When Bruce has ever gone too far in his controlling/paranoid mentally with any of the batfam, Alfred will calm yet sternly say "Bruce. Thomas. Wayne. you will stop now."
Alfred rarely has to do it as a stern glare usually stops Bruce in his tracks, but it is the fastest way to make Bruce pause and realise he has taken things too far.
"Bruce. Thomas. Wayne. You will stop now."
Bruce froze. Literally. His fingers stuck to the keyboard, creating a long string of E's.
Tim opened his mouth to say something before quietly retreating to change out of the sweaty costume. Damian's eyes flitted between them. Jason whistled under his breath. Dick, Cass, and Duke, like Bruce, stood paralyzed despite having no hand in this.
That was an understatement, but no words could describe the fury radiating from him so the meager angry would have to suffice.
Before he could reach out and say something, she spun around and hopped on her bike, leaving a trail of smoke in her wake.
Alfred instructed the rest of them to clean up and get to bed. No one—not even the dog—objected.
With that, it was just Bruce and the cave bats. He gazed at the spot Steph previously stood, the case file no longer mattering.
How was he supposed to fix this?
He pulled up the GPS tracker but stopped.
He put the tracker away and went to the lockers to get out of the heavy costume. The kevlar dropped to his feet and he immediately put it away so Alfred wouldn't have to. As he ran his hands through his hair, his eyes went to the row of Robin display cases. He walked over and gently rested his hand on the fourth one.
That's how it always seemed. Dick was old enough for the man-to-man talks. Jason could always be reached through a peace offering after an argument. Tim's persistence made him easier to reach and Damian's dedication spoke for itself.
Right now, his hand against the glass, was how it's always been. He watched her in action, he knew her strengths and shortcomings. And yet there was always this barrier between them that he could never circumvent. He was Batman, she was Spoiler. They were the same cape cut from two different cloths.
He cared about her. He respected her. He mourned her loss and celebrated her return. He trusted her, though after tonight he wasn't sure if it was mutual. She was a good fighter; a good hero.
Longing came in different colors. Some likened it to a hole in their chest that could never be filled. Others wished for what they never had.
Then there was this one. This kind of longing didn't fit into those neat, poetic boxes. It was a mess because what he wanted for her, what he wanted for himself, and what they both needed spilled like paint cups, the pigments muddling until he couldn't tell where the red ended and gray began. The instinct to try and separate them would only lead to swirling it around, making things even more indistinct.
And yet, it was that instinct which brought him in plainclothes to the roof of a hole-in-the-wall Burnside diner.
"What do you want?" Her words were flat and clipped as she picked at the waffles in a takeout box.
"Not my problem." She took another bite.
He gestured to a box, even though her back was turned toward him. "Can I sit here?"
He sat down, keeping some distance. Steph eyed him.
"Why aren't you in costume?"
"Whatever you wanna say, just get it over with. You're ruining my appetite and I paid thirteen bucks for these."
Bruce took a shaky breath. "I want to say I'm sorry."
He continued. "I should've trusted your new intel instead of thinking I had all the facts. I got so caught up in following the protocol and closing in on Black Mask that I didn't notice the danger his fallback plan put us in." He wanted to put a hand on her shoulder, but pulled back. "Because of you, Cass and Duke got out of there safe. So thank you."
"Sure, no problem," she drawled. "I would hate for Batman to lose any more sidekicks."
She stabbed her waffles harder.
"There's something else," he stated.
"Nice observation. You really are the World's Greatest Detective."
She shot up. "That's the problem. You try to take everything into your hands without letting anyone else make necessary changes. Every time I pitch an idea, I get shut down 'cause it doesn't follow your stupid bat-procedure. Like, I get it, I'm young and I'm not perfect, but it feels like you're treating me with kid gloves even though you're not my parent."
The last bit felt like a needle to the chest, but he brushed it off.
Steph kept going. "I don't know if it's a family thing, but I noticed you don't listen to me as much as the others. If my ideas are crap, tell me. Don't pretend you didn't hear me and move onto the next person."
Guilt pooled in his stomach. "I'm sorry, really," he said. "I didn't know I was doing that."
"Of course you didn't." She sat back down and put her chin in her hands. "I should've expected that. Batman doesn't need Spoiler."
"The bat existed before and kept going after I put on my mask. But if it makes you feel better, Spoiler doesn't need Batman either."
And she was right. The same cape from different cloths meant they could unstitch themselves from each other anytime they wished. Batman could save the city alone. That was true.
A couple cars passed, honking at each other despite ample room. The smell of garbage and cigarettes hung like an unfinished explanation—one he'd rather leave on the curb.
"Batman might not need Spoiler and Spoiler might not need Batman. But I want you to know that even if you never see me as a father, you'll still be my daughter."
He took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
"We don't need to fix this right away. Whatever you want to do, I trust your judgment."
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