Chapter Text
“Thanks for coming up to help with this Mum, Dad. Tim and I were going to handle it, but then he had to go on this business trip suddenly and it would’ve taken me a lot longer to do on my own.” Hana says gratefully, ripping open the pack of paint rollers she’s holding. Her mom is finishing lining the window with painter’s tape, and her dad has just popped the lid of the paint can off and is pouring it into a couple of trays.
“Of course, sweetie. What else are your parents for, then to exploit for manual labour?” Her dad teases, and Hana laughs.
“Exactly!” She exclaims, passing a roller over to him when he gestures for one.
“Does that happen often?” Her mother asks lightly, crouched down to put a last strip of bright green tape along the bottom edge of the window. When Hana makes a questioning noise, she clarifies: “Tim, having to go on sudden, last minute business trips like this? You’ve mentioned it a few times before, I think, him having to unexpectedly go off for one.”
“Yeah, more than you’d expect.” Hana laughs it off, turning away from both her parents to carry a paint tray over to the wall opposite the window. She sets it down carefully, making sure the sheet covering the floor doesn’t get bunched under it. As she smooths and tugs the sheet flat, she speaks again, voice casual. “I mean, it’s not exactly just a regular office 9 to 5.”
She looks up to see her mother glancing back over her shoulder to share a look with her father, pursing her lips. She’d never really been angry at Tim for not telling her about his nighttime activities; a little annoyed more than anything else, that she hadn’t figured it out sooner. But she understood it better now that she was the one with that decision.
Tim had offered to tell her parents the truth, but Hana had chosen not to. It led to times like this, where she had to laugh off and brush aside some of the things that seemed strange without the proper context. Meant having to outright lie to her parents sometimes. But it was the safest choice.
“Besides,” she says brightly, standing back up and smiling at her parents, “over the next few months there’s going to be a lot of changes, so soon he shouldn’t need to go on nearly so many.”
“Really? Like what?” Her mother asks, and Hana scoops up the other two rollers from the pack, giving her mom one in exchange for the remainder of the roll of tape and tucking it into one of the pockets of her painter’s apron.
“Well, Damian’s getting older, and he’s interested in getting involved with his dad’s company. So he and Tim are going to start working together, gradually transferring some of Tim’s responsibilities over to Damian over the next few months. Like going on these last-minute trips.” Hana replies, and her parents both chuckle.
“Those two are going to work together?” Her dad asks, and Hana laughs too.
“I know, but they’ve been getting along better, especially recently. They can have whole conversations without insulting each other.” Hana tells them, turning away and moving back to her paint tray, crouching down to coat her roller in paint. She stands, rolling her first swath of paint down the wall as she continues to speak. “The plan is for Tim to eventually transition to a mostly work from home position, with only the occasional need to actually go in the office, and no business trips except for real emergencies.”
“Is that what this room is going to be? A home office?” Her dad asks, and Hana finishes re-coating her roller, standing up again to apply more paint before responding.
“No, actually there’s already the office downstairs, and we figure we can split it. I don’t really need it all that often anyway, so it wasn’t getting used much.” Hana explains, and there’s a brief lull in the conversation, which she waits through as she continues to transfer the paint from her roller to the wall.
“What is this room going to be, then? You picked a nice colour for it, very calming.” Her mother is the one to speak this time, and Hana pauses a moment before responding, studying the pale green paint on the wall.
“I hope so.” She muses, before turning around to face her parents, finding them both looking at her already. “The research I did said that green was a soothing colour, which is why it’s good for a nursery.”
“Nursery?” Her mom asks, gaze darting down to her belly, where there is no distinct bump or anything, yet. Her dad is just looking at her face, roller paused midway down the wall, a little shock in his expression. A giddy grin breaks free on Hana’s face, and she can barely get the words out through it to announce: “I’m pregnant!”
“Oh, Hana, that’s wonderful!” Her mother says, stepping forward to wrap her arms around Hana in a hug. It’s a little awkward, with them both having to twist to keep their paint rollers extended away from each other. Hana presses her face into the worn-soft fabric of her mother’s shirt, muffling her giddy giggles against it. “Are you excited? Is Tim?
“Yes, and yes. Nervous too, Tim actually more so than me I think, at least for now. But mostly excited, for both of us. I actually told him at Christmas time, and he was already taking advantage of boxing day sales to buy stuff. I think he’s got a playpen, and a stroller, and like 2 different car seats already, but there might be more. He’s been keeping the boxes in a corner of the garage until we get the painting done, and I haven’t looked at that corner in the last couple weeks, so who knows what he may have squirreled away since then.” Hana laughingly explains, and her mother chuckles.
