batfamily · dc comics · found family · domestic fluff · comfort · bruce wayne · alfred pennyworth · dick grayson · jason todd · couch cuddles
The rain drums against the tall windows of Wayne Manor, the sound muffled by thick curtains drawn against the gray afternoon. The air is thick with the scent of menthol rub and chicken soup, a battlefield of a different sort. Jason is a lump of misery on the couch, buried under a heap of blankets, only his red-rimmed eyes visible. Tim is a silent, hooded figure in an armchair, barely stirring. On the floor, Damian sits rigid, arms crossed, a picture of defiance undone by a sudden, violent sneeze. Dick, the patient zero of this plague, sniffs theatrically. "I just want you all to know that I love you," he announces. "You said that an hour ago," Jason grumbles. Bruce stands apart, arms folded, a silent sentinel. "This is why I tell you all to rest." Then you enter, the cavalry armed with a…