#Pet Regressor!Bruce Wayne

[nxrseryclouds]

🐾 PET REGRESSOR! BRUCE WAYNE 🐾

[BOARDS MADE BY ME, CREDIT IF YOU USE!]

BOARD REQUESTED BY: @circusmoomoo

[b4by-b4t]

Bruce Wayne agere board with a Christmas theme !!!

felt like making something simpler than what i usually make :)

+ Bruce with the Santa hat for anyone who wants to use it !!

[cutiecorner]

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Ficlet • Regressor! Bruce Wayne, Caregivers! Alfred Pennyworth and Leslie Thompkins • content warning: shots, needles

Me? Actually writing something? Unheard of. Anyway this just fell outta me. For those who don't know Dr. Leslie is the Bruce's doctor and family friend :)

Alfred was out of options. Bruce had taken an injection of fear toxin from scarecrow, and he was inconsolable. He sobbed and muttered, breaking Alfred's heart into a million pieces. Leslie had come to the cave with her new antidote, but they couldn't get Bruce to sit still for the shot. No matter what they tried, Alfred and Leslie couldn't ground him in reality. Alfred's brow furrowed, deep in thought, when a last ditch idea revealed itself.

"Now Master Bruce," he steadied himself and put a hand on his sniffling ward's back, "I told Dr. Leslie you would be brave for your checkup today, are you going to be a big boy for me?"

Leslie blinked at him, face displaying less than subtle confusion. Alfred widened his eyes and gestured to Bruce, whos crying had briefly ceased. Go along with it.

"Uh, yes! We just need to do a quick checkup, sweetheart, it won't take long at all."

Bruce choked on phlegm in his throat, his eyes glossy and scared. But as Alfred and Leslie helped him onto the examining table, his breath seemed to steady. He looked between the two of them, then down to his lap. A hand migrated to his mouth, and he sucked the side of his knuckle.

"Okay," his voice was small and weak, "I'll be brave."

"Oh splendid," Alfred smiled, looking to Leslie for their next move.

"Um, let's check your ears, honey."

Leslie went through the usual checklist of children's checkups, all the while explaining to Bruce what each medical instrument did, like she did in his childhood. Alfred stood next to Bruce, praising him for his bravery. Bruce's heartbeat had slowed to an almost normal rate, though he still looked dazed and nervous.

"You've done a very good job, Brucie. We just need to do one more thing," Leslie produced the antidote from her bag, depositing it into a clean syringe. Bruce whined.

"Oh pup, I know it's scary. But you'll feel all better after your shot, I promise."

Bruce burrowed into Alfred's shoulder, clinging to his lapel. The tears returned.

"What are you scared of, sweetheart?" Leslie asked.

"I-it's gonna hurt..." Bruce stuttered through his sobs.

"Oh baby, only for a moment," Alfred petted his head, "I'll be right here with you the whole time,"

Bruce looked up at Alfred, then Leslie. He finally stuck out his arm.

When Leslie administered the shot Alfred pressed a kiss to Bruce's temple.

"All done, dear. You've been a very good boy."

Bruce sniffled, and stayed curled up next to Alfred. Leslie provided a purple bandaid, Bruce's favorite color.

"... May I please watch Grey Ghost tonight?" Bruce whispered.

"Of course, Brucie. You've more than earned it."

[agerebatman]

Happy Mothers Day, Alfred ♡

Ficlet • Regressor Bruce Wayne, Caregiver Alfred

"Alfred?" Bruce's voice was small and gentle, and Alfred knew exactly what that meant.

"Yes, dear boy?" Alfred responded with a pet name, knowing his son was regressed.

Bruce shuffled into the room shyly. He was always quite bashful when small. Bruce held a few pieces of paper in one hand and a small bin in the other.

"What do you have there?"

Bruce didn't respond, just looking down with a timid smile.

"Oh, is it a secret?"

He nodded.

"Well, you're welcome to stay here in my office while I work, if you'd like. I'll even put the telly on. "

Bruce took his usual spot on the floor behind the coffee table, laying out his supplies. Every time Alfred looked in his direction, Bruce would use his large frame to block his view. There was snipping and coloring and gluing, but Alfred couldn't parse what he was making. In good time, Bruce appeared behind him.

"Baba," he whispered, having slipped even smaller with his craft, "for you."

