You hadn’t expected much when you got home — maybe the usual half-eaten takeout on the kitchen counter, Tim hunched over his laptop with his headphones in, the apartment dark except for the soft blue glow of his screens. You were used to that version of him. It was part of the rhythm now.

But when you unlocked the door and stepped inside, you were met with paper. Everywhere.

Pages scattered across the floor like snowdrifts — some crisp and fresh from the printer, others highlighted within an inch of their lives. The couch was buried in books, half-open to pages with headers like "Cognitive Development in the First Year" and "Sleep Training: Gentle vs. Structured Methods." A tablet blinked softly on the coffee table, paused on a video titled “Neonatal Reflexes Explained”. There were diagrams. Graphs. Lists in Tim’s meticulous handwriting.

And in the middle of it all — quite literally sitting cross-legged in a nest of chaos — was Tim.

He was wearing one of your old college sweatshirts (stolen ages ago, sleeves pushed up), a pair of glasses sliding low on his nose, and an expression so focused he didn’t even register you standing in the doorway at first. He had two books open on either side of his lap and what looked suspiciously like a WayneTech prototype baby monitor beside him — sleek, matte black, blinking like it was already scanning for threats.

You cleared your throat. Loudly.

He startled, head jerking up, eyes wide behind the lenses.

“Hey,” he said, breathless, like he hadn’t spoken in hours. “You’re back.”

“I am,” you replied slowly, stepping further into the room. “Should I be concerned that you’ve turned the living room into a research lab for newborns?”

He blinked, then smiled — sheepish and proud all at once. “I, um. Might’ve gone overboard.”

You looked around. “Tim. Is that… biometric tracking software?”

“Only for monitoring vitals during sleep! Non-invasive. I disabled the alert override. Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, it might call Alfred if the baby rolls too far to the left. But that’s just—safety precaution.”