robin-wing-man

[robin-wing-man]

Dick’s brows lifted, slow and amused, like she’d just challenged him to a duel he was absolutely going to win.

“Oh, please wear them,” he shot back, leaning a little too casually against the counter. “It’ll be the highlight of my week. Actually, month. No, year.”

He reached out to pluck the spray bottle right from her hand, the corner of his mouth curving upward in that dangerously playful way he knew drove her nuts.

“Also, for the record…” He dipped his head slightly, dropping his voice as if Sebastian wasn’t right there, though the little guy was too busy gnawing on the ear of his stuffed giraffe to notice. “…I wasn’t just staring.”

Sebastian let out a delighted squeal, completely oblivious to the subtext, kicking his tiny feet against Dick’s thigh from where he sat perched on his hip.

Dick grinned at the sound, bouncing the baby slightly. “See? Even he thinks you should wear them.”

«Hi darling »

( @babsggordon )

Dick tilted his head toward the voice, grinning lazily. “Say it like that again and I’m gonna think you missed me.”

He didn’t need to see her to know she was rolling her eyes. That was fine, he wasn’t done.

“Also, if you're gonna call me darling, I’m gonna start calling you trouble. Fair trade.”

Sebastian’s little fists smacked softly against Dick’s chest as he climbed up, all babble and determination.

“Whoa there-- hang on, soldier,” Dick said, shifting with a wince. “The ribcage is a no-fly zone, remember?”

The toddler flopped against him anyway, curling into his good side like he owned it. Which, as far as Dick was concerned, he kind of did.

“You’re relentless, y’know that?” he said to Sebastian, brushing a few curls off the boy’s forehead. “You and your mom both. Just marched into my life like you had a key.”

Sebastian blew a raspberry, clearly very proud of himself.

“Exactly. No warning. No chance to run. Not that I would’ve.” He lowered his voice a bit, glancing toward the hall. “Not when she says darling like that.”

Sebastian stuck his thumb in his mouth and started blinking slow, sleepy blinks. Dick watched him, quiet for a second.

“You’re lucky, kid,” he whispered. “She’s got a good heart. But don’t tell her I said that. I’ve got a reputation.”

“Hey, Trouble? You keep walking around in those shorts, and I swear my elbow’s gonna heal real slow. Just saying.”

Sebastian giggled, like he was in on the joke.

Dick smiled.

“See? Even he agrees.”

[robin-wing-man]

Dick’s gaze dipped, unapologetically, before it slid back up to meet hers with that infuriatingly charming smirk of his.

“Mm, yeah… warm,” he drawled, leaning one shoulder against the doorway like he had all the time in the world to stand there and look at her. “But I think we both know that’s not why you’re wearing those.”

He let the pause hang just long enough to make it dangerous, his eyes lingering on her legs again before he pushed off the doorframe and stepped closer, the easy swagger in his movements impossible to miss.

“You could’ve been in sweats and I’d still notice,” he murmured, voice low, teasing in a way that made it hard to tell if he was joking or just enjoying her reaction. “But those shorts? Yeah… you’re making it very hard for me to keep my thoughts polite, Babs.”

He reached past her, under the guise of grabbing something from the box, close enough that his arm brushed hers, and when he straightened, he flashed her that boyish, trouble-making grin.

“Guess you’ll just have to live with that.”

«Hi darling »

( @babsggordon )

Dick tilted his head toward the voice, grinning lazily. “Say it like that again and I’m gonna think you missed me.”

He didn’t need to see her to know she was rolling her eyes. That was fine, he wasn’t done.

“Also, if you're gonna call me darling, I’m gonna start calling you trouble. Fair trade.”

Sebastian’s little fists smacked softly against Dick’s chest as he climbed up, all babble and determination.

“Whoa there-- hang on, soldier,” Dick said, shifting with a wince. “The ribcage is a no-fly zone, remember?”

The toddler flopped against him anyway, curling into his good side like he owned it. Which, as far as Dick was concerned, he kind of did.

“You’re relentless, y’know that?” he said to Sebastian, brushing a few curls off the boy’s forehead. “You and your mom both. Just marched into my life like you had a key.”

Sebastian blew a raspberry, clearly very proud of himself.

“Exactly. No warning. No chance to run. Not that I would’ve.” He lowered his voice a bit, glancing toward the hall. “Not when she says darling like that.”

Sebastian stuck his thumb in his mouth and started blinking slow, sleepy blinks. Dick watched him, quiet for a second.

“You’re lucky, kid,” he whispered. “She’s got a good heart. But don’t tell her I said that. I’ve got a reputation.”

“Hey, Trouble? You keep walking around in those shorts, and I swear my elbow’s gonna heal real slow. Just saying.”

Sebastian giggled, like he was in on the joke.

Dick smiled.

“See? Even he agrees.”

[robin-wing-man]

«Hi darling »

( @babsggordon )

Dick tilted his head toward the voice, grinning lazily. “Say it like that again and I’m gonna think you missed me.”

He didn’t need to see her to know she was rolling her eyes. That was fine, he wasn’t done.

“Also, if you're gonna call me darling, I’m gonna start calling you trouble. Fair trade.”

Sebastian’s little fists smacked softly against Dick’s chest as he climbed up, all babble and determination.

“Whoa there-- hang on, soldier,” Dick said, shifting with a wince. “The ribcage is a no-fly zone, remember?”

The toddler flopped against him anyway, curling into his good side like he owned it. Which, as far as Dick was concerned, he kind of did.

“You’re relentless, y’know that?” he said to Sebastian, brushing a few curls off the boy’s forehead. “You and your mom both. Just marched into my life like you had a key.”

Sebastian blew a raspberry, clearly very proud of himself.

“Exactly. No warning. No chance to run. Not that I would’ve.” He lowered his voice a bit, glancing toward the hall. “Not when she says darling like that.”

Sebastian stuck his thumb in his mouth and started blinking slow, sleepy blinks. Dick watched him, quiet for a second.

“You’re lucky, kid,” he whispered. “She’s got a good heart. But don’t tell her I said that. I’ve got a reputation.”

“Hey, Trouble? You keep walking around in those shorts, and I swear my elbow’s gonna heal real slow. Just saying.”

Sebastian giggled, like he was in on the joke.

Dick smiled.

“See? Even he agrees.”

[robin-wing-man]

Dick blinked once. Then again.

“…Seriously?”

He pushed himself upright slowly, resting his arms on the back of the couch and peering down at Hank, McCoy, with wide, unblinking eyes.

“All this time,” he said slowly, pointing at him like he’d just uncovered a government conspiracy. “You’ve let me call you McAvoy for months, plural, and now you correct me? After I offer you juice bar retirement and a neon pineapple-themed second life?”

He fell back onto the cushions with a dramatic groan, tossing a pillow over his face.

“You’re cruel. That’s what this is. This is emotional sabotage.”

The pillow was tossed aside just as quickly. His grin was playful now, eyes squinting down at Hank with exaggerated judgment.

“Also, two days? You’ve been down here for two days straight? What, you building a new exosuit or trying to rewire the Watchtower with a spoon and sheer willpower?”

He nudged Hank’s shoulder with his foot, lightly. “Come on, man. At least lie to me and say you’ve had coffee.”

Beat.

“…Wait. Have you eaten? Tell me you’ve eaten. I can’t carry you back up the stairs again, my ribs are still in witness protection.”

The couch made a pitiful noise as Dick flopped down onto it, one arm draped dramatically over his face like some kind of exhausted stage actor. His suit was halfway unzipped, and his boots had been kicked off with little ceremony near the door, one of them currently being used as a ramp by a remote-control Batmobile Sebastian had left on the floor earlier.

