Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

September.

Nightwing picked up his and Hood’s order from Brenda’s Cafe —two large burgers, two large salads, and one medium order of fries (to split), and swung up to meet Hood at the top of the Mansard roof on a Bludhaven apartment building.  Hood was wearing his domino and had his helmet in hand. 

Landing lightly, Nightwing dramatically shook his fist at the sky “Curse you, Ra’s, and your damned orthorexia.”

“There’s nothing wrong with eating healthy,” Hood said primly.  “This is moderation.”

“I know,” said Nightwing “We can’t live on burgers and fries forever like we tried to do as teenagers. And this is moderation.  But fries used to be your favorite food in the world, and this will literally be the second time I’ve seen you eat them in over two years.”

Hood gave a small, wry smile.  “Or, you know,” he shrugged. “I grew up, and also you haven’t seen me that much because, like…mental illness, different moral systems, estrangement, both very busy, different cities, life is wild, stuff.”

“Nneka calls Ra’s ‘that almond-mom bastard,’” said Nightwing. “And she eats raw broccoli dipped in pepper sauce for a snack.” 

Hood groaned. “I should never have introduced you two.” Nneka was Hood’s employee and ‘work mom’, the third highest-ranking member of the Red Hood Gang. She was passionate, irrepressible, deeply loyal, and (even though Hood wrote her paychecks) seemed a little unclear on who was in charge of whom.  

“Too late!” said Nightwing.  “We’re texting buddies!  I’m going shopping with her and her sister next weekend!”

“You’re what?!”

Nightwing cackled.

“Wait,” said Hood, “You and Oracle had a thing next weekend. A…buying a couch thing?”

Nightwing’s face fell.

“Oh,” said Hood. 

Nightwing took his comm out of his ear, tucked it into a pocket at his hip, and zipped the pouch closed.  Hood followed suit. 

“I canceled the buying-a-couch thing,” he said. “There was a new rogue I was worried about.  And Oracle said it was the last time I was gonna cancel on her.   So I worked really hard to contain the rogue, but when I told her that buying-a-couch was back on, she…”  he slumped. 

“Fuck, dude.  I’m so sorry.”

Nightwing sighed.  “It’s OK.  She deserves better.”

“I mean…” said Hood.  “Maybe different. Maybe she deserves different.  Maybe you’re not compatible.  There is no better.” 

“Sap,” said Nightwing, poking Hood’s shoulder with a finger. 

“So…Thursday Family Dinner?” said Hood.

Nightwing sighed.  “I told her she can have Thursday Family Dinner for the next few months, and then we can see if we can be in the same place or need to alternate Thursdays or what.”

Hood groaned. “See, this is why my adopted brother should not have dated my kind-of adopted sister.”

“Piss off.”

“Just making sure we both know that this is all about me,” said Hood with a grin.  Then he gave a guffaw.  “Oh my god!” he said.

“What?!” said Nightwing.

“Look we both know that you gave Thursday Family Dinner to O, because you’re a gentleman, and also a self-hating fool.  But B is not gonna see it that way.  B would watch himself be slowly julienned for O, but we all know that B loves his sons more than he loves his kinda-daughters.”

”Eh, in some ways.” Nightwing shrugged. 

“B is totally gonna blame O for driving you off.”

“Noooo,” Nightwing moaned into his burger. 

“And O is gonna get the silent ‘B is suffering’ look.  Oh, I am so ready for someone else to get the ‘B is suffering’ look!” 

“Are you still getting the silent ‘B is suffering’ look?’ asked Nightwing. 

“Occasionally,” said Hood.  “It’s getting better.”

“Is it…all getting better?” asked Nightwing. 

Hood blew out a heavy sigh.  “I mean…Maria’s helping me get to a place of accepting the things I cannot change?”

“Maria, your therapist?” said Nightwing. 

“Yeah.  I mean…speaking of how B loves, B loves me with all of his might in every way he can.  Which is…basically giving me things and sacrificing for me? It’s not just that B would give me the shirt off his back.  B would give me the skin off his back.”

