxuries of leisure.” 

Warmth left from where he lay is the only thing keeping the early morning chill out of your spine. You harshly rub your eyes and stare as Damian walks into the bathroom to begin getting ready for classes. With intense focus, you watch the muscles in his back flex and relax again as he stretches the sleep out of his system. It’s only when the ghost of his warmth slinks out of the bed do you get up. 

The cold tile against your feet sends unwelcomed morning chill down your back as you head to the sink. Your head falls against Damian’s shoulder as the two of you begin getting ready. He stands brushing his teeth, and once he’s done, he wraps his arm around you, though, not until you can get a good look at him. 

“You’ve got a nice bruise forming since last night.” You say, your voice muffled by his neck. 

“It’s nothing I haven’t had before.” He says softly. 

Your fingers ghost the bruised skin against his ribs, gently brushing the injury to inspect. 

“You should take Tylenol before we leave.” He looks down at you and quietly acknowledges your care. 

“How’s the cut from Tuesday?” Damian spins you around, checking for injuries that may have begun to blossom during the night.

“I haven’t checked, but considering I’m not bleeding everywhere, I’m assuming the stiches haven’t popped.” 

Damian smirks at the dryness of your statement while carefully checking everything was in order. 

There, you stand side by side, coordinated like you’re participating in some well-trained ritual. He hands you a towel to wipe your face dry after you wash your face. When you swipe a streak of cold moisturizer across his face he smiles, giving you a look while you laugh at him. Damian helps neaten your hair to what you find acceptable as you lean against the counter, attempting to not fall asleep again. You dance around each other, always invading each other’s personal space, but never being unwelcomed there. 

When you’re done, you walk into the closet and begin pulling out whatever you’re going to wear. Damian pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it into a basket of dirty laundry while you pull a bra on. He walks over and helps remove any strands of your hair unlucky enough to be caught by the fabric. 

“Thanks Dames.” You say softly as he pulls you in for the first kiss of the morning. “Of course, beloved.” He presses a kiss against your shoulder before letting you go again. 

 After you toss his sweatshirt over your head, his hands immediately find your sides, gently adjusting the fabric as if it mattered to anyone. You both knew it was just an excuse to be close. Damian pulls a clean sweater over his head and watches you intently as you begin fixing any lose strands of hair knocked out of place by the soft wool. His arms snake around your waist and pull you flush to him. Damian buries his head in your hair, breathing in deeply before releasing a sigh of content. 

“You’re warm.” He murmurs, “It’s going to be cold outside today.” 

“That sounds like you’re trying to initiate staying in today.” You smirk, running your fingers against his scalp.

“Is it working?” Damian smirks, twitching some when you stop scratching against his scalp.

“It’s not, not working,” You plant a kiss against his cheek, “unfortunately, we have an exam next week and we’re going over test material in class.” 

“I could pay the professor off.” Damian tries to convince you further as the two of you walk in the kitchen to grab breakfast. 

“Oh yes, our professor who adamantly lectures about corruption in history and how to excess of wealth erodes the integrity and effectiveness of leaders,” You laugh softly, reaching for a water bottle and filling it with ice, “I’m sure he’d take very well to that.” 

“Touché” 

 Silence fills the room as the two of you hungrily inhale whatever you’ve prepared for breakfast. Batman himself couldn’t stop the two of you if someone asks a dumb question while you’re hangry. Really, it’s an act of heroism even this early in the morning. 

The two of you walk towards the door, grabbing your backpacks from where they rested next to each other. Your shoes are paired perfectly next to his, and he leans down to tie them, insisting that you not worry about it. 

“you could pop your stitches” He insists, and you don’t argue with him, knowing he’d always find an excuse for it. 

The door softly closes behind the two of you and he stops to make sure it’s securely locked. No one else has begun to stir in the hallway yet, and the two of you walk towards the elevator in comfortable silence, your arm linked with his. 

“As a reward for our efforts,” You begin, “I propose that we visit the cat café during our long break from classes.” 

 “I think that’s an acceptable trade for our presence in class.” Damian quips.

“Definitely not for doing the simple bare minimum.” He presses a finger against your lips smirking at your chide comment.

The cave announces itself before you enter. Even with Damian’s hoodie doing its best to keep you warm, the cool breeze chasing up the staircase kissing your cheeks sends a shiver down your spine. Stone walls gently breathe cool air, exhaling a damp mineral sharp breeze. Water steadily drips somewhere below, the echo swallowed by the vastness of the cavern. Your footsteps sound smaller here, not unwelcome, just attune to the void. You pad across the floor, the hum of machinery settling around you as you walk towards the main computer bay. Bruce is sitting in front of the main monitor, clacking away at the keyboard. The screens cast blue light across the space, directing the shadows of the Batcave into a hypnotic waltz. 

