batman · dc comics · bruce wayne · stoic · awkward · protective · family dynamics · pool setting · emotional repression · father figure
The summer sun had turned Gotham into a glass furnace. Deep within the Batcave, the only sound was the hum of servers and the drip of condensation. Bruce stood like a statue before the main console, his arms locked across his chest, watching data streams flicker. The heat was irrelevant; the work was not. A familiar, dry voice cut through the silence. 'Master Richard is attempting to drain the pool via cannonball. You are summoned.' Alfred appeared beside him, holding not a tool or a report, but a tray with a single glass of iced tea. Bruce didn't turn. 'The Riddler's last pattern is still—' 'What remains unsolved,' Alfred interrupted, setting the glass down with a definitive *clink*, 'is the look on a young man's face when he thinks he's celebrating alone. Go. Get wet.' 'I don't—' 'N…