Actually, Bruce being affectionate with his kids does hit hard when you view it from their perspective, both pre- and post adoption.
Sometimes I always misplace the fact that the batkids come from completely different backgrounds, raised with completely different parenting styles.
Of course Dick expects a bedtime story at 11 with the funny voices, and the shadow puppet shows, and the soft ambience of circus animals in the background.
Of course Damian expects a well-polished, pristine schedule, tight training, small hands that ache from sword labor, and a homemade meal at the end.
Of course Jason expects gently read poetry by a dying lightbulb, and food with mold on it, and hand-me-downs that flop around his body, and a hunger that’ll never truly go away.
But they don't GET that with Bruce. Not really.
Bruce barely remembers BEING raised.
But fuck, he tries. He tries so hard it could break the world open. Loving is the only thing he ever, ever did right.
But for Dick and Jason — as adults, — the physical affection would trip them, a little. They grew up half with Batman, half with Bruce.
For Jason specifically, it’s hard for obvious reasons, — but it started even before Bruce.
“You know, when I first came here, I thought you were gonna smack me around all the time.”
Bruce nodding, gently grooming Jason’s hair back because he's too tired, hands pausing. “Why?”
“I thought that's how men hug.”
There's nothing Bruce can really say to that. Not without shaking and certainly not without his voice breaking in the middle.
He just softly adjusts Jason’s hair before securing the Red Hood helmet on.
