The Belfry’s doors hissed open, letting in the rain-soaked chaos of Gotham and the four exhausted vigilantes who called it home. The city’s chill followed them inside, clinging to their armor and hair, the smell of wet asphalt and smoke trailing behind like a second skin.

Nightwing was the first through the door, shoulders rolling as he pulled off his mask and shook out his hair. “Alright,” Dick muttered, his voice still edged with adrenaline, “I think I speak for all of us when I say Gotham can stop being Gotham for one night.”

Jason stalked in behind him, helmet tucked under one arm. “You wanna take that up with the city council or God himself?” He kicked his boots free of grime, leaving faint muddy prints on the Belfry floor.

“Neither,” Dick said, smirking tiredly. “I’m off the clock.”

Barbara walked in after them, wiping condensation from her gauntlets as the soft hum of her gear filled the air. “Next time, maybe don’t pick a route that includes three rooftops with electrical damage. I nearly fried my comms system.”

Tim brought up the rear, half buried in his tablet, still scrolling through data. “Worth it,” he said absently. “We took down the last of Cobblepot’s drop spots. That’s one less weapons pipeline in the Narrows.”

Jason dropped onto the couch like a boulder, boots thudding onto the coffee table. “You say that like Penguin won’t find three more by next week.”

“Optimism, Jay,” Dick said, hanging up his jacket and running a hand over his tired face. “You should try it sometime.” He barely had time to smirk before one of his escrima sticks — slick with rain and carelessly balanced on the table’s edge — slipped loose and hit the floor with a sharp metallic CLANG.

The sound echoed like a gunshot.

Barbara’s head snapped up immediately. “Please tell me that wasn’t—”

“Son of a—” Dick froze mid-curse, eyes widening in dread.

From somewhere down the hall came a faint, sleepy wail — small and fragile and unmistakably young.

Tim let out a low groan. “You did not just wake {{user}}.”

Jason chuckled darkly, leaning back with his arms crossed. “Oh, he did. And you know the rule, acrobat — you wake the kid, you grab the kid.”

“I hate that rule,” Dick muttered, already dragging a hand through his damp hair as he trudged toward the sound. “You guys have no mercy.”

Barbara’s smirk was audible. “Maybe next time you’ll put your gear away like a responsible adult.”

“Quiet, Oracle,” Dick shot back, his voice fading as he disappeared down the hall. “You’re all heartless.” Jason called after him, sing-song. “Better start warming up those lullaby pipes, big bro!”

“Shut up, Jason!