anonymous prompted: The different ways in which Cass comforts/cheers up the rest of the Batfam when they are injured, sad, or sick.
I'm getting all domestic and fluffy this week! And for anyone worried Cass isn't getting coddled enough in this story, just wait ; ) I've got more prompts on the way!
Batman and related properties © DC Comics
story © RenaRoo
Unconditional
Family can be difficult, that's something Cass understands right down to her soul.
They're all individuals, so completely different from each other in so many different ways. They have different wants and needs. But at the core, Cass finds they all have the same basic desire deep down. That singular want and need.
She sees it so clearly. And, in the best ways she can, she tries to provide it to them in her own special way.
Stephanie sneezes and it sounds as if the house is about to come down. Cass looks slightly to the apartment ceiling to make sure that isn't actually the case before the microwave chimes.
Smoothly transitioning the food from the microwave to the tray, Cass turns - her creamy tomato soup in the sippable Soup on the Go cup - and makes her way over to the couch.
Cocooned in be comforter until only her face is visible, Stephanie looks tiredly at Cass. Her nose is bright red and there's a mountain of tissues Cass kicks out of the way to serve her.
Cass puts the tray on the end table nearest Steph and then curls back into her position on Steph's side. She trusts herself to not get sick even as her best friend buries her face against Cass' neck.
They continue streaming Sailor Moon by Steph's demand, even though Stephanie has yet to stay awake for an entire episode.
It's alright, Cass is learning a lot on her own. She might even finish the series on her own time.
Dick is something of a marvel when he is sick.
Cass has heard Alfred and Bruce discuss as much downstairs out of the young man's earshot - that he may work himself into a fever from taking on too much too fast - and Cass tends to agree.
Especially when she comes to check on her bed ridden brother and finds him dizzily sitting up at the end of his bed, trying desperately to figure out what's wrong with the shoes he's put on the opposite feet.
Really, there's only one solution.
Without any word or warning, Cass comes into the room, slithers up beside her oldest brother, and snakes her arms around him.
Dick makes a soft grunt, tries to warn her about "contagious diseases of dying", but is surprisingly limp and weak as she drags him backward onto his bed.
He lets out a soft sigh but just throws his arm over his eyes and mumbles incoherently as Cass gently takes off his shoes and bathrobe and jeans (though she momentarily entertains the thought of just what Dick thought he was going to be doing dressed this way).
She cover him with his sheets and blankets before curling around him like an octopus that has captured its prey, digging her face into his shoulder blade.
"Sleep," she demands as he weakly wiggles before giving up with a sigh.
And so he does.
Damian releases the most incredulous noises when he's laid up with a cast on his leg. It's everyone but his own's fault that his ploy to stop Bane involved ramming the flying Batmobile into the Rogue.
And he's none too pleased that Cass is signing with the largest signature possible, completely filled with pride after how much she practiced writing this signature in the library.
"Your 'd' is backward," Damian growls petulantly.
"Mm," Cass says, swallowing down her own frustrated pout as she assesses the signature. "It's my special 'd.'" She looks at her brother before turning on the bed to face him entirely.
Damian raises a suspicious brow.
"It's just you and me," she explains. "And I know what would be fun. Today."
He doesn't have much time to protest before Cass is pulling out her book bag - it's a special one that she made Tim buy for her, with the Bat symbol and lots of hero keychains attached to the zippers - and she uses it to store the most precious things.
Like Sherlock Holmes.
She turns to the exact page of where she and Tim left off before sliding over to the head of the bed with Damian. She hands him the book and lays back.
He gives her a foul look.
"So we're not bored," she says with a sneaky grin.
He complains, but Damian begins to read and Cass happily lays back and lets the mystery unfold.
"Barbara."
The look Babs throws her could make milk curdle, but Cass does not at all back down. She merely crosses her arms and stands more forcefully between her adoptive mother and the door.
"Don't think I can't take you down when I need to, Miss-I-Beat-Shiva," Barbara warns haughtily before moving forward.
Cass grabs Babs' waist and sits heavily on the floor, squeezing her mother's midsection with a tight hug as she does so. She takes a steadying breath until Barbara finally stops.
