“Firefly, can you get the uh…” Bruce snapped his fingers, not looking up from his computer as he gestured wildly.
Duke looked behind him in confusion before looking back at Bruce. “The? The what?”
“You know, the thingy. Next to the other thing.”
“Bruce, you’re seriously being unhelpful right now.”
“I’m the unhelpful one?” Bruce scoffed, finally looking up from his computer and getting up. “Here we go. They were right next to you.”
“Your glasses?” Duke blinked and scowled. “How hard was it to say you wanted your glasses?”
Bruce sighed and shook his head. "What else would I be asking for, honey bee? I made it pretty clear that I wanted my glasses."
"Wha- no you didn't!" Duke protested, throwing his hands up in the air and groaning loudly. "Oh my gosh, when the fuck did I get two moms..."
“Baba, I can’t find it!” Damian huffed for the twelfth time, barely refraining from stomping his foot in frustration.
“Damian, baby, your new markers should be in the drawer where I put them,” Bruce said, unimpressed by Damian’s angry frown. “You’re lucky I put them away. I could’ve stepped on them because all you do is leave them on the floor.”
“That’s not fair, I can’t find them unless they’re on the floor.”
“Then clean your room.” Bruce deadpanned, already making his way to his youngest’s room.
Damian crossed his arms and followed closely behind. “You’re not gonna find them. I’ve looked everywhere.”
Bruce let out a noncommittal hum and opened one of Damian’s drawers. There, front and center, were the markers Damian had been looking for. “Really?” Bruce raised an eyebrow.
“They weren’t there before!” Damian protested, but Bruce was already walking out of his room.
"Dad, I know you know how to do this! You're the one who taught me!" Tim whined, barely stopping himself from stomping his feet in frustration. That would be too embarrassing.
"I'm telling you, Tim, the computer just won't download the file," Bruce insisted, clicking nowhere near where he needed to on the Batcomputer. "See?"
"Is this just a mom thing?" Tim muttered, grabbing the mouse and deciding to just download the files himself.
Bruce leaned back in his rolly chair and hummed, smiling to himself now that he no longer had to do anything after such a long day. Playing up his helplessness was really the best.
"Dad, are you watching?!" Tim huffed angily, looking back at Bruce with narrowed eyes. "I'm only showing you this once; I won't do it again."
"Yes, baby, I'm watching." Bruce placated, clearly not watching.
"Hi, princess," Bruce whispered softly, pushing open the door to Cassandra's room and peeking inside.
Cass let out a loud groan from the pile of blankets she was under before coughing harshly. "Dad..." She pouted, sniffling as she felt her nose run.
"I knew it." Bruce tsked, coming in all the way and closing the door behind him. "From the moment you came home yesterday without your coat. You were just begging to get sick." Bruce placed the bowl of chicken noodle soup down.
"This... sucks..." Cass complained, leaning into her Dad's hand when he felt her forehead.
"Mm, you've got a fever. Come out of your pile, sweethert, you need something in your tummy." Another groan in response. "Yes, I made it myself so it'll 'taste right', or whatever you kids mean by that." Bruce rolled his eyes, smiling softly.
Cass slowly wiggled out of her blankets and whined. "Cold... but so sweaty..."
"My poor warrior." Bruce frowned sympathetically. "You just need to put something in your stomach, then you can go back to sleep."
"You'll rub my back, right?" Cass sniffled, sitting back on her headboard and looking at her Dad pitifully. "Please? At least until I fall asleep?"
"Of course, my love." Bruce agreed easily, already planning on doing that. He picked up the bowl and spoon, scooping up some soup and blowing on it. "Open up, Cassie."
"Momma, what's my shoe size?"
Bruce turned with a small frown on his lips to look up at his second son, who was peeking his head into the study doorway. "... why?"
"I'm tryin to buy some new combat boots, but I cut off that tag inside cause it was annoyin." Jason stepped in and sat beside Bruce, leaning his head on the older man's shoulder. "You buy me shoes all the time, so you must know."
Bruce grumbled softly, but gently stroked his son's head. "Do you want me to just go with you? We could get some other stuff that you need while we're out."
"Yessss, that would be so much easier." Jason agreed eagerly, a grin on his face. It had been such a long time since he and Bruce had hung out without one of his siblings also being there. "Shopping date?"
"Shopping date." Bruce laughed softly, pressing a kiss to Jason's temple.
Bruce walked into the kitchen to find his eldest child staring blankly at an assortment of fruits. Just staring.
Dick blinked, then smiled, his entire face lighting up the moment he saw Bruce. "Tati, can you cut this fruit for me? I want a fruit bowl."
Bruce frowned in confusion. "Why do you need me to cut your fruit?"
Dick huffed and crossed his arms. "Obviously cause you do it better, duh." Bruce felt offended by the eyeroll and was about to say something, but Dick continued talking. "Plus, you make the apples and mangos into cute shapes, and I can't do that."
"Okay, okay." Bruce chuckled softly, grabbed a knife, and walked over. "But you have to share with me, okay?"
"Yay!" Dick cheered, wrapping his arms around Bruce's neck and aggressively kissing his cheek.
Bruce doesn't even blink in surprise when Stephanie breaks into his room and flops down on his bed, groaning loudly and kicking her feet.
"What's up, twister?" Bruce flipped the next page in his book. Either Steph would tell him what was wrong, or she would keep quiet. It was always a toss-up with her.
"Why do you call me that?" She grumbled, pulling her face away from Bruce's pillow and screaming into it, glaring up at him.
Bruce shrugs. "You're a twister of chaos. Fits, right?"
Stephanie grumbles again but doesn't refute. "It's stupid... It's so entirely stupid that I shouldn't even be thinking about it. I mean, I'm a vigilante that beats up the most dangerous criminals, and I'm worrying about something so fucking stupid."
Bruce sets down his books and looks down at Stephanie. "If it's bothering you, then it's important. If it's important to you, then it's important to me. Lay it on me, blondie."
"..." Stephanie kicked her feet again. "I'm meeting up with some girls, and they always have their hair super cute, and I don't know how to do that."
Bruce hummed. "Want me to do your hair? I could do that hairstyle from the gala a few months ago again."
Steph perked up. "Really? I fucking loved that, it looked like a flower. I still have no clue how you did that."
"Yeah, c'mere." Bruce grinned, gesturing for Stephanie to come sit close so he could start. "You'll have the best hairstyle out of all those girls."
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