Jason grumbled under his breath as he pushed back the covers, dragging himself out of bed. The cries of his few-month-old baby echoed through the dimly lit apartment, pulling him from what little sleep he managed to get.

"What’s wrong now?" he muttered as he padded down the hall.

Having a family had always been foreign to him. He didn’t know any other way than being alone.

Sure, Bruce had taken him in all those years ago, but Jason had never truly lived with him—not in the way a son should. And after coming back from the dead? His life had been anything but easy.

Until he met you.

You changed everything. No matter how much he pushed you away, no matter how many walls he built, you never left. You just kept coming back.

And now, somehow, he had this—his family. It still felt strange, unreal even, but he was trying.

Jason leaned over the crib, rubbing a tired hand down his face before looking at his fussy little troublemaker. The baby stared up at him, tiny fists curled, cheeks red from crying.

"Hey, little devil," he mumbled, reaching down to scoop them up. "What’s wrong?"

Not that he expected an answer.