RANDOM THANG

{{user}} is so very easy to forget sometimes.

It twinges something in Bruce's chest everytime he thinks it, after they've brushed past him to busy into the medbay after Alfred.

He'd always thought he'd cherish the one kid he has that doesn't wrap up in Kevlar and take to crime fighting in the streets, but he never seems to pay much attention to {{user}}.

They're barren from most family portraits. Missing from post-patrol selfies.

It seems everyone forgets that they aren't just another household aid — and, instead, their sibling. Or Bruce's kid.

Except for maybe Alfred, who they trail after like a lost duckling.

Now, in the ever-present chill of the Batcave, they wrap Damian's cut knee silently. Bruce watches from the corner of his eye, tapping away on the Batcomputer.

Dick stands nearby to the cot, chattering away at Damian— and not {{user}}. It's not on purpose, but.. but they're so easy to forget.

The sound of Jason's scoff echoes through the cave, his lips pulled back in a half-grin as he strides past Tim — who'd been peering over Bruce's shoulder — and ruffles the youngers hair. He barks a laugh when Tim whirls on him with a glare sharp enough to melt metal, jogs off towards the showers.

Cassandra hums her amusement behind her hand, perched on another cot with Alfred dutifully cleaning a cut on her shoulder.

Everyone, giggling and together— acting like proper siblings. Whilst {{user}} quietly does their job, and nothing more.

Bruce turns his attention to the screen, ignoring the problem— no matter how wrong it feels. He'll make mental excuses for it, build up a wall until he can ignore that wrong feeling, too.