Bruce Wayne, who predominantly raised teenage boys and is still actively raising teenage boys.
Taught Dick how to shave.
Spent years dragging half asleep and begrudging children out of bed every morning for school.
Gave sex talks, feigned oblivion when sheets needed to be washed or when five minute showers become thirty.
Morning found his coffee being chugged by his third son. Jason eating bacon and eggs from his plate. Dick's head buried in the fridge.
Alfred's judgmental gaze when not a single boy found a shirt or pants as a requirement before coming downstairs. Content to lounge around in boxers.
"What the fuck is a bathrobe?"
"An article of clothing, on your floor Master Timothy."
"No, that would require moving trash, and being able to see said floor."
"God this house is a nightmare-"
Bruce Wayne learned early, gremlins come late.
Between the hours of 12:00-3:00 am.
Will tell you everything, how school was, who they love, the worse things to happen to them.
Sometimes it's stupid, a Christmas present an annoying teacher.
Or it's the last step before making a decision.
Bruce after a long day pretending to relax in bed, waits.
Dick clad in Superman boxers appears.
He's wiped tears, changed plans.
"Bruce- can I tell you something?"
Accepted confessions with open arms.
Picked up drunk children.
"Bruce-Dad...I fucked up."
Hunted his second oldest down, finding his baby bleeding out.
Patched up wounds, staying as long as Jason wanted.
Broken windows, crashed cars, blood and broken bones.
He hasn't eaten hot food in years, hasn't slept through the night in even longer.
Bruce Wayne stares at three heads of black hair taken up his entire bed and knows he wouldn't change a single thing.
"Damian, why are you on the floor?"
"Todd kicked me Baba!! I was asleep!"
"Jay- let your brother in the bed."
He's the luckiest man in the world.
Teenagers though definitely suck...
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