oh, my baby | tim drake

005 | our home 

lover | taylor swift

The moving truck was modest, borrowed from one of Jason's more... morally flexible contacts. Vanessa had no idea what Jason had traded in return, but she chose not to ask.

The sun had barely risen when the first few boxes were unloaded. Tim handled most of them, carrying his weight twice over, while Vanessa tried to avoid lifting anything heavier than a bag of diapers.

The apartment smelled like old wood and fresh paint. Two bedrooms, creaky floorboards, and a window view of a fire escape. It wasn't glamorous, but it was theirs.

Vanessa sat cross-legged on the living room floor, sipping ginger tea, when there was a knock on the door.

She expected the landlord. Instead, she found Stephanie Brown, arms full of Target bags and grinning like she'd just robbed a baby aisle.

"You thought I wouldn't show up with housewarming gifts?" Steph stepped inside before Vanessa could respond. "We've got burp cloths, swaddles, nipple cream—don't ask—and an actual functioning coffee machine for Tim before he dies."

Vanessa blinked. "You're serious?"

"I am always serious about caffeine and baby accessories." Steph smiled, then softened. "How are you really, Ness?"

Vanessa hesitated, then shrugged. "Exhausted. Nervous. Like a hormonal grenade."

Steph nodded. "Yeah, that tracks."

The door opened again—this time it was Jason.

He didn't say much. Just set down a box of takeout containers and muttered, "You're both idiots, but you're my idiots. Congrats."

Vanessa smiled gratefully. "You stayed up all night to help Tim pack."

Jason shrugged. "He's my brother."

It was quiet for a moment before he added, "Bruce knows you moved out."

Vanessa froze. "And?"

Jason tilted his head. "Didn't say anything. Just watched the security feeds like a statue."

WAYNE MANOR - SAME TIME

Dick leaned on the kitchen island, rubbing his temples as Damian insulted Tim's life choices for the fifth time.

"They should've asked before making decisions that affect all of us," Damian muttered, arms crossed.

"They don't owe you anything," Dick said sharply.

"They're teenagers. Unmarried. One with no powers and the other with hormones. This is not sustainable."

"They're in love," Dick replied. "They're scared. But they're trying. And they don't need you kicking them while they're down."

"Father doesn't approve either."

"No, he's just a coward right now," Jason said, stepping into the kitchen without knocking.

Bruce was seated by the window, silent.

Jason walked past him, dropped the apartment keys Tim had left behind, and said, "You can sit here and judge, or you can show up. They won't wait forever."

BACK AT THE APARTMENT,

That night, Vanessa sat beside Tim on the floor of their new living room, surrounded by boxes, half-unpacked bags, and a single working lamp.

Tim handed her a takeout container and nudged her shoulder gently. "Steph says you cried at the burp cloths."

"She got ones with little ducks," Vanessa mumbled. "I didn't stand a chance."

Tim chuckled. "We're really doing this."

She nodded slowly. "Yeah. We are."

They clinked chopsticks together like wine glasses.

The city hummed outside their window, loud and messy and alive.

And for the first time since they left the Manor, Vanessa didn't feel like a burden.

She felt like a mother.