“Just wait. Your dad got progressively more nervous, all the way until I was actively in labour and he was panicking because he couldn’t remember if we had a car seat, even though it was in the car as we’d drove to the hospital.” Her mom teases, and Hana laughs, pulling away from her to look at her dad.
But her teasing laughter fades off into an intense fondness as she glances over only to see her dad blinking rapidly with shiny eyes. “Aww, dad...”
She steps away from her mom, walking up to her dad’s side, wrapping an arm around his waist and tucking her head against his shoulder as he wraps his own around her and squeezes her tight.
“Congratulations baby.” He says, voice a little tight with emotion, and Hana nuzzles into him, feeling her own emotions surge in response. “I love you.”
“Love you too.” Hana murmurs, swallowing down the responsive tears trying to escape her. After a few moments more, she finally steps away, clearing her throat. “Ugh, stupid hormones. They’ve been driving me up the wall already, I don’t know how Tim hasn’t been more bothered by it.”
“A strong sense of self-preservation, probably.” Her dad comments, and they both laugh, while a glance at her mom shows her rolling her eyes in a fond exasperation at the two of them. Hana and her dad have always been the most outwardly emotional and expressive, with her mother serving as their moderation, their voice of logic. Tim now serves as that for Hana; one of the ways they complement each other.
“Anyway, we decided we were ready to start telling people, and that you guys would be the first ones we told. So when we were planning on painting the nursery and he got called away, it seemed like the perfect opportunity.” Hana explains, and her parents both smile at her. “He actually messaged me just before you guys get here, and he should be home in time for dinner. I figure that means we should be able to get the first coat done, and then he and I can do a second coat and touch ups tomorrow.”
“Well then,” her mother says, exchanging a glance with her father, before looking back at her, “I guess we’d better get started.”
“Honey, I’m home!” Tim’s voice ring out loud and clear, and Hana immediately abandons the pot she was stirring, rushing out of the kitchen. Behind her, her mother takes her place at the stove top, taking over the tending of the pot and exchanging a fond glance with her father over her single-minded focus. She doesn’t notice though, sliding on her socks across the hardwood, into the hallway.
At the end of the hall is the closed front door (which she hadn’t even heard open in the first place), and more importantly, her husband. His ‘work trip’ bags are piled up just inside the door, and there’s a box that looks an awful lot like a fancy bakery box on the hall table. But the only thing Hana has eyes for is Tim, still in his boots and coat, seemingly having gotten inside, called out, and then just waited for her to appear.
He smiles, big and crinkle-eyed, as he sees her slide into view, and Hana quickly darts down the hall and right into his opened arms. She tucks her nose into the crook of his neck, smelling the light citrus scent of the bath products Alfred stocks in the Cave. Tim must have showered off immediately after getting back to Gotham, and then come straight here.
“Welcome home. I missed you.” Hana murmurs, lips brushing his skin as she speaks, before pressing an actual kiss there.
“I missed you too.” Tim says back, his own face turned into her hair, his arms wrapped tight around her, fingers of one hand stroking lightly up and down her back. After a few breaths, he pulls back a little, pressing a kiss to her temple. He chuckles then, and Hana pulls her own head back to look up at him, just in time to see him grab a lock of hair that had a patch of dried pale green paint stuck to it. “Did you manage to get some paint on the walls too?”
“Yeah, some.” Hana teases back, finally stepping fully out of his embrace, just in time for Poe to appear, twining around their feet. Tim crouches to greet him, and Hana smiles as Poe flops over to let Tim rub his belly, purring like a lawnmower. “I actually think we got a pretty even covering. Should be all ready for you and me to get the second coat done tomorrow. I think the colour looks really nice, but you’ll have to check it out and see what you think.”
“I’m sure it looks great. You picked it, after all, and after how long you spent deciding between 2 identical shades...” Tim trails off, and though she knows he is teasing her, Hana can’t help but respond.
“They weren’t identical! Why would they put two of the same colour on a swatch? And why give them different name?” She asks, and Tim laughs, holding his hands up in surrender before they fall back into the same conversation they’ve had multiple times.
