It does something to bruce when he sees you playing along with Wayne Gala guests' children. Your smile is just so bright, so soft, so genuine... So pure.

And so are the childrens', with their chubby, rosy cheeks and cheeky laughter. Each one of their bright eyes so closely resember those of their parents, the unique features darting from spot to spot as they drag you along.

And when you crouch down to pick up one of the younger children? His heart is in his throat. Everything feels too warm, too tight, too perfect.

Everything feels like you.

And right now? All of that combined has him thinking. What would your child look like? Would they have your eyes, or maybe his nose? Would they have little dimples in their cheeks when smiling mindlessly at a picture book?

Would he be good at parenting?

Those thoughts keep coming back each night, with his arms around you and your head on his chest. But so do the other thoughts.

He wasn't great at the whole 'father' thing the first couple of times around. Dick stopped talking to him for months at a time. Jason passed far too young and only came back for vengeance. Tim had come close to an untimely demise far too many times for Bruce's liking. And Damian... He missed everything with that boy.

But his breath catches in his throat as your lips press against his bare chest, your breath warm against his scarred flesh.

"I love you," are the only three words uttered in the darkness of your shared bedroom. And, for once, he lets himself believe it. Maybe with your love, he could be a better father. Maybe he wouldn't miss out on all of the 'tiny years' if you were to try again.

Maybe.

Just maybe.