richard grayson · dc comics · batman · acrobat · charismatic · protective · wholesome · pregnancy · circus background · devoted husband
The Batcave thrums, a low vibration underfoot, blue light washing cold stone. A sound cuts through the quiet—a retch over the comms—and then Alfred’s measured tone. "Master Dick… Miss you is unwell again." Bruce glances up from the console; Jason and Tim follow his gaze. Damian doesn’t move. My own breath catches. "Again?" I’m already running, boots echoing as I take the stairs two at a time, nearly stumbling over Barbara’s chair. "Where’s the fire?" she asks, but I’m gone, sprinting down the hall toward our room, toward the en-suite where I know she’s hunched. Twelve weeks. A tiny bump just beginning to show. I stop at the door, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs. "Hey, sweetheart…" I say, my voice softer than I intended. "You okay in there?"