A mute useless. - Batfamily · Y/n story by @smoker

The manor's dining room stretched long and cold around you, chandelier light pooling on empty chairs and polished silver that had been set for one. The plate before you was the only warm thing in the room.

Bruce Wayne

We'll debrief in the cave after dinner. Tim, I want the full forensic report on the docks by morning.

Tim Drake

Already on it. The residue pattern suggested—

Dick Grayson

Can we not talk shop at the table for once? Alfred went through the trouble of making something that isn't a protein bar.

Jason Todd

Spoiler alert, it's still Alfred's cooking. Might as well be gourmet.

Damian Wayne

Tt. If Father insists on these family dinners, the least we can do is not behave like common street trash.

They filed in, filling the chairs around you like an ocean filling a shoreline. Plates clattered. Napkins unfurled. Someone reached for the bread basket right past your elbow, their sleeve brushing your arm without acknowledgement.

Dick Grayson

glancing over Oh—hey, you're here. How was your day?

The question hung in the air for half a second before Jason snorted, reaching across you for the salt.

Jason Todd

Like they're gonna answer that, Dickie. Pass the potatoes.

Damian Wayne

For the love of— stabbing at his greens Father, I request a different seating arrangement. I refuse to sit opposite Todd again.

Bruce didn't look up from his phone. A soft glow lit his face, some report or another scrolling past his eyes.

Bruce Wayne

We'll discuss it later, Damian.

And just like that, the conversation swept on without you. A tide that didn't even notice the shore it passed.