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Bruce is a calm man, Bruce is a very very calm man. Bruce has faced villains of mass destruction and all the way down the evil-doer pyramid to a petty thief. And he remained or pretended to remain more or less calm.
“Mr. Wayne this is Gotham Academy calling to let you know your son Damian threw up during lunch today, we recommend you pick him up within the next hour and bring a change of clothes”
Bruce is admittedly less calm than he was 5 minutes ago but he is still calm. He stands up from his desk and walks to the private elevator in the corner of his office and goes up to the private penthouse on the top floor. The air is stale and cold from disuse and a not-unpleasant faded aroma of Alfred’s cleaning products fills his nose. He strides over to one of the guest bedrooms with the urgency of someone whose son (no matter how heavily assassin-trained) has a tummy ache, and a tummy ache with Damian will no doubt lead to a pitiful tantrum. He pulls open the dresser drawers (which should be organized sooner or later to avoid either a heart attack or a physical attack from Alfred )and finds the smallest size of the emergency clothes.
Now having exited the building and armed with a fresh change of clothes and a mild sense of worry he hops into his flashy red car and tries not to make a scene.
He pulls into a parking spot and is mostly between the lines which is good enough for him, and walks up the stairs and into the front office
“Hello Bruce good to see you which one are you here for today”
“Sara lovely to see you as well I'll only be taking Damian I heard he's not feeling well” Bruce says with a frown the sound of retching meets his ears and without thinking he runs down the hallway to find his youngest in a chair covered in sick vomiting into a bucket
“Okay honey you’re okay” Bruce soothes until his attention is pulled away by a short woman with cold eyes and auburn hair her age was poorly covered by cheek fillers and botox not achievable on a salary of any other school in the area.
“Awww this is the third time so far I hope you have a change of clothes for him I wish he didn't have to sit in such a mess… oh i’m Miss Sanders by the way the school nurse” she says while handing him a wet wipe.
“That alright Miss im Bruce I've got a few kiddos in the district so you might see me a few times… is there a bathroom I can help him get changed in” Bruce converses as he takes the wipe and gently grabs his child and unconsciously rubs a thumb along his jaw and wipes the leftover sick from his mouth- Damian's eyes are glazed over and are intently staring a hole in the wall after his three bouts of getting his world rocked.
He hauls Damian up and guides him into the private bathroom where he pulls his arms out of his soiled uniform jacket and tosses it aside he tries to get through to his youngest as he starts to unbutton his shirt
“Dami are you with me”- he is met with eye contact and a moan- years ago when he first had Dick he would have gotten the Bat-copter and airlifted his precious cargo to the nearest hospital. But as a seasoned parent- he is swelling with pride.
“Good! hi honey I am going to get you home as soon as possible how does that sound?” he musters a reassuring smile as he peels off the sweat-soaked shirt.
“F’ther mh naus mm” The calm scale decreases significantly at his sons verbal incompetence but nevertheless he keeps his fleeting composure.
“Ok I'm sorry just close your eyes and breathe through your nose” He instructs as he pulls the loose t-shirt over the whining boy's head and directs his arms into the holes packs up the previous clothes in a bag and pulls Damian into his arms
“Thank you for everything Ms. Sanders, I'll be taking this one home now”
“Alright Mr. Wayne Just sign him out and get him in a bed it's a shame this stomach virus has been going around I've seen a lot of other 5th graders this week”
Bruce signs the necessary paperwork and walks as smoothly as possible to the exit and oh my lord can the press leave him alone just this once.
“Mr Wayne, what do you have to say about your parking job?” “Mr Wayne, is it true you paid off the police to not suspend your license?” “Mr. Wayne, is it true you bought the DMV so you didn't have to take your driving test?” “Mr. Wayne do you think the loss of your parents impacted your terrible driving skills?” (Bruce drives fine thank you very much) Now properly offended and tasked with getting his sick child home he lays his child down into the back seat and places his jacket under his son's head as intrusive cameras flash behind him. He shuts the door and very maturely flips them off gets into the driver's seat and goes as close to the school zone speed limit as he can without losing his mind.