“I swear,” he groaned, not moving, “if one more guy with a shaved head and a vendetta tries to swing a lead pipe at me, I’m retiring to Coast City and opening a juice bar.”

He peeked at Hank from under his arm, a lopsided grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know, the kind with terrible EDM, neon pineapples, and absolutely no night patrols.”

Dick shifted upright, grabbing a water bottle from the coffee table and tossing another toward Hank. “You’re quieter than usual. That mean you’re tired, or just waiting for me to admit you were right about not trusting that informant?”

A pause.

“…Because I was totally right. I just didn’t want to say it out loud while you were bleeding.”

He leaned back again, this time more relaxed, eyes flicking up toward the ceiling fan as it hummed lazily above them.

“You ever think about taking a few days? Just… being off the clock? I mean, I won’t, we both know I don’t know how, but you could.”

There was no pressure behind the words. Just curiosity. And maybe a quiet offer folded into the question.

“You’ve been running hard, McAvoy. Even for you.”

-- @robin-wing-man

Hank looked up form his work, catching the water bottle like it was second nature.

“Well I mean, it’s not that hard. I’ve been down here for…” he trailed off, looking at the date. “Two days now.”

Hank shrugged, putting down his tools and walking over to dick, sitting down on the floor infront of the couch, his back pressed against it

“I’ve thought about taking a couple days off, but ya know. My team needs me, and I wouldn’t really just. Abandon them, i guess?”

Hank sighed, running a hand thru his slightly disheveled hair.

“Ands it’s McCoy, not McAvoy.”

Hank played with the cap of the unopened water bottle. He wasn’t really thirsty but he appreciated the thoughtful gesture form the young man.

[robin-wing-man]

Dick exhaled like he’d been holding that breath for years.

His arms tightened slightly around her, careful not to press too hard against his still-tender ribs, but unwilling to let the moment be anything less than real. He dipped his head just enough so his cheek rested gently against her temple, breathing her in. Her presence. Her warmth. The quiet heartbeat between them.

“I missed this,” he whispered, the words muffled into her hair. “I missed you.”

There was no bravado in his tone, no need to make her laugh or dodge the seriousness with charm. Just honesty. Raw and vulnerable in the hush of the kitchen, with soup cooling behind them and the rest of the world blissfully silent for once.

His hand skimmed along her back in a slow, grounding motion, thumb tracing the hem of her sleeve like he was anchoring himself to the moment. To her.

“I don’t want to go back to just pretending like I’m okay without you,” he said, voice quieter now, but unwavering. “So if this is something we’re allowed to have again… I’m in. Completely.”

He leaned back just enough to look at her, to see all the things she wasn’t saying and all the things she was.

“...And I definitely wouldn’t mind getting used to this either.”

The door opened with ease, pushed open by Barbara’s shoulder as she leaned into it—her hands too full to turn the knob. A small sigh of relief left her lips as she stepped inside. She was glad to finally be here, even if the day had been long.

“Go inside and wash your hands,” she instructed gently.

Her son walked in ahead of her, already tugging off his hoodie in that distracted way kids did when they had their minds on snacks or screen time. Barbara followed right behind him, carrying several shopping bags—some filled with groceries, others with spare tech parts and a few tools she’d been needing for weeks.

She set the bags down on the kitchen counter with a soft thump, rolling her shoulder a little to ease the weight she'd been carrying. Her eyes briefly scanned the living room. It was empty, but the space wasn’t quiet—it bore signs of recent activity. A blanket half-draped over the couch, a mug forgotten on the coffee table, a couple of books and papers scattered about.

“Dick?” she called out, her tone lightly curious.

She didn’t sound worried, just mildly puzzled. She expected him to be in plain sight. With a slight tilt of her head, she began walking down the hallway, passing by the bedrooms until she caught sight of him—tucked away near the cozy corner where he’d set up his little personal library.

“There you are,” she said, her smile blooming with familiarity. “Hi!”

Her voice carried something warm, something quietly affectionate, as if finding him there made the day settle just a little more gently on her shoulders.

( @babsggordon )

Dick heard the door open before he saw them, Barbara’s familiar voice floating through the hallway, warm and worn around the edges. It tugged at something in him. He was already rising from the window seat before she called his name.

His ribs protested the movement sharply, a hot tug beneath his skin that made him suck in a breath, but he didn’t pause. Not when he heard the soft thud of bags hitting the kitchen counter. Not when he heard Sebastian's little footsteps padding into the house.

By the time Barbara turned down the hallway, she wasn’t alone anymore.

There was a familiar shuffle, then the sound of socked feet stepping into view.

“Hey,” Dick said, smiling as he appeared, one hand braced against the doorframe. His eyes found her instantly, and everything in him eased, even the pain. “Need help unloading the city off your back?”

Before she could answer, Sebastian ran up, hoodie half-off and tangled around one arm.

Dick bent down and scooped him up in one clean motion, too fast, his body reminded him a second too late. A sharp breath hissed through his teeth as pain spiked up his side.

His face twitched.

But he didn’t let go. Not for a second.

“Easy there, Bat-Hawk Junior,” he murmured into Sebastian’s hair, the nickname earning a giggle. “You’re heavier than last week. Did someone sneak an extra apple at lunch?”

Dick turned to Barbara then, arms still full, eyes softening when they met hers.

“I missed you,” he said simply.

And then, without another word, he leaned in and kissed her. His lips met hers with that familiar, grounding warmth, tender, but certain, like muscle memory wrapped in affection. Like coming home.

When he pulled back, his smile was lopsided, one hand steadying Sebastian while the other brushed back a strand of hair from her face.

“You bring home soup?”

He already knew she had. He just wanted another reason to stay close.

[robin-wing-man]

Dick watched her as she turned off the stove, her words settling in the space between them like the steam that rose and disappeared from the pot. He could see the weariness behind her eyes, tucked just beneath the surface, something he recognized intimately. Not just physical tiredness, but the kind that lived in your bones. The kind that came from being on all the time, even when the world went quiet.

His mouth tugged into something like a smile, but closer to understanding than amusement.

"Calm makes me nervous too," he admitted after a beat, his voice low, steady. "Like the city’s holding its breath."

He straightened up just a little despite the dull ache that rippled down his side, ignoring the way his body immediately protested. It didn’t matter, not really, not when she was standing there trying to believe in peace, even just for tonight. He stepped closer, slow and careful, until he could lean one arm against the counter beside her and reach for the ladle with his free hand.

“But…” he added, a touch of mischief flickering in his tone, “if this is the city’s version of letting us breathe, I say we take the hint.”

He bumped her shoulder gently with his, his fingers brushing hers as he set down the ladle.

“I want this night, Babs. With you.”

His eyes met hers, arms around her, gentle, rested, steady despite the fatigue, despite the shadows still tucked behind them.

“Not because it’s easy. Not because things are fixed. Just because… we’re still here.”

A soft breath.

“Still choosing to be.”

The door opened with ease, pushed open by Barbara’s shoulder as she leaned into it—her hands too full to turn the knob. A small sigh of relief left her lips as she stepped inside. She was glad to finally be here, even if the day had been long.

“Go inside and wash your hands,” she instructed gently.

Her son walked in ahead of her, already tugging off his hoodie in that distracted way kids did when they had their minds on snacks or screen time. Barbara followed right behind him, carrying several shopping bags—some filled with groceries, others with spare tech parts and a few tools she’d been needing for weeks.

She set the bags down on the kitchen counter with a soft thump, rolling her shoulder a little to ease the weight she'd been carrying. Her eyes briefly scanned the living room. It was empty, but the space wasn’t quiet—it bore signs of recent activity. A blanket half-draped over the couch, a mug forgotten on the coffee table, a couple of books and papers scattered about.

