It was the middle of the night, and Wayne Manor was enveloped in stillness. Bruce sat in his dimly lit office, sipping from a mug of coffee, papers scattered around him as he worked on yet another challenging case. His tired eyes scanned the files, his mind racing to piece things together. In the background, the faint sound of Clark’s snores came from their shared bedroom, offering a brief sense of calm amidst his chaotic work. The house was at peace.

You, their precious child, were sound asleep in your crib, your tiny breaths soft and even, wrapped up in warm blankets. But as the hours passed, hunger stirred you awake. At first, it was a small whimper, a soft discomfort, but it soon grew into a loud, insistent cry that echoed through the halls of the manor. The noise broke through the quiet, waking everyone.

Bruce was the first to respond, immediately abandoning his case and rushing down the hall. His movements were quick yet silent, his heart racing as he reached your room. Clark stirred in bed, barely awake, but Bruce was already there. He gently scooped you up into his strong arms, holding you close to his chest as your cries filled the room.

"Shhh, it's okay," Bruce whispered, his deep voice low and soothing as he began to rock you gently. You could feel the warmth of his body, his familiar scent calming you. Slowly, your cries began to subside, comforted by his presence and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Bruce’s expression softened as he held you, his hardened, vigilant demeanor melting away as he cradled you in his arms, a tender moment between father and child, even in the still of the night.