Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem!reader
Summary: You're pregnant. He's screwed. What can he do but work through his spiralling emotions?
CW: talks of pregnancy, fatherhood, mentions of parental death.
A/N: lowkey felt like I was in a slump writing this </3 I hope you all like it tho!! this is part of my galentine's collab, here's the event masterlist! also a shoutout to @batwngs and @supermenz for reading through this for me bc lowkey i am terrified with my interpretation of dick D:
He’d been on patrol when you’d sent the photo to him. A picture of a positive pregnancy test, and a few more around it with fainter lines, all arranged in a heart, like you were excited. Because why wouldn’t you be? He’d been entertaining the idea of a family with you, one big and loud, like the circus, and you both had claimed to want this. He’d outwardly been just as ecstatic, just as willing for a child, multiple even. So why was he suddenly feeling a pit in his stomach? He’s grateful he’s in Bludhaven tonight, knowing full well if anyone caught him, they’d be able to read his emotions a little too easily. His thumb hovers over the image, and he double taps it to form a heart, wanting to reassure you that he, too, was happy.
But was he? He was excited, yes, anxious, also yes, but…some part of him didn’t know if he really wanted this. The idea of children was thrilling, and he had no doubt you’d be a perfect mother, but him? What good could he be at this? Yes, he’d had experience working with kids, but those were in usually traumatic, high-risk situations. As for father-figures, well, he’s got a couple. He knew his father was a good man, but he had such little time with him that he didn't know how he felt about being a father himself, like him. Bruce, while good-intentioned, wasn’t the best parental figure, fumbling for as long as he’d known him. And with his gaggle of kids, how could Dick really ask for advice, at least for this part? It’s not like the man would know. Part of him wants to call Clark, to ask him, or even Wally.
The more he thinks about it, though, the less inclined he feels to open up. First things first, he needed to get back home. To see how you felt. Did you even fully want this? He knew you’d both spoken about this, dreamt about it, but what are dreams when compared to reality?
When he gets back, though, the lights are all off, save for the kitchen. You’d probably turned it on before going to bed, so he’d be able to walk around easily. His chest tightens, and he swallows thickly. There you go again, thinking about him. Oddly enough, it only makes him feel more uneasy. Slipping inside, he shuts the lights off, walking into the bedroom to find you sprawled out on your side, your arms tangled up with his pillow, like you’d wanted to smell him before you passed out. It’s clear you’d tried staying awake, and the gesture is enough to melt away his worries, his expression softening as he shrugs off his suit, intent on joining you in bed.
Though, going to the bathroom ended up being the wrong move. Because in front of him, almost taunting him, are the pregnancy tests, all still lined up like a heart the way it’d been when you’d sent that photo. Shutting the bathroom door to not risk waking you up, he leans heavily against the countertop, the marble cool on his skin and making him suck in a sharp breath. He gasps, turning the taps, washing his face to try and calm his racing heart. What was happening to him? Why did he feel like this? He couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Was it because the idea of becoming a father reminded him of his own, wondering how John must’ve felt when Mary was pregnant? Or worse, because he knew, deep down, he shouldn’t be feeling this way? You were carrying his baby, and his emotions were now an amalgamation of fear, love, and guilt. How could he be scared, knowing you were as happy as a clam?
His spiraling is cut off by the door opening, making him jolt as he shuts off the water and turns to face you, face still damp. You look so tired, and it makes him melt a little, though it’s quickly joined by his previous feelings. “Honey, why’re you awake? Go back to bed.” He starts, only for you to suddenly rush up towards him, hugging him tightly. Your arms squeeze his torso, his back, making him instinctively move further into your grasp, his arms moving on autopilot to wrap around you, hands finding the small of your back and your hair.
“I missed you. And the light was too bright to ignore.” You mumble into his neck, breath making shivers run down his spine, though he relaxes easily. Resting his chin on top of your head, he hums softly, his nerves slowly fizzling out. “Sorry. Thought I shut it properly.” He responds softly, and he feels you shaking your head, even as your body rests a little more heavily against his.