“I know, I know! You’re right, as always!” He says, and Hana sniffs, tilting her face up snootily, but unable to stop her lips from lifting in the corners.
“And don’t you forget it!” She says, and Tim laughs. She glances back down to see him give one last rub to Poe, before standing up, glancing down the hall before looking back at her curiously.
“Where are your parents?”
“In the kitchen. Actually, you had perfect timing. Dinner should be just about ready. Come on, leave your bags for now, you can get them later.” Hana says, reaching down to grab Tim’s hand and tug him along after her.
“Hang on, I brought some gifts back with me. One of few perks of ‘business trips’.” Tim gently pulls his hand free from hers to crouch down beside his bags, opening one up and reaching in to pull out a bottle of wine that she’s sure is far too expensive. “Wine, to go with dinner. But also, since you can’t have wine anymore, and since I know you, dessert.”
He stands, wine in one hand, reaching out with the other for what she had known was a fancy bakery box sitting on the hall table. She can’t help rising on her toes, as if trying to get a glimpse, even though the box is closed and not transparent in the least. Seeing this, Tim huffs a laugh, passing the box to her, and Hana doesn’t hesitate in opening it to peek inside.
“Ooooooo.” Hana breathes out, biting her lip as her mouth waters, her sweet tooth only having gotten more intense in her pregnancy. She’d conversely cut down on the sugar, wanting to stay as healthy as possible, and this in turn made her cravings even stronger. But this was a special occasion, so she would certainly be giving herself an allowance for it.
“Genuine cream puffs, straight from France. Or should I say, genuine profiteroles.” Tim states, though Hana had figured it out from the sight. The box was full of the small pastry, all topped classically with little dabs of chocolate ganache. After a last long look, Hana quickly closes the box again, giving Tim a strong look over the top of it. He laughs, now holding his own hand out to her, which Hana quickly shifts her hold on the pastry box to take. “Come on, I should say hi to your parents already. It’s probably getting long enough to be rude at this point.”
“Don’t worry so much. They’re hardly going to get offended that their daughter’s husband wanted to get a few minutes to greet his pregnant wife after having been gone for a few days on an unexpected business trip. I swear, you act sometimes like this is your first time meeting them, and you have to make a good impression. We’re literally married. And expecting their first grandchild. They like you. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
The two of them step through from the hallway into the kitchen, only to find Hana’s mother at the counter, a cutting board before her as she finished chopping up some cucumber slices. She half turns towards them, knife still in hand, smiling pleasantly. But Tim sees her eyes dart down across him, taking everything in. He’d done his best, but he wasn’t sure he’d quite managed to perfectly replicate the ‘just off a trans-Atlantic plane ride’ rumpled look.
“Welcome back, Tim darling. You’re just in time to eat.” She says, turning back to the cutting board to sweep the cucumber slices into a big bowl of salad. She uses the wooden spoon resting in it to give it a stir, mixing everything together as she speaks back over her shoulder. “Hana, come take this into the dining room and you can help your father finish setting the table. I’ll help Tim pour the wine and then we’ll be in to join you, and we can start eating.”
Hana easily agrees, giving Tim a kiss on the cheek before separating from him. She leaves the box of cream puffs on the counter, taking the salad bowl from her mother with a smile. Her mother watches her go, turning to face Tim once she’s out of sight in the dining room.
“So then, Tim, how was your trip. Get all your business taken care of?” Hana’s mother asks, gesturing for him to bring the wine bottle over. He watches her effortlessly retrieve 3 wine glasses, as well as their wine opener (which Tim hadn’t even known was in the drawer she pulled it out of), pondering all the while. He had never been, and still wasn’t, sure if she had an idea of his other identity, or if she believed he was cheating on Hana, or otherwise up to no good, but she had never seemed to accept the idea that his sudden trips were just Wayne Entreprises business.
Which, of course, wasn’t the truth most of the time. Though it actually, occasionally was a legitimate business trip, it was far more often just the excuse behind a trip to save the world, defeat a supervillain, or otherwise get involved with something stupidly dangerous.
He had been increasingly reluctant to handle major incidents of the world-saving variety, starting all the way back when Hana and his relationship was just starting to get serious. But as the two of them had advanced their relationship through its various stages, he had also grown increasingly guilty about it.
In marrying Hana, he’d committed himself as a life partner to her. He wanted to honour that promise. And more than that, he’d found himself growing, as unbelievable as it would have been to his younger self, increasingly yearning for a domestic life. At least, so long as it was with Hana.