He pulls up to the roundabout driveway the clacking of cobblestone leads him to the front door where Alfred stands ever vigilant he runs his whining bundle into the entrance and is met with a thermometer being placed in his hands. The second the metal tip hits Damian's mouth it is rejected Bruce shoves a hand under his mouth and catches the falling sick as he rushes to the nearest bathroom- parenthood is gross he decides as he washes the gunk off his hands. Parenthood is amazing he decides as his frowny green-eyed wonder raises his arms towards him.
“Baba?”
“Ohh honey I’m here” He pulls the overheating child into his lap and runs his hand through his hair
“Alright master Damian why don't we try this again” The old butler slips the metal tip back into his mouth and Bruce rubs a slow hand down his back. shortly after he starts whimpering the thermometer beeps
“My my master Damian 103o when did you start feeling poorly”
“Feel sick” Another moan
“Well said dear boy”
“Alright Alfred let me get him upstairs” he stands up and walks up the stairs and down the hallway when a door creaks open
“B? What's happening? why is the brat home?”
“He is a little sick don't worry about it, Jay” The uneasy look in his eyes takes Bruce back to a time with a similar-looking boy in his arms facing a similar illness but this one was terrified of throwing up. Bruce would be up all night consoling a panicked sobbing child on both sides, anything but calm.
“Don't come near me until you and the demon are done spreading your plagues” Jason spits with all the angst of a young adult whose unfortunate fate has left him confined to the manor during the daytime while he heals enough to feel comfortable returning to society.
“Okay Jaylad” Bruce appeases while striding toward his room he kicks one of the chestnut double doors open and lays Damian down on the preferably avoided “Sick couch”
The sick couch is a dark brown worn-out leather couch in the master bedroom that faces a stone fireplace and TV it is not Bruce's bed so you don't get tangled in blankets yet it is close enough to bruces bed where he can get to you quickly and accessibly (Like Bruce would ever sleep in bed when his babies are sick)
Bruce grabs a fluffy blanket and covers the shivering boy then the small metal trashcan from the master bathroom and a wet towel then he sits down next to Damian's head and runs the wet rag across his face. Later- Alfred comes in with hot chicken broth and Tylenol hidden in applesauce the boy eats part of the soup puts the spoon down and glares at the applesauce.
“Dami-” Bruce warns
“Father where are the chewable”
“I don't know Dami” He picks up the spoon with a scoop full of surreptitious applesauce- Damian is having none of it, and Neither is Bruce He shoves the spoon in his mouth
Parenthood is gross he decides as he wipes spit-out applesauce from his face
“Master Damian remind me of your age since your behavior is challenging what I previously believed” Alfred is amazing Bruce decides as he successfully medicates the stubborn 11-year-old. Now with all aches relieved Damian curls up towards the man he a few minutes ago spit applesauce at. But who was Bruce to reject his child, not when he was so abnormally cuddly he drops a kiss to Damian's fevered hair and admires his youthful features while he still has the chance without thought he rubs a finger up and down the bridge of his tiny nose and across his red cheek.
The next morning he wakes with a crick in his neck to cheerful laughter only achievable by his eldest
“Hi Dicky”
“Bruce Wayne fails to deny allegations of fake driver's license” A bright square light is obnoxiously shone in his face confirming the existence of a recent article complemented by a picture of him flipping off the press next to a crookedly parked car
“Grayson?”
“The one and only hi Dames heard you were sick” Bruce massages his sore neck as he watches his youngest and oldest interact. He grabs the thermometer from the side table and sticks it in Damian's mouth and as Dick tells an animated story the thermometer beeps
“99.1 sounds like were on the mend buddy”
“How high did it get” The concern in his eyes is prominent and he lets out a sympathetic hum when Bruce alerts him of the fevers peak.
“Oh Dami I’m so sorry you must have felt awful” he pulls the little head in and drops an emphasized kiss to his temple.
“Im fine you fool” Damian swats his rother away, sensing a fight Bruce changes the subject
“Dicky would you do me a favor and check on Jason I just want to make sure hes not worrying himself too much”
“Of course B”
“Thank you, darling” Bruce smiles as his son strides out of the room now alone he turns his attention to Damian who is drifting in and out of sleep Bruce cradles the child in his arms and carries him to a proper bed. He lays the sleepy boy down on top of him as a comforting weight and falls asleep. Bruce is a calm man.