“Without hesitation,” said Nightwing, searching through the bag for the crunchiest fries. 

“Yeah, but what I need from B is for him to, one, acknowledge that maybe child vigilantes were bad news.  I need to know that I mattered to him enough to make him re-think the rightness of child vigilantes.  And, two, to value literally anything else more than he values the lives of his rogues.  For instance, me.”

“Which he can never do,” said Nightwing, popping a couple of his extra-crunchy prizes into his mouth. 

“Yeah.  He’d climb a mountain with no equipment just because I asked for it, casually, to spare me inconvenience.  But he wouldn’t, can’t, think for me, even if the alternative was me being tortured to death again.”

“That is…accurate,” Nightwing acknowledged with a grimace.

“And then, to put it the crassest way possible, I can’t afford to cut myself off from my extremely wealthy father-figure.”

Nightwing shrugged.

“I understand the city’s systems and its poor folk better than B ever could,” said Hood. 

“You do,” said Nightwing.  “B can follow a thread over the moon, and he has contingencies for his contingencies.  But he’s never really thought in systems. And although he has a lot of sympathy and compassion for the poor and oppressed, and a lot of empathy for them when their oppression leads to acute victimization, he'll never really understand the...uh..."

"Grinding misery of never having enough resources to cover your needs," Hood finished. 

"Yeah, that," said Nightwing.  

Hood nodded.  “But I’m not a monster,” he said.  “I'm not just callously using him for his money without giving a shit about his well-being.  I’m still sad when I see him sad.”

Nightwing nodded.  He tossed the rest of the fries at Hood.  “I’ve eaten at least half of these.  You eat the rest.” 

Hood ate a fry.  “Speaking of packing things away,” he said, holding up a second fry. “I didn’t know you had pockets on your hips until you put your comm in one.  How many of those secret pockets do you have?”

“Uhhh…ten?  I think?  But I can’t put much into them or I start looking like I have a really strange skin disease.”

Hood snickered.  “Well, you can’t wear proper pockets, obviously, or the tabloids wouldn’t be able to run pics of your ass every slow week.”

“I’m doing it for the Gotham and Bludhaven economies,” Nightwing said with faux gravity. 

“Thinking in systems,” Hood said, shaking his head. He handed Nightwing a card. 

“Maria Ramirez,” Nightwing read.  “You think I need therapy?!”

”I know that every single member of the Bat Fam needs therapy, Dickhead. You ain’t special there.  And a break-up is a good time to take stock of your life and think about what you need and want.”

”I’ll think about it,” said Nightwing, stowing the card.

“Thank you,” said Hood.  

Chapter Text

September, the following year

“I made an appointment with Maria,” Nneka said quietly in the inner-circle break room of the Red Hood Gang central office.  “For myself.”

“Oh?” said Hood.

“Ramon is driving me crazy.”

Hood raised his eyebrows. Ramon was calm, level-headed, and thoughtful.  He was Hood’s right hand man in the Red Hood Gang and his “emotional support employee”.  He was the ice to Nneka’s fire.  He and Nneka had also spontaneously gotten married about fifteen months ago to make themselves better candidates for custody of Stephanie Brown. 

“He’s just so clean,” said Nneka.  “I can’t keep up.  I feel like I’m cleaning all the time, and I feel like shit about myself all the time.”

“Huh,” said Hood.

“We never really had a honeymoon period to get used to living with each other.  Before, we were just at the ‘spending weekends at each other’s places’ stage.  We had separate places to retreat to.  And then—wham!—we’re married parents.” 

“That…is a lot.”

“It is a lot. We’ll probably need couples’ counseling soon.  Well, we definitely already need couples’ counseling.  Maybe also family counseling with Steph.  But I figured I’d work on myself and get used to telling my business to a stranger first.”

“Sounds good.  Have you told Ramon?”

“That he’s driving me crazy? Yes.  But it’s not his fault.  He’s not doing anything wrong.  He doesn’t nag me to clean.  It’s just that…if he gets home from work first, then when I get home, the apartment sparkles.  And if I get home first, he gets home and I look around and think, ‘Crap, how did one person make this much mess in this little time?!’”

