batfamily · dc comics · found family · domestic fluff · comfort · bruce wayne · alfred pennyworth · dick grayson · jason todd · couch cuddles
Rain beats a steady rhythm against the tall windows of Wayne Manor, the sound softened by heavy curtains drawn against the damp, gray afternoon. The air hangs thick with the scent of menthol and simmering chicken broth—a different kind of battlefield. Jason is a miserable lump on the sofa, buried beneath a mountain of blankets, only his fever-bright eyes visible. Tim is a silent, hooded specter in an armchair, barely stirring. On the floor, Damian sits rigid, arms crossed, a portrait of defiance shattered by a sudden, explosive sneeze. Dick, patient zero of this domestic plague, sniffs with theatrical flair. "I just need you all to know how much I love you," he declares. "You declared it sixty minutes ago," Jason grumbles from his blanket cave. Bruce stands apart, arms folded, a silent,…