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English
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Fanfics I Wish Were Canon 3000
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Published:
2022-07-02
Completed:
2023-08-11
Words:
778
Chapters:
2/2
Comments:
15
Kudos:
458
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40
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4,097

Therapy

Summary:

"I'm Batman, I don't need hugs or cuddles," the bat snorted.

Flash nodded, completely serious, "Okay, that's cool. Now, let's talk about your obsession with adopting children."

"..."

Chapter 1

Notes:

You know, despite some of the Flashes and JL member's horrible actions at times (mostly so the writers can make you want to beat them up or for drama, thank goodness for Lego lightheartedness), I think they all need therapy and Barry's nice if slightly manipulative, so if he talks REALLY well, I'm sure he can break even Bruce.

Chapter Text

Batman prided himself on being the dark, brooding, untouchable force of justice. He was the night. He was fear. He was—

 

"Bats, what do you want in your coffee?" Flash interrupted casually, poking and prodding, much to Bruce's irritation.

 

—he had no need for friendly interventions on his psyche.

 

"Or maybe it’s better if we just hug? Because I always wondered if you'd take off your mask for that, but then you’d probably yell at me, or you'd have another mask under your mask, which would reveal another mask and another—"

 

Bruce’s eyes twitched. He scanned the room, searching for the closest exit. He had no time for this nonsense.

 

As such...

 

Clark’s voice cut in after a moment or two, fond, "Barry?"

 

"Yeah?" Barry stopped mid-ramble.

 

"He's gone."

 

The Flash blinked. The superhero had barely noticed the moment Batman vanished. It took Superman’s intervention for him to realize Bruce had left behind the undone ropes that had, moments ago, kept him restrained.

 

"Huh. Well, that was quick," Barry muttered.

 

 

"I don’t need therapy, a hug, or whatever ridiculous intervention this is," Bruce growled, arms crossed, voice sharp enough to cut steel.

 

"Got it, Bats. No hugs," Barry said, nodding solemnly. Bruce legitimately thought he was understood—for a moment.

 

Then Barry opened his mouth again: "Now, let’s talk about your obsession with adopting children."

 

He stilled. Children? As in his kids? How did he know? Did his computer get hacked--?

 

"Sups told me you picked up another one." Bruce facepalmed.

 

"Mr. ‘I work alone because I’m dark and broody’ just added another kid to his collection," Barry added cheekily.

 

Bruce’s eye twitched. He wondered what was the best way to kill Clark without using kryptonite.

 

"They offered the help." He only adopted the kid after…

 

"Right," Barry nodded mockingly. "And Alfred is my grandpa," he added, unfazed.

 

Bruce frowned. What was that supposed to mean?

 

"Joker’s back."

 

All of Bruce’s attention zeroed in on the words. He immediately freed himself from yet another set of ropes, already angling toward the nearest exit.

 

Barry held up a hand, jogging after him. "See my point about avoiding emotional talks?"

 

Bruce stared, feeling the vaguest flicker of guilt and utter shame for believing Barry’s little lie.

 

 

"Bruce, sit down before I lock you in a cell," Barry said cheerfully.

 

Bruce glared, fed up with the younger’s attempts. "I don’t need therapy or cuddles."

 

Barry sighed. "Bats, we all know you’re the world’s best detective and surprisingly great with kids, but seriously? If you ever need to talk, we’re all here for you."

 

Bruce remained silent, arms crossed, clearly irritated—but at least he stayed seated. He did appreciate the last bit, even if he’d never admit it.

 

And, at least there weren’t any ropes this time.

 

"So, you're willing to talk now?" Barry asked, eyes twinkling.

 

… There went his quote of cooperation.

 

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

Later that afternoon, Victor had just finished some final system check-ups when he blinked.

 

Jessica was barely containing her laughter.

 

Curious, he asked, “So… did he succeed?”

 

Barry had been trying all day to make the old cap spill his feelings.

 

“Bruce mentally planning Barry’s demise aside?” Diana answered, letting Jessica finally laugh. “Yep. Barry actually managed to crack him.”

 

Arthur choked on his drink, dropping his newspaper. “He what now?”

 

Zatanna, similarly, dropped a plate of cookies.

 

J’onn raised an intrigued brow. “That was… unexpected.”

 

Diana grinned, picking up a slightly less trashed cookie. “I quote: ‘Supers can’t go to therapists,’ Bruce said. ‘You know what happened to Harley.’”

 

Barry added, “‘But you’re emotionally constipated! You have to see someone! You refuse even Dinah!’”

 

Bruce spat, “‘What do you think my kids are for?’”

 

“Oh, they’re for stability, so you don’t have to talk about or act on your problems,” Barry beamed.

 

Bruce glared. “You could have gotten it wrong for the sake of my dignity.”

 

“Do you also consider punching criminals an adequate substitute for emotional processing?” Barry asked innocently.

 

Bruce refused to answer.

 

“--And here we are,” Diana finished, munching on another cookie.

 

Shazam took rapid notes, awed, while Victor quietly checked if this was actually how therapy worked.

 

Clark blinked in disbelief. Dinah raised an eyebrow. “That’s some… unorthodox therapy skills.”

 

 

Across the room, Bruce sat stiffly, arms crossed, as Barry patted his back.

 

He could not believe this was happening.

 

“And it’s just so frustrating,” Bruce muttered, apparently deciding it was fine to unleash decades worth of trauma on someone.

 

Robin curled up beside him, content. Bruce absently petted him, utterly baffled.

 

Barry nodded sagely, completely understanding. “There, there.”

 

… Why was he doing this again? Bruce frowned, even as he dumped more trauma.