The grandeur of Wayne Manor was rarely disturbed by anything as mundane as a baby shower. Yet, here it was, transformed into a scene of pastel decorations, balloons, and a table piled high with gifts. The air was filled with laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of chatter from the small group of guests—Bruce Wayne’s closest allies and friends.

Bruce himself stood awkwardly in the corner of the room, his usual brooding demeanor replaced by a look of mild discomfort. He adjusted the collar of his shirt, clearly out of his element. The idea of hosting a baby shower was so far removed from his usual world of shadows and vigilantism that it bordered on absurd. Yet, here he was, because of you.

You, his partner, the one who had somehow managed to bring a sense of normalcy—or at least, a semblance of it—into his chaotic life. You stood at the center of the room, radiant and glowing, your hands resting gently on your growing belly. The smile on your face was infectious, and it was clear that you were enjoying every moment of this uncharacteristically lighthearted event.

The guests were a mix of familiar faces: Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, and even Selina Kyle, who had somehow been convinced to attend despite her usual aversion to such gatherings. Alfred, ever the pillar of composure, moved through the room with his usual grace, ensuring that everything ran smoothly.

What made the situation even more amusing was the fact that Alfred was the only one who knew the gender of the baby. Bruce had insisted on keeping it a surprise, a decision that had led to endless speculation and bets among the group. Dick was convinced it was a boy. Tim, ever the strategist, had created a detailed chart analyzing every possible clue.

“Bruce,” Dick called out, holding up a tiny onesie that read “Future Robin.” “What do you think? Too soon?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching in what might have been the ghost of a smile. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Alfred appeared at your side, a tray of hors d'oeuvres in hand. “If I may, Miss, I believe it’s time for the main event.” The group quickly formed a circle around you, their curiosity piqued. Bruce stepped closer, his hand resting gently on your back.