Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

August is a festive time for the Waynes. They have a lot of reasons to be so. After all, four of their own are turning a year older during the month. It’s just slightly unfortunate that all special days happen really close to each other, less than five days apart with two even sharing a date. Damian’s on the 9th. Duke’s on the 13th. Alfred’s and Jason’s both on the 16th.

Really, the only downside of August birthdays being so close to one another — besides it barely leaving the other eleven months disproportionately lacking in days celebrating life — is the amount of leftover cakes. It’s not really a proper downside, as each one has flavors according to the celebrant’s preferences, but a lot is a lot. It doesn’t help that Alfred usually bakes either a big cake or two smaller ones for a celebrant, to ensure that everyone — including potential guests — can eat at least a slice.

The thought of all four birthdays being celebrated on a single day never crossed any of their minds. Somehow, there’s a collective understanding — unspoken as it may be — that everyone deserves to feel special on their special day. The celebration may not happen on the exact day, especially if it falls within the weekdays, but the celebrant will be the guaranteed sole center of attention no matter what day their birthday is celebrated.

By this point in time, it’s been a couple days after Alfred’s and Jason’s birthdays. Although the 16th landed on the tail end of the weekdays this year, and they could’ve definitely celebrated on the day of, there is a unanimous agreement to wait until Jason is finally back at Gotham. After all, the third eldest of the Wayne children has been away for three consecutive years.

Jason didn’t mean to be away for that long. Unfortunately, the mission he was in ran longer than expected. And he had to zoom to the rest of the Outlaws to assist with their group mission before he had the chance to take a breather. Needless to say, it’s been a tough few years. He’s glad to be back within Gotham’s gloomy glory. Not that he’ll tell them any of that, of course.

For their part, his family is just glad he’s alive, even if he’s a little bandaged up.

The doorbell rings amidst their organized chaos in preparing for a group photo.

Tim volunteers to answer the door before Alfred can take one step away. Him and his siblings — despite their number — can’t really make the man step back from his duties at any point, even on his birthday. Not that any of them can blame him, especially after the Incident™, but they do what they can. (‘What they can’ involves almost strapping their family butler down on occasions because it’s difficult to beat a highly skilled former military. Regretfully, they’re unsuccessful most times.)

He doesn’t see anyone on the other side of the door when he looks through the peephole. Nevertheless, out of curiosity, he still opens the door.

He never expects to see a child looking up at him when the heavy oak doors part. Even more so for the said child to have completely green eyes and slightly orange-tinted complexion.

The fourth eldest of the Wayne children stares shamelessly at the small humanoid alien in front of him. "Can I help you?"

"Hello," the boy answers cheerfully. Tim will swear to anyone that will listen later that his eyes seem to glow brighter at that moment. "I’m being chased. Can I please come in?" In act of good measure, the boy then sticks his bottom lip for a pout. "Please?"

He won’t admit that it’s a lapse of judgment in his part. He’ll hint at a possibility of being hypnotized but, for the most part, he’ll insist that his next course of action is driven by the familiar features that comes at him with full force. "Come in, kid."

Validation comes in a form of a particular killer smile that he has only seen on one other person. "Thank you, mister!"

"Follow me. Let’s introduce you to everyone," he says before he can think better about it. "Shall I carry that for you?" He gestures to the wrapped box with a taped white envelope on the boy’s arms.

"No, thank you," the boy shakes his head. "I’m strong." He can’t help but to raise an eyebrow at that, but he doesn’t argue . . . nor say anything else. He gestures for him to walk along aside him before continuing down the corridor.

Perhaps it’s better manners to be mentally in the moment with a guest around. Perhaps he’s well-aware of it, given the etiquette classes he had to sit through when he was younger. Perhaps he doesn’t even mean to not do so, knowing better. Perhaps he doesn’t have a choice because the guest in question is a personification of what keeps him in his head.

In any case, because he strives under pressure, Tim reaches a conclusion right when they reach the dining room where everyone has gathered.

It’s a conscious effort, keeping the child out of sight until his calculated ‘perfect time’ arrives.

"Who was at the door?" Just as he predicted, it’s Dick who inquires. It’s not really a feat worth of praise, as it’s incredibly obvious that Dick — out of everyone — will be the one to ask.

Still, it brings him joy to be proven right. Especially since his eldest brother just — unknowingly — handed him the most perfect buildup to the ‘perfect time.’ "Your son."

Tim takes in the manifestation of the chaos he knowingly stirred. He relishes the echo of everyone’s simultaneous reaction, which is understandably summarized by the only word that came out of their mouths. "What?"

