happy father's day (1/2) sometimes, when bruce's kids come home from school and slam their backpacks on the floor and stomp up to bruce's study to launch into the indignities of high school, bruce listens with soft adoration and love so overt, it derails his child completely and they just lean closer for a hug ("dad! stop looking at me like that, i'm trying to be mad here!")
sometimes, bruce looks up from his breakfast and just looks at Dick, studies the calloused hands of a man both gentle and strong, the cunning in his eyes of a man who knows he is smarter than you, the confidence in his speech of a man who knows he is loved ("aw man! you're doing that embarrassing 'proud parent' thing again, aren't you? you do this every week!")
sometimes, bruce stops in the stairwell to admire Tim's photography lining the walls, his son's eye for beauty adapted to find the good even in Gotham's cesspools, his son's skill to prove to the world why Gotham was worth this time and effort and blood, his son's devotion bleeding from his fingertips to the camera lens to the shot in front of him ("i'm glad you appreciate my art, B, but can you not block the way- hey! not the hair!")
sometimes, bruce follows the scent of vanilla and butter to the kitchen to watch Jason experiment with the confidence of a man who knows he may take up space and use up supplies in this home, a man who folds his heart into every creation and shyly but gruffly offers it up to his family, a man whose intelligence and competence shines through every plan and plate and tool he develops ("if you're done staring like a creep, old man, you wanna come taste? pistachio still your favorite?")
sometimes, bruce lets notes of Swan Lake lead him to Cass twirling elegantly in her dance room with the contented grace of a woman at peace with herself, a woman free to be playful and mischievous and herself because she trusts it will be well-received, a woman slippery and elusive but still chooses to be here, be known and loved and open with her affections ("dance with me?")
sometimes, bruce stumbles upon Damian crouched down with his pets and he watches his beloved son use gentle hands and gentler words to care for them, a boy far stronger than he should need to be and yet still soft, a boy learning to exist outside a fate defined by his blood, a boy unafraid to help those trying to be good stagger to their feet, a boy who is brilliant and whip-smart and so very compassionate ("Father! Alfred has brought us a present, would you like to see?")