"So whaddya think?"

"What is it?"

"A square."

"Yes…"

"A square that I knitted."

"Ah…" Pam nodded slowly, picking up the oblong yellow 'square' from where Harley had dropped it on her lap. "Yes…well…yes, it's very yellow."

"I bought a bunch of yellow yarn because Karen likes yellow and I thought I'd knit something cute for the baby," Harley explained, happily.

"Right, well…sure," Pam nodded, handing the fabric back to her. "It's very cute—your square."

"Aww, thanks, Babe," Harley grinned, clutching the fabric to her chest. "This was just a practice. I'm gonna get even better!"

"I'm sure," Pam agreed. "But why—pray tell—have you suddenly decided to pick up knitting and scrapbooking?"

"And cooking!" Harley reminded her.

"Of course. How could I forget?"

"It's because I'm gonna be a Grandma, Pammy. There will be things expected of me," Harley informed her. "Grandma things."

"Suddenly the world will be in desperate need of squares of knitted yarn?"

"Oh, knock it off," Harley returned to her couch in a huff. As she sat there, tears began to well up in her eyes and Pam set her book aside.

"Harl, are you crying?"

"No," the blonde wiped her eyes, averting her gaze.

"Oh, Honey, I didn't…I didn't intend that to sound terribly mean spirited." Pam got up, taking Harley's hand as she sat down beside her. "If you enjoy it, learning to knit, or any other ridiculous and unnecessary new hobby, is absolutely a worthwhile use of your time."

"No, it's not—it's not that," Harley wiped at her eyes again. "It's just—it seems like not all that long ago we were murdering people and having babies…and now our kids are murdering people and having babies and it's like…where'd all of it go, ya know?"

Pam laughed, laying back on the couch and pulling Harley down onto her chest.

"And what if the baby doesn't like me?" Harley wondered, propping her chin on Pam's sternum. "And what if we never get to see him?"

"OK, well first of all…" Pam gently pulled Harley's hair out of her ponytail so that she could card her fingers through it. "I have never, in my life, known a child to dislike you. Not even Damian, and that boy is the devil incarnate." Harley nodded sagely, agreeing with her wife's assertion. "Just an absolute rotten egg of a child."

"I think the idiom is a 'rotten apple."

"I would never disrespect apples so blatantly as to compare even the rottenest to Damian Wayne," Pam said quickly. "And, might I add, how dare you?"

"Fine," Harley chuckled, moving to press a kiss to her neck. "I'm sorry."

Pam accepted her apology. "As for the other bit, Anthony taking that position at Wayne Enterprises ensures we'll see the baby quite often."

"Yeah, speaking of which…is Karen crazy? Why would she want to relocate here? It's basically a dumpster compared to San Francisco." Harley said. "And—like—I've lived here my whole life."

"It's closer to headquarters," Pam reminded her. "And the position Bruce offered her pays three times more than Stanford anyway."

"She didn't take that yet, though."

"Yet," Pam repeated. "She will eventually. She'd be an idiot not to, after all, and she doesn't strike me as an idiot."

"Mm," Harley acknowledged, laying her head down to listen to the beating of Pam's heart. "What did you call your Grandma?"

"Ma'am," Pam answered plainly.

Harley frowned. "You called both of your grandmas 'Ma'am'?"

"I only ever met one," Pam revealed. "My Father's mother committed suicide when he was very young."

"Quick—tell me a story about your childhood that doesn't make me want to cry!"

"Can't. Empty set."

Harley laughed. "I called mine 'Grammers' and 'Babushka'."

"Babushka?" Pam raised an eyebrow.

"She was from Lithuania," Harley told her. "Total badass. Survived the holocaust, immigrated here…or maybe she got refugee status, I don't remember. I know FDR wasn't exactly huge on taking in tired, poor and huddled masses, though, so whatever. In any case…yeah, Babushka," she laughed. "And if you ever think I'm eccentric, Gammers was like a whole other level of nuts. In the best way possible, of course."