Surprisingly, it wasn’t Dick that reacted the loudest. It was Jason.

The fourth eldest Wayne child steps aside while masking a triumphant smirk. He gently nudges the child to step center stage.

The boy looks around the room curiously, unknowingly letting everyone digest his completely green eyes and slightly orange-tinted complexion. "Hello," he greets, shier now with all eyes on him.

Before anyone can return the courtesy, Jason gives them — including Tim this time — another shock. "Peter," he utters breathlessly with his eyes locked on the child’s small frame.

The boy takes a second to find the voice’s source, and— "Uncle Jay!" —runs past Dick to stop right in front of Jason.

"What are you doing here, buddy?" Jason takes the wrapped box from the child without a second thought when the latter offers it. He then puts it on the dining table, a few inches away from the cakes.

Peter, as the third eldest called him, raises his arms over his head, signaling he wants to be picked up. Jason obliges, only using one arm with practiced ease. "You left your gift for Alfred!"

Everyone watches the interaction with keen eyes and bated breath, wordlessly giving every movement meaning.

Dick watches with the rest, also doing the same things they are, albeit he’s more unsure of what to make of what he’s witnessing. It’s one thing to see his oldest younger brother interact with a kid, with the perpetual tension on his shoulders almost nonexistent while someone is in his arms. It’s another thing to wrap his head around the — unconfirmed, but obvious — fact that the kid in question is his son.

He doesn’t need to wonder who Peter’s mother is. What he does wonder is why she never told him. It isn’t like him and Kori ended in a bad note. They’re still friends — with benefits on occasion, but in good terms nonetheless. So why . . . ?

The next time Dick is completely aware, Peter has already handed the gift to Alfred and the latter is currently inviting him back to the manor. "I shall prepare all your favorites next time."

"No, thank you," Peter declines politely. "You should make Uncle Jay’s favorites instead! He’s been saying he misses your food."

His response delights Alfred. "Is that so?" The man only lets the corners of his mouth lift slightly, but everyone in the room — sans their visitor — knows him well enough to catch his micro-expressions. (Not that he’s the only one who has mastered hiding his heart, of course.) "Not to worry, young master, preparing your and Master Jason’s favorite dishes will not be a problem."

Peter wrinkles his nose adorably before burying his head onto Jason’s neck. Dick doesn’t realize Peter has been talking while his mind is elsewhere until after he registers how deafening the sudden silence is.

Unable to stand it, he speaks. "Jay," he calls his brother’s attention, "how old is he?" His voice comes out soft, almost barely above a whisper, as if he’s afraid to startle the kid in the latter’s arms.

"He just turned six last week." Despite the gentleness of his younger brother’s voice, his words sound harsh to his ears. It doesn’t help that he suddenly feels like someone punched him in his gut — knocking the wind out of him.

Six? Six? He has missed six years of his son’s life?

Dick doesn’t comprehend a word of the banter that has manifested between his siblings and pseudo-siblings.

"Great. Another August baby." Steph expresses her amusement with a feigned mask of disappointment. "Just what this family needs."

"Well, you know what they say," Barbara can’t hold her chuckle. "The more, the merrier."

"You’re just jealous because you’re not part of us cool kids," Duke takes a playful offense to Steph’s words.

"Who says you’re cool?" She fires back almost immediately, almost on a sort of instinct. She didn’t even think about it whatsoever.

Tim gasps rather dramatically, "Are you implying Alfred isn’t cool? After all he’s done for yo—?"

"That’s not— Don’t put words into my mouth!"

Cass watches them fondly, but opts to not participate in their chaos. She has been around them long enough to get used to it and to know they’re just trying to improve the air in the room. Or, more accurately in this case, trying to distract themselves from a truth they’ve realized. After all, it isn’t theirs to handle — at least without the explicit consent of who it really concerns.

She spares a look toward their eldest, who hasn’t moved — nor blinked — since he heard how old the child in Jason’s arms is. She can’t read what’s currently running in his head, but she sure hopes he makes the right moves in the near future so this surprise ends well for him.

"You morons are focusing on the wrong thing," Damian eventually says with his arms crossed on his chest. "His birthday—"

"Watch your language," Jason interrupts in wrong timing with a hiss. "I’m gonna get blamed if Peter learns another curse."

"Not once did I lower myself to level with unrefined tongues," the youngest of the Waynes takes immediate offense. His eyes, neutrally sharp and calculating, now resembles the blades that almost never leaves his person.