“Dick?” she called out, her tone lightly curious.

She didn’t sound worried, just mildly puzzled. She expected him to be in plain sight. With a slight tilt of her head, she began walking down the hallway, passing by the bedrooms until she caught sight of him—tucked away near the cozy corner where he’d set up his little personal library.

“There you are,” she said, her smile blooming with familiarity. “Hi!”

Her voice carried something warm, something quietly affectionate, as if finding him there made the day settle just a little more gently on her shoulders.

( @babsggordon )

Dick heard the door open before he saw them, Barbara’s familiar voice floating through the hallway, warm and worn around the edges. It tugged at something in him. He was already rising from the window seat before she called his name.

His ribs protested the movement sharply, a hot tug beneath his skin that made him suck in a breath, but he didn’t pause. Not when he heard the soft thud of bags hitting the kitchen counter. Not when he heard Sebastian's little footsteps padding into the house.

By the time Barbara turned down the hallway, she wasn’t alone anymore.

There was a familiar shuffle, then the sound of socked feet stepping into view.

“Hey,” Dick said, smiling as he appeared, one hand braced against the doorframe. His eyes found her instantly, and everything in him eased, even the pain. “Need help unloading the city off your back?”

Before she could answer, Sebastian ran up, hoodie half-off and tangled around one arm.

Dick bent down and scooped him up in one clean motion, too fast, his body reminded him a second too late. A sharp breath hissed through his teeth as pain spiked up his side.

His face twitched.

But he didn’t let go. Not for a second.

“Easy there, Bat-Hawk Junior,” he murmured into Sebastian’s hair, the nickname earning a giggle. “You’re heavier than last week. Did someone sneak an extra apple at lunch?”

Dick turned to Barbara then, arms still full, eyes softening when they met hers.

“I missed you,” he said simply.

And then, without another word, he leaned in and kissed her. His lips met hers with that familiar, grounding warmth, tender, but certain, like muscle memory wrapped in affection. Like coming home.

When he pulled back, his smile was lopsided, one hand steadying Sebastian while the other brushed back a strand of hair from her face.

“You bring home soup?”

He already knew she had. He just wanted another reason to stay close.

[robin-wing-man]

Dick leaned against the counter, still moving carefully, one arm draped loosely over his middle as if muscle memory alone was trying to protect his healing ribs. He watched her in silence for a moment watched the ease in her movements, the way she hummed like she used to, like it was just another night in a world that hadn't cracked and shifted a dozen times over.

His lips curled into the faintest grin as she teased, voice light, but laced with a kind of comfort that pulled something warm from his chest.

“I mean… you say weird, I say life-saving distraction,” he mumbled, voice a little hoarse from underuse, but laced with that familiar mischief. “Besides, someone had to entertain the hostiles while you made sarcastic remarks over comms.”

His eyes didn’t leave her as she stirred the soup. Every time he looked at her, it hit him a little harder, how much he’d missed this. Missed her. Not the operative, not the mission controller. Just her. In a hoodie, in a kitchen, making soup like it was the most natural thing in the world.

His voice dropped quieter, rougher. “You always made it easier. Even in the worst moments. You being on the other end of the line… it grounded me.”

A beat.

Then, with a weak huff of laughter: “Even if all you said was ‘Don’t die, dumbass.’”

He shifted slightly, reaching out to brush his fingers against her elbow as she turned, just barely. It wasn’t dramatic, wasn’t even meant to stop her, but the touch lingered. A silent thank you from someone who still didn’t quite know how to say everything.

“You okay with it being normal again?” he asked softly. “Even if just for tonight?”

The door opened with ease, pushed open by Barbara’s shoulder as she leaned into it—her hands too full to turn the knob. A small sigh of relief left her lips as she stepped inside. She was glad to finally be here, even if the day had been long.

“Go inside and wash your hands,” she instructed gently.

Her son walked in ahead of her, already tugging off his hoodie in that distracted way kids did when they had their minds on snacks or screen time. Barbara followed right behind him, carrying several shopping bags—some filled with groceries, others with spare tech parts and a few tools she’d been needing for weeks.

She set the bags down on the kitchen counter with a soft thump, rolling her shoulder a little to ease the weight she'd been carrying. Her eyes briefly scanned the living room. It was empty, but the space wasn’t quiet—it bore signs of recent activity. A blanket half-draped over the couch, a mug forgotten on the coffee table, a couple of books and papers scattered about.

“Dick?” she called out, her tone lightly curious.

She didn’t sound worried, just mildly puzzled. She expected him to be in plain sight. With a slight tilt of her head, she began walking down the hallway, passing by the bedrooms until she caught sight of him—tucked away near the cozy corner where he’d set up his little personal library.

“There you are,” she said, her smile blooming with familiarity. “Hi!”

Her voice carried something warm, something quietly affectionate, as if finding him there made the day settle just a little more gently on her shoulders.

( @babsggordon )

Dick heard the door open before he saw them, Barbara’s familiar voice floating through the hallway, warm and worn around the edges. It tugged at something in him. He was already rising from the window seat before she called his name.

His ribs protested the movement sharply, a hot tug beneath his skin that made him suck in a breath, but he didn’t pause. Not when he heard the soft thud of bags hitting the kitchen counter. Not when he heard Sebastian's little footsteps padding into the house.

By the time Barbara turned down the hallway, she wasn’t alone anymore.

There was a familiar shuffle, then the sound of socked feet stepping into view.

“Hey,” Dick said, smiling as he appeared, one hand braced against the doorframe. His eyes found her instantly, and everything in him eased, even the pain. “Need help unloading the city off your back?”

Before she could answer, Sebastian ran up, hoodie half-off and tangled around one arm.

Dick bent down and scooped him up in one clean motion, too fast, his body reminded him a second too late. A sharp breath hissed through his teeth as pain spiked up his side.

His face twitched.

But he didn’t let go. Not for a second.

“Easy there, Bat-Hawk Junior,” he murmured into Sebastian’s hair, the nickname earning a giggle. “You’re heavier than last week. Did someone sneak an extra apple at lunch?”

Dick turned to Barbara then, arms still full, eyes softening when they met hers.

“I missed you,” he said simply.

And then, without another word, he leaned in and kissed her. His lips met hers with that familiar, grounding warmth, tender, but certain, like muscle memory wrapped in affection. Like coming home.

When he pulled back, his smile was lopsided, one hand steadying Sebastian while the other brushed back a strand of hair from her face.

“You bring home soup?”

He already knew she had. He just wanted another reason to stay close.

[robin-wing-man]

He blinked, just for a second, like he needed to store the moment somewhere safe.

“Yeah, well,” he murmured, eyes flicking to Sebastian as the boy trotted off toward the living room, “he gives me those big sad eyes, what am I supposed to do? Say no? He’s got your stubborn gene.”

He was teasing, but there was something softer under it, something in the way he leaned against the doorway now, watching Barbara move through the kitchen like she belonged there. Like she had always belonged.

And then she said it. I brought you soup.

His lips twitched upward, helplessly.

“Of course you did,” he said quietly, voice coated in that slow honey affection only she ever pulled from him. “You always know when I need something warm.”

He didn’t even mean the food.

With a gentle push off the doorframe, he followed the look she gave him, that quiet come home and sit still for once glance, and crossed the space toward her. Every step still tugged at the healing along his ribs, but he didn’t flinch. Not once.

He sat down where she always left the towel for hot bowls. A familiar spot. A safe one.

And he looked up at her like she was the whole damn world ladled into one person.

"You're kind of ridiculous, you know that?" he said, not unkindly. "And I think I’m completely gone for you."

