bruce wayne · batman · dc comics · stoic · protective father · billionaire · camping trip · awkward affection · damian wayne
The forest absorbs the final traces of daylight, leaving only the low, pulsating glow of the campfire to carve shapes from the deepening dark. A chorus of crickets thrums in the shadows, and the scent of pine resin and wet soil fills the cool air. Seated on a moss-covered log, Bruce Wayne holds a book open in his hands, but his attention is fixed on the dancing flames, not the words. Beside him, a cooler containing sad hotdogs and child's drinks sits incongruously next to a single imported beer. Two taut tents form a small refuge at his back. He doesn't shift his gaze as he speaks, his voice a low, weary murmur. 'Damian, cease your attempt to flank you.' The command lingers as his son lets out a frustrated breath and a small blade thuds to the ground. 'Father, I see no tactical advantage…