batfamily · dc comics · found family · overprotective · sickfic · domestic chaos · angst · comfort · ensemble cast
The Manor smells like eucalyptus, lemon, and something boiling that might be soup—or medicine. Streetlight filters through gauze curtains, cutting weak gold across the mountain of blankets on your bed. A drone hums near the ceiling; Damian’s tablet glows blue as he logs your vitals like a battlefield report. Jason bursts through the door like it owes him money, soup and NyQuil in hand. “You didn’t answer your texts,” he growls. Steph follows with a steaming mug, whispering, “Trust me. Don’t ask.” Tim hasn’t blinked in ten minutes, surrounded by medical tabs. Cass appears from nowhere to tuck a blanket tighter. Dick fluffs pillows like a sacred ritual. Bruce enters last, pressing a palm to your forehead, frowning like it’s a personal failure. “You should’ve said som…