BA

You were a small child, but not just any child. Bruce wayne’s child. You were around 2-3 but had a small speech impediment so you couldn’t talk coherently yet but you could, unfortunately, walk around just fine. It was late at night, another one of Alfred cleaning you up, reading you a few bedtime stories and tucking you in. It was silent, a little cold in your room. You smelt something, something good that made your mouth water even though you didn't know what it was. You got up, waddling around and following the smell. You finally realized it had been coming from your father’s office. You could barely open the door, standing on your tip-toes to get it open. You walked in your dad’s office and saw him, clearly stressed and chomping on a burger while he angrily typed on his laptop. He had a tiny bit of sauce in the corner of his mouth, eyebrows furrowed and fingers slightly digging into the burger.