"It wasn’t directed specifically at you," the older one corrects dismissively.

Damian is equally as dismissive. After all, two can play this game. "The implication is there."

(Un)fortunately, Barbara cuts before anything sparks ablaze. "Now, let’s not escalate—"

Bruce could’ve easily stepped in Barbara’s place, as the patriarch. However, although he might’ve not tuned them out as his eldest did, he, too, is lost in his thoughts. It’s rare for Bruce to let Batman’s critical eyes manifest out of the cowl, but there are no consequences for forgetting to separate them in this instant — especially in the comfort of his own home. He’s never had any of his children when they’re that young; when they’re unabashed about physical affection still. Perhaps, his chance to experience such has finally presented itself in a form of a grand . . .

Dick is certainly not doing well. He has done the math. He knows, even if him and Kori broke up more than seven years ago, Peter can only be half of him and her. He remembers the day they must’ve conceived Peter: after a mission that had gone horribly wrong and they had narrowly triumphed in. He feels all the emotions from that day — the fear, desperation, and relief — pulsing at the back of his mind still.

He doesn’t understand why Kori never told him. Not even when they last met in person four years ago. Does she not think—

"—We’re going to watch the circus!" Peter’s excited exclamation breaks through his thoughts with no problem. "Me, Mommy, and Auntie Artemis are gonna meet Uncle Roy and Lian at the carnival so we can all watch together."

He hears Jason hum in acknowledgment. "What are you excited to see in the circus?"

"I don’t know," Peter admits after a short pause. He wrinkles his nose again. "What do they have there? I didn’t ask Mommy."

In lieu of answering, his brother glances at him with a micro-expression that only be interpreted as: Are you going to take this?

He wants to. He really wants to. But he feels tongue-tied. How does he talk to his son that has been kept hidden from him? How can he keep it casual and calm when he feels so much?

Dick opens his mouth to try anyway. However, before a sound can even pass through his larynx, Peter speaks once more. "Mommy’s almost by the door with Auntie Artemis."

As if on cue, the doorbell rings for the third time today. This time, though, it echoes amidst the stunned silence that has engulfed the room. Everyone is looking at Peter, unblinking. How . . . ?

"I’ll get it!" No one registers Cass volunteering to answer the door and welcome whoever awaits on the other side.

A moment later, they snap out of their trances when two voices echo from the corridor leading to where they’ve gathered.

"How is Peter?" It’s Kori. Dick might’ve not seen nor heard from her for four years, but he’s sure. He can recognize her anywhere without seeing her directly for his heart only goes crazy whenever she’s around. The fact that she chose to hide their son from him doesn’t change that. "I hope he hasn’t given you too much trouble."

"He is lovely," he hears Cass reply in a beat. "He hasn’t left Jason’s side since he came."

"Ah, yes," Kori doesn’t sound surprised. "Petrend’r is really attached to Jason as of late. He is strangely convinced he’ll disappear one of these days."

"That’s why Peter rushed here without a moment of thought," Artemis’ voice chimes in. "You should pretend to scold him, just this once. Use his full name ‘Peter Richard Hyperion Grayson’ and all."

If there’s a sliver of doubt about Peter’s parentage, it has vanished the second he hears the former’s human name. Not only does he bear the name ‘Grayson,’ but ‘Richard,’ too. Just like he bears his father’s name. He’s never been more sure of anything in his life.

"‘Petrend’r’ does the work just fine," Kori counters.

Before she — or Cass or Artemis — can say anything else, Cass appears by the dining room’s entryway with Kori and Artemis directly behind her.

Dick forgets how to breathe in an instant. Apparently, the four years-worth of distance means nothing.

Cass looks at his, Jason, and Peter’s direction and gives a short, wordless nod. She steps off to the side so the other two women can enter further into the room.

"Excuse us for the intrusion," Artemis says as a greeting. "We won’t be long."

"Happy birthday, Alfred." Kori offers a contrasting greeting after. "May the sun shine a little brighter for you."

"Thank you, Lady Kori."

Dick stares. He wills her to look at him. He needs her to— He needs her to know that he knows. He needs her to talk to him. He needs her to tell him directly . . . like what she should’ve done the moment she found out.

She catches his stare. He doesn’t have time to antagonize about the possibility of her pretending he wasn’t there. "Dick," she greets him succinctly with a short nod. Her eyes still look at him like they always do; like she didn’t hide their child from him. He doesn’t understand.

