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Dick stares at the object in his hand as his phone rings and continues to ring.
"Dick?" Bruce finally picks up, his voice is croaky with sleep. "It's eight in the morning-"
"Dad," Dick chokes out.
"What's wrong?" Bruce is far more alert, now. "Are you alright?"
"Oh my god," he gasps. “I can't believe that this is happening-"
"Dick, son, you're scaring me."
"I'm pregnant," he said.
Silence.
Dick’s voice wavers. “Dad?”
“Oh, is this good news or bad news.”
Dick can’t help the wet laugh that escapes him. Trust Bruce to be as awkward as possible about this.
---
“So, uh, who’s the other parent?” Tim’s question comes over breakfast. Somebody, Dick is pretty sure it’s Jason, kicks the teen under the table.
Dick finishes his mouthful of cereal before answering. “They’re not interested in being a parent.”
“Ah.
“It’s okay though,” Dick smiles brightly. “I'm going to be all the dad my kiddo will ever need.”
“Damn right, you will,” Jason mutters into his pancakes. His grumpy support has been a delight to Dick.
“Not to mention all of the amazing aunts and uncles this kid is going to have.”
Damian’s eyes go wide at the word ‘uncle.’
---
The decision to hang up Nightwing isn’t a difficult one.
“I don’t fit into the suit anymore,” Dick whines.
“Rest in pieces,” says Tim offhandedly, zipping up his own suit. “Wait.”
“Richard, you agreed that once your uniform no longer fit, you’d take a sabbatical until after my niece is born.” Damian has taken an enthusiastic shine to being an uncle.
“Why are you so sure the kid’s going to be a girl?” Tim demands.
“I simply know these things, Drake.”
“Oh, then you’re willing to bet on it?”
Dick rolls his eyes as his little brothers negotiate their terms.
---
“You rest, okay?” Roy orders, taking the blanket off the back of the couch and draping it over his lap.
"I'm pregnant, not an invalid," Dick says without heat.
“True, but by your own admission your feet are sore.”
“Hmph.”
Roy laughs.
Dick places a hand on the swell of his stomach. He’s 36 weeks into his pregnancy and he’s pretty sure he’s going to have some sick stretch marks once this is over with.
“Don’t worry, kiddo. You’re going to have the most aunts and uncles. And all of them love you so, so much.“
“Damn right, we do.”
---
“Dick, sit back down," Jason chastises him sternly. “You just got back from the hospital.”
“I did, didn’t I,” Dick laughs, easing himself down into the armchair. "Oof."
“Take it easy!”
“Jay,” he says, making grabby hands. “Bring my infant to me.”
The baby burbles at them from his car seat, which they had yet to remove him from because until then he was sleeping and if they disturbed him they’re monsters. Now that he’s awake, Dick can gather Ezra in his arms.
“You’re so gentle with him. Almost hard to believe you fractured two of Bruce's fingers during labor.”
---
“Look at him go,” Dick cries out joyfully. The rest of the family cheers with him, excited.
Ezra, at eight months old, is finally getting the hang of crawling. The baby looks around wide-eyed at the chorus of encouraging words.
His kid is growing up so fast. It felt as though just yesterday Dick brought him home.
It’s going so fast, that Duke is currently managing a betting ring (which they think Dick doesn’t know about) based on who can get Ezra to take his first steps. There are several thousand dollars on Bruce, but Dick thinks it’ll be Damian.
---
“I’ll be back, okay baby?”
“Okay,” Ezra parrots, obviously distracted. Dick can’t blame his son for it, after all there’s so much going on around them that he’s almost lost in it himself.
“Have fun, alright? I love you!”
“Love you,” the boy says. By rote, he lifts himself up to plant a kiss on Dick’s cheek.
He finally releases his son’s hand, and the boy beelines for the playground swarming with other kids.
One of the women standing by the daycare’s gate coos at Ezra. “What a sweetie, giving his daddy a kiss. I wish my kid did that.”
---
Ezra leaps out of his carseat and runs up the stairs into their apartment. Dick follows and finds him digging through his backpack. “Dad! Look what I made!”
“Oh? Is that a picture frame I see?” It’s a popsicle-stick monstrosity covered in glitter. Dick loves it.
“Yeah! Mr. Car says you can put a picture of us in it!”
“Mr. Carmichael is absolutely right, I can put a picture in there! Do you want to help me pick one out?”
Ezra’s eyes light up.
They spend the entire evening sorting through photos, even consulting Tim for the best shot possible.
---
“Hey Walls, can you bring over the, uh- the thing?”
“Sure thing, babe!”
“You’re a gem!”
Dick goes back to the coloring book. He swaps out the Nightwing blue for Signal yellow. (Did he find a Bat-themed coloring book set and impulse buy it? Absolutely.)
“Dad, why does uncle Wally call you ‘babe’ if you’re not dating?”
He laughs at the bluntness of Ezra’s question. It’s one he’s been waiting for. “Well, when we were younger we used to
pretend
to date, so we could confuse people. It was a joke that ran so long that the habit kinda stuck.”