“What if Steph gets home first?”

“She grabs a snack and heads straight to her room.  No effect on the public space.  Ugh!  I’m worse than my teenage kid!”

“Have you told Ramon that you’re going to see Maria?”

“Not yet.  I will soon.  There’s even more going on right—”

They heard the door to the inner-circle rooms unlock and Ramon’s quick steps.   

“Hey!” said Ramon with a grin, appearing in the doorway to the break room.

Hood stared at Ramon’s chest.

”My eyes are up here, boss,” Ramon joked. 

“That,” said Hood, “is a baby.”

“Got it in one, boss.” Ramon grinned and petted the sleeping baby strapped to his chest.  “This is Terry, my cousin Maria’s kid.  Maria had a bad car accident and broke both arms.  She’s out of work for a few months, recovering, so she can’t afford childcare and she can’t care for the kid herself.  Nneka and I will be watching him while her husband’s at work, and occasionally in the evenings, to give her poor husband a break. We’re going to ask Tim and Steph if we can pay them to watch him a few hours a day after school so he doesn’t cut too much into our productivity.”

Hood nodded. “Ok.  Let me know what I can do to help.”  

“Will do, boss.”

Nneka checked her watch. 

“It’s time,” she said.  “Ramon, could you get Steph from Hood’s office?  Let me get the salad.”

“I can’t believe you talked Alfred into letting you bring salad to Family Dinner Night,” said Hood.   

“It took weeks of negotiations,” said Nneka.  “But Alfred’s been looking really tired at Family Dinner Night.  The family keeps expanding.  And with how much exercise you lovely bat-freaks get, you all need to eat two or three times as much as a normal person.  I know he loves to cook for the whole family, but making the equivalent of a Thanksgiving feast every Thursday is too much for him.”

Hood nodded.  “I’ll talk to the others,” he said.  “Oh, speaking of Alfred, did you let him know you had a plus one for Family Dinner Night?” He pointed at the baby. 

Nneka scoffed. “Of course,” she said.  “I value my life.”

They all piled into Nneka’s boring little gray car.  Hood opened the back door to take his usual place and eyed the space left over by the car seat strapped into the middle of the back seat. 

“Yeah,” Nneka chuckled, taking the baby from Ramon and slipping into Hood’s usual space.  “That is not going to work.  Front seat for you, big boy.”

“Baby!” Stephanie greeted Terry once he was strapped into the car seat and she was buckled into the other back seat.  She covered her face with her hands.  “Peekaboo!”

Terry gurgled.  Terry loved “Peekaboo”.  Terry loved “Patty Cake.” Terry loved “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.” Terry loved “Round and Round the Garden.”

“How do you know so many baby games?” Ramon asked from the driver’s seat.

“My friend Libbie has a much younger brother, and they had a couple of books of baby games,” said Stephanie.    

“Is Dick or Babs gonna be at dinner tonight?” asked Hood.

“Babs,” said Ramon. 

“You’d think after a year they’d be ready to be in the same room again,” said Hood.

Ramon shrugged. “It’s not about being in the same room, exactly,” he said. “They work together on missions all the time.  But by the time they were ready to share Family Dinner Night, Babs was dating again and starting to think about bringing her girlfriend to dinner.”

“Babs dates girls?” said Hood.

“Apparently,” said Ramon.   

“So Babs thinks Dick isn’t ready to see her dating again?”

“Eh…it’s more than that,” said Ramon. 

“Yeah?” Hood prompted.

“Babs is dating Dick’s ex.”

“What.”

“An alien lady named Koriand’r,” said Nneka.

“What.”

“I think she will ask us to call her Kori,” said Nneka.

“What.”

“Uh…boss, you’re kinda…blue-screening on us,” said Ramon.  “You OK?”

Hood took in a deep breath and let it out.  “She’s…kinda…my ex, too.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Hood said.  “You know how every few months, I leave town for a week or two to go on missions?’

Nneka gave a little squeak, and Ramon gave her a quelling look in the rearview mirror. 

