Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Mission: Socialization
Wayne Manor had survived Joker invasions, demon cults, and a very unfortunate incident involving Batcow and a chandelier.
But this? This was madness.
Dick had gathered the entire Batclan with an urgent announcement. Everyone had expected it to be about a new villain in town, or at least a rogue Batcow on the loose again. Instead, they were staring at a bowl full of sticky notes like it was some kind of cursed artifact.
“We’ve tried the obvious fixes,” Tim said, adjusting his glasses. “Therapy was a bust. Vacation was a disaster. The last time we tried a date, we got another sibling out of it.”
“Which is why we’re not doing that again. This isn’t matchmaking.” Dick Grayson said, planting a whiteboard in the middle of the living room like a war general laying out a campaign.
“Thank god,” Duke muttered.
Dick cleared his throat and lifted the bowl. “This time, we try something different. Social reintegration. Human connection. In other words—he needs friends.”
“He has us,” Damian said, not looking up from where he was sharpening a batarang. “That is more than sufficient.”
“You stabbed a training dummy this morning because he didn’t say ‘good morning’ back.”
“It was rude.”
“Case in point.”
Jason groaned from the couch. “Look, I’m not against the whole ‘get B a social life’ thing, but can we at least pretend this isn’t an intervention?”
“It is an intervention,” Tim said without looking up from his tablet. “We’ve already tried luring him to therapy. This is the next best thing.”
Cass signed something quickly, eyes amused.
“She says Bruce’s people skills are tragic,” Dick translated with a grin. “Which is a gentle way of saying he actively terrifies everyone who isn’t a Gotham native.”
Stephanie raised a hand like she was in a classroom. “Question: are we doing this for Bruce’s emotional health or so we don’t have to be his only social circle forever?”
“Yes,” the entire room chorused.
“Great, just making sure we’re all honest here.”
Dick spun the whiteboard around to reveal the title:
OPERATION: MAKE BATMAN A FUNCTIONAL HUMAN BEING.
Below it were two columns: “Target JL Members” and “Tactics.”
“Alright,” he said, clapping his hands together. “We each draw a name from the bowl, then orchestrate a casual, organic meeting between Bruce and that Leaguer. No pressure, no matchmaking, just… friendly contact.”
“Lies,” Jason muttered. “This is absolutely matchmaking.”
“Not matchmaking,” Dick said, way too quickly. “No one’s dating anyone. This isn’t a shipping board.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Stephanie said under her breath.
“I’m serious! We draw names, we set up an outing—coffee, sparring match, whatever—and we send Bruce there without telling him it’s a setup.”
“Is that not emotional manipulation?” Damian asked flatly.
“Yes,” Cass signed, grinning.
“Absolutely,” Dick confirmed.
Everyone groaned. But not a single one of them left the room.
Because the truth was, Bruce Wayne—stoic, isolated, battle-worn Bruce—was getting worse.
And none of them could fix it by themselves.
So they tried together.
Damian crossed his arms. “Father doesn’t need ‘friends.’ He needs discipline. And more sleep.”
“Maybe if he had friends, he’d sleep better,” Stephanie said brightly. “You know. Instead of brooding on rooftops all night like a depressed raccoon.”
So, the rules were simple: each person would draw the name of a Justice League member from the bowl and try to orchestrate a “non-threatening, emotionally constructive interaction” between them and Batman. No ambushes, no date setups, no weird side quests. Just… friendship.
Cass gave a thumbs-up.
Dick handed her the bowl first. She drew a name, peeked at it, then nodded with unreadable calm.
Tim followed. He raised an eyebrow at his slip of paper, then gave a small shrug. “Doable.”
“Mine better not be Green Lantern,” Jason grumbled, reaching in. “I am not dragging Bruce to space Costco or whatever Hal does for fun.”
Damian picked his with all the grim ceremony of a ninja pulling a death scroll.
Stephanie glanced at hers and started giggling. “Oh this is gonna be fun.”
Dick went last. He looked at the name. He closed his eyes.
“Who’d you get?” Tim asked.
“…Hal Jordan”
Jason immediately burst out laughing. “Guess you’re going to need a bigger clipboard.”
Dick dropped his head onto the whiteboard with a groan. “Why did I think this was a good idea?”
“Because deep down,” Steph said, patting his back, “you believe Bruce can be normal.”
“I really don’t.”
“But it’s cute that you try.”
As the others continued bickering about which Justice Leaguers were least likely to flee from Bruce in conversation, Cass quietly walked out of the room.
Down the hall, past the library, to the study where Bruce sat with a stack of case files and a half-drunk cup of black coffee.
