i am aware it’s an old gay man and a young woman pairing up so ofc there would be no romance but it’s refreshing 2 me regardless !!!!! muting notifs on this bye bye <3
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On Mother’s Day, Bruce’s voice dies quietly.
He leaves Alfred a gorgeous floral arrangement, laid with careful, hesitant , dirt stained hands, right by his bed. Ivy’s gardening tips had paid off.
They’re on the table by dinner time, crowned right in the center, yet no words pass between them. There’s no need.
Dahlias for Martha, hyacinths for Thomas, and gardenias for Alfred. Bruce doesn’t leave them by the mausoleum, thought. The kids do, — because they are that, to him, only to him, —
Clark gives him flowers, too, making his brows curve in surprise. He didn’t expect to get anything.
(There’s also a dinner, Clark informs him, — and he has this subtle command to him. It’s a talent not many notice. He makes an order sound like a suggestion, and Bruce can’t say it’s not a little alluring.)
“That’s too bad, ‘cause I’M taking you to dinner, so E.T better back off,” Jason grumbles, scowling down his novel, pretending to hate the tea Bruce made for him.
He blinks. “Damian is very adamant on going out as well,—“
“And me!” Dick cuts in, his grin wide and glowing moonlight, “Sorry Jaybird, I’ve been planning this for months. Better luck next time.”
“Uh, fuck you? Don’t you have an ‘absente son’ contest to win somewhere?”
“Hm, I don’t know! Don’t you have a bomb to plant in B’s car? Better hurry, you might actually succed this time!”
Bruce grunts, parental displeasure shaping his face, even if he knows very well this brotherly vendetta has no poison behind it. His babies were so stubborn. “Be nice to each other.”
“Have I shot him? No? That means I’m being nice.”
“You know what, you better get over your youngest child attitude, because you don’t run this place anymore,—“
“What, sorry, Queen Elizabeth? I couldn’t hear you over your anti aging cream, can you say that again?”
Bruce is dragged away by Damian while they’re fighting, naturally.
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like idk man i’m all for found family but as an adult with friends who have moved to different parts of the world, stories that ‘separate’ the found family at the end and say “it is the impact, not the proximity, that determines your importance to me” will always hit harder and be more emotional than “you get older and unrealistically see all your best friends every day always”
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