He placed a card in Alfred's hands. Paper flowers were glued to the front, and when he opened it, there was a picture in colored pencil. Alfred and Bruce's late mother, Martha. Written neatly across the top: Happy Mother's Day.

Alfred tried to quell the tears in his eyes. He wrapped Bruce in a hug.

"I love you very much, my darling."

"Love you too, baba."

[dc-agere-moodboards]

Do you do petre stuff? or just agere?

Cuz pet regressor Bruce?

Bruce Wayne Puppy-Themed Petre Board

I made him a puppy boy cuz you didn't say what kind of pet

[ramsywasalittlelamb]

if anything could ever be this good again

A Regressor!Tim Drake & Caregiver!Bruce Wayne fic :] 1.3k words, pure comfort!! do not ship!! photos found on pinterest!

Summary: Tim Drake gets nostalgic, plots, and regresses. Bruce, being a wonderful father, plays along with his son's plan.

Title from Everlong - Foo Fighters

Was it a little odd for Tim to do this?

Maybe.

Was it a great idea though?

Absolutely.

Him and Bruce had just gotten into the sleek, black and shiny Lamborghini that Bruce only really took to gala’s like tonight. The seats warm with a click of a button on the dashboard to fight off the Gotham chill that nipped at their nose and cheeks, Tim’s phone automatically connects to the speakers only to quietly play Everlong by Foo Fighters, Bruce’s gentle humming beside him as his fingers tap on the steering wheel.

It reminded him of when he was younger and he would be coming back from an event with his parents. His mom’s floral perfume wafting back towards him, the heat on blast as he looked out the frosted windows, listening to Frank Sinatra faintly on the radio. Those times were some of his favorites, when his parents weren’t arguing, too exhausted from the socializing and media to care to chat any further, just a somber silence hanging over them on the drive back home.

Once they got home and the engine died down with a twist of keys, Tim would pretend he was asleep. He’s pretty sure his parents knew he was never actually asleep, but they’d play along with his 4 year old antics, unbuckling him and picking up his (semi) limp body, an uncontrollable smile gracing over his definitely asleep face as he got carried up to his room. Four year old Tim should’ve won an Oscar for his performances, really.

Current Tim rested his head against the cool window, allowing that full-body fuzz settle over his body, alongside the seat warmers and hot air, his fingertips feeling as light as feathers as he closed his eyes. The suit was a little uncomfortable, but it will be worth it if his plan works out as well as his ones as RR do.

It’s times like these that Tim is glad the other’s hate going to events or generally can’t go into the public eye. He was able to have time with Bruce, not Batman, but Bruce. There was no tension between them, a comfortable quietness settling between the two as the older drove them back to the manor– their home. No siblings, no friends, no unpredictable dangers taunting them, just Tim and Bruce. He cherished these small moments. He hoped Bruce did as well.

He struggled to push down a giddy smile as he felt the car take a familiar turn, excited to see if his acting skills are as good as he remembers them being, the butterflies in his stomach start fluttering as he tries to keep still from excitement– and people who are asleep don’t move. He can remember that, even when he feels all small and safe.

The car slides smoothly into a stop, the echo of the rumbling engine informing Tim that they’re in the garage. They’re home. He fights off a smile again, his fingers twitch in his lap as he hears the click of the power button and the keys twisting out, the music and heating cutting out with the engine. He can hear Bruce shuffling in the driver seat before a pause.

“Tim?” Bruce says quietly to his side, Tim can feel a hand hovering over his shoulder, and then it moves away. He thought, anyway, until a warm hand made its way into his pomade-ridden, slicked back, hair. The fingertips gliding loose strands out of the way and unfurling any knots that may have made their way in during the event. Tim melts at the touch, a hum subconsciously making its way from the back of his throat as he sinks into the chair further and– Wait. People who are sleeping don’t do that! 

He tenses and lets out a whine before he can realize he’s doing it, a pout forming when the hand stills in his hair, hands clenching in his lap. Bruce lets out a soft chuckle, continuing to pet through Tim’s longer-than-usual hair, the black strands becoming looser and losing their neat shape in the way Alfred had helped Tim style it in.

“You gotta get up, bud. You’ll be much more cozy in your bed rather than the car.” Bruce hums out as he keeps brushing through the younger’s hair, even though there's no more knots or stray hairs. Tim pouts, leaning his head into the touch. “Noooo,” He immediately whines out, “Papa’s s’pposed to carry me.”