“It was fine. A little hectic, and I obviously would’ve preferred not to have to go, but we got it all handled.” Tim responds finally, the actual pause thankfully not being near as long as it had seemed while he’d been pondering. Hana’s mother holds a hand out for the bottle, and he passes it over to her. She looks over the label, eyebrows a little furrowed, before letting out a short hum that he isn’t able to determine as either positive or negative.
“Hana told us you plan on stepping back some from the business. Going on less trips, working from home.” She states, beginning to dig the corkscrew into the wine cork, to be able to open it. She’s focused on her task, but Tim can feel a tension in the air around them that leaves him feeling like she’s staring him down.
“That’s the plan, yeah. I’ve wanted to for a while, cause I want to be around more, to just be able to stay home more. But especially now, I don’t want to miss anything.” Tim says, more the truth than he’d even really known he was going to say until he said it. Hana’s mother pops the cork out, setting it and the opener down on the counter, turning away to let the bottle breathe. But as she meets his eyes, he suddenly can’t breathe himself anymore. Her eyes are sharp, intense, seeing through him as they look in his own.
“Look, Tim, I think you’re a good man. And, more important than my own thoughts and opinion of you, I trust Hana’s judgement. Her father and I raised her to be smart, and growing up in Gotham gave her good instincts. She’s chosen you, and that means a lot to both her father and me. But I’m still her mother, and it would be remiss of me if she got hurt because I didn’t want to say the tough things, or ask the hard questions.” Hana’s mother says, voice as stable and unwavering as a steel beam. Tim swallows hard, and luckily or unluckily, doesn’t have a chance to say anything in response before she continues.
“You know Hana’s dad used to be a cop here in Gotham. He would get called away fairly often. Sometimes with no warning, sometimes for days at a time. Gotham has a lot of crime, after all, and not nearly enough cops that handle things correctly.” She says, pausing a short moment in her speaking. Tim nods to her words, and whether she had been intending to wait for a response or not, she continues after he’d given it. “That means that, from the time he and I started dating, all the way through Hana’s childhood, he would miss things. Sometimes just dinner, or a bedtime. But sometimes, an anniversary, a birthday, a milestone. Hana and I both understood, we always did. But that didn’t mean it never hurt, that we never resented his job sometimes, never resented him just a little.
“Whether it’s fair or not, whether it’s justified or not, that’s just the way it was. And I have seen the same thing now in Hana as I did back then, even if she is better at brushing it off than she was as a child. That bit of disappointment, that edge of hurt, when she mentioned you were called away suddenly and had to miss something or other. Regardless of how small she claims it was, or how casually she tries to seem when she says it. Still, Hana is a grown woman, and she can choose the life she intends to live. It’s not my place to interfere with that.
“But, Tim, I do have to ask you one question. Do you intend to be there for your child? To be around for the big and little moments, to be present in their life? Because I’m telling you right now, while I never would’ve chosen differently for my own life, I have occasionally wondered if I wouldn’t have decided on something else for Hana’s sake.” For a few long moments, like small eternities encased in the breaths he has to almost consciously pull in and push out of his lungs, Tim’s mind is blanker than it’s ever been before.
And then: “Yes, Ma’am. There’s nothing I want more.” The words are ripped from him more than he speaks them, and his voice cracks in a way it hasn’t since he was a teenager running around in green tights at night. Hana’s mother stares him down for a few more eternities.
“Good.” She says eventually, and her face finally softens. “And call me Emma, dear, how many times do I need to tell you?”
“Once more, I guess.” Tim responds weakly, abundantly relieved when she turns away, and the tension in the air finally breaks. He feels like he can finally take a full breath in again. Emma pours 3 glasses of wine, handing him one and the bottle, and picking up two herself. As the two of them finally follow the others into the dining room, Tim sees Hana’s father send a knowing look at his wife, before turning back to his daughter, Tim’s wife, to continue the story he was telling.
As he slides into the seat next to Hana after what was no more than a handful of minutes chronologically, but far longer in every other way, she turns to face him, her smile growing warmer and wider. He smiles back, casting a glance across the table as he sets his wine glass and the bottle onto it, seeing Hana’s parents duck their heads together to murmur to each other.
He turns back to his wife, catching her gaze and smiling himself. He leans over to press his head in close to hers, his lips to her ear. “I love you,” he says, and means it more than anything else he’s said tonight.