He loses her attention as fast as he receives it. All he manages is a breathless "Kori," before she angles her head away and turns her attention to their son. He doesn’t even get to give her a proper greeting — much less make a pitiful attempt at small talk to keep her longer.

"Peter, are you ready?" She asks gently. "Lian’s waiting for you."

Dick can only watch, half-frozen, as Peter runs past him again to claim the spot in Kori’s arms. Peter doesn’t even spare him a glance.

There’s a short-lived relief in how lively Peter bid them "Bye-bye!" like it won’t be the last time they’ll— he’ll see him. Even more so when Peter looks over Kori’s shoulder as she walks out and blue eyes meet green. Peter — their son — sends an eerily familiar small smile his way before he disappears from his view.

Dick almost chases after them.

Chapter Text

Dick didn’t get much sleep, even with the celebration and the succeeding patrol tiring his body out. And, not to mention, his short-lived physical fight with Jason between those.

("He’s mine, isn’t he?" He faces Jason once Cassandra comes back from closing the door behind Peter, Kori, and Artemis. His sister’s reappearance serves as a signal of a sort. "Peter?"

He doesn’t really need any verbal confirmation. But he wants one, nonetheless. He knows it’s best if it comes from Kori but, seeing how she isn’t here right now, Jason is his next best bet. "That shouldn’t come from me."

"Jason!" His feelings overflows into a roar. Irrationally so. "Just answer!"

Much to his dismay, his brother holds his ground, "No.")

He isn’t quite sure what — or who — to blame for his sleeplessness. His body, despite moving nothing short of his usual, had been wound tighter than a spring. Not even the hot shower he took after patrol eased his muscles into relaxing. He doubts it had anything to do with his patrol being cut a couple hours short because he wasn’t pulling enough of his punches. Nor with his marginal guilt about punching Jason even if the latter’s already nursing a few broken bones from the Outlaws mission he just came from.

Perhaps it has everything to do with his inability to shut his mind into silence. Jason had welcomed being a punching bag rather than give him anything straight — and it obviously seeped through his skin. Do Jason and Kori think that low of him?

Do they honestly think he doesn’t deserve to know anything about his son?

Is he really that lacking?

Dick never claims to be perfect. Not as a leader, a brother, a boyfriend, nor as a son. At most, he strives to be better by constantly doing his best.

But is his best not enough?

Is he really that lacking?

Can he—

"Would you be so kind and answer the door, Master Dick?" His reverie ends when Alfred’s voice cuts through his ceaseless train of thought. He may or may not have flinched from the surprise — and he knows better than to hope the older man didn’t notice. Even with his back turned, the latter’s sixth sense is tuned to the entire space he exists in.

He clears his throat to give himself more time to process what Alfred just asked of him. Then: "I’ll get it!" — he’s out of his chair before the butler can change his mind and rescind his request. It’s not often Alfred asks him of something, so he wants to fulfill it even in his current state.

He journeys down the corridor almost absentmindedly. His mind is still edging to board his halted train of thought.

He can’t promise that he’ll be good at it in the first try. He doubts being Peter’s parent is anything close to parenting Damian, given how much gentler and more child-like the former is. But can he at least try? Can they at least let him do that before they pass judgement?

He’s not going to hurt him — that, he can promise. He’ll swear his life on it.

Dick opens the door as soon as he reaches. On any normal day, he’ll remember to utilize the peephole before inviting danger in with open arms. But, alas, today isn’t one of those days. Today, he’s distracted and . . . not exactly himself.

Thankfully, the person on the other side of the door seems to bear no ill intent, for no one ambushes him the second the door is ajar.

Instead, his blue meets a familiar, preternatural green.

He forgets to breathe in an instant. Because, apparently, not only does four years’ worth of distance mean nothing, the fact that she willingly hid their child doesn’t mean anything, either. At least to his natural reaction to seeing her.

"Kori," her name leaves his lips breathlessly still.

. . . Damn it. Why can’t his body operate accordingly? He should be cold and angry, not— not lovestruck! She hid their child from him!

"Dick." She isn’t helping, either, with the way she looks back at him. Still the same as it always been, like she didn’t hide their child from him.

"Peter, too." A child’s voice follows, at last making him comprehend the complete situation of what he just opened the door to. Kori isn’t alone. Peter, their son, is in her arms, clutching a stuffed animal he didn’t have yesterday.

"Peter," he obliges, a little frozen still. "Hi."

"Hello," Peter greets back before burying his face onto Kori’s neck.