“Oh? Is that so?” Bruce gently questions, a smile evident in his voice as he tucks Tim’s hair behind his ears with a feather light touch. “I guess I can’t argue with that, huh?” The older sighs out, hesitantly removing his hand from Tim’s hair (with a whine of disappointment), a click from the buckle and the noise of the car door opening and closing following soon after.

Tim’s door opens, steady hands readily catching his limp body that rested against it, “I got you, bud.” Papa’s voice reassures him as he gets unbuckled, a sleepy grin plastered on his face when he gets lifted from the seat by warm and familiar arms. He vaguely hears the car door shut from the cotton in his ears as his mind drifts, only focusing on the absolute safety he’s feeling as he gets carried to his room.

He doesn’t budge when he hears another familiar, welcoming voice talking beside Bruce as he gets held, jostling ever so slightly when they go up the steps, his head comfortably resting on Bruce’s chest. He loves feeling the rumble of Bruce’s chest when he talks, hearing Papa’s heartbeat will always be one of his favorite sounds– along with the rest of his family.

The voices carry a conversation over his head as he gets sat down on a bed, two sets of hands carefully undressing him out of his suit and into more comfortable, bigger clothes. He blearily opens his eyes to see he’s wearing too long of gray pajama pants and a black tee that swallows his torso. Oh. He’s wearing Papa’s clothes. 

Bruce’s hands return to pick him up, to which he easily complies with and rests his cheek on his shoulder, closing his eyes briefly before a warmer but smaller hand than Papa’s pats gently at his cheek. He opens his tired eyes again to see Alfred smiling at him, a blue pacifier taps at his mouth, to which he gratefully accepts with a smile and hum. Tim then spots Aurora– his stuffed white dragon plush– in the butler's arms, the latter of which must’ve followed the younger’s line of sight and tucked Aurora into Tim’s loose hold.

Papa’s hand returns to his hair, fingertips grazing through his strands and scratching at his scalp gently. Instinctively, Tim closes his eyes and melts into Bruce’s arms, sucking on the pacifier as his own hands run against Aurora’s soft fur. He vaguely recognizes himself being laid down onto the plush mattress, a weight dipping the bed beside him as warm blankets get pulled up to his chin, ensuring warmth and comfort, but not as much as– Papa’s arms wrap around Tim’s smaller frame and holds him closely.

 Tim hears a sigh after his head gets tucked under Bruce’s chin, his dad’s hand rubbing gentle circles in between his shoulder blades as he curls in on himself– and Aurora. Tim (attempts) to say a goodnight to his Papa, the pacifier and the already present slurring of his speech making him unsure if Papa could even understand him, Until he heard “Goodnight, Tim.” mumbled above his head. A yawn escapes from Bruce’s mouth as he talks, punctuating with a gentle kiss to Tim’s forehead.

Tim’s plot of being carried to his bed from being “asleep” in the car didn’t work out exactly like he had planned, but he thinks he might have gotten a better result.

He can’t wait to do this after the next event.

[moonleet]

DC for the series ask game!

thanks for the ask!!!! this is definitely non-comprehensive, i have.... so many hcs asgdmfndk

Send me a series and I'll tell you:

Which characters headcanon as an age regressor/age dreamer (specify): wally west, cassandra cain, kara zor-el, duke thomas (regressors), john constantine, koriand'r (dreamers)

Which characters I headcanon as a pet regressor/ pet dreamer (specify): damian wayne (cat regressor)

Which characters I headcanon as a flip (specify): tim drake (babysitter/regressor), jason todd (sibling cg, regressor), dick grayson (sibling cg, bunny regressor), zatanna zatara (babysitter/sibling cg/dreamer), bruce wayne (parent cg/babysitter/regressor), raven (babysitter/regressor)

Which characters I headcanon as a caregiver/ guardian/babysitter/playmate (specify): clark kent (parent cg/babysitter), stephanie brown (playmate), bernard dowd (playmate/unspecified cg) ((i have.... thoughts /pos))

A personal regression headcanon for one of my favorite characters: tim doesn't generally like going out while regressed, unless it's to the aquarium. then he's SO EXCITED about seeing all the fish!!! the rays are his favorite :D

[tinietrex]

Regressor! Bruce Wayne / Batman headcanons

Bruce as we know has a lot of childhood trauma from his parents dying, not to mention the following years training to be Batman and then being Batman