                  You settle into the large chair often reserved for Tim or Barbara when they copilot patrol. The Batcave adjusts. There’s no measurable change; no alarms silenced, no systems powered down, but a change in rhythm. The chair creaks, settling in as the heavy blanket wrapped around your shoulders cascade around your form, a stark contrast from the usual scrape of armor or clatter of gear. The cave doesn’t mind that you’re here, establishing the space as your own when you thumb through pages of a book, eventually finding your place. Bruce notices.

                  Patrol had started an hour ago, taking most of the manor’s usual occupants with it, including Damian. You were grounded from patrol due to an injury gained recently during a league mission. With nothing else to do, you occupied the time by stifling any worrying thoughts about what was happening outside of your control by reading. Upstairs was perfectly reasonable place to seek comfort and warmth, however, on nights like this it seemed to be more cavernous than the Batcave. Besides the continuous click clacking from Bruce’s typing, the occasional sound of the pages turning between your fingers filled the usual sounds of the cave. You didn’t feel the need to talk, instead falling into a comfortable silence. 

                  Bruce is aware of the silence in the way someone becomes aware of a misstep only after the foot has landed. The silence isn’t empty, and that’s his problem. He tells himself to ignore it. The Batman does not need to fill the quiet if you didn’t. More abnormal things have happened in the cave. This should be a walk in the park, but it isn’t.

                  He catches himself glancing towards your form and then back to the monitor in front of him. The screen blurs slightly, not from fatigue, but rather from the storm brewing in his mind. An awkward tension forms in his imagination as you carefully scan the pages of the book, apparently unaware of the slight interruption you were causing to a normally composed Batman. 

                  “Say something normal” he thinks.

                  Nothing interrogative. Not paternal. Definitely not Batman.  

                  “You’re good down here?” He says clearing his throat. 

                  The question comes out with more pitch than he intends. He facepalms mentally, not sure if he was making the situation more strained than it already was. 

                  “Yes.” You answer calmly, with ease. 

                  Bruce nods, as that settles something important. You continue reading not noticing or maybe not caring about the crisis stirring. Again, Bruce looks towards you, analyzing his next move. The book you were currently engulfed in had an old beat-up cover, the blanket obscuring the title. 

“What are you reading?” He thought.

Aimlessly, he clicked through live footage across the city, monitoring the activity of those patrolling. Again, he dared to break the silence. 

“That’s a serious blanket you’ve got there.” He murmurs.                    “Strategic,” You answer, sparing a glance in his direction “Amazons don’t like the cold, hence the tropical island.” 

“…fair.” He cringes at his failed attempts at socializing. 

This really shouldn’t be so difficult for him. Diana was your mother after all; it’s not like he’d never met you or your mother before. She and Bruce were practically best friends. Talking to her daughter, who also just happens to be his son’s girlfriend should not be an omega threat level task. 

“What are you reading?” He asks after a beat of silence. 

“Early warfare logistics. Mostly the collapse or preservation of civilizations from foreign invasion.” You say cooly. 

                  Bruce pauses, recalibrating from what he previously expected. You were a teenage girl, why weren’t you reading some sort of fantasy tale or at least some cheesy romcom like Steph or the ones Barbara won’t admit she secretly likes? 

                  “That’s not light reading.” He said with question lingering in his tone. 

                  “I find it relaxing. Good for waiting.” 

Bruce nods accepting the material. He liked warfare and battle tactics. This was something to finally get some sort of conversation going. 

“Which period?” Bruce continues typing something into a report, hoping you’d engage.

“Late Bronze Age. Right now, it’s the Battle of Kadesh with the Hittite ruler, King Mutawalli II facing off against Ramesses II. It’s one of the greatest Egyptian victories- if you read Egyptian sources.” You look up from your reading, examining the open tabs on the computer screens. 

Bruce grinned at the comment, not committing to a full laugh just yet, “They tended to over exaggerate. I wouldn’t want anyone to know I advanced too far ahead of my divisions and then was ambushed either,” He continued “at least he convinced some that he happened to single-handedly turn the tide.”

“Yeah, nothing repairs a tactical failure like a very large wall carving.” You say, raising your brow in amusement.

Again, Bruce smiles at the witty comment, finally feeling like maybe he wasn’t being as awkward as he previously thought. Surprisingly, the Batman could hold conversation. 

“It’s a move common with those who assume themselves to be gods.” Bruce looks at you when the sentiment leaves your mouth, “instead of admitting failure, the losers reframe themselves to appear at least somewhat competent, pretending that they intended to construct the outcome. Why face the accountability of tactical error when it can be chiseled away?”