The door opened with ease, pushed open by Barbara’s shoulder as she leaned into it—her hands too full to turn the knob. A small sigh of relief left her lips as she stepped inside. She was glad to finally be here, even if the day had been long.

“Go inside and wash your hands,” she instructed gently.

Her son walked in ahead of her, already tugging off his hoodie in that distracted way kids did when they had their minds on snacks or screen time. Barbara followed right behind him, carrying several shopping bags—some filled with groceries, others with spare tech parts and a few tools she’d been needing for weeks.

She set the bags down on the kitchen counter with a soft thump, rolling her shoulder a little to ease the weight she'd been carrying. Her eyes briefly scanned the living room. It was empty, but the space wasn’t quiet—it bore signs of recent activity. A blanket half-draped over the couch, a mug forgotten on the coffee table, a couple of books and papers scattered about.

“Dick?” she called out, her tone lightly curious.

She didn’t sound worried, just mildly puzzled. She expected him to be in plain sight. With a slight tilt of her head, she began walking down the hallway, passing by the bedrooms until she caught sight of him—tucked away near the cozy corner where he’d set up his little personal library.

“There you are,” she said, her smile blooming with familiarity. “Hi!”

Her voice carried something warm, something quietly affectionate, as if finding him there made the day settle just a little more gently on her shoulders.

( @babsggordon )

Dick heard the door open before he saw them, Barbara’s familiar voice floating through the hallway, warm and worn around the edges. It tugged at something in him. He was already rising from the window seat before she called his name.

His ribs protested the movement sharply, a hot tug beneath his skin that made him suck in a breath, but he didn’t pause. Not when he heard the soft thud of bags hitting the kitchen counter. Not when he heard Sebastian's little footsteps padding into the house.

By the time Barbara turned down the hallway, she wasn’t alone anymore.

There was a familiar shuffle, then the sound of socked feet stepping into view.

“Hey,” Dick said, smiling as he appeared, one hand braced against the doorframe. His eyes found her instantly, and everything in him eased, even the pain. “Need help unloading the city off your back?”

Before she could answer, Sebastian ran up, hoodie half-off and tangled around one arm.

Dick bent down and scooped him up in one clean motion, too fast, his body reminded him a second too late. A sharp breath hissed through his teeth as pain spiked up his side.

His face twitched.

But he didn’t let go. Not for a second.

“Easy there, Bat-Hawk Junior,” he murmured into Sebastian’s hair, the nickname earning a giggle. “You’re heavier than last week. Did someone sneak an extra apple at lunch?”

Dick turned to Barbara then, arms still full, eyes softening when they met hers.

“I missed you,” he said simply.

And then, without another word, he leaned in and kissed her. His lips met hers with that familiar, grounding warmth, tender, but certain, like muscle memory wrapped in affection. Like coming home.

When he pulled back, his smile was lopsided, one hand steadying Sebastian while the other brushed back a strand of hair from her face.

“You bring home soup?”

He already knew she had. He just wanted another reason to stay close.

[robin-wing-man]

The door opened with ease, pushed open by Barbara’s shoulder as she leaned into it—her hands too full to turn the knob. A small sigh of relief left her lips as she stepped inside. She was glad to finally be here, even if the day had been long.

“Go inside and wash your hands,” she instructed gently.

Her son walked in ahead of her, already tugging off his hoodie in that distracted way kids did when they had their minds on snacks or screen time. Barbara followed right behind him, carrying several shopping bags—some filled with groceries, others with spare tech parts and a few tools she’d been needing for weeks.

She set the bags down on the kitchen counter with a soft thump, rolling her shoulder a little to ease the weight she'd been carrying. Her eyes briefly scanned the living room. It was empty, but the space wasn’t quiet—it bore signs of recent activity. A blanket half-draped over the couch, a mug forgotten on the coffee table, a couple of books and papers scattered about.

“Dick?” she called out, her tone lightly curious.

She didn’t sound worried, just mildly puzzled. She expected him to be in plain sight. With a slight tilt of her head, she began walking down the hallway, passing by the bedrooms until she caught sight of him—tucked away near the cozy corner where he’d set up his little personal library.

“There you are,” she said, her smile blooming with familiarity. “Hi!”

Her voice carried something warm, something quietly affectionate, as if finding him there made the day settle just a little more gently on her shoulders.

( @babsggordon )

Dick heard the door open before he saw them, Barbara’s familiar voice floating through the hallway, warm and worn around the edges. It tugged at something in him. He was already rising from the window seat before she called his name.

His ribs protested the movement sharply, a hot tug beneath his skin that made him suck in a breath, but he didn’t pause. Not when he heard the soft thud of bags hitting the kitchen counter. Not when he heard Sebastian's little footsteps padding into the house.

By the time Barbara turned down the hallway, she wasn’t alone anymore.

There was a familiar shuffle, then the sound of socked feet stepping into view.

“Hey,” Dick said, smiling as he appeared, one hand braced against the doorframe. His eyes found her instantly, and everything in him eased, even the pain. “Need help unloading the city off your back?”

Before she could answer, Sebastian ran up, hoodie half-off and tangled around one arm.

Dick bent down and scooped him up in one clean motion, too fast, his body reminded him a second too late. A sharp breath hissed through his teeth as pain spiked up his side.

His face twitched.

But he didn’t let go. Not for a second.

“Easy there, Bat-Hawk Junior,” he murmured into Sebastian’s hair, the nickname earning a giggle. “You’re heavier than last week. Did someone sneak an extra apple at lunch?”

Dick turned to Barbara then, arms still full, eyes softening when they met hers.

“I missed you,” he said simply.

And then, without another word, he leaned in and kissed her. His lips met hers with that familiar, grounding warmth, tender, but certain, like muscle memory wrapped in affection. Like coming home.

When he pulled back, his smile was lopsided, one hand steadying Sebastian while the other brushed back a strand of hair from her face.

“You bring home soup?”

He already knew she had. He just wanted another reason to stay close.

[robin-wing-man]

I'm alright. Got it handled, visited the clinic earlier. See you.

"Barbara? It's Morgan calling. My 'Oldest Sibling Senses' have been tingling all evening. Do you know what the Robins are doing?"

@candy-corn-requested-by-shadows

I dont have a status from everyone but its a good time to do a check up

@robin-5-technically @timblrdrake @timbits-drake @damian-al-ghul-wayne @stillnotawayne @cassandra-c-wayne @robin-wing-man @dickgraysonfr @bludhavens-finest

Where my birds and bats at?

[robin-wing-man]

"I am in...better recovery, one of my ribs slipped the other day while I tried to carry my suitcase but that's take care of."

"Also, come home. I need some us-time."

"Barbara? It's Morgan calling. My 'Oldest Sibling Senses' have been tingling all evening. Do you know what the Robins are doing?"

@candy-corn-requested-by-shadows

I dont have a status from everyone but its a good time to do a check up

@robin-5-technically @timblrdrake @timbits-drake @damian-al-ghul-wayne @stillnotawayne @cassandra-c-wayne @robin-wing-man @dickgraysonfr @bludhavens-finest

Where my birds and bats at?

[robin-wing-man]

Dick’s grin softened.

The flirt vanished, not entirely, but enough. Enough to make room for the part of him that listened. That understood what she was really asking beneath the question.

He tore a piece of the unimpressive bread, tossing it into his mouth with a shrug that tried to look casual but landed a little crooked.

“Not bad,” he said, chewing slowly. “Bruises are fading. Stitches are out. Still feel like I got dropkicked by a truck, but…” He exhaled, gaze settling on the steam rising from the pot. “I’m upright.”

