☆warnings: FTM! reader, platonical content, teenage reader and older than Damian (reader is between 14-17 years old), dysphoria on the part of reader, reader depriving himself of sleep, Bruce being a good father, I don't use Y/N or variants of those in my fanfics then Bruce calls his son a little bat.
☆summary: when Bruce finds out that his son, is having a day of dysphoria, he plans an entire day to take care of his son.
☆A/N: I didn't really know how to finish this one, it was two in the morning when I wrote it.
Bruce had just returned from a patrol, it was late at night, he expected to see the whole mansion silent and unlit, but that's not what he found, Bruce came across his son in the kitchen barely keeping up, he was practically leaning against the kitchen counter barely waiting for the coffee machine to finish the coffee.
-What are you doing here? This afternoon, are you still using the binder? - Bruce said worriedly as he realized you were still wearing the binder. He walked over to his son and put his hand on his shoulder. - Little bat, you're barely standing - Bruce said as he moved his hand to stroke your hair.
- I'm fine, Dad, I just need some more coffee - his tired voice betrayed him, and Bruce moved his hand to pull his head to his chest. - No, you don't need coffee, you need to sleep and take off that binder, it's going to affect your breathing and your ribs- Bruce said, hugging you and stroking your back. Come on, I'll take you to rest- Bruce said without giving you time to answer as he led you into the bedroom and turned off the kitchen light.
-Dad, I'll be fine, I swear - his voice was tired and you couldn't even believe your own words, Bruce just hummed without believing you, he kept his hand on your back and followed the path to your room, when you got to the room Bruce stopped at the door.
-Go and get changed, I'll wait here to make sure you go to sleep - Bruce said, smiling slightly.-What are you going to take care of me as a child? - Bruce laughed lightly as he saw you enter the room and close the door behind you, he laughed and shook his head.
- You're never too old to let yourself be helped, little bat- Bruce said, leaning on the door, he looked at the decorations in the hallway, Bruce waited to hear your voice again, he felt the door open behind him and he stumbled a little before regaining his balance. - You could have warned me before opening the door, couldn't you, little bat? Bruce said, laughing a little, but the smile soon faded when he saw that you were still in your binder.
- Little bat, we've been over this, you can't wear it for more than eight hours, how long have you been wearing it? Bruce's tone wasn't accusatory, no, he was just trying to keep his son healthy. -Okay, I'll go - Bruce cut him off. -No more of that little bat, you can't sleep with that on, take it off, take it off please - Bruce says in a firmer but still affectionate tone, leaving no room for argument, Bruce sees his look of protest and he pats him on the head. - Please, little bat. When he sees your nod, he closes the door and, to wait one more time, walks over to the painting.
-Ready - your voice made him go back to the door and open it, he saw you sitting on the bed. - What's wrong little bat, what's going on? Please tell me, you're my son, I want you to be all right- Bruce said, sitting down next to him, the bed heavy beside him.
- Dysphoria - his voice made him move his hand to his hair. - So you tried to compensate for the dysphoria by overworking, sleep deprivation and kneading your ribs - Bruce says smiling at you even though he's much more worried than usual, when he sees you smiling nervously and smiles, he strokes your hair again and he pulls your head onto his shoulder. - What happened? Talk to me- Bruce asks gently again, to encourage you to speak.
- The clothes, when I wear them with sports tops, they show and when I was looking in the mirror it gave me a trigger...me - he sees you wince, Bruce sighs and kisses your forehead.
- I get it little bat, you should have told me or your brothers, I could have taken you to buy you some new clothes, your brothers could look after you and help you take your mind off it- Bruce says looking at you, he has a worried and caring look on his face, he strokes your cheek and kisses your forehead.
- Little Bat, how about tomorrow we go out and buy some clothes for you, and spend a day as father and son, and please no overtime - Bruce says before getting up. - Come on, lie down, I'll cover you up - Bruce says, picking up the blanket from the foot of the bed.
-Thank you, Dad, I really do - Your voice makes him calm down, and he covers and kisses your cheek.
- Sleep well little bat- he says before turning off the light and leaving the room.
- Good night, Dad- he smiles as he closes the door, Bruce was going to plan something to help you, you're his son and he refuses to leave his son feeling like that.
The other day you woke up to the knock on your bedroom door, when you opened the door Bruce had a smile on his face - good morning little bat - he says pulling you in for a hug, the hug catches you off guard, but soon your hands go to him to return the hug.
- Why are you so cheerful? The last time I saw you like this was when you took a week off from patrolling- Bruce laughed and I put my hand on his shoulder, starting to lead him out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.
- I've planned a father and son day, and we're going to start with breakfast, and then we can watch a movie or do something you like - Bruce says smiling, excited at the idea of spending a day with his son, it's been a long time since something like this has happened, he regrets that this is the result of a bad moment like a day of dysphoria that his son had to deal with alone but he's going to do his best to take care of it.
Bruce woke up early that morning because he wanted you to feel cared for and create a sense of trust so that if it happened again you would go to him instead of putting your health in danger.
Bruce made a point of not giving you coffee this morning, he asked Alfred to help him hide the powder and the coffee capsules, maybe later Tim would freak out when he didn't find his coffee capsules, but that would be a later subject.
-No coffee today, tea will be better for your body and mind - Bruce said as he poured the sachet of chamomile tea into a mug and added the hot water.
-Seriously? You're going to block my coffee? - Bruce laughed lightly and looked at you as he brought the mug of chamomile tea closer.
-Yes, you and Tim are going to run out of coffee today, it'll be good for your health - Bruce said, pouring himself some tea.
- Tim's going to freak out when he doesn't get his coffee, he'll give in to the energy drink and go back to the cases. As you said this Bruce nodded, he saw you take a sip of tea and he smiled to himself.
Bruce waited for you to take your time eating, he wanted this to be a peaceful moment for you, he wanted to make sure you felt safe and protected.
Summary: You are an adopted child of Bruce Wayne with trauma responses. Don’t worry. He knows how to give good hugs.
You aren’t entirely sure what brought you here. Your head is empty and all you can feel is uuuugh, and it’s probably going to last for hours. It’s been so long since it started that you can’t even remembered what triggered it. As far as you know, there’s not much you can do about it.
Bruce notices you when you walk in and immediately puts the newspaper aside. “Hey, kid. What’s wrong?”
You open your mouth, but no words come out, and you grimace. You sign at him that you need him to stay put. You feel kind of stupid when you start doing it, but you know it’s necessary and you begin to manhandle the recliner under Bruce until he’s leaning back with his legs up.
He’s stiff, with his hands clenching the armrests a touch too tightly, but he settles down quickly enough. This is how you know he trusts you, however small, with his well being, but today you can’t feel the warm and fuzzies because of the stupid funk you’ve found yourself in.
You hop up onto him and flop down on his chest.
“Y/N?” he says, clearly confused.
The warmth and pressure has already started to do its magic and you find your voice again. “I just want to feel safe for five minutes, okay?”
He hesitates, and you imagine he’s unsure what to say or do. It’s fine, you tell yourself, because this is working. You can speak, after all, so clearly that’s a win.
But then he wraps his arms around you and tangles his fingers in your hair as he presses you deeper into his chest. You feel cocooned in warmth and gentle iron muscles, and you remember you’re not the first kid Bruce has ever adopted. Someone else probably tried to do something similar before, and now Bruce knows what to do for you.