Dick returns his attention to Kori before a smile can fully blossom on his face. He schools his expression to neutrality before asking in an even tone, "What brings you here?"

"Are you busy?" Kori replies to his inquiry with one of her own. "Do you have time to talk?"

He doesn’t. He needs to finish up the work he brought with him to Gotham. But it isn’t like he’ll be able to do it with him being distracted and all. Nor does he want to choose it over finally hearing the answers to all his whys. Especially not when turning them away now eerily feels like he’s proving them right.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he just opens the door wider. "We can go to the garden."

Kori obliges to his gesture and steps in. He promptly locks the door before leading them towards the back of the manor. He doesn’t have the energy to do small talk. Kori seems to understand that, even without words, and lets him be. Thus silence is all there is.

That is, until Peter opens his mouth and out-of-the-blue declares, "Uncle Jay is still asleep."

They’re nowhere near Jason’s room.

Dick is confused. He remembers overhearing her tell Cassandra that Peter’s really attached to Jason, which probably explains why he’s thinking of him at the moment. He most likely remembers being there yesterday, too, and how he saw him within the same walls. What he doesn’t get is his certainty: Why he didn’t just ask where his uncle is and if he’s still asleep, like anyone else would’ve?

"We should leave him to it, starlight." For her part, Kori doesn’t seem bothered like he is. "Your uncle is still recovering."

Peter doesn’t seem to be a fan of the comment he received back, judging from his slight pout. "I wanna introduce him to Raja."

"You can introduce them once he wakes."

He watches them interact. In another life, he wouldn’t feel like he’s intruding into such a moment. In another life, he would’ve certainly been part of the conversing. But, alas, in this life, his son doesn’t even know who he is.

Kori suddenly catches his eyes after Peter meekly agrees to not bother Jason. "He has powers."

He holds her stare, slightly baffled, "I didn’t say anything."

"But you were wondering."

She’s right, he is wondering. He didn’t expect to get a straight answer until after they reach the garden, though, so he settled on holding onto the question until then.

Dick is the first one to break eye contact. "You didn’t have enhanced hearing," he points out after clearing his throat. He decidedly looks anywhere else.

"I still don’t," she says in a tone that almost sounds like ‘I’m still the same person you know.’ He wisely brushes it off as him merely hearing things. "Petrend’r didn’t get his powers from me."

A sudden thought sends a chill down his spine. Peter obviously has Tamaranean blood flowing through his veins. His ‘human’ traits are only confirmed by his uncanny resemblance to him. So, it’s entirely possible that his ‘human’ traits aren’t ‘human’ at all.

Which would make Peter Kori’s child with someone else. Not theirs— not his.

By the time of Peter’s conception, they weren’t exclusive. Hell, they weren’t even friends with benefits then. They were just exes, who were still friends and who occasionally work together. She was free, and so was he.

Yet, the mere thought of Kori having someone else’s child refuses to settle in his stomach. Even more so with the thought that that child is Peter, who could’ve easily been his.

Maybe Blackfire’s Peter’s biological mother? With someone who he inherited his powers from?

But Peter is too kindhearted and lovely to be half of Blackfire. It’s too difficult — too unrealistic — to believe she birthed him.

Maybe Wildfire, then?

Dick turns his attention to Peter once they reach the garden. "Peter, would you like to explore with Raja while I talk to your mommy?" He knows it’s a futile attempt to spare Peter from whatever happens during their talk, considering his enhanced hearing, but he’s hoping the garden is enough of a distraction for him to forget to listen in.

"Explore?" Peter’s eyes seem to twinkle at the thought. He can’t stop the fond smile that immediately forms on his face after noticing. Even more so when Peter’s eyes resemble that of a puppy when he turns toward Kori. "Mommy, can I?"

Kori, as he immediately finds out, isn’t immune to his puppy eyes. "Don’t leave the garden, okay, starlight?"

"Okay," Peter agrees before giggling when Kori plans a kiss on his cheek. "Love you, too, Mommy."

Once more, Dick feels like he’s intruding.

As soon as Peter’s feet touch the grass, he’s off to a run.

"He’s a runner," Kori says helpfully as they both watch Peter disappear between the foliages. She turns to him once the child is completely out of their sight. "Shall we sit?"

(Peter is having fun. He doesn’t know the names of the flowers and the trees, and neither does Raja, but they’re colorful and pretty! It reminds him of when he visited a botanical garden with Mommy, Auntie Artemis, and Lian back in Gateway.