His hands braced lightly on the counter’s edge, as if grounding himself there. He watched her count out the plates, seven in a quiet, thoughtful rhythm.

“I forgot how much noise this place could hold,” he murmured, voice lower now. “How much… life.”

His eyes found hers again when she glanced over.

The words caught behind his ribs before they made it to his mouth. He wanted to say you. He wanted to say you’re what I missed the most.

“I’ve been healing. Just… not all the same places at the same pace, y’know?”

He offered a small smile. Not for show. Just real.

“But this helps.”

The door clicked shut behind him, soft and familiar.

Dick dropped his bag by the frame and toed off his boots without thinking, his movements slower than usual but quiet. He hadn’t said he was coming home today. Wasn’t even sure this was home anymore, technically. But his body had guided him here anyway.

The air inside smelled like something warm garlic, herbs, maybe tomato. A little music buzzed through the house from a speaker somewhere. Low, forgettable, but easy to fall into.

A beat passed before there was a voice.

“You’re late.”

It was calm. Dry. Predictable.

Damian stood near the edge of the hallway, arms crossed like he’d been stationed there for hours, though Dick knew he’d probably just heard the door and arrived before anyone else could. His scowl was half-hearted, already slipping.

Dick let a smile pull at the corner of his mouth. “Took a scenic detour through three cracked ribs and a busted window. Don’t be so dramatic.”

But before he could say more, Damian stepped forward and hugged him.

There was no warning. No eye contact. Just arms small but tight wrapped around his waist like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Dick blinked, momentarily stunned. His own arms hovered awkwardly before settling gently around Damian’s shoulders, careful not to squeeze too hard.

“Still healing, remember,” he murmured.

“Tt,” Damian said, pulling back quickly. “You’re fragile. I’m not.”

He disappeared around the corner without another word, like nothing had happened.

Dick exhaled a slow breath, something in his chest loosening just a little. But then.

“Cute reunion. You two holding hands now or what?”

Jason’s voice came from the living room doorway, as lazy and smug as ever. He had an apple in one hand, his jacket half-zipped and his boots still on. Leaning against the frame like a caricature of himself.

Dick rolled his eyes. “Still bitter you never got hugs growing up?”

Jason shrugged. “Nah, I just prefer a firm handshake and years of emotional repression.”

Dick chuckled. They didn’t move toward each other. They didn’t need to. But as he passed, Jason reached out and gave his shoulder a brief squeeze.

It was firm. Grounding. Just long enough to mean something.

Dick paused. Glanced over.

Jason didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to.

Another step forward, and that’s when he saw her.

Barbara.

She hadn’t turned yet. She was at the stove, sleeves rolled, hair twisted up in a way that said she didn’t expect company focused on something simmering, a wooden spoon in her hand.

Dick stopped.

His breath caught not in pain this time, but in memory.

The quiet beep of the monitors. The IV line tugging gently at his arm. Her hand, warm against his, brushing back his hair. Her voice, whispering, “You’re not going to remember this.”

-- @robin-wing-man

(Mun absolutely loves doing long term roleplays with you because of your grammar and ugh the skill oh god. Like genuinely missed you so much.)

Barbara was focused on her task, quietly humming a tune as she stirred the pot on the stove. The melody was soft, barely audible, more a comfort to herself than anything else—a rhythm to keep her grounded.

Perched on the counter beside the stovetop was Sebastian, completely absorbed in her phone. His legs swung idly, and he let out the occasional giggle at whatever video he was watching, completely unaware of the thoughts that consumed his mother.

Barbara hadn't done much else but think since it happened. She’d cared for people in his condition before—calm, collected, experienced. But this time had been different. His confession had cracked something open, and no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t stop turning it over in her mind. Again and again.

A quiet panic stirred in her chest every time she imagined seeing him again. She’d promised to talk to him about it—about what he said, about what she felt—but the thought of actually doing it made her stomach twist. She wasn’t sure what terrified her more: the conversation itself, or how much it mattered to her.

"Open up, say 'ahh'," she said gently, scooping a small spoonful of the stew and blowing on it before offering it to Sebastian.

The boy looked up, parting his lips to take the bite—but instead, his eyes lit up suddenly and he broke into a wide grin, spoon forgotten.

"Hi!!" he shouted, waving both hands enthusiastically.

Barbara turned quickly, instinctively turning off the burner. Her heart jumped to her throat. There he was.

And in the middle of her quiet, cautious world, he had arrived.

She forced her breath to steady, willing herself into composure, into warmth.

"Hey," she managed, her voice soft but genuine as her lips curled into the best smile she could summon. "You're here"

[robin-wing-man]

Dick blinked as Sebastian tugged on his shirt, his lips twitching with a barely contained laugh. “Oh, sure, now you want down,” he muttered with mock offense. “Could’ve waited till after my moment of glory.”

Once Barbara reached for the boy, Dick straightened slowly with a quiet grunt, rolling his shoulders out. And then—he saw her looking at him.

The lipstick smudge. The laugh. The soft fingers brushing against his skin.

His smile spread—slow and crooked. Dangerous.

“Oh?” he murmured, eyes darkening slightly as he leaned in just enough for only her to hear. “You think it suits me? ‘Cause I was kinda hoping you’d leave a few more.”

He didn’t look away.

In fact, his gaze dropped to her lips again, blatant, almost playful in its weight. “You’re gonna have to reapply that later,” he added under his breath. “Preferably on me.”

Sebastian’s commentary from her arms didn’t even phase him. If anything, it made him bolder.

He stepped in behind her—just close enough for his voice to curl at the back of her neck.

“You should know, I’m incredibly cooperative with touch-ups. Especially behind closed doors.”

When she turned to shoot him a glare, he grinned wider. Sweet. Innocent. Barely.

“What?” he said, grabbing a piece of bread off the counter and taking a bite, talking around it like a man without a single shred of shame. “I missed your cooking.”

The door clicked shut behind him, soft and familiar.

Dick dropped his bag by the frame and toed off his boots without thinking, his movements slower than usual but quiet. He hadn’t said he was coming home today. Wasn’t even sure this was home anymore, technically. But his body had guided him here anyway.

The air inside smelled like something warm garlic, herbs, maybe tomato. A little music buzzed through the house from a speaker somewhere. Low, forgettable, but easy to fall into.

A beat passed before there was a voice.

“You’re late.”

It was calm. Dry. Predictable.

Damian stood near the edge of the hallway, arms crossed like he’d been stationed there for hours, though Dick knew he’d probably just heard the door and arrived before anyone else could. His scowl was half-hearted, already slipping.

Dick let a smile pull at the corner of his mouth. “Took a scenic detour through three cracked ribs and a busted window. Don’t be so dramatic.”

But before he could say more, Damian stepped forward and hugged him.

There was no warning. No eye contact. Just arms small but tight wrapped around his waist like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Dick blinked, momentarily stunned. His own arms hovered awkwardly before settling gently around Damian’s shoulders, careful not to squeeze too hard.

“Still healing, remember,” he murmured.

“Tt,” Damian said, pulling back quickly. “You’re fragile. I’m not.”

He disappeared around the corner without another word, like nothing had happened.

Dick exhaled a slow breath, something in his chest loosening just a little. But then.

“Cute reunion. You two holding hands now or what?”

Jason’s voice came from the living room doorway, as lazy and smug as ever. He had an apple in one hand, his jacket half-zipped and his boots still on. Leaning against the frame like a caricature of himself.

Dick rolled his eyes. “Still bitter you never got hugs growing up?”

Jason shrugged. “Nah, I just prefer a firm handshake and years of emotional repression.”

Dick chuckled. They didn’t move toward each other. They didn’t need to. But as he passed, Jason reached out and gave his shoulder a brief squeeze.

