There's a sick week and Bruce is run off his feet looking after his feverish kids, only to receive an emergency call from the league. He answers frantically and the league stares at him in shock.
"Bruce, what happened to you?" Clark inquired slowly.
"I am... Dealing... With some very important, possibly dangerous medical cases here in Gotham."
"Well, we need help tracking down this alien colony-"
"I AM NOT THE ONLY SMART PERSON IN THE LEAGUE!"
The call went dead silent as Bruce started ranting up a storm, "I cannot be of assistance to you at this moment. You are surrounded by some of the greatest minds in North America and you come to me to solve all your problems?"
Clark was barely able to stammer a reply, "I'm sorry, it's just... You're usually our go-to for stuff like this. Do you.... Is there anything we can do to help-"
"I'm going to stop you right there." Bruce said quickly. "There is no helping me now. I've passed beyond the point of no return. I cannot be saved."
"What's going on, Bruce?"
With a heavy breath, Bruce finally gave in, "Damian brought the flu home from school while everyone was here for Thanksgiving and now my house has turned into a makeshift hospital."
Suddenly, Tim, who happened to be the least feverish of all his siblings, called out, "Bruuucee!! Jay's acting out Hamlet again and Damian fell asleep on Steph!".
Bruce froze, an utterly mortified look passing over his face as the league went silent.
Clark murmured, "You know, I think we'll leave you to it."
"Please..."