He stills when he feels an unfamiliar presence heading towards him. No, there are actually two — one is just advancing faster. He turns towards the direction they’ll be coming from and braces himself. He has vague memories of Big Peter fighting in a red-and-blue costume. He can mimic the moves, if necessary.

Thankfully, it isn’t. For the first presence manifests as a black dog. A doggy! "Hi, doggy," he reins his excitement in fear of scaring it.

"His name is Titus," a voice supplies. He looks up to see the second presence turns out to be a person. He looks vaguely familiar. Maybe he was in Uncle Jay and Alfred’s birthday party yesterday?

"Titus?" Peter echoes with his head slightly tilted to the side. He doesn’t wait for a confirmation before trying it out and seeing if the doggy will react. "Hello, Titus."

Much to his delight, it let out an approving bark. He giggles.)

Dick finds them a secluded corner. There’s nothing really stopping anyone from eavesdropping or interrupting in their conversation. But he has hope everyone present yesterday has gotten the hint to give them space.

Kori isn’t one to stall, so he completely expects her to start as soon as they settle. At least, the Kori he knows will, anyway. He can’t be certain with the Kori across him now. After all, this Kori hid Peter from him.

"Peter is your blood," she announces without any pretense, like he half-anticipated she would. "And mine."

For once since yesterday, his mind is quiet. There is no need to speculate further, as Kori — the mother of their child — just confirmed Peter’s parentage. He doesn’t need any DNA test; her word is enough, as is their son’s resemblance to him. Peter Richard Hyperion Grayson is their son— his and Kori’s son.

The newfound silence comes at the cost of magnifying the sequential reminder/realization that follows suit.

"Why didn’t you tell me sooner?"

"I couldn’t."

‘I couldn’t’? ‘I couldn’t’?

"Kori—" Dick exhales sharply as he gathers enough of his sanity. A voice reminds him that Peter might be able to hear him, so he needs to at least sound level-headed about this — even if he’s actually about to go insane. "Don’t— Don’t give me that. He’s my son, too. I should’ve been there as soon as you found out."

She shakes her head, "It’s not that simple."

The implications of that hurt, more than he’s willing to admit. He has always thought he’s someone people can approach easily, especially when it comes to things they don’t know how to deal with on their own. It’s something that helps him tremendously, both as the Titans’ leader and as Bruce’s eldest. He never would’ve guessed that that magic wouldn’t take effect at the time he needed it to work the most.

The piercing anger he subdued with a thought of Peter is replaced by pain of a more intense magnitude. "‘Not that simple’?" He echoes, uncaring if his voice unintentionally breaks in the middle. "Do you hate me that much? To the point that you can’t stomach—"

"Dick, no," she interrupts quickly. Contrast to his unraveling demeanor, she remains calm and collected. "I can never hate you." He envies how unaffected she seems — and how little this conversation appears to weigh on her. How can she just sit there so casually when he’s literally losing his mind? "Had it been a different circumstance, you would’ve been the first to know."

He halts. "I’m not sure I’m following— What makes this unideal—"

Kori saves him from painstakingly trying to complete a comprehensive thought. In exchange of confusing him further. "I didn’t give birth to Petrend’r." What? Didn’t she say— "He is half of me as much as he’s half of you, but he didn’t came from me. He was created in a lab."

His mind scatters in multiple different directions at once. As his mind works faster than his mouth, all he manages to say is a meek "A lab?"

She nods once, before she tells him about a vague overview of the Outlaws mission that turned out to be more than they bargained for. She tells him about the client that contracted them to retrieve the project his ex-partner took for himself, which they did without knowing the torpedo they handed over actually had a cryogenic chamber inside it. She tells him about Artemis’ impulsive decision to take the project’s documents with them but purposefully not hand them over and how a mindless flip through them revealed a truth they never expected.

She tells him about the subsequent self-appointed mission to get the boy inside the cryo and how it went so horribly wrong that they ended up in a dimension where distress signals couldn’t reach him or the Justice League. She tells him about the band of heroes that miraculously answered their signal and ultimately helped them find the right dimension home.

By the time Kori finishes explaining herself, Dick feels like an arse. For being angry at her and Jason. For thinking they intentionally kept Peter away from him. For assuming the worse of them.

He tells her as such — or starts to, at least, until she cuts him off before he utters another word after "I’m sorry." "You have nothing to be sorry for, Dick. You had every right to react the way you did." She graces him with a small smile. "I should be the one to apologize. This isn’t how we planned on telling you.