It was firm. Grounding. Just long enough to mean something.

Dick paused. Glanced over.

Jason didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to.

Another step forward, and that’s when he saw her.

Barbara.

She hadn’t turned yet. She was at the stove, sleeves rolled, hair twisted up in a way that said she didn’t expect company focused on something simmering, a wooden spoon in her hand.

Dick stopped.

His breath caught not in pain this time, but in memory.

The quiet beep of the monitors. The IV line tugging gently at his arm. Her hand, warm against his, brushing back his hair. Her voice, whispering, “You’re not going to remember this.”

-- @robin-wing-man

(Mun absolutely loves doing long term roleplays with you because of your grammar and ugh the skill oh god. Like genuinely missed you so much.)

Barbara was focused on her task, quietly humming a tune as she stirred the pot on the stove. The melody was soft, barely audible, more a comfort to herself than anything else—a rhythm to keep her grounded.

Perched on the counter beside the stovetop was Sebastian, completely absorbed in her phone. His legs swung idly, and he let out the occasional giggle at whatever video he was watching, completely unaware of the thoughts that consumed his mother.

Barbara hadn't done much else but think since it happened. She’d cared for people in his condition before—calm, collected, experienced. But this time had been different. His confession had cracked something open, and no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t stop turning it over in her mind. Again and again.

A quiet panic stirred in her chest every time she imagined seeing him again. She’d promised to talk to him about it—about what he said, about what she felt—but the thought of actually doing it made her stomach twist. She wasn’t sure what terrified her more: the conversation itself, or how much it mattered to her.

"Open up, say 'ahh'," she said gently, scooping a small spoonful of the stew and blowing on it before offering it to Sebastian.

The boy looked up, parting his lips to take the bite—but instead, his eyes lit up suddenly and he broke into a wide grin, spoon forgotten.

"Hi!!" he shouted, waving both hands enthusiastically.

Barbara turned quickly, instinctively turning off the burner. Her heart jumped to her throat. There he was.

And in the middle of her quiet, cautious world, he had arrived.

She forced her breath to steady, willing herself into composure, into warmth.

"Hey," she managed, her voice soft but genuine as her lips curled into the best smile she could summon. "You're here"

[robin-wing-man]

Dick couldn't take his eyes off her.

The laugh—soft, surprised, hers—hit him harder than he was ready for. It curled through his ribs and settled into every fractured piece of him he thought would never quite fit again.

God, she was beautiful.

Not in the perfect, polished way people threw that word around, but in the real way. The barely breathing, heart stuttering, soul aching kind of way.

He smiled. Fully this time. Wide and crooked and boyish, like the kind of smile that had survived rooftops and wreckage and too many nights wondering if he’d ever earn this again.

“You and me both,” he whispered.

His thumb brushed gently across her cheek, like he still couldn’t believe she was there. Real. Solid. Saying yes.

He wanted to kiss her again.

So he did.

Slower this time, less like a confession, more like a promise. A steady, quiet I’m not going anywhere.

And as the moment stretched, the rest of the world slipped away. The hurt. The fear. The almosts.

Just her. Just them.

Just home.

Then he felt a tug, right at the hem of his shirt, the little boy watching with big doe eyes, his other hand reaching for Dick's cheek.

The door clicked shut behind him, soft and familiar.

Dick dropped his bag by the frame and toed off his boots without thinking, his movements slower than usual but quiet. He hadn’t said he was coming home today. Wasn’t even sure this was home anymore, technically. But his body had guided him here anyway.

The air inside smelled like something warm garlic, herbs, maybe tomato. A little music buzzed through the house from a speaker somewhere. Low, forgettable, but easy to fall into.

A beat passed before there was a voice.

“You’re late.”

It was calm. Dry. Predictable.

Damian stood near the edge of the hallway, arms crossed like he’d been stationed there for hours, though Dick knew he’d probably just heard the door and arrived before anyone else could. His scowl was half-hearted, already slipping.

Dick let a smile pull at the corner of his mouth. “Took a scenic detour through three cracked ribs and a busted window. Don’t be so dramatic.”

But before he could say more, Damian stepped forward and hugged him.

There was no warning. No eye contact. Just arms small but tight wrapped around his waist like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Dick blinked, momentarily stunned. His own arms hovered awkwardly before settling gently around Damian’s shoulders, careful not to squeeze too hard.

“Still healing, remember,” he murmured.

“Tt,” Damian said, pulling back quickly. “You’re fragile. I’m not.”

He disappeared around the corner without another word, like nothing had happened.

Dick exhaled a slow breath, something in his chest loosening just a little. But then.

“Cute reunion. You two holding hands now or what?”

Jason’s voice came from the living room doorway, as lazy and smug as ever. He had an apple in one hand, his jacket half-zipped and his boots still on. Leaning against the frame like a caricature of himself.

Dick rolled his eyes. “Still bitter you never got hugs growing up?”

Jason shrugged. “Nah, I just prefer a firm handshake and years of emotional repression.”

Dick chuckled. They didn’t move toward each other. They didn’t need to. But as he passed, Jason reached out and gave his shoulder a brief squeeze.

It was firm. Grounding. Just long enough to mean something.

Dick paused. Glanced over.

Jason didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to.

Another step forward, and that’s when he saw her.

Barbara.

She hadn’t turned yet. She was at the stove, sleeves rolled, hair twisted up in a way that said she didn’t expect company focused on something simmering, a wooden spoon in her hand.

Dick stopped.

His breath caught not in pain this time, but in memory.

The quiet beep of the monitors. The IV line tugging gently at his arm. Her hand, warm against his, brushing back his hair. Her voice, whispering, “You’re not going to remember this.”

-- @robin-wing-man

(Mun absolutely loves doing long term roleplays with you because of your grammar and ugh the skill oh god. Like genuinely missed you so much.)

Barbara was focused on her task, quietly humming a tune as she stirred the pot on the stove. The melody was soft, barely audible, more a comfort to herself than anything else—a rhythm to keep her grounded.

Perched on the counter beside the stovetop was Sebastian, completely absorbed in her phone. His legs swung idly, and he let out the occasional giggle at whatever video he was watching, completely unaware of the thoughts that consumed his mother.

Barbara hadn't done much else but think since it happened. She’d cared for people in his condition before—calm, collected, experienced. But this time had been different. His confession had cracked something open, and no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t stop turning it over in her mind. Again and again.

A quiet panic stirred in her chest every time she imagined seeing him again. She’d promised to talk to him about it—about what he said, about what she felt—but the thought of actually doing it made her stomach twist. She wasn’t sure what terrified her more: the conversation itself, or how much it mattered to her.

"Open up, say 'ahh'," she said gently, scooping a small spoonful of the stew and blowing on it before offering it to Sebastian.

The boy looked up, parting his lips to take the bite—but instead, his eyes lit up suddenly and he broke into a wide grin, spoon forgotten.

"Hi!!" he shouted, waving both hands enthusiastically.

Barbara turned quickly, instinctively turning off the burner. Her heart jumped to her throat. There he was.

And in the middle of her quiet, cautious world, he had arrived.

She forced her breath to steady, willing herself into composure, into warmth.

"Hey," she managed, her voice soft but genuine as her lips curled into the best smile she could summon. "You're here"

[robin-wing-man]

His hand lingered on her cheek, trembling just slightly—not from pain, not from weakness, but from the force of everything surging up at once.

Her words echoed through him like heat, “I do too.”

His breath hitched, chest tight, ribs forgotten. He didn’t care.

He stepped in closer. One half step, then another—until there was nothing between them but the truth.

His fingers curled gently at her jaw, holding her like she was something fragile and fierce all at once.

And then—he kissed her.