Is a flip! He'll CG most commonly for Clark and the batboys but has and loves babysitting Hal and Barry

Most commonly Diana or Clark will be his CG but J'onn is experienced in taking care of his fair share of little ones

Bruce's ages vary, 0-2 and 6-10

He'll often slip to babyspace after particularly bad nightmares

(Note for this: Diana can tell when he's lying about being okay, Clark can hear his heartbeat and breathing and J'onn can calm him from inside his mind + nonverbal communication)

At his younger ages Bruce is usually non-verbal

He's quiet at his bigger ages too but can communicate verbally

He loves spelling, reading and counting because it makes him feel accomplished and smart

He loves praise, being told he did a good job makes him just melt

Baby Bruce is incredibly affectionate, while he's regressed he allows himself to say and express a lot of the stuff he holds back while he's big

You'll often find him asleep in Diana's lap or Clark's arms because he loves being picked up

Will not answer to any name except "B" or pet names while regressed

Very neat colourer! He loves colouring books

And baby blocks, just the old wooden ones, they're his absolute favourites

Has a bat stuffie!

Leave a comment or ask if there are any other characters you would like to see!

[cutiecorner]

Too Much Fluff

ficlet • regressor! Damian Wayne, caregiver! Alfred Pennyworth, caregiver! Bruce Wayne

Been thinking about baby dami so much lately... here's a lil fic of him!! Pleeease get free to send in more ideas!

Damian stared at the ridiculous plush beast in front of him. It was a teddy bear that was practically the size of him. What a frivolous toy, Damian thought, who on earth would want such a thing?

“What a darling bear. Do you want that, Master Damian?”

Damian whipped his head around, flustered. Alfred stood patiently, with his bags of toys for the charity drive in hand.

“Of course not. What would give you that idea?”

“Well, you have been staring at it for ten minutes.”

Damian felt blood rush to his cheeks. He looked at the ground. Alfred continued despite his closed in posture, 

“Well, I think it would make some child very happy. Would you mind carrying it to the register for me?”

“If I must,” Damian huffed.

Damian picked up the fluffy monstrosity and tried his best to carry it while maintaining his dignity. A difficult task, even Alfred couldn’t look dignified holding a three foot tall teddy bear. Walking with it was a nightmare, having to squeeze it close to his chest to navigate through the isles of toys without knocking anything over. Holding the bear was… not an unpleasant experience. It was very soft. Not just it’s fur, but it’s stuffing. Damian supposed it would make a good pillow. Especially if one was inclined to grab onto things while they slept, like he was. Standing in line now, he examined the bear. He had to admit, it was a little charming. It had a slightly lopsided face, and a big red bow, giving it a somewhat dopey look. Damian felt a warm hand on his back.

“It’s time to scan the bear, dear.”

Oh, he hated to admit it but he didn’t really want to part with it. Don’t be ridiculous, he chided to himself. He was an assassin, a vigilante, not a dumb baby. They could throw the bear away for all he cared. He could use it as target practice. Before he knew it, the bear was handed back to him.

“It won’t fit in a bag, of course. Could you hold it?”

Damian nodded, once again hoisting up the bear. Once they got to the car, there was no room in the trunk for it, so it had to ride in the backseat with Damian. He felt silly with it riding next to him like a passenger, so he laid it across his lap. He found himself Idly petting its fur, playing with its bow. Such a silly thing… Damian yawned. He repositioned the bear to sit in his lap and laid his head on top of it. He watched the skyscrapers slowly pitter away as the city melted into suburbia on their way back to the manor. The sunset was quite nice over the hills, perhaps he should paint it. His thoughts got fuzzier and fuzzier as he melted into the bear, drifting off to sleep. 

The next thing Damian knew, he was in his bed. He supposed his father had carried him there, despite his repeated insistence that he was too big to be carried. A small part of him was sad he was asleep for it though - he didn’t know what to make of that part. He rolled over in bed to find a more comfortable position, only to find the plush bear laying next to him. He scowled, and took the bear into the kitchen

“Pennyworth,” he called, “what is the meaning of this?”

“I said it would make some child very happy,” Alfred chuckled “I neglected to mention that child was you.”

“I don’t need a teddy bear Alfred. Where’s the donation pile?”

“Being distributed to children as we speak, I assume.”

“Tt.”

“The bear belongs in the manor now, you should find a place for it regardless.”

