I don't think Bruce quite has a split personality, but he is so good at compartmentalizing that he struggles between personalities and can't always "drop the act" so to say.
Batman - Focused on the mission above all else. Comes off as cold and unforgiving, but to him it is a necessity in this line of work. While in the cape and cowl, the Robins are his partners, not his sons, because he knows if he acted as a father rather than a mentor in the field, he would be throwing himself into danger, and potentially risking his kids as well. That's why when Dick was fired as Robin the second time, it came across the way it did, driving a rift between Dick and Bruce. Bruce didn't want to loose his son, but Batman couldn't handle a liability like that in the field. (Dick himself isn't a liability, but Bruce knows that if Dick died while out as Robin, the Batman facade would shatter, like what happened after Jason's death)
Brucie Wayne - The public persona is loud, lazy, and a bit dumb. No one expects much from him, which allows him to slide under the radar and remove suspicion off of him potentially being Batman. He is exactly what everyone expects of a rich socialite raised without parental supervision. Brucie also allows Bruce to "let go" sometimes and just have fun without needing to worry about anything. He doesn't need to be the strong imposing figure of Batman. He can insult people he doesn't like (who don't know about Brucie and Batman) without it making it seem like he's insulting them on purpose. I'm kinda thinking about the ending to the Secret Identity Compromised side mission in Gotham Knights. There was a strategic reason for him to strip down and grind on a statue in the Iceberg Lounge, but there also could have been a thousand other cover stories he could have come up with, yet he decided on personally pissing off the Penguin which is honestly valid.
Dad Bruce - The most "real" version of Bruce is when he's around his kids. Dad Bruce is a combination of the best parts of Batman and Brucie. He is stern and commanding, but also soft and fun. This version also tends to blur together with "eternally tired".
I like to think that these personas will occasionally accidentally blend together for some very funny moments. Things like Batman giving the disappointed "dad sigh" to the Justice League, suddenly making Hal and Barry very guilty for no reason, or Dad Bruce very confidently calling Clark's chickens "small feathered cows" and sheep "fluffy cows" before realizing his mistake but at that point he's committed.
Prompt: this might be too vague but how about sick dick or jason (your pick, i'm fine with either) hiding it from bruce on patrol bc things are really bad between them at the moment
Catch me flying with the typical Jason is still A+ Bitter at Bruce
With the recent rise in aggravated incidents in Crime Alley, Jason’s been forced to share his patrols with the bats, an idea he violently fought against until Alfred stepped in, the calm, steady voice of reason, and insisted it was necessary for his safety.
Monday he had Dick, and things were... okay. Dick’s face is plastered beside the definition of “handful,” but he knows how to respect Jason’s patrol strategies, following wordlessly and only helping when needed. On Tuesday, Tim proved similar to Dick, his maturity blossoming. Though, he asked more questions, weirdly curious about Jason’s lingering effects of the Lazarus Pit. Jason answered each, hoping his short, clipped replies would hush the replacement because his head was starting to pound along each question.
Jason wasn’t surprised to see Damian on Wednesday, but he was definitely annoyed. He had woken up with a splitting headache that seemed to bleed down to his muscles, pushing against them. He thought, at first, it was a migraine, but the pain in his head was different and accompanied with a flushing fever heat that colored his cheeks. He said nothing to Damian, and Damian merely scoffed and disappeared to navigate Crime Alley areas alone. Jason let him, going off on his own as well, and they met up to one-word debrief before parting ways for the night.
When Jason shoots his grapple hook to the edge of a rooftop on Thursday, he expects to find Dick again. Maybe Cass. What he doesn’t expect is to see the unwanted, annoyingly familiar, brooding shadow of Batman standing atop the roof, arms crossed, mouth flat.
Jason’s stomach drops, and he stumbles his landing, catching himself with a hushed curse. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Bruce sighs, fingers visibly digging a little harder into his arms. “Language, Hood.”
“This is my territory,” Jason spits back. “I’ll say whatever the fuck I want. Why are you here? Doesn’t Batman have bigger things to do?” Saying ‘Batman’ aloud leaves a sour taste atop Jason’s tongue, a bitter word that plays with the dull burn of the Lazarus Pit.