“A good leader doesn’t rely on the assumptions of winning when making decisions. In their mind, until the battle is won, loss can come at any time,” Bruce adds thoughtfully, “There’s always an ace someone play without warning.” 

“That’s what I think. While the Hittites were able to retreat, hold ground, and forced a treaty, they neglected their flanks and rear during Rameses counteroffensive. They didn’t lose, but they didn’t win.” Your book has closed in your lap, the edge of your blanket marking the page.

“That’s a very Diana thing to say” Bruce comments, “I’m sure you’ve been studying these things under her guidance.”

You nod in agreement, “As well as the other gods. Athena took a pivotal role in my education. She thought I’d like this.” You hold up the book in full view for Bruce to see.

“Athena recommended you a book?” He says, more so processing the information than questioning your statement. 

“That and a hundred others.” You answer rolling your eyes in amusement. 

“Of course Athena recommends books. I’m sure growing up with your mother and the gods prepared you well.” Bruce says sincerely.

“Yes, and I count myself lucky all things considered.” You say with a sudden forlorn look as if mentally recalling something unsavory.

“Lucky?” Bruce questions.

“Zeus stopped Cronus before the whole… eating his children phase reached my generation.” 

Bruce chokes on the coffee he was sipping, bursting into laughter, “Not being consumed is a very reasonable baseline for luck.” 

You smile and nod, “Mother calls it progress… among a few other things.” 

Before the conversation can continue any further, brisk footsteps being to echo in the cave. You and Bruce turn to look at the company despite recognizing the steps. A light clink of silver against silver rings in your ears and the smell of freshly brewed tea fills the space. 

“Good evening. I take it Olympus has joined us?” Alfred says as he approaches the computer bay with the tray of refreshments.

“Only in theory.” You say jokingly

“A relief. The insurance paperwork is dreadful.”

“No insurance paperwork tonight, Alfred,” Bruce comments, taking a small teacup from the tray, “We’re discussing reading recommendations from Athena.”

“Well. That does put the manor library into perspective,” Alfred raises his brows in slight amusement, “I’m sure any recommendations from Zeus are strictly autobiographical.” 

Now it’s your turn to choke on a drink, carefully setting the delicate cup down as you continue to laugh.

“That and how to evade fidelity.” You quip. 

“It seems Athena’s recommendations are quite thorough.” Bruce finally comments about the book once more, drawing Alfred’s attention to the worn paperback now sitting on the desk of the computer bay. 

“So are yours, sir. You simply lack divine branding.” Alfred takes a teacup for himself off the etched tray. 

“That seems unfair.” Bruce responds with a feigned wounded tone. 

“Life often is.” Alfred doesn’t look up as he pours his tea, finally setting the large tea pot back down on the tray, “I shall retrieve the leftover refreshments later. There seems to be an ever-growing number of uniforms needing to be repaired.”

Alfred leaves the room, returning up the stairs ascending back into the manor. The mood is noticeably lighter than when you came down, Bruce finally accepting that he’s not socially hopeless after all. 

                  “Damian tells me Alfred never misses the opportunity to impose witty humor at any opportunity,” You say, “I can’t say I disagree.” 

                  “Sometimes, I think Alfred is the only one in the manor Damian listens to.” Bruce says honestly, before realizing he might have merged too far into concerned father mode. 

                  “He listens to more people than he’d care to admit,” You answer calmly.

                  “He listens to you it seems.” Bruce spares a glance back at the computer screen to monitor patrol before turning his attention back to the conversation.

                  “Damian listens to you like you’re the first voice in his mind,” Bruce looks intently at you, trying to discern the meaning of your words, “I don’t tell him what to do. I just listen and ask why he does something. The words come after understanding. He’s a fast learner when someone believes he can be.” 

                  Bruce mulls over the words, taking in the information like a vacuum. Suddenly, he realizes he’s getting parenting advice from his son’s girlfriend and snaps out of his void of thought. 

                  “Sorry-“ He spits out, “I didn’t intend on sounding like a worried father.” 

                  “But the worry is honest.” You observe, “If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t worry. Damian learned that the fastest.” 

                  A few moments of comfortable silence fill the space as you continue your read, and Bruce ponders over the conversation. Does Damian really know how much Bruce cares for him? Surely, you were telling the truth, not playing him like a lost fool. Bruce understands that despite his best efforts, he struggles to fully express just how much he loves his son even with the complicated history.

                  His thoughts are interrupted by the roar of the Batmobile speeding into the cave. Shortly after, the steps and conversations of a gaggle of vigilantes echo throughout the cave. 

                  “Hi Y/N!” You turn when you hear Steph chirp.

                  “Hey Steph,” You smile “How was patrol?” 

                  “Good,” she says grabbing a handful of Alfred’s baked goods and stuffing them into her mouth not worrying about the crumbs sprinkling against her costume, “You seem comfy.” 