“She used to be part of my team,” said Hood.  “And the team was…real close.” 

“Huh,” said Ramon. 

“So Kori’s gonna be at dinner today?” said Hood.

“Sorry, darling,” said Nneka. “We didn’t know that was information you needed to know.  We didn’t know she had any connection to you.”

“It’ll be fine,” said Hood.  “At worst, awkward as hell, but fine.” 

The car was silent for a few minutes.

“I have been dying to know about these missions,” said Nneka, “But you said after the first one that you didn’t want to talk about them.  When you are ready to talk about them, please let me know.” 

Hood laughed.  “OK, Nneka,” he said. “Oh, um, speaking of Babs and Dick, Dick has started therapy.”

“Has he?!” said Nneka.

“Yeah,” said Hood.  “It just took a year of gentle, intermittent nagging to get him to go.”   

“That’s wonderful!” said Nneka. “That man is coiled up inside like an old string of Christmas lights.”

“Really?” said Ramon.  “He’s always seemed pretty laid-back.”

“He was born into a circus family,” said Hood.  “He is a performer born and bred.”

“Huh,” said Ramon.  “I guess I’ve never spent much time with him, except in big group settings.”

“Yeah,” said Nneka.  “Dick is sort of like Bruce dipped in glitter.  Shiny on the outside, a yawning abyss of unaddressed needs on the inside.”

“That’s not fair,” said Hood. “The glitter is more than skin deep.  His psyche is half glitter, half yawning abyss of unaddressed needs.”

Nneka shrugged.  The car quieted into a thoughtful silence. 

“Eh!” Terry shouted, protesting the lack of entertainment. 

Stephanie held out her hand.  Terry gave her his hand with a wet, gummy grin, punctuated by three little teeth.  Stephanie dragged her finger in a circle around his palm.  “Round and round the garden, like a teddy bear…”

“Psst,” said Ramon from the door that connected the dining room to the hallway. Nneka looked up from her custard and saw that Ramon was beckoning her to follow him into the hallway. 

Terry had been, as was his right as a baby, a demanding little princeling all evening. Shortly after dinner was served, he started shouting “Eh! Eh! Eh!” from his antique highchair while pointing toward the hallway.  The manor had a simple layout on the first and second floors—a massive central corridor with rooms branching off on both sides.  The corridor was, apparently, calling to Terry.

Terry was learning to walk, and he insisted on spending the entire evening clutching a grown-up’s two hands while slowly, haltingly pacing up and down the first-floor hallway. Of course, this required the grown-up to bend almost double, and after a single lap their back was usually aching fiercely. Luckily, every person at Family Dinner Night leapt to take a turn walking Terry, so everyone else got to relax and socialize when it was not their turn.

Nneka left her custard and followed Ramon down the now very familiar hallway until he beckoned her through an open set of double doors into a room full of couches.  Sitting on one was Hood, asleep, with a likewise sleeping Terry cuddled in his arms.

“Awww,” Nneka murmured. “Work-baby is so cute with cousin-baby!”  She kissed Ramon, took a photo, and showed it to Ramon.  “Would it be too invasive to show this to the others?” she asked.

“Nah,” said Ramon.  “He won’t mind.  I think.”

The phone was passed around the dining table.  Alfred and Bruce spent a long time looking at the photo together, with a very small smile on each man’s face.  Tim looked confused at why this photo was worth sharing. Stephanie cooed loudly and texted the photo to herself with a devious grin.  

“He looks like his brother,” Babs whispered, grabbing Kori’s hand.  She looked at Kori with wet eyes.  Kori smiled, kissed her cheek, and passed the phone on.   

Chapter Text

September, a year later

“So,” said Babs, nervously grabbing Kori’s hand.  “We have an announcement.”

“Yes!” said Kori, joyfully grabbing Dick’s hand.  “We’re going to have a baby!”

“Oh,” said Ramon.  “Congratulations!”

The Bat family stared at the two sets of joined hands.

“Who’s we?” asked Damian.

“Biologically,” said Babs, her grip tightening.  “Dick and Kori.”