"Jason was supposed to tell you about the mission first and let you decide if you want to meet Peter. We didn’t mean to influence how you feel about this by showing him first."

Dick doesn’t know what to say in response, so he just nods. While he agrees that the other option — their plan — is more ideal, he isn’t exactly convinced that he would’ve preferred that. The reality might’ve felt too sudden, but the alternative gives him too much room to breathe. The promised delay with it might cause too much shift in his stance, which might lead to a decision he might later regret.

Yeah, he ultimately decides, reality is better this way.

(That isn’t to say he prefers Peter’s manifestation this way, however. Or for the fateful Outlaws mission to turn out as it did.)

"What happens now?" He eventually asks after the silence settles enough.

"I’ll be taking Peter to the Tower to fully assess his powers and help him control them," she answers without hesitation. From that alone, it’s clear she has thought thoroughly about the matter before. "You’re welcome to visit whenever, of course."

"And if I want to stay with you?" He follows up with an equal lack of hesitation. He didn’t even process it completely until it’s already out of his mouth. He has no regrets, though, for he still means every word.

"I can’t ask that of you."

"You’re not," he assures her. "I want to."

Unbeknownst to Kori, whatever else she says to help him see reason will be futile. For he has already made up his mind.

Dick is already halfway through drafting his resignation letter for his day job in his head, way before another word can even escape.

(On the other side of the Wayne garden, Peter has stuck to his Uncle Dami and Titus’ side. He has introduced them to Raja, his new best friend that Mommy got for him yesterday at the carnival. Raja likes them too, even if Titus sniffed him before giving a boop of approval.

Uncle Dami invited him to meet his other friends, but he dutifully declined because he promised Mommy he wouldn’t leave the garden. He does want to meet them, though, so maybe he’ll ask her about it before they leave.

In favor of staying at the relative area Mommy wants him to stay around, instead of heading towards the barn Uncle Dami mentioned, his new uncle taught him tricks to do and games to play with Titus.

Peter enjoys their company. He doesn’t mind continuing his exploration alone, but staying put with them is definitely better. Uncle Dami doesn’t smile nor laugh as much as Uncle Jay, Uncle Biz, and Uncle Roy, but he can tell by his eyes that he’s having fun, too.

"Petrend’r," he hears Mommy’s voice with the wind. "Can you come here, please?"

Mommy doesn’t have sharp hearing as he does, so he doesn’t bother replying. Instead, he just hands Uncle Dami the tennis ball they’ve been throwing for Titus. "I have to go now. Mommy is calling me."

Uncle Dami accepts the ball back. He doesn’t question how he knows. "Shall we walk you to her?"

Peter is quick to shake his head, "It’s okay. I know where she is." He then flashes him the biggest smile he can muster, with his eyes turning into crescents. "Thank you for playing with me and Raja, Uncle Dami!")

Dick has undoubtedly faced things a thousand times more dangerous than this. And, yet, nothing has gotten quite close to how nervous he is in this moment.

He really wants Peter to like him.

But with each second of silence that ticks past after Kori introduced him to their six-year-old, he begins to fear the worst: He’ll never be the receiver of Peter’s smile — and warmth — ever again.

"‘Baba’?" Peter eventually echoes Kori with a slight tilt of his head. His green eyes seem to glow with curiosity just then. "You’re my ‘Baba’?"

He attempts to swallow his nerves before responding. "I am." And because that feels inadequate, he adds as an afterthought, "I’m sorry I wasn’t there before."

Much to his surprise, however, their son breaks eye contact to look down on his stuffed elephant. "It’s okay. I didn’t meet Mommy until I was three," he murmurs just loud enough for them to hear. He begins to play with Raja’s ears. "Are you scared of me?"

Dick freezes at that. "What?"

"Please don’t be scared of me," Peter says softly. His eyes are still glued on Raja in his arms. "I’m just sticky and strong and— and I just have good ears. I don’t have Mommy’s green lasers. Or Uncle Biz’s—"

He looks at Kori then, unable to stomach how sad Peter looks — and sounds — with each word. He lets his eyes convey wordlessly how panicked he feels. I don’t know what’s happening. Help.

"Starlight, how do you know your baba’s scared of you?" Kori intervenes, much to his relief.

"His heart," their son answers without hesitation. "It’s beating really fast."

Oh.

Seriously, how did he already forget? Peter has enhanced hearing. If he can hear Jason sleep when they were nowhere near his room, of course he can hear his racing heart when they’re literally facing each other.