"Of course," Pam chuckled.

"She raised a career con man, though, so maybe she could have afforded to be a touch more grounded." Harley squinted, thinking on that. "Or maybe not. Maybe my dad was just a…rotten egg."

Pam smirked. "Maybe…" after a moment of simply listening to the rain patter on the roof, she asked a question: "Why didn't I ever meet them?"

"Who?" Harley asked. "My parents?"

The redhead nodded.

"Oh, uh…I don't know…I stopped talking to Pop after I got my degree." Harley told her. "All he did was ask for money."

"And your Mom?"

Harley sighed. "Ma found out about my affair, and…didn't ever look at me the same. So when I told her I was marrying you, she asked what you did…"

"Mhm…"

"And I told her you were a lawyer—which you were, at the time—my lawyer, and…yeah, she wasn't exactly stoked." Harley admitted. "Add that to the whole, 'you're a woman' thing…"

"Hm," Pam furrowed her brow. "I never imagined your family to be bigoted."

"Well they weren't, exactly," Harley attempted to explain. "But my brother was another freeloader, still mooching off Ma's nonexistent estate…and Ma was always soft on him, couldn't see he was an absolute waste of space and that pissed me off. So…I sorta implied that…if she wanted to be included in my new life…that I wasn't gonna tolerate his behavior, and that she shouldn't either."

"And she chose him?" Pam guessed.

"Yeah," Harley confirmed. "It's alright, really. I knew she would. We'd grown apart anyway. I loved her a lot, though. Still do. She died a few years back, you remember."

"I do," Pam nodded. "We went to the funeral…and you didn't introduce me to your brother."

"I did not," Harley acknowledged. "I sacrificed a better relationship with my Mom to cut ties with him. Wasn't about to waste all that for an introduction, no offense."

"I understand," Pam said, pulling Harley's glasses off of her face and setting them down on the coffee table beside them. "And I think—if nothing else—our kids have a better relationship with each other than you had with your brother."

"Hey! That's true!" Harley grinned. "And, after you cleaned up Jo's murder, I'd say your relationship with both of them is better than yours was with either of your parents. So…good parent high five!" she raised her hand.

Pam chuckled. "How about…a kiss instead?"

"Well now I'll have to give you two kisses: one for being a good parent, and one for being a good suggester of things."

/

"You know what's disgusting?"

"You eating ice cream in bed?"

"No, that's normal, healthy behavior that you should probably get used to now." Jo informed him. "No, what's disgusting is that I'm pretty sure you're in love with me."

"What?" Damian sat up immediately. "Where the fuck would you get an idea like that?"

"Umm…well, from the three times you've said it today, mainly."

Damian was appalled at her assertion. "When would I have done a ridiculous thing like that?"

"Well…" Jo took another bite from the ice cream carton. "In the Batmobile first, then…in the shower, and then like 20 minutes ago."

"You mean when I was—was finishing?" Damian looked slightly relieved. "You can't hold that against me."

Jo laughed. "Oh, no?"

"Yeah, no," he affirmed, relaxing into the pillows. "And we really shouldn't have sex in the Batmobile anymore."

"I was actually gonna suggest we increase the frequency." Jo told him. "But fine, whatever, you're not in love with me. Continue living in denial, what do I care?"

He rolled his eyes. "And why would that be disgusting? I'm the handsome, intelligent heir to a 9.2-billion-dollar fortune. Don't act like you could do better than me."

"Look, Man, I don't give a shit either way. I'm just saying two months of hate-fucking a girl is a weird time to be throwing that around," Jo took another bite. "To me, it means you were probably Bruno-Mars-I'd-catch-a-grenade-for-you level infatuated before we even started hooking up. Now suddenly those self-esteem lectures you kept giving me make a lot more sense." She laughed. "Or—shit—maybe I'm not giving you enough credit. Maybe it's been longer than that. Maybe you were coming over to play Legos with my brother and thinking 'dayum, that baby can wear a diaper'."

