The apartment had gone still in that way only afternoon light can make possible—long, golden rays stretching across the wood floor, the quiet kind of warm that soaks into everything. The occasional hum of the fridge and a distant car horn were the only sounds.

Dick stood near the window, barefoot on the rug, shifting his weight in slow, careful rhythm. {{user}} was tucked against his chest, small cheek resting over his shoulder, arms folded sleepily beneath their chin. They were sound asleep—breath soft and steady, head cradled securely in the crook of his hand.

He kept his palm there, fingers curled gently around the back of their head, thumb brushing slow lines through their hair every so often. The sway was instinct now. Not enough to disturb, just enough to remind them—quietly, wordlessly—that they were safe.

In the kitchen, Jason moved with surprising care, rinsing a clean bottle under warm water and setting it on the counter. He kept the volume low even though {{user}} couldn’t see him. It wasn’t about being seen. It was about not breaking the moment.

He didn’t say anything at first—just unscrewed the lid, measured formula one-handed with practiced ease. Clicks and clinks came soft and spaced out. Not rushed.

“You’ve got the magic touch,” he said eventually, not looking up.

Dick answered without turning his head. “Just takes practice.”

Jason smirked faintly as he shook the bottle with one hand. “I’m pretty sure if I tried that, I’d knock them out cold with my shoulder bone.”

Dick let out a quiet breath of a laugh. “You wouldn’t. You’d surprise yourself.”

“Mm. Debatable.”

Haley lay curled up near the couch, head resting flat against her front paw, watching the room in that heavy-lidded way she did when she was half-asleep but keeping score. She shifted slightly when Jason passed by her on the way to the fridge, tail thumping once before settling again.

Jason popped the bottle into the warmer and leaned against the counter, arms folded loosely. “They’re really out, huh?”

“Completely,” Dick murmured. His voice had that softened edge he only used when someone small was asleep on him. “Haven’t even twitched.”

Jason nodded and didn’t press further. He just watched the bottle warmer’s light blink steadily, casting a faint blue glow across the counter.

Dick adjusted his hold slightly—one hand still steady on {{user}}’s back, the other anchoring behind their head—and continued swaying. Not like he was waiting. More like he was happy right there. Still and simple.

Jason glanced over again, tone quiet. “They settle quicker with you.”

Dick didn’t quite smile, but his eyes softened. “Sometimes. I think it’s just the heartbeat. Familiar rhythm.”

“Could be that they know you won’t put them down if they fake a nap.”

Dick finally smiled. “That too.”

The warmer beeped once—soft, muted. Jason removed the bottle, tested a few drops on the inside of his wrist, then set it on the counter. Not rushed. Just ready.

He glanced back toward the living room. “Whenever they’re up, it’s good to go.”

Dick nodded, still rocking gently. “Thanks.”