“Socially,” Kori crowed.  “Babs and me and sort-of Dick.”

Dick winced.

“We’re not leaving you out, hon,” Babs told Dick, with a shaky breath.  “You’re an important part of this, and not just biologically.”

“Oh, no!” said Kori.  “You also pay for the maid!”

“That’s my role, too,” Nneka told Dick.  “And I bought one of those little vacuuming robots.  So helpful!”

“And,” said Babs, turning back to the family with her face pinking, “We love him.”

“For who he is and don’t want to change him because he cannot be changed!” said Kori, smiling enthusiastically at Dick.

Babs opened her mouth, closed it, and gave the family a small, tense smile.   

“The three of us,” Dick said carefully, “Have decided to have a baby together, for a wide variety of reasons.”

“Such as,” Kori beamed at Babs, “It takes two people to kidnap Dick if we ever want him to take a vacation.”

 “It is…uh…” said Babs, making firm eye contact with the tablecloth.  “It is the custom on Tamaran to speak frankly about how one’s partners…um…complete one. And how one completes one’s partners.”

“Score for Tamaran for frankly dealing with reality,” Hood muttered. “And comedy score for us that that is…not exactly the custom in this part of Earth.” 

“Yeah,” said Babs, faintly. 

“Can I try to explain?” Tim whispered to Babs.  Stephanie leaned closer to Tim’s other side to listen in.

“You probably won’t make it worse,” said Babs with a shrug.

“So,” said Tim, “Babs and Dick and Kori have been sort of drifting from faux-casually dating each other to solidifying their three-person relationship for…a while.”

“About a year,” said Babs.

 “Right,” said Tim.  “And part of that solidification involved discussing the fact that all three of them want to have children, but Dick is a workaholic and probably won’t be making it to many T-ball games. So Babs and Kori will probably be doing the majority of the parenting.”

“Pfft,” said Stephanie, “You ruined it by not actually making it worse.”

“Yeah,” complained Hood.  “It was so funny before Tim managed to explain it like a functioning hum—” he glanced at Kori, “—person, functioning person.”

“But isn’t that kinda sexist?” said Stephanie.  “Dick gets a harem at home raising his baby for him.”

“Hareem,” said Damian, indignantly.  “And that term used like that is tinged with racism.”  He looked around the table for support, and Hood gave him two thumbs up. 

“Sorry,” said Stephanie. “Dick gets two ladies at home raising his baby for him.  And Babs and Kori get a sugar daddy. It’s kinda…retro? Like ancient kings and sh—stuff?”

Kori looked confused and concerned. “I forget that on your world, the half of your species that performs no reproductive labor, and therefore has the easier life, has the more power.  That is the absurd.  I find that individual human men are often the lovely and delightful, but on a population level, they seem to be the defective, that such a power imbalance is possible.  Do you think your world would be the better place if men were not allowed to vote or run for office?”

A strangled noise left Dick’s throat.

“Uhhh,” said Stephanie.  “Maybe, but that’s kind of a radical idea.”

Kori shrugged and smiled. “My species is the similar to yours that the Lantern Corps scientists are looking for a common ancestor within the last million years.  But I am from a planet ruled by several female-only hereditary monarchies.”

“Wait,” said Hood.  “Wait, wasn’t your dad a king?”

“Yes,” said Kori.  “I believe you would call him a ‘regent.’  He only ruled because my mother died before my sister came of age.  Men, in my country, can be regents on behalf of a female relative. In no country on Tamaran can a man inherit power themselves.  Unlike here.  Democracy seems the radical to me. A democracy that consistently favors men over women is the unfathomable. What if women’s vote counted for twice what men’s did? Would that help overcome your species’ weaknesses?”

“I don’t know,” said Stephanie, eyes wide.

“Yes, yesss, radicalize the child,” Hood hissed with a feral smile.

“You don’t want to be allowed to vote?!” asked Dick.

“Fuck the man!” Hood pounded the table.  “Even if I am the man!”  

“Language,” Alfred murmured.

“Sorry, Alfred,” said Hood, ducking his head.