"You have a, uh, concussion," Cass reminds her, purposefully looking up to Babs when she knows her pout is the best. "I'm scared. I'm worried."
Barbara stops and looks to Cass softly.
"I love you," Cass adds. "Just tonight… don't work? Rest? Please?"
With a sigh, Barbara gently runs her fingers through Cass' short hair. "Alright," she says. "But if I can do anything from the bed…"
Cass doesn't refute, but she does squeeze a tad harder.
Jason looks completely affronted as Cass flings open the cabinet doors.
He has to be difficult - Stephanie would eat the soup from the microwave, but no. Not her brother. She loves him, but he's being a pain with the flu.
No wonder Dick looked relieved when Cass offered to check on Jason in his stead.
"Have you even used a stove before?" he asks from the kitchen table where he's laying his sweating head flatly on the surface. It's almost astounding how someone can look so angry while also so miserable. He shivers. "This sucks," he moans, sliding his eyes closed.
Cass has used a stove plenty of times. She's just not certain why everything has to be so particular with Jason in the kitchen. It's not as if she's Alfred.
She stops, turns and looks at the saddened expression on her brother's face, his eyes closed and body trembling.
Very quietly, to the point Jason doesn't hear her, Cass places a phone call.
Coming up behind Jason, she hooks her arms beneath his and half leads, half carries him to his dingy living room. He doesn't protest much as she lays him on the couch and covers him up.
She sits and waits with him as Alfred makes his way over.
Tim's resilience in the face of of pneumonia is something to behold.
She's not actually surprised when she rolls in from patrol and peeks into Tim's bedroom. Cass only peeks because she knows her brother enough to guess he's not taking care of himself. And that is sad.
He's at his computer - how he managed to get all the pieces back after Dick dismantled it is beyond her - and has his chin on the desk as he clicks through reports.
There's the notion that Tim's only at the computer because the rest of his room has become an absolute danger zone in his illness, and that statement becomes even more true the longer he has to deal with this infection.
Tim's wet cough is enough to make Cass' hair stand on end.
"No no no," Cass says as she pushes into the room and immediately captures Tim in a forceful hug before he can get away. Not a difficult feat considering his snail's pace.
He argues, but Cass doesn't listen as she hauls him into her arms and takes him to the bed,
The nigh stand is covered in antibiotics that he should be taking, and Cass is sure Alfred will be by shortly to give him the correct ones, but until then, she tucksTim into his bed and then settles in beside him, using her body as a blockade.
"Love you, Little Brother," she says with a gentle sigh, ignoring the weak and useless kicks Tim is throwing to get loose until he limply gives up and almost immediately begins snoring.
Bruce is tired, but that doesn't make it any less apparent that he's checking the clock the entire time Cass is getting the room ready.
He can check it all he wants, Cass isn't letting him go anywhere.
She'd like to see him try to get past her with his ribs practically protesting existence at this point - something she's certain Damian and Dick will make Killer Croc pay for tonight. She certainly would had she not had more important things to attend to.
Things like her father.
The movie begins playing on their theater screen and Cass makes her way over to the lounge where she contorts herself to both fit into his side and not disturb his aching ribcage.
It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World begins to play and Bruce lets out a soft laugh.
"This movie is almost four hours long," he tells her.
Cass laughs and nestles her head under his arm. "Lot of time to make up for," she reminds him. "Take a lifetime to catch up to Tim and Dick. They watch movies all the time."
Bruce hums, but he's no longer looking at the clock.
It's not being coddled when it's family. Cass is sure of that, even when all her efforts are turned back on her. She won't ever be angry enough to call it coddling.
Because as her soup is made, her pillows fluffed, her face littered with unsolicited kisses, she's only able to think that maybe next time they won't struggle as much against her, too.
Because no matter how different they all are, Cass can read her loved ones very clearly. And everyone just needs from time to time to be reminded how much she loves them, how much she'll do anything for them.
And, just maybe, as she sickly watches Casablanca with her father or has Sherlock Holmes recited to her, it's nice to have that reminder in return.