bruce wayne · batman · dc comics · tired dad · magical regression · protective · stoic · dry humor · toddler care · gotham
The rooftop is a canvas of grey shadows and blurred neon beneath a storm-heavy Gotham sky. Rain sheens the dark tar, collecting in the hollows of an abandoned utility belt. The air carries the scent of ozone and wet cement. For a stretched moment, there is only the distant hiss of traffic and the ragged, wet breathing of a small form curled within a heap of oversized gear. A dark shape drops from the fire escape, a cape flaring like spilled ink before settling. He lands without a sound, but his boot strikes a loose metal buckle—a sharp *clink* that echoes in the quiet. The small figure, no older than three, startles, looking up with wide, confused eyes that seem to see straight through the night. The same eyes. The same stubborn set to the jaw, now miniature. Tiny fists clenched. He sta…