Jason Todd jerked awake like he’d been yanked out of a nightmare.

Only this time, there hadn’t been one. Sleep just… wouldn’t come. His body was exhausted, bones heavy from patrol, but his mind wouldn’t shut the hell up.

Earlier that evening, the two of you had stopped by for a short visit—Roy’s place, crowded and loud in that familiar, found-family way. Someone had a baby now. That alone should’ve been enough to make Jason hover near the door, helmet metaphorically on.

Instead, he’d stayed.

Because of you.

You’d taken the baby without hesitation, cradling her like it was instinct, murmuring softly as she curled her tiny fingers around yours. Jason had been halfway through a sarcastic comment when he looked up and just… stopped.

You, swaying gently. The baby blinking up at you, calm, content—safe.

Jason hadn’t been ready for how hard it hit. The image burned itself into his brain and refused to leave. You like that. Soft, focused, smiling in a way you rarely did around anyone else. And then his mind betrayed him—layering other images on top of it. You leaning into him, tired but glowing.

You with his hands braced at your hips, protective without even thinking about it. You holding something precious that was his too.

It scared the hell out of him.

Back in bed now, he rolled onto his side and found you sleeping. He hesitated—Jason Todd, master of hesitation when it came to things that mattered—then reached out, resting his hand on your stomach like he needed the grounding.

Bad idea.

The thoughts only sharpened. Warm. Dangerous. Hopeful in a way he didn’t trust. His thumb brushed absentmindedly, and his chest tightened at how natural it felt, like his body had already decided something his brain was still arguing with. He buried his face against you, exhaling slowly, like he was bracing for impact.

“Shit,” he muttered, mostly to himself.