Since Jason’s return to Gotham, Bruce has been trying to reconcile, but Jason’s not willing to forgive and forget. He’ll try with the others, more so because they are annoyingly persistent, but not with Bruce. He can’t wrap his mind around forgiving Bruce for letting him die, for letting the Joker continue to breathe while he took his first last breath.
“I want to be here.”
“That’s fucking gold,” Jason rolls his eyes and turns away, absently coughing into his fist as he scans his rapid departure. The coughing’s a new development, only just testing his lungs when he woke this morning, but the headache’s remained, a steady, pulsing thump that his repeated consumption of pain killers can’t seem to touch. He doesn’t need a thermometer to know he’s running a fever; he’s got the inconsistent jumping from boiling hot to freezing cold to supply that for him.
“Jay-”
“Code names, Batman,” Jason growls before he shoots his grapple hook to a rooftop adjacent to them, moving along the sudden pull of weightlessness until his feet are thumping atop the next roof. He breaks out into a run, falling into a pattern of leaping over smaller gaps and grapple hooking over larger ones, all to ditch Bruce. His muscles are trembling from the sudden exertion, but he feeds off of the pain, pushing himself harder and harder when he hears Bruce not far behind him.
He only stops when he hears a woman scream from below, skidding to an unsteady stop and peering over a roof edge just as Bruce lands heavily beside him.
“Muggers.”
“No shit,” Jason grumbles, already bracing to leap off the building. “Do me a favor? Stay the fuck out of my way.” He jumps to the sound of Bruce’s strangled “Jay,” ignoring it as he grabs a fire escape to soften his fall. He lands strategically between the two muggers and a young woman.
“Today’s your lucky day, gentlemen.” Jason smiles sharply under his mask. “I’m in a really shitty mood, so I’ll make this quick.” His fist moves on its own, and he allows the aggravation to bleed to a dull rage that pushes his punches, plants his feet, and pulls his dodges. In just a minute, the two muggers are unconscious at his feet, and the woman’s running from the scene, stopping only when Batman drops to the ground in front of her and talks her into staying to give a statement to the GCPD.
Jason’s already shooting back up to the next rooftop, and his lungs quake against a bursting fit of coughs the second his feet make a rough landing. He coughs into his helmet, his chest shaking, but he forces a steady breath when Bruce drops beside him. Though, it takes more blinking then he expects to clear his wavering vision.
“Do you plan on following me all night?” Jason questions, tired and far too hot under his suit. “I don’t need my territory associating the Red Hood with Batman. I have a reputation, and you’re going to fuck that up for me.”
“I’m here to help.”
“You can help on the East side of Crime Alley,” Jason mutters, a few, weaker coughs slipping past his lips. “I’ll handle the rest.” He drops to a landing below him, leaping over to the roof of a convenience store, and his legs buckle on the landing. He falls to his knees, his vision swimming faintly, and he unconsciously taps into the deep-rooted burn of the Lazarus Pit when Bruce drops beside him, one hand frozen mid-reach toward Jason’s back.
“What part,” Jason growls, coughing hollowly around each word, “of fuck off isn’t clicking in that empty skull of yours?” He’s shaking despite the heat gripping at his bones, and he clumsily undos the lock on his helmet, sucking in a ragged breath when his burning face is exposed to the cool wind.
“Jay?”
“Jesus Christ, B,” Jason spits out, forcing himself to his feet and slapping Bruce’s hand away. “Just fucking go.” His throat’s burning, and his head feels oddly heavy despite the absence of his helmet. The skin across his face is so hot it’s practically itching, and he rips at his domino, squeezing it in his fist when Bruce frowns deeply at him.
“Jason? What’s wrong?”
Jason laughs, and his laugh gives way to a few, chesty coughs that rattle his lungs. His vision is graying at the edges, and he hastily rubs at his eyes. “What’s wrong is I’m tired of you and the fucking peanut gallery clinging to me like fucking leeches!” He’s faintly aware that he’s breathing too fast, and he’s impossibly hot. He swipes at his eyes again, but his vision only darkens. He’s fading, and yet, his body is mingling with panic.
He feels Bruce slip and ungloved hand across his forehead, and he tries to jerk away from it, but Bruce keeps him in place with his other hand wrapped tightly around his arm.
