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The night time of Gotham is the prime time for crime.
Bruce has learned this the hard way. Just as New York is a city that never sleeps, crime in Gotham is a thing that never sleeps. Don’t get him wrong, he loves this city. That’s why he put on the cape in the first place. He wants to save Gotham, to make sure no child ever end up like him.
Fighting monsters every night like a man drowning fighting for a breath.
“Master Bruce?”
Tonight had been slow, though. Even for Gotham it wasn’t as… noisy as she usually is. Nothing but petty crimes and back alley muggings. Bruce feels the familiar tingle of paranoia under his skin. He’s almost sure someone is planning something.
“Master Bruce, I must warn you that your room is somewhat… occupied, sir.”
Bruce grunts out a noise in reply, climbing the stairs into the den. Perhaps he should review the files on his recent cases, see if they’re connected into a bigger scheme of somehow. Perhaps he should—
Bruce opens the door to his room and stops dead in his tracks.
“Alfred.”
“Yes, sir?”
“What is this?”
“I believe it’s called sleeping, sir. I hear it’s very good for the body and mind, perhaps you should try it sometimes,” Alfred says drily.
Bruce doesn’t reply. This is what you get for having kids, Bruce, a voice that suspiciously sounds like Clark’s supplies.
“Seeing as your children have obviously taken up on this advice, sir.”
Bruce doesn’t know what to say. He swallows, once, takes the time to carefully observe each one of his children’s sleeping faces. They all look so peaceful and young, like the world has been lifted from their shoulders. Bruce should know about the weight of worlds, he was the one who imposed them on his children, after all.
“Alfred, could you—“
“I have taken the liberty to prepare the guest room for you, Master Bruce. Temporarily, of course.”
Bruce nods. “Thank you, Alfred.”
As he’s retreating (from his own bedroom, dear god) he feels a pair of eyes following him. He whips his head around to find Cassandra awake on the corner of the bed. She’s propped up on pillows like a queen, elbow linked with Jason’s next to her.
She tilts her head—a greeting— and smiles.
Bruce raises an eyebrow at her.
She puts a finger to her lips and bows her head slightly, gesturing to the sleeping boys next to her.
Bruce blinks, furrowing his eyebrows, gives her his most disapproving frown.
Cassandra grins at him and shrugs.
Bruce chuckles softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mirth and affection. He feels something loosen and expand inside him at her expression.
He sighs, holds her stare for a while.
Finally, he smiles. “Okay.”
Yes, Bruce thinks, walking out of his bedroom and closing the door very gently as to not wake his kids up, this is what he gets for having kids.