She stood in the doorway until he noticed her.
“Cass?” he asked, glancing up. “Is something wrong?”
She shook her head, then signed slowly:
Big mission. Family thing. You’ll see.
Bruce raised a brow, but didn’t press.
He never did with her.
Socializing the Bat (Step 1: Kryptonian Proximity)
♡︎ Tim's POV ♡︎
This was, objectively, a terrible idea.
And that was coming from someone who once hacked into the Pentagon on a dare and also had to explain to Bruce why there were now two Batmobiles welded together with a flamethrower engine.
But this? This was worse.
“Are you absolutely sure this is going to work?” Red Robin asked over comms, watching from the rooftop across the Metropolis skyline.
“Absolutely not,” came Nightwing’s cheerful voice. “But you pulled Superman. He’s the safest bet. It’s not like Batman’s going to growl at him.”
Tim stared through binoculars as Superman floated a few inches off the ground in front of the rooftop café they’d “coincidentally” rented out for this meeting.
“I don’t even know if they’ve talked before,” he muttered.
“Then this’ll be great,” Steph chirped in. “They can start with the weather! Oh wait, he hates small talk. Okay, uh… crime stats? Do vigilantes do that as an icebreaker?”
There was a long pause.
Cass just sent an emoji in the group chat: a skull.
Tim sighed.
He looked to the shadows beside him, where Batman was perched in his usual dramatic gargoyle crouch, cape fluttering even though there was no wind.
“I don’t see why this is necessary,” Batman said, voice gravel over gravel. “This is not a good use of my time.”
“You promised,” Tim reminded him. “One meeting. That’s all.”
“I said I would observe. That doesn’t mean engage.”
“Bruce.”
“…Fine.”
Tim toggled the signal. Across the street, Superman waved politely and landed fully. The rooftop was empty except for a tiny table with tea, coffee, and what Alfred had aggressively insisted were “non-threatening pastries.”
Batman moved.
The shadows shifted like they knew better than to disobey him. One moment he was beside Tim, the next he was across the rooftop behind Superman with no footsteps in between.
Superman didn’t flinch.
That was something.
“Batman,” Superman greeted, genuinely pleased. “Glad you could make it.”
“Superman.”
They stared at each other.
Long silence.
Tim swore the wind paused out of respect.
Superman gestured to the table. “Would you like to sit?”
“I prefer to stand.”
Another pause.
“Alright,” Superman said, still smiling. “That’s cool. I’ll stand too.”
Tim watched from his hidden vantage point, chewing a protein bar out of stress alone.
There was a beat.
Then, to Tim’s surprise, Superman actually tried.
“I’ve read a few of your case reports,” he said casually. “GCPD’s messier than I expected. How do you manage?”
“With contingency,” Batman said. “And overtime.”
Superman laughed. Not in a mocking way — more like someone genuinely impressed.
“That’s fair,” he said. “We don’t really do contingency plans in Metropolis. Half the time I’m just hoping Lex doesn’t invent a sun gun again.”
Batman actually… tilted his head.
“Sun gun?”
“Don’t ask. It was a Tuesday.”
They stood in silence for a few more beats, but it wasn’t tense now.
It was… tolerable.
Tim blinked.
Was it working?
Then Superman leaned in slightly, expression hopeful.
“You know, we should do this more often.”
Tim fist-pumped from the shadows.
Batman blinked. “...Do what?”
“Meet. Talk. Maybe coordinate. A lot of the others have been curious about you. I could… introduce you sometime.”
Batman paused. Then said, in a tone that was almost confused:
“You’re inviting me to a team.”
Superman smiled. “Not yet. Just… to a hangout. Casual. Friendly.”
Tim’s blood turned to ice.
Oh no.
He thinks it’s a date.
Back in the comms, Jason started howling with laughter.
“Is this going to be a thing?” he wheezed. “Because I will sell tickets.”
“He doesn’t know who I am,” Batman said flatly.
“Even better,” Jason replied. “It’s mysterious. Adds tension.”
Red Robin muted himself before he could scream.
Meanwhile, Batman remained still.
“I don’t… do casual,” he said bluntly.
“You’re doing it right now,” Superman said.
Batman glanced at the coffee. Then at the non-threatening pastry. Then back at Superman.
"...Hn."
And with that grunted syllable, he sat down.
Tim nearly fell off the roof.
“I think I just witnessed history,” he whispered.
Back in the comms, Steph shrieked. “We’re doing it! One emotionally constipated bat at a time!”
Cass sent another skull emoji.
Then a heart.
To be Continued...