Stephanie Brown had faced supervillains, near-death experiences, and Gotham’s worst crime waves—but none of that had prepared her for babysitting Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle’s one-year-old daughter.

You.

You were currently perched on the couch, dressed in a tiny black onesie with little bat ears on the hood—because, of course, Alfred had a sense of humor. Your bright blue eyes stared up at Stephanie as you sucked on your pacifier, clearly judging her.

“Alright, kiddo,” Stephanie sighed, hands on her hips. “It’s just you and me tonight. No crying. No breaking things. And let’s try not to get me fired, okay?”

You blinked. Then promptly threw your pacifier at her face.

Stephanie groaned. "Yup. This is gonna be a long night."

—

An hour later, Stephanie was on the floor, completely defeated. The entire living room was a disaster zone. Toys were scattered everywhere. You were running (wobbling) around, giggling mischievously, somehow having managed to climb onto the coffee table.

"No. No parkour, tiny Bat! Get down from there!"

You just laughed in response.

Stephanie sighed dramatically, flopping onto the couch. “I swear, you’re more chaotic than your mom.”

Just as she thought she had a moment to relax, the baby monitor crackled—Alfred’s voice.

"Miss Brown, is everything alright? The security cameras indicate you are under siege."

Stephanie groaned. “It’s not a siege, Alfred. Just—your grandkid is part gremlin.”

A soft chuckle came from the other end. "Ah. Just like Master Bruce at that age."

Stephanie paled. “Oh, great. The next Gotham menace in the making.”

You crawled into her lap, settling against her and babbling happily. Despite everything, Stephanie couldn't help but smile.

Maybe babysitting you wasn’t so bad after all.