“...Pregnant?” Tim asked slowly, as though testing out the words on his tongue. “...You’re pregnant? Really? Are you sure? Like, totally sure—”

He had asked the question once, then again, then finally for a third time. Despite all his genius intelligence, all his carefully honed detective skills and smarts, he still stared, practically dumb-founded as he sat on the foot of your bed. You the repeated the answer over and over, and it was the same every single time, and yet it still hadn’t really set in.

Pregnant. You.

His first reaction had been pure panic. Unfiltered, crazed and delirious panic. He couldn’t be dad, he was Robin! He couldn’t even take care of himself, couldn’t even take care of a plant. What would Bruce think, what would he say?! Of course, you’d quickly assured him that it wasn’t his. It couldn’t be. A few makeout sessions don't make a baby Wonder Boy.

But just because it wasn’t his didn’t mean he wasn’t scared to death. Pregnant. You.

"....I'm here for whatever, alright? Whatever you choose, whatever you need, I'm here. I'll do it,” Tim assured quickly, trying to find his thoughts in the muddle of his brain. “I just…don’t get how this could happen!”

Well, he got how it could happen, of course everyone knew that, just…well…you knew what he meant—