Soft. Deep. Like he had been holding his breath for weeks and finally remembered how to live again.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t messy. It was home.

The moment their lips met, his body exhaled into her like a storm breaking. Every unsaid word, every near-loss, every "what if" collapsed into the press of his mouth against hers.

He poured everything he didn’t know how to say into that kiss— I missed you. I’m sorry. I meant it. I love you.

When he finally, slowly pulled back, his forehead rested against hers.

Eyes closed. Breath shallow. A whisper between them.

“Still real?”

The door clicked shut behind him, soft and familiar.

Dick dropped his bag by the frame and toed off his boots without thinking, his movements slower than usual but quiet. He hadn’t said he was coming home today. Wasn’t even sure this was home anymore, technically. But his body had guided him here anyway.

The air inside smelled like something warm garlic, herbs, maybe tomato. A little music buzzed through the house from a speaker somewhere. Low, forgettable, but easy to fall into.

A beat passed before there was a voice.

“You’re late.”

It was calm. Dry. Predictable.

Damian stood near the edge of the hallway, arms crossed like he’d been stationed there for hours, though Dick knew he’d probably just heard the door and arrived before anyone else could. His scowl was half-hearted, already slipping.

Dick let a smile pull at the corner of his mouth. “Took a scenic detour through three cracked ribs and a busted window. Don’t be so dramatic.”

But before he could say more, Damian stepped forward and hugged him.

There was no warning. No eye contact. Just arms small but tight wrapped around his waist like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Dick blinked, momentarily stunned. His own arms hovered awkwardly before settling gently around Damian’s shoulders, careful not to squeeze too hard.

“Still healing, remember,” he murmured.

“Tt,” Damian said, pulling back quickly. “You’re fragile. I’m not.”

He disappeared around the corner without another word, like nothing had happened.

Dick exhaled a slow breath, something in his chest loosening just a little. But then.

“Cute reunion. You two holding hands now or what?”

Jason’s voice came from the living room doorway, as lazy and smug as ever. He had an apple in one hand, his jacket half-zipped and his boots still on. Leaning against the frame like a caricature of himself.

Dick rolled his eyes. “Still bitter you never got hugs growing up?”

Jason shrugged. “Nah, I just prefer a firm handshake and years of emotional repression.”

Dick chuckled. They didn’t move toward each other. They didn’t need to. But as he passed, Jason reached out and gave his shoulder a brief squeeze.

It was firm. Grounding. Just long enough to mean something.

Dick paused. Glanced over.

Jason didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to.

Another step forward, and that’s when he saw her.

Barbara.

She hadn’t turned yet. She was at the stove, sleeves rolled, hair twisted up in a way that said she didn’t expect company focused on something simmering, a wooden spoon in her hand.

Dick stopped.

His breath caught not in pain this time, but in memory.

The quiet beep of the monitors. The IV line tugging gently at his arm. Her hand, warm against his, brushing back his hair. Her voice, whispering, “You’re not going to remember this.”

-- @robin-wing-man

(Mun absolutely loves doing long term roleplays with you because of your grammar and ugh the skill oh god. Like genuinely missed you so much.)

Barbara was focused on her task, quietly humming a tune as she stirred the pot on the stove. The melody was soft, barely audible, more a comfort to herself than anything else—a rhythm to keep her grounded.

Perched on the counter beside the stovetop was Sebastian, completely absorbed in her phone. His legs swung idly, and he let out the occasional giggle at whatever video he was watching, completely unaware of the thoughts that consumed his mother.

Barbara hadn't done much else but think since it happened. She’d cared for people in his condition before—calm, collected, experienced. But this time had been different. His confession had cracked something open, and no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t stop turning it over in her mind. Again and again.

A quiet panic stirred in her chest every time she imagined seeing him again. She’d promised to talk to him about it—about what he said, about what she felt—but the thought of actually doing it made her stomach twist. She wasn’t sure what terrified her more: the conversation itself, or how much it mattered to her.

"Open up, say 'ahh'," she said gently, scooping a small spoonful of the stew and blowing on it before offering it to Sebastian.

The boy looked up, parting his lips to take the bite—but instead, his eyes lit up suddenly and he broke into a wide grin, spoon forgotten.

"Hi!!" he shouted, waving both hands enthusiastically.

Barbara turned quickly, instinctively turning off the burner. Her heart jumped to her throat. There he was.

And in the middle of her quiet, cautious world, he had arrived.

She forced her breath to steady, willing herself into composure, into warmth.

"Hey," she managed, her voice soft but genuine as her lips curled into the best smile she could summon. "You're here"

[robin-wing-man]

Dick didn’t answer at first.

His gaze dropped—not out of avoidance, but like he was searching for the right place to set the weight of that question. His hand slipped instinctively to rest on Sebastian’s back, grounding himself in the small body curled against his chest. The boy’s presence helped. But it didn’t shield him.

“Hey,” he said back quietly. It didn’t quite reach his usual voice. Less bright. Less automatic.

His eyes lifted again, meeting hers.

How are you?

It was such a simple question. One he’d been asked a hundred times in a hundred places. But not like this.

Not from her.

His jaw worked once before he spoke—something close to a breath catching on the way out.

“I’m here,” he said finally.

It was all he could offer. Honest, bare, and a little rough at the edges.

He tried for a smile—small, tugging at the corner of his mouth. It didn’t stay long.

“I remember... some of it.” The words slipped out quieter than he meant, not sure if he was allowed to say them out loud yet. “Not everything. Just… enough.”

His fingers curled slightly at Sebastian’s back. He wasn’t sure if it was guilt or longing or both tightening his chest.

A beat passed, and his voice dropped a little more—rougher, softer.

“I meant it. Whatever I said… I meant all of it.”

The door clicked shut behind him, soft and familiar.

Dick dropped his bag by the frame and toed off his boots without thinking, his movements slower than usual but quiet. He hadn’t said he was coming home today. Wasn’t even sure this was home anymore, technically. But his body had guided him here anyway.

The air inside smelled like something warm garlic, herbs, maybe tomato. A little music buzzed through the house from a speaker somewhere. Low, forgettable, but easy to fall into.

A beat passed before there was a voice.

“You’re late.”

It was calm. Dry. Predictable.

Damian stood near the edge of the hallway, arms crossed like he’d been stationed there for hours, though Dick knew he’d probably just heard the door and arrived before anyone else could. His scowl was half-hearted, already slipping.

Dick let a smile pull at the corner of his mouth. “Took a scenic detour through three cracked ribs and a busted window. Don’t be so dramatic.”

But before he could say more, Damian stepped forward and hugged him.

There was no warning. No eye contact. Just arms small but tight wrapped around his waist like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Dick blinked, momentarily stunned. His own arms hovered awkwardly before settling gently around Damian’s shoulders, careful not to squeeze too hard.

“Still healing, remember,” he murmured.

“Tt,” Damian said, pulling back quickly. “You’re fragile. I’m not.”

He disappeared around the corner without another word, like nothing had happened.

Dick exhaled a slow breath, something in his chest loosening just a little. But then.

“Cute reunion. You two holding hands now or what?”

Jason’s voice came from the living room doorway, as lazy and smug as ever. He had an apple in one hand, his jacket half-zipped and his boots still on. Leaning against the frame like a caricature of himself.

Dick rolled his eyes. “Still bitter you never got hugs growing up?”

Jason shrugged. “Nah, I just prefer a firm handshake and years of emotional repression.”

Dick chuckled. They didn’t move toward each other. They didn’t need to. But as he passed, Jason reached out and gave his shoulder a brief squeeze.

It was firm. Grounding. Just long enough to mean something.

Dick paused. Glanced over.