Damian groaned, lugging the bear into the living room. He sat on the coach and flipped on the TV, trying to ignore the bear in his peripheral vision. It was more difficult than he thought. Looking around for any sign of brothers, he remembered his hypothesis from earlier. If the stupid bear was here to stay, he might as well test if it was as comfortable to lay on as he imagined. He pulled it up onto the couch and laid his head on its tummy. Oh, that’s actually quite comfortable, he thought. He continued to flip through the channels until he found an acceptable thing to watch - My Neighbor Totoro. He always admired Miyazaki’s work. With the gentle music and the softness of the bear, he couldn’t help but doze off once again.

“Hey chum,”

A deep but gentle voice woke Damian from his slumber.

“Sorry to wake you, buddy, but you can’t suck on your thumb. You might get sick, we don’t want that. How about this instead?”

Damian was still half asleep, barely conscious enough to process the request. He didn’t really care, he just wanted to get back to sleep. He took whatever Bruce offered him.

“Can I sit with you?”

Damian sleepily nodded. He vaguely registered being picked up for a moment, and being moved to his father’s lap, still close enough to the bear to lay his head on it. 

“You really like that bear, huh?”

Damian didn’t have the energy to rebuke the claim, so he nodded.

“He’s all yours, chum.”

Damian drifted into sleep once again. 

When Damian woke up this time, he was still in Bruce’s lap. He had shifted to lay his head on his father’s chest instead of the bear. For a moment, he let himself enjoy the steady thrum of his heartbeat and breathing. The warmth radiating from him was a nice sensation. It was then he realized his father was fast asleep. 

“No better sleep aid than a little one on your chest,” Alfred whispered as he offered Damian a plate of cookies.

“I’m not little,” Damian tried to say, but something was still in his mouth. He plucked it out.

“A pacifier?” Damian whisper-yelled, trying to be discreet through his surprise, “What if one of the others walked in?”

“I assure you they are all out of the house for the day,” Alfred hushed, “Your father was very excited to have some time with you.”

Damian looked up at Bruce. He was fast asleep, but… peaceful. At ease. It was rare to see his father like that. Still, he felt shame in his stomach.

“I’m not a baby, Alfred.”

“You’ll always be someone’s baby,” Alfred brushed Damian’s hair out of his face, “Your father’s, and mine too.”

Damian didn’t respond, simply grabbing a cookie from the tray he was offered. He munched on it as Alfred gave the three of them (including the bear) a kiss on the head.

[ramsywasalittlelamb]

fog in my mind darkens in my eyes, silently streaming for a distant sound

A Regressor!Tim Drake & Caregiver!Bruce Wayne fic :] 1.2k words, hurt/comfort, do not ship!! photos found on pinterest!

Tim’s regression is known to bruce! I think I made it more subtle than most agere based fics, but I made it based off of my own experiences and regression! This is my first ever fic, but I hope you all enjoy! I’m open to criticism as well! - Jay

Tim was starting to rethink his decisions.

In his defense, he knows his brain isn’t in the most rational state at the moment. Between sleep still addled his thoughts, the still fast heart rate from the nightmare that had woken him right up, and the seemingly increasing fuzz in his brain that he’s decided to ignore, he knew his logic was going to be flawed and any actions he took were going to be a little bit to the left of his usual functionality.

But before he could process it, his legs had already taken him to stand at the end of the dark hallway in front of Bruce’s bedroom door. He was still shaken up, mentally and physically. The tears had flowed freely down his cheeks without a hitch in his breath, now just leaving wet trails under his eyes, his hands trembling as they fidget with the hem of his oversized shirt— not his, technically. more like a band tee from Dick’s closet that mysteriously made its way into his own.— as a thin sheet of sweat covers his palms and hairline.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been standing there— Seconds? Minutes?— in his head, until a creak echoing throughout the manor brought him out of his thoughts. Whipping around at the noise with a sharp inhale, tensing his body in preparation for an attack. There’s nothing. The manor is old, it creaks, it’s what old buildings do, he thinks to himself as he releases the breath he didn’t know he held, attempting to shove logic into his sleepy and jumpy state.