“Do not fuck the man, if the man is Alfred,” Stephanie stage-whispered across the table to Hood. Hood snorted.

“Language!” said Alfred

Stephanie and Hood subsided.      

“Anyway,” said Kori.  “On a planet like Earth where reproductive and childrearing labor are denigrated and used as excuses for disempowerment and abuse, I suppose I can see why it would seem the ‘sexist’ that Dick, due to his disability, is the peripheral to the relationship than Babs and I are.”

“Disability?” said Tim. 

“I believe you called him the ‘workaholic’?” said Kori. “He cannot stop working to make time for his loved ones.  He has tried, the hard, and he cannot.  It is a disability.  Which we are accommodating because, even if he cannot give us the much, we adore what he can give us. He is the lovable.” She petted Dick’s head with a besotted smile. Hood and Steph smirked.     

“Are Dick and Kori genetically compatible?” asked Damian, tilting his head.  “Do you have the same number of chromosomes?  Will your children be sterile like mules?” 

“I am the glad you asked!” Kori grinned happily while Dick and Babs froze. Steph and Hood also grinned, with slightly manic glee.   

“We consulted a reproductive specialist with the Green Lantern Corps.” Babs said in a clipped, clinical tone. “They did not talk to us about specifics like chromosomal compatibility, but did assure us that, with their help, Dick and Kori could produce healthy children.”

“Yes,” said Kori.  “They have the long experience with people in inter-species relationships who desire children.  Our children will probably not be able to produce children without further assistance from the Corps. We considered this disadvantage and decided that the advantages we could provide them probably outweighed those.”

“Isn’t Kori’s species smarter than ours?” said Damian.  “Does that mean that Kori is committing bestiality?”

“Such the good questions!” Kori cooed.  Dick started to sweat visibly.  Babs’ face went slack while her gaze became distant and unfocused.  The Bat Family watched Kori closely for signs of insincerity or distress.  They found none.  They were not sure what this meant.

The Bat Family also reflected that Damian had placed himself between Ramon and Nneka at the dinner table, neither of whom had been known to pinch or kick people under the table as a reproof.  They wondered if this had been strategic. Had he known about the news beforehand and decided to take steps to ensure that he would have a chance to satisfy his curiosity?  Or to embarrass Dick? Or had he just sat where a spot was available, and then taken advantage of the seating arrangement when the opportunity arose?  Or was he, an eleven-year-old boy, just asking lots of questions spontaneously, without strategy or plan, because that’s what eleven-year-old kids do? Anything was possible with Damian.   Even that last one.  Occasionally. …  Rarely. 

 “The Corps,” said Kori, “also has the extensive writings on the ethics of sex between various species. The intelligence gap between my species and yours is the small and would not justify the use of a term like ‘bestiality.’ Dick can consent to sex with me in the meaningful way.”

A faint tremble went through Dick.

“Are the three of you—is this an open relationship?” asked Damian.  Babs put her elbows on the table and flopped her face into her palms.  It was a measure of the strangeness of this dinner that Alfred said nothing about the elbows.    

“I,” said Kori, with every sign of engaging in a pleasant and stress-free conversation, “will continue to have sex with the broad variety of people but will not be bringing them to the marital home or introducing them to our child or children.  Dick would prefer to only have sex with Babs and me.  Babs mostly has sex only with Dick and me but occasionally has sex with a small circle of friends. Some of those people will be involved in our child or children’s lives. Following Earth customs,” she shrugged, “we will not be discussing our sex lives with our child or children until they are adults.”

Babs raised her head.  “And probably not then,” she muttered. 

Kori raised her eyebrows at Babs and then turned back to Damian with a smile and a shrug. “We may have to discuss some details further before we can give you the definitive answer about our plans.”

“Do—” said Damian.

“Would anyone,” Alfred interrupted, loudly, while standing up, “like coffee with their cake?  Master Damian will be helping me fetch the desert now.”

Damian scrambled up from his chair.  He stood with rigid posture, gaze on the floor. 