Jason didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to.

Another step forward, and that’s when he saw her.

Barbara.

She hadn’t turned yet. She was at the stove, sleeves rolled, hair twisted up in a way that said she didn’t expect company focused on something simmering, a wooden spoon in her hand.

Dick stopped.

His breath caught not in pain this time, but in memory.

The quiet beep of the monitors. The IV line tugging gently at his arm. Her hand, warm against his, brushing back his hair. Her voice, whispering, “You’re not going to remember this.”

-- @robin-wing-man

(Mun absolutely loves doing long term roleplays with you because of your grammar and ugh the skill oh god. Like genuinely missed you so much.)

Barbara was focused on her task, quietly humming a tune as she stirred the pot on the stove. The melody was soft, barely audible, more a comfort to herself than anything else—a rhythm to keep her grounded.

Perched on the counter beside the stovetop was Sebastian, completely absorbed in her phone. His legs swung idly, and he let out the occasional giggle at whatever video he was watching, completely unaware of the thoughts that consumed his mother.

Barbara hadn't done much else but think since it happened. She’d cared for people in his condition before—calm, collected, experienced. But this time had been different. His confession had cracked something open, and no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t stop turning it over in her mind. Again and again.

A quiet panic stirred in her chest every time she imagined seeing him again. She’d promised to talk to him about it—about what he said, about what she felt—but the thought of actually doing it made her stomach twist. She wasn’t sure what terrified her more: the conversation itself, or how much it mattered to her.

"Open up, say 'ahh'," she said gently, scooping a small spoonful of the stew and blowing on it before offering it to Sebastian.

The boy looked up, parting his lips to take the bite—but instead, his eyes lit up suddenly and he broke into a wide grin, spoon forgotten.

"Hi!!" he shouted, waving both hands enthusiastically.

Barbara turned quickly, instinctively turning off the burner. Her heart jumped to her throat. There he was.

And in the middle of her quiet, cautious world, he had arrived.

She forced her breath to steady, willing herself into composure, into warmth.

"Hey," she managed, her voice soft but genuine as her lips curled into the best smile she could summon. "You're here"

[robin-wing-man]

The kitchen was warm.

Not just in temperature, but in feeling. In smell. In the soft, familiar hum of her voice. The clink of a spoon against ceramic. The little giggle from Sebastian perched on the counter.

Dick paused in the doorway like he wasn’t sure if he should step further. Like walking in too fast might break something.

He saw her first—shoulders relaxed, face calm in that way that meant she was trying. He knew it. He felt it.

Then Sebastian looked up.

“Hi!!”

The sound hit him like a full-body jolt—he barely had time to brace before a blur of limbs collided with his ribs.

“Oof—hey, whoa, easy!” His arms instinctively circled the boy, catching him against his chest. “Gentle, bud. I’m stitched together with hope and gauze right now.”

He chuckled softly, the kind of laugh that caught on the edge of something else. His hand smoothed down Sebastian’s back automatically. Familiar. Natural.

But his eyes were already on her.

Barbara.

His breath caught—not visibly, but deeply. Somewhere under the ribs. She looked up at him and smiled, and it undid something.

He tried to say something. Swallowed.

Nothing.

He shifted Sebastian in his arms, slower this time. A stall, maybe. Or an anchor.

“I, uh...”

The words stumbled, hesitant. “Didn’t want to call ahead.”

A pause.

“I just… needed to see it. You. This.”

His eyes stayed on her, soft but uncertain, the weight of that night pressing behind his ribs in ways the bruises never could.

He opened his mouth again. Closed it. A breath escaped him—shaky, quiet.

He held Sebastian a little closer—not for the boy’s sake.

For his own.

The door clicked shut behind him, soft and familiar.

Dick dropped his bag by the frame and toed off his boots without thinking, his movements slower than usual but quiet. He hadn’t said he was coming home today. Wasn’t even sure this was home anymore, technically. But his body had guided him here anyway.

The air inside smelled like something warm garlic, herbs, maybe tomato. A little music buzzed through the house from a speaker somewhere. Low, forgettable, but easy to fall into.

A beat passed before there was a voice.

“You’re late.”

It was calm. Dry. Predictable.

Damian stood near the edge of the hallway, arms crossed like he’d been stationed there for hours, though Dick knew he’d probably just heard the door and arrived before anyone else could. His scowl was half-hearted, already slipping.

Dick let a smile pull at the corner of his mouth. “Took a scenic detour through three cracked ribs and a busted window. Don’t be so dramatic.”

But before he could say more, Damian stepped forward and hugged him.

There was no warning. No eye contact. Just arms small but tight wrapped around his waist like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Dick blinked, momentarily stunned. His own arms hovered awkwardly before settling gently around Damian’s shoulders, careful not to squeeze too hard.

“Still healing, remember,” he murmured.

“Tt,” Damian said, pulling back quickly. “You’re fragile. I’m not.”

He disappeared around the corner without another word, like nothing had happened.

Dick exhaled a slow breath, something in his chest loosening just a little. But then.

“Cute reunion. You two holding hands now or what?”

Jason’s voice came from the living room doorway, as lazy and smug as ever. He had an apple in one hand, his jacket half-zipped and his boots still on. Leaning against the frame like a caricature of himself.

Dick rolled his eyes. “Still bitter you never got hugs growing up?”

Jason shrugged. “Nah, I just prefer a firm handshake and years of emotional repression.”

Dick chuckled. They didn’t move toward each other. They didn’t need to. But as he passed, Jason reached out and gave his shoulder a brief squeeze.

It was firm. Grounding. Just long enough to mean something.

Dick paused. Glanced over.

Jason didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to.

Another step forward, and that’s when he saw her.

Barbara.

She hadn’t turned yet. She was at the stove, sleeves rolled, hair twisted up in a way that said she didn’t expect company focused on something simmering, a wooden spoon in her hand.

Dick stopped.

His breath caught not in pain this time, but in memory.

The quiet beep of the monitors. The IV line tugging gently at his arm. Her hand, warm against his, brushing back his hair. Her voice, whispering, “You’re not going to remember this.”

-- @robin-wing-man

(Mun absolutely loves doing long term roleplays with you because of your grammar and ugh the skill oh god. Like genuinely missed you so much.)

Barbara was focused on her task, quietly humming a tune as she stirred the pot on the stove. The melody was soft, barely audible, more a comfort to herself than anything else—a rhythm to keep her grounded.

Perched on the counter beside the stovetop was Sebastian, completely absorbed in her phone. His legs swung idly, and he let out the occasional giggle at whatever video he was watching, completely unaware of the thoughts that consumed his mother.

Barbara hadn't done much else but think since it happened. She’d cared for people in his condition before—calm, collected, experienced. But this time had been different. His confession had cracked something open, and no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t stop turning it over in her mind. Again and again.

A quiet panic stirred in her chest every time she imagined seeing him again. She’d promised to talk to him about it—about what he said, about what she felt—but the thought of actually doing it made her stomach twist. She wasn’t sure what terrified her more: the conversation itself, or how much it mattered to her.

"Open up, say 'ahh'," she said gently, scooping a small spoonful of the stew and blowing on it before offering it to Sebastian.

The boy looked up, parting his lips to take the bite—but instead, his eyes lit up suddenly and he broke into a wide grin, spoon forgotten.

"Hi!!" he shouted, waving both hands enthusiastically.

Barbara turned quickly, instinctively turning off the burner. Her heart jumped to her throat. There he was.

And in the middle of her quiet, cautious world, he had arrived.

She forced her breath to steady, willing herself into composure, into warmth.

"Hey," she managed, her voice soft but genuine as her lips curled into the best smile she could summon. "You're here"