Turning his attention back to the door and taking a deep breath, he places his shaky hand on the cold doorknob. Twisting and pushing slowly, he peers into the room through the small crack he’s made. He sees Bruce slumbering peacefully in the middle of his bed, the black sheets tucked in tightly around the edges of the bed, securing Bruce’s place where he sleeps on his back. Tim takes a moment and watches the rise and fall of his chest following the puffs of air that leave his slightly open mouth, confirming that Bruce was still asleep, judging by how slow the rhythm is.

And he’s alive.

It never hurts to check, Tim tells himself.

As he continues watching, doubt and regret slithers its way back into his thoughts. Really? Seeking out Bruce because of a nightmare? How pathetic, especially for Red Robin himself, to even consider sneaking into his dad’s bed for an ounce of comfort. He’s been through it all, why couldn’t he have just toughed out some flimsy bad dream? What would Bruce even think of him? If he can’t handle a simple bad dream, then he definitely can’t handle being Red Robin—

“Tim?”

Being yanked back into reality by the deep and gravelly voice calling his name, he blinks his eyes back into focus to see Bruce sitting up and staring at him with tired confusion, and concern.

He opens his mouth to begin apologizing, but the words die on his tongue and turns into an involuntary whimper, immediately making Tim close his mouth and forming a small thin line that wobbles with another whimper, beginning to shake his hands at his sides.

“Oh, Tim, come here.” Bruce calls out, his expression and voice softening in a way that makes the panic and guilt built into Tim’s chest dissipate a bit, watching as Bruce pats an empty spot on the bed next to him then opening his arms for Tim, who quickly takes the invitation and dives onto the mattress and his dads arms.

The warm weight of Bruce’s arms around Tim’s torso, the murmured words of comfort and reassurances, the way his dad tucks his face into the crook of his neck and pets his hair, feeling the warm tears— when had he started crying?— soaking into the shirt Bruce wore as he sniffled.

“It’s okay, I promise. Whatever happened, we’ll fix it, you’re safe here.” Bruce says into Tim’s hair, punctuating with a kiss to the crown of his head before resting his cheek on top. Tim sniffles with a hum in response, his hands slowing their flapping motion to rub the soft cotton hem of the blankets between his fingers, finding himself continuing what was meant to be a short hum into a consistent and steady vibration in his throat.

As the soothing sensations and stimming calms Tim’s panic in his gut, it reappears quickly when Bruce moves away, Tim letting out a whine and moving his hand to clutch at the front of Bruce’s shirt, as if his weak grip could stop him from moving away.

Though it doesn’t make Bruce stop, it most certainly makes him move quicker with hushes before returning and tucking Tim tighter in his embrace. “I’m not leaving you, it’s okay, you’re okay. I won’t ever leave you, I just had to grab your pacifier, okay?” He reassures Tim as he presses a kiss to his forehead.

He opens his mouth again to say something, an apology, a thank you, an excuse, but he’s only to be met with the same inability to form a word, making him release a whine of frustration followed by a sniffle. Bruce hums in response and grabs the pacifier from where he had laid it down on the bed, cleaning it off as best as he could with his shirt before offering it to Tim, who gladly accepts it with a grateful hum and small smile, the first one of the night.

Bruce wipes the tears on Tim’s cheeks away once they’ve stopped falling from his eyes, humming a small tune that Tim can’t quite place, not that he can find an ounce to care at the moment in his newfound peace. Enjoying the gentle hand rubbing circles onto his back, the thumb brushing against his cheekbone, the rumble of Bruce’s chest as he hums, the soothing motion of the pacifier in his mouth, all of it aiding the fuzz and lightness in his chest that he hadn’t realized had fully invaded his head already.

“My baby boy, what did I do to deserve you?” Bruce hums out rhetorically into Tim’s hair, slowly leaning both Tim and himself back to lay back on the bed, folding the blankets on top of the both of them.

Tim tucks himself closer to Bruce’s side, who responds by hugging him tighter, the two holding each other close in the newfound serenity. Tim fluttered his eyes open to look at Bruce, only to have sleep taunt him by trying to drag his eyelids closed again.

“Go to sleep. I’ll be here, you’ll be here, everyone will be here when you wake.” Bruce says, his eyes nearly closed with slumber as he watches Tim. Ensuring the younger's eyes shut before his, ensuring the younger’s breaths shallow out before his own, “I love you, Tim. We all love you.” he whispers out into the air for only Tim to hear as he finally closes his eyes. Even though he’s sure Tim is already too deep into sleep to even rustle at it, he hopes that Tim knows it.

“Sweet dreams, Prince.”