“I’ll help, too,” said Hood, rising despite Alfred’s choice to favor him with a blank face that was very definitely, very pointedly not a glare.  Hood placed a steadying hand on Damian’s shoulder as Damian passed him on the way to the kitchen. “I was real proud of you for…” he said quietly before the kitchen door cut him off.      

“Well,” said Steph.  “Who votes for Kori to give this year’s sex-ed presentation?”

She and Tim raised their hands. 

“I would be the honored,” Kori gushed.  

“I think I have just discovered,” Bruce whispered to Dick, “that I am a prude.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Dick whispered back. “And Kori can have that effect on people.”   

“Damian is such the sweet, polite little boy,” Kori said during the drive home from the manor.  

Dick and Babs shared a look.  Sweet? Polite? Damian?!

“Most people on Earth don’t seem to care enough to ask important questions,” Kori said sadly. “But Damian is the gracious conversationalist.”

“Umm…” said Dick. “It sounds like you had a good time at dinner.”

”I did!” she said. “I had the lovely time.”

”I’m so glad, sweetheart,” said Babs.  “I will…I will tell Damian what you said.”

As they pulled to a stop at a red light, Dick and Babs shared a glance.  Babs gave a nod. 

Are you sure? said Dick’s glance.  Are you really sure you want to encourage him like that?

Yes, said Babs’s nod. We love Kori for who she is and don’t want to change her because she cannot be changed.

Chapter Text

November, the same year.

Meeting in Bludhaven for burgers, salads, and fries (to split) had become a monthly custom for Dick and Hood.  As the weather turned cooler, they tended to find an indoor spot to eat instead of a rooftop.  Today they were in Dick’s apartment.   

“Hey,” said Dick, pulling out his phone. “Let me show you something.”

Hood felt the ping of his phone receiving a text and pulled it from a pocket. 

“What am I looking at?”

“An ultrasound!” said Dick.  “Well, not actually an ultrasound.  It’s some kind of alien tech the Lantern Corps has, but…same diff.”  He pointed at Hood’s phone. “See, that’s her forehead, and that’s her nose, and that’s her chin.

“Her?’ asked Hood.

“Oh, yeah.  They had to do genetic testing before implantation, so we’ve known right from the start that we were having a girl.”

“That’s awesome, man,” said Hood with a smile.  “Are y’all talking names yet?”

“Uh, yeah.  We’ve actually picked one.  Kori loves the name ‘Mari’, and Babs and I like it, so we’re going with that.”

“MAHR-ee,” Hood tried it out.  “How do you spell that?”

“M-A-R-I.  Kori says it should be spelled with an apostrophe and pronounced a teeny bit differently than you and I did, but we compromised that she chose the name, and Babs and I choose not to use an apostrophe and to pronounce it in a way that’s easier for English speakers.”

“Sounds fair.  I think y’all mentioned that you don’t know if little Mari will be an only child or will have siblings?”

“Yeah,” said Dick.  “We’re gonna play it by ear.  See how we feel after Mari arrives.  And that’s not the only choice we would need to make!  We’re working with the Lantern Corps, who can do all kinds of things.  Next time, Kori could be the mom and Babs could be the dad!”

“Huh,” said Hood.

“Or I could carry it.” Dick looked queasy and horrified. 

“Whoa,” said Hood.

“Yeah…I talked to a lot of women about what human pregnancy is like and…I dunno, man.  Like, I thought pregnancy was just nine months of waiting for stuff to happen, and then birth was a whole horror movie, and then it was all over.  Nope.  Turns out the entire pregnancy is often miserable and exhausting and awful, and then the birth is a horror movie, and then it takes month and months for your body and brain to heal as much as they're going to, and then your body never, ever fully recovers.”

“Yeah,” said Hood. “Nneka feels about the way you look right now about pregnancy.  Her oldest sister had two babies in three years and was…I think a little more honest with Nneka about the whole experience than women are usually encouraged to be. And Nneka’s take was, ‘This is an actual circle of hell and I want nothing to do with it.’”

“Yeah,” said Dick.  “Nope!” He made a rocketing-away gesture with his hand. 

“Kinda makes you wonder,” said Hood. “How is it that most people who have not had a baby know so very, very little about the experience?”