"Oh, starlight," she runs her hand on his hair in a soothing motion, "I’m sure that’s not why his heart is beating fast." It’s her turn to look at him this time, as if passing an invisible baton to him. Your turn.

He takes it. "I’m not scared, Peter," he assures as he attempts to control the beating of his heart. "I’m just nervous."

Peter looks back to meet his eyes again. However, much to his heartache, his eyes still resemble those of a sad puppy. "Because of me?"

His first instinct is to say ‘no,’ but he knows it’ll be a lie. He doesn’t know the extent of their child’s understanding of his powers. He has no doubt he can pick up an indication that someone is lying. What he doesn’t know, however, is if the latter understands what that indication means.

Of course, there’s also the fact that he doesn’t want to lie to him.

"I want you to like me," he ultimately decides to tell the truth as it is, without leaving any room for misunderstanding. He figures that’s the best thing to do, given the circumstances he’s working with.

Thankfully, it does result in his desired outcome. For the sadness in Peter’s eyes melts away soon after. The latter stops playing with Raja’s ears when he makes a sound of acknowledgement and promptly turns to bury his face onto Kori’s midriff.

Dick only saw him do that thrice, but it’s enough for him to realize he only does it whenever he gets shy.

An endeared smile blossoms over his features. He can’t tell where Peter got the habit from but, nevertheless, their son’s cuteness is really impossible to ignore.

"Peter," he calls the six-year-old’s attention back to him gently. He hasn’t notice how long he dwells on his moments, but he figures he’ll help him move past it — especially if he wants to bond with him before his siblings get the sense to interrupt. "Would you introduce me to your little elephant friend?"

"Raja?" Peter perks up and slowly turns to face him once more. He nods in affirmation, which earns him a blinding grin. "Baba, this is Raja the elephant! Mommy won him for me at the carnival yesterday." Their son momentarily holds up his toy towards him in such a way that reminds him of what Rafiki did with baby Simba. It amuses him enough to not even comprehend that Peter just addressed him by his title. "He’s like Dumbo because he lives in a circus, too. He just doesn’t have big floppy ears to help him fly."

"Do you want Raja to fly?" He inquires after muttering a soft "Hi there, Raja" and touching its trunk.

The six-year-old shakes his head, "Mommy can just carry him."

Dick smiles at that, promptly scrapping his plans to figure out how to operate on the stuffed animal to give it the ability to soar.

He doesn’t know what to follow that up with. He doesn’t want to force him to form a connection right away, but he doesn’t want to give up his hold on his attention right now, either.

"You know," he says slowly, giving himself time to think of a new topic in the last second instead of already using his ‘secret weapon.’ Alas, nothing else comes to mind. "I also have a little elephant friend."

"Really?" Peter’s preternatural eyes twinkle once more. The slight tilt of his head is there again. "What’s their name?"

"Her name is Zitka," he answers fondly. Blurry flashes of his childhood present themselves on the back of his mind. "I named her after the elephant I used to take care of when I was younger."

"You took care of an actual elephant?" A sound of amazement falls from Peter’s lips. He glances back at Kori as if to make sure his mother is hearing the same thing. Kori gives him an encouraging nod in return. "Do you still have Zitka?"

"I do," he confirms. "I don’t bring her around everywhere anymore, though, because she’s gotten quite old. She prefers to stay on my bed."

"She doesn’t get lonely?"

It’s his turn to shake his head in response. "She guards my room for me."

Peter looks down on Raja then, seemingly deep in thought. "Do you think Zitka would like to meet Raja?"

"I’m sure she would love to." Dick smiles for the nth time. He has honestly lost count by this point, due to how effortless their son brings it out of him. "Do want to introduce them right now?"

Their son’s puppy eyes are back, still directed at Kori as before. "Mommy, can I?"

"Of course." The affection in her voice flows as easy as it does with him. Kori just has the privilege of being able to combine it with an affectionate gesture.

He stands up, "Shall we?" He gestures for them to walk alongside him, not willing to walk ahead and just have them follow behind.

However, as it seems, Peter has other ideas. He has his arms raised toward him, one hand clasped around Raja. "Baba, up, please."

Dick almost turns into a puddle right there and then. He obliges without a second of thought. After all, even without the hypnosis of puppy eyes, who is he to deny such a cute and polite request?

Carrying a child as Dick Grayson is unfamiliar, but having Kori’s hand entwined with his is dear. (Just like how offering a free hand for her to hold is one of instinct he can never get rid.)

They head towards the Manor of his childhood, steps lighter than when the sun first rose.