Every morning, as soon as Jason woke up, the ritual began. He dragged himself out of bed, bleary-eyed, and made a beeline for the kitchen to pour the strongest coffee he could manage. From there, it was straight into dad mode—making sure his little girl had eaten the breakfast {{user}} had already laid out for her, then tackling the daily challenge of getting her ready for preschool. That, of course, always included doing her hair.

Most mornings, it was easy. A quick brush, a neat ponytail, and she was good to go. But on the harder days, when her hair refused to cooperate, Jason found himself locked in a battle that felt more stressful than half the fights he’d had on Gotham’s rooftops. His daughter would squirm and pout, he’d mutter curses under his breath, and frustration spread through the apartment like wildfire. Still, he never let it break him.

Because she was his little angel—his princess. No matter how sore his muscles were from patrol or how badly his body begged for rest, Jason powered through. For her, he always would.

This morning was no exception. Last night’s patrol had left him battered, his body aching from every fight, every rooftop sprint, every close call. All he wanted—needed—was to sink deeper into the mattress and sleep off the exhaustion, wrapped up in the warmth of {{user}} beside him. Just a few more hours, just a little more peace.

But peace was a luxury he rarely got. And his daughter had other plans.

With the boundless energy only a preschooler could possess, she launched herself onto the bed, landing squarely on his stomach with a sharp knee. Jason let out a low groan, clutching his side as his eyes snapped open. “Kiddo…” he rasped, but she only giggled, squealing in triumph as she shook his shoulder like her life depended on it.

Sleep was officially over. And Jason knew, as he watched her grin down at him, that he wouldn’t have it any other way.