“I dunno man, but I suspect the answer is gonna wind up being some variant of ‘cis-men suck.’ Maybe cis-men really shouldn’t be allowed to vote. What do we do to compare with making a baby?  Defend our country in a war? I’ve never done that.  I don’t think any American man has done that since…World War 2, if you’re being generous.”

“Hm, hadn’t really thought of that distinction,” said Hood.  “We thank the kids for their ‘service to the country’ when they’re lucky enough to come back. But being a pawn of the greedy and the racist in imperialist wars of aggression isn’t really the same level of service, I guess.”

“I mean…the poor kids being sacrificed to that are probably great kids, but the choice to sacrifice them to that is pretty ignoble.”

“True,” said Hood. “Thank you for your oppression.”  

“Ugh,” said Dick.  “And I’ve certainly never sacrificed my body to make people.”

“Fuck the man!” said Hood.  “Maybe if we ask nicely and promise to be good, the ladies will let us vote every other election?”

“I’m told I’m very charismatic,” Dick grinned.  “I will bring our petition to the Counsel of Mothers in our utopian future.”   

“Who I gotta shoot to make that happen, but for real?” Hood quipped.  “For Mari.”

Dick winced and chuckled.  “But I’m so comfortable with my male privilege,” he whined. 

“Yeah,” Hood grimaced.  “We have met the monster, and he is us.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes. 

“Has Babs considered carrying the next one?” Hood asked.

Dick shook his head. “The bullet that paralyzed her also did a lot of soft tissue damage.  Her uterus is scarred to hell.  It would actually probably be easier and require less intervention for me to carry than her.  But Kori says Tamaranian pregnancies and births are easier than human ones, so if we had another child, Kori would probably just carry again.  I mean…not to undersell the sacrifice Kori is making for our family.  It’s still a big, uncomfortable, hard job.”

Hood raised his iced tea in a toast.  “We honor you for your service, Kori.”

“To Kori,” said Dick, tapping his cup against Hood’s.

Its called MPREG Hood texted, later that night. 

What? Dick replied.

MPREG Hood texted.  When dudes get pregnant in stories.  A while back Steph mentioned her friend is into that when she reads real-person fan-fcition.

*fan-cition

*fan-FICTION

Wait said Dick.  Gotta look some terms up to follow your inane rambling 

Hood programmed his little vacuuming robot to vacuum his apartment.  He had bought one after Nneka could not stop gushing about hers.   After he started the program, he raced to tidy up each room before “Sweepy Baby” got there.

He felt his phone ping.

MY EYES!  THEIR BLEEDING!  WHERES THE BRAIN BLEACH?!!! Dick texted.

Whats up drama queen? Hood replied.

Dick sent a link.  It was a story—a fictional story, not a news article.  Starring…Red Hood.  And…Nightwing.   Several times, Hood put his phone down and walked away in disgust.  But he kept finding himself drawn back by morbid curiosity. 

The…um…piece of artistic expression…did not reflect pregnancy as Nneka had described it.  Nor, Hood suspected, as any human had ever experienced or would ever experience it.  It was less about being pregnant, and more about…the experience of being worshiped and coddled and over-protected and smothered while being pregnant? 

We are good people who dont kink shame Hood texted, dubiously. 

Speak for yourself said Dick.  Your not the one spending the entire story as a pillow princess.  SHAAAME!  SHAAAAAAAAAME! 

I want to share a screenshot of this text conversation with Steph SO BAD! said Hood. 

NOOOOOOO!!!! said Dick. 

I wont because I am an amazing brother said Hood.  But you owe me 

Hood read a little more of the story and then texted Dick again. 

At least youre not the one going on and on about how being tall and muscular and covered in mysterious scars makes me feel so ugly. Hood sent a rolling-eyes emoji.  Im goddamn gorgeous. Its my personality thats shit. Im not this nice to anyone, much less you. 

“Oh, ‘scuse me, Sweepy Baby,” said Hood, getting out of its way. 

Dick sent a cry-laughing emoji.

The End.