“Jason, you’re burning up. Why didn’t you say?”
Bruce’s classic growl, Jason thinks, is wavering? He’s not sure because his ears are ringing. “Because it’s not your fucking busin-” Jason stops, his mouth forming a round ‘oh’ right as his vision goes black.
***
Bruce catches Jason as he falls, and he swallows back the panic threateninng to cripple him as he taps his comm, rattling off his coordinates. “Who is closest?”
“I am,” Dick chimes in after a moment. “I can be there in five. What’s up?”
“I need to get Jason back to the manor. Do you think you can cover the Alley alone tonight?”
“Of course, but what’s up, B? Is Jason okay?”
“No,” Bruce whispers, smoothing a shaking palm to Jason’s burning forehead. “But he will be.”
***
Jason’s entire body feels impossibly heavy, so heavy that he struggles to open his eyes, mind briefly flicking toward panic at the unfamiliar surroundings.
“You’re at the manor.”
The ceiling suddenly makes sense his mind, as does the voice at his side. He drags his gaze to see a Bruce sitting in a chair at his bedside. He frowns, briefly glancing to the IV in his arm before turning back to Bruce, a silent question in his eyes.
“You fainted on patrol. You were running a fever of 103.3 degrees, and you were dehydrated.”
Shit. Jason knew he was sick, but he hadn’t realized he let it get that bad. He wants to talk, even opens his mouth to, but Bruce holds a single hand up, shaking his head.
“Save your strength. You’re on the mend, but not as quickly as we’d like.” Bruce slips to his feet, his eyes colored in dark pain that Jason catches onto.
“I’ll give you some time to yourself now that you’re awake, but I’ll be back, and you are just going to have to deal with that.”
Jason’s mind is fuzzy, confused, pained, but he feels a fraction lighter along the knowledge that while he blacked out, he woke back up this time, safe, alive. He stares at Bruce’s back headed to the door.
“B?”
Bruce stops, and he whips around, one brow arched.
“Thanks. I guess.”
“Of course, son.”
Bruce leaves, and Jason decides that, just for tonight, he’ll take muted comfort in the single word that carries an impossibly heavy amount of weight.
Red Hood: You mean to tell me that you called me out here, on my night off because you cant get a confession out of this guy?
Nightwing: Yes
Red Robin: Yep
Robin: That is correct
Criminal: Basically ya
Nightwing: We tried everything sans operation B.D.B
Red Hood: You actually considered B.D.B! You must have some serious info. We haven't even used that on the Joker.
Robin: What is..
Red Robin: Pray you never find out
Red Hood: Okay, did you dangle him off a super high building?
Nightwing: Yes
Red Hood: Force feed him hot sauce and ghost peppers?
Robin: Yes
Red Hood: Play NPR, and refuse to change the station?
Red Robin: We ended up having a conversation on current politics
Red Hood: Then theres only one option left, save B.D.B. Operation: A.C
Robin: Tried that to.
Red Hood: ... and it didn't work. How! It always works!!
Criminal: They smelled like shi-
Nightwing: Red Hood NO!
Red Hood: I just want to talk to him, more intimately.
Robin: Then why's your gun out?
Red Hood: I just want to shoot him, more intimately.
Criminal: God kid, it's just a cookie.
Red Hood: Its not just a cookie, its A's cookies. If you insult them, you insult A.
Nightwing: Okay before you k-unalive him Hood, remember that he has information that we need. So please-
Red Hood: I'm not going to kill him. No instead I say we use this opportunity to show Robin what Operation B.D.B is.
2 hours later, in the batcave (they blindfold him of course)
Batman: -and this one is from when Nightwing was still Robin, he was such a sweet young man at that age. Now look at him. All grow up and left the nest.
Robin: This is Operation B.D.B
Nightwing: Yep,
Red Robin: Operation Big Daddy Bats.
Red Hood: The best part, no one will believe him if he tries to tell anyone about it.
Robin: How long can father keep this up?
Batman: -Then Red Robin left the nest to join Young Justice, it was Nightwing all over again.
Criminal*Starting to get twitchy and visibly uncomfortable*
Red Hood: Kid, he can do this all night if we let him.
