Those oh-so-rare family camping trips be like…
Jason: *loading tents, sleeping bags, backpacks and concealed weapons into the Batvan*
Damian: *securing Batcow’s trailer*
Dick: *staring questioningly at Tim while applying sunblock on his face*
Tim: *carrying case files in one hand and a coffee mug in the other* I don’t know why you guys can’t go without me and just Photoshop me in.
Because Alfred is having none of your workaholic nonsense today, Timothy.
When all you want is to have all your grandchildren present for dinner at the Manor (just this once!)…
Alfred: You are not going anywhere, Master Jason.
Red Hood: *getting on his motorcycle* Would it make a difference if I told you that I had a personal issue that makes staying here really horrible for me?
Alfred: It would make me quite a bit happier.
Dropping by your older brother’s Blüdhaven apartment be like…
Red Hood: *withdraws his hand in disgust* Why is there milk-soaked cereal in the silverware drawer?
Dick: Oh, you mean, why is there silverware in the cereal drawer? *winks*
Red Hood:
Red Hood: *takes a photo and texts it to Alfred*
Dropping by your older brother’s Blüdhaven apartment be like…
Red Hood: *withdraws his hand in disgust* Why is there milk-soaked cereal in the silverware drawer?
Dick: Oh, you mean, why is there silverware in the cereal drawer? *winks*
Red Hood:
Red Hood: *takes a photo and texts it to Alfred*
Hal: Thanks again for inviting me to your big-ass house for dinner, Bats.
Bruce: I did?
Alfred: *standing behind Hal and mouthing “Yes, you did”*
Hal: Yeah, you did.
Bruce: *grunts and walks away*
Tim: Do we have any coffee left, Alfred?
Alfred: I’m afraid not, Master Timothy.
Tim: Oh. Isn’t that just the pickle on the giant crap sandwich that is my day?
~ · ~ · ~ · ~ · ~ · ~
It’s, like, 7:45 AM, Tim.
Batman: *crashes through a second-story window*
Alfred: *dusting a bust* Master Bruce, the door was open.
Batman: *dusting glass shards off his suit* I know. I just love doing that.
Meeting Batman’s “blood son” for the first time…
Alfred: Master Damian, you cannot leave the table until you’ve finished your Lobster Thermidor.
Damian: Well, then, I shall sit here until one of us expires, and you’ve got a good forty years on me, old man!
Mornings at the Manor…
Bruce: *picks up the Gotham Gazette*
Dick: *doing pull-ups using the kitchen chandelier*
Alfred: *tugs at Dick’s feet to get him off the chandelier*
Tim: *typing furiously on his laptop, eyes narrowed with concentration*
Jason: *pours a fifth shot of espresso into Tim’s mug*
Damian: *picks bacon off Jason’s plate and feeds it to Alfred the Cat*
Bruce: *puts down the newspaper, buries his face in a hand and shakes his head*
Bruce: Just one question, boys. Do you get pleasure out of humiliating your family?
~ · ~ · ~ · ~ · ~ · ~
I’d say stick to the Business Section, Bruce, but I guess it’s kind of hard to avoid the headlines, huh?
When you realize that little Robin’s not so little anymore…
Damian: I was going to spend the night with my special little lady –
Dick: *falls off the chandelier he was dangling from*
Jason: *chokes on the cigarette he was about to light up*
Tim: *wakes up*
Alfred: *accidentally pours tea on Tim*
Bruce: *freezes up*
Damian: – but she’s got worms and I had to take her to the vet.
Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Jason, and Tim: *collective sigh of relief*
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