“Very.”                   Dick comes around the corner and grabs his share of treats, smiling at you warmly, “More comfortable than any of us. I’m beat” He pauses and looks at Stephanie like she’s committed an unthinkable offense, “Alfred’s going to break the no killing rule if you get crumbs everywhere.” 

                  “Oh shit, you’re right.” She grimaces and points to you and Bruce theatrically, “No snitches.”

                  “My lips are sealed.” You laugh softly. 

                  “You kids go get cleaned up and call it a night. I’ll get the patrol report later.” Bruce says.

                  The relaxed nature of the man clad in the batsuit typing away at his keyboard slightly startles the others and they scurry off before he changes his mind. Finally, you hear the familiar sound of boots crossing the stone floor and look up to see Damian without his mask heading towards you. 

                  “Why are you wrapped like an artifact?” He grins slightly as he steps into the blue light of the computers. 

                  “Preservation.” You answer looking up at him as he leans his elbow against your chair. 

                  “You were supposed to be grounded.” Damian says.

                  “I am. This is stationary rebellion.” You poke his arm and quickly re-engulf yourself in the blanket, “We had a conversation about the undignifying tactics used in the Battle of Kadesh.” 

                  “You and father?” He raises his brow, confirming the idea to himself more so than to you.

                  “No, the stone wall and I.” You quip sarcastically making Bruce smirk off from the side.

                  “You’re unbearable.” Damian sighs and extends his hand to pull you up out of the chair, “Now, let’s get to bed. I’m exhausted from Grayson’s three hours of nonstop NSYNC.”

                  “Oh, you poor soul,” You laugh taking his hand and starting towards the stairs, “I couldn’t imagine being subjected to the likes of one of the most popular groups of recent history. You must be in unbearable pain.” 

                  Damian rolls his eyes and walks with you, “Goodnight, Father.” 

                  “Goodnight you two.” Bruce answers, smiling to himself as he continues finishing his work for the night.

                  You and Damian talked about patrol on your way up to his room. Apparently, Dick had decided to serenade the entire patrol unit with NSYNC and Backstreet Boys classics all night. According to Damian, the worst part was that he was horribly off key the entire time, with Stephanie joining in cahoots shortly after Dick started. Once you entered his room, you sat on his bed and waited for him to quickly shower off and change. The room was warmer than the cave, both in climate and light. Damian admitted that he hated the bright white lights of the cave. They reminded him of a med bay rather than the warmth of his country in youth. 

                  The bathroom door creaked open as Damian stepped out while pulling a worn t shirt over his head. 

                  “I think your father likes me.” You say confidently. 

                  “How perceptive.” Damian reaches into his closet, picking out his clothes for the next morning and carefully placing them on his dresser as usual. 

                  “I’m serious.” You huff noncommittally.

Damian turns around when you say this, huffing a laugh at your indignation, “So am I.”

You pause at the comment before continuing, “He cracked jokes. Actual jokes, not the ones he throws at reporters when he’s trying to deflect.” 

“Of course he did. You’ve achieved something very few have.” Damian walks over to the window, inspecting that it was locked, after that he pulled the drapes closed. 

You laugh softly, “You’re enjoying this.” 

“Immensely,” Damian pads over to his side of the bed and fiddles with his phone charger, finally plugging his phone into its designated charger, “he has liked you since you first corrected his stance during training.” 

“That was months ago.” You stare at him as he continues his routine, “I knew he didn’t hate me, but I wasn’t quite sure he liked me.” 

“He trusts you,” Damian climbs into bed next to you, his warmth suddenly spilling into your space, “Father just takes an unreasonably long time to show it.”

“Sounds familiar.” You say with a teasing grin as Damian scoffs, “He’s going to recommend me books now, isn’t he?”

“You walked right into that.” His breath fans against your shoulder as he pulls you flush against him.

You settle in as Damian’s arms wind around you and his legs entangle with yours. He absentmindedly runs his fingers through your hair as you nestle in further. 

“Now sleep rūḥī. Otherwise, I’ll hear the gears in your mind turning all night.” Damian presses a kiss against your forehead and closes his eyes, content that he can finally drift into sleep with the peace only your presence gifts. 

In the cave, Bruce finishes his work, still thinking about the conversation from earlier. Alfred comes back as promised to retrieve the used tea set. 

“I take it you have grown rather fond of Miss Y/N.” Alfred says brushing the crumbs of the now decimated treats onto the tray, “She bears the resemblance of her mother well.”

“She’s good for Damian.” Bruce acknowledges, not fully committing to fully confirming Alfred’s statement. 

They both knew the answer.

“Indeed. I would wager to say she is good for all of us.” Alfred comments, punctuating “us” while he looks towards Bruce.