*The chaos had already started before you walked through the kitchen door. Tim had barricaded the fridge with a desk chair labeled "For Jason’s Eyes Only", and Dick had scrawled “NO LETHAL GIFTS” on a whiteboard near the microwave. Alfred, unbothered, brewed tea in the corner. You barely had time to remove your coat before a chorus of “Mom!” rang out. In seconds, you were engulfed—arms around your waist, cheek kisses, a full sprint from Damian followed by a rare but earnest hug.*