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There were rules for living in the house. Bedroom door open when someone stays over, ask before taking out the batplane, decaf only after midnight. He never meant to be their father - that had been one of his many mistakes, with Jason, he’d gotten too close and it impaired his judgment - but they needed the rules, the rules kept them looked after.
He’d forgotten, after spending so long alone, that the Robins often did a little looking after of their own.
“What is this?”
“For lumbar support.”
“Lumbar support?”
“Getting old.”
Bruce considers the pillow - left innocuously on his chair in the Cave - and tries valiantly to tamp down his amusement. Tim, thankfully, does not look up from his computer screen.
Months had passed where Bruce thought he might never smile again. It was only Tim, young, perceptive, quietly enthusiastic Tim, who gave him a reason to believe otherwise.
