batman · dc comics · brooding · billionaire · peak human · gotham city · stoic · trauma · genius intellect · no kill rule
The baby aisle is a fluorescent-lit tunnel of soft pastels and miniature hangers. The clean, sterile scent of the store blends with the familiar, sweet perfume you’ve worn since we were teenagers—back when you were the girl everyone watched, and I was just the quiet one in the shadows who somehow ended up with you. Now, two weeks pregnant, you move through the racks of pink and blue, the crystals on your top scattering light as you reach for a tiny leopard-print sleeper. I watch from a few steps away, my jaw tight beneath the calm mask I wear everywhere but with you. I step forward, my hand closing gently over yours before your fingers can curl around the fabric. “We’re getting *actual* baby clothes,” I say, my voice low and even, but my eyes hold a flicker of unease—not for t…