“It’s okay. Are you okay? You’re looking a little pale, baby.” You start, lifting your head up and cupping his cheeks, brows scrunching together out of worry. His lashes flutter, and he leans into your hold, blowing some air on your forehead to get you to calm down. “I’m fine, promise. I saw your message earlier. We should go to the doctor soon, get you checked out and all.” He tells you, like he’s trying to think about everything you might need. But a finger on his lips stops him completely, and you give him a discerning look, making him huff and groan, realizing his little facade isn’t working on you. “Look…can we talk about this tomorrow? It’s late, and I don’t…” He takes a moment to think about how to phrase things, and squeezes your shoulders, getting you to let go of him. “My therapist says that taking a break and coming back to high-emotion…stuff…helps.” He finishes, awkwardly making eye contact with you again.
You pause, and for a moment he wonders if he should backtrack, but you nod slowly, smiling faintly and pulling away from his hold. “Okay. We can talk tomorrow.” You respond, though your voice sounds weaker than normal, making his chest tighten again. Now he wants to seriously hit rewind and start over, but he physically can’t. You’re already heading back to bed, and he feels like an ass.
He swears he doesn’t sleep a wink the rest of the night. And the next day isn’t much better, since you’re at this weird sort of stalemate after last night’s…conversation, if he can really even call it that. It doesn’t get much better, until he insists on driving you both out of Bludhaven, wanting to get a proper, private conversation, one without four walls around him suffocating the words out of his lungs.
That’s how the both of you end up by the seaside, sitting on the sand side-by-side, his hand resting on the small of your back, keeping contact with you despite knowing you were probably still upset with him. It takes him a few minutes before he finally starts talking, his voice raw, aching. “Do you really think I’ll be a good dad?” He asks softly, making eye contact with you, his blue eyes swirling with unshed tears. You stare back at him, expression softening as you take his free hand in yours, squeezing it tightly.
“Of course you will. What makes you think otherwise, Dick?” You ask in return, making him choke on a sob, needing to take a few deep breaths before responding. “I don’t know how to be a dad. What if—what if I screw up with the baby? I don’t exactly have the best track record with dads.” He starts, before going on to make a long list of all the things he could possibly do wrong with the baby. You tense up a little, before suddenly bringing him into a hug, muffling his voice, and making him shudder a little, trying desperately not to cry.
“Hey—hey. It’s okay, Dick. I know becoming a parent is scary. And I know that I’m scared, too. But y’know what I’m not scared about?” You murmur, lifting his face up so he can look you properly in the eyes. “I know you’ll be a good dad. You’ll make mistakes, and I’ll make mistakes, but that’s human. We can't be perfect, but we can give this all we’ve got. I know you’ll be great to them, Dick. I can feel it in my heart, and so can the baby.” You tell him softly, playfully, making him crack a smile and melt in your hold, sniffling as he wipes his eyes, before helping you up onto your feet.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll…we’ll try our best. I’m sure this baby’ll be perfect, just like its mother.” He murmurs, kissing your forehead and making you chuckle, elbowing him lightly, even as you’re wrapping your jacket a little tighter around your frame, staring up at the gloomy sky.
“We should come back here again, with the baby.” You murmur, already imagining the both of you and the baby back here, on a brighter day, happy. That’d be perfect.
A year and a half later, you and Dick find yourselves on the same beach, in the summer, with a happy, bubbly baby girl in your arms. Like Dick, she had an adventurous spirit, immediately trying to waddle into the water, before Dick’s excitedly scooping her up.
“Hey, hey, where do you think you’re going, sunshine? Don’t you wanna go with daddy?” He asks happily, watching as the baby coos and squeals, babbling and grabbing at his shirt, looking around curiously for you. You wave, giggling softly, and move to kiss her cheek, smiling wider when the baby immediately looks back to the water, wanting to run around and play. You laugh, and nudge Dick, who walks towards the shore with the baby in tow.
“See, like this. We don’t just go running into the water, silly.” He instructs her carefully, and sets the baby down on the wet sand, watching her every reaction while holding both her hands to make sure she doesn’t fall in. He couldn’t let her little blueberry swimsuit get ruined, after all. Despite it being a gag gift from Jason during the baby shower, he loved it—especially since the baby had his eyes. What could be more precious?
It’s clear you felt similarly, since you’re right behind him, holding little shovels for the baby to try out, making her laugh and squeal before she grabs fistfuls of sand and smears it all over Dick’s arms. Really, compared to the last time you both were on the beach, today was a nice full circle moment, and he couldn’t be more happy about it.
dividers by @pixopix
please do not copy, steal, or put my works into AI.