Damian snatched the ice cream away from her. "I don't love you. Why would I love you? I mean, just out of basic self-preservation—you literally murdered your last boyfriend."

Jo didn't respond right away, in fact, the first sound she made was a sniff. When Damian looked over to investigate, he found her eyes had filled with tears. "That's…yes," she sniffed. "That's true."

"Jolene," well now he felt like an asshole…something that now only felt good some of the time. "You don't have to—stop it," he reached over to wipe her tears away. When she didn't stop, he moved the blankets away and crawled over her, kissing her gently until—she began to laugh. Confused, he opened his eyes to find she was now flipping him over onto his back, straddling his hips and pinning his hands down.

"You're totally in love with me," she snickered, leaning down to kiss him. "That's so gay, Dude."

"How?" Damian demanded. "I'm a man and you're a woman."

She ignored him. "My tears are Batman's kryptonite…damn," she grinned. "I hope all this power doesn't go to my head."

/

"Are you worried about the Dow drop?" Selina asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

"No," Bruce answered plainly. "Can you pass me a scone?"

"Plain?"

"No, cranberry."

"Cranberry?" Selina was intrigued. "What's gotten into you today?"

Bruce shrugged. "I thought I'd switch things up."

"Oh, OK, I see how it is," Selina nodded slowly, passing him the scone. "Looking for a slightly different flavor."

"Yeah, that's right."

"Looking for a little zest."

Bruce nodded, taking a bite. "That's right."

"See, I might usually go with Strawberry," Selina told him. "But today…" she reached for the plate. "I think I'll go for blueberry. You know, in the spirit 'switching it up'."

Bruce chewed, watching her with squinted eyes. "What are we doing?"

"I really don't know," Selina admitted. "Good morning, Jolene." She greeted the girl as she swept into the kitchen, pulling her jacket on, her hair still wet from the shower (Selina guessed).

"Morning," Jo smiled, snatching a scone from the plate.

…and that's when Selina realized something was odd. "Wait a minute, what are you doing here?" she asked as Jo got a mug out of the cupboard and poured herself some coffee. She usually went home after her shift, or took a nap down in the cave before work…but rarely did she come upstairs to take a shower.

"Oh, I was sleeping with Damian," she told them, zipping her jacket up. "I've been doing that a lot lately. Too much, maybe. I'm a terrible influence on him, to be honest."

Bruce choked. "I'm sorry?"

"Yeah, cat's out of the bag," Jo sighed. "If I had more time I'd think of a pun for you, Kitty, but…I'm late for work and young minds are impressionable. Thanks for breakfast!" and with that, she was gone, taking the mug with her. "Oh, and don't tell my Mom!" she shouted behind her before they heard the front door slam shut in the distance.

Bruce and Selina turned to look at each other, both thoroughly confused.

"Did she mean…" Selina began before Damian entered the kitchen…shirtless in pajama pants, drying his hair with the towel that was draped around his neck.

"Morning," he grunted, starting up the cappuccino machine.

Turning around to look at him, Bruce raised an eyebrow. "I feel like you should be in a better mood."

"Why?" Damian asked, his voice all but drowned out by the machine as it frothed his milk. "We still haven't tracked down Bane, Batgirl is still insubordinate, I'm still not totally sold on my new suit, despite its practical improvements on the old design…what do I have to be in a good mood about?"

"Well…aren't you getting laid?" Selina asked, taking a sip from her mug. "Or is it that Batgirl is insubordinate in other areas as well...?"

Damian slammed the machine into the 'off' position. "That fucking—she told you?"

"Oh, yeah," Selina nodded at Bruce, as Damian was unaware that he was the one who'd just confirmed it for them. "She told us all kinds of stuff."

He whipped around, "I don't love her, OK?!" spilling some of his drink down his pants as he did. "She's a liar. Just because you say you love someone three times doesn't mean you actually do, alright? Doesn't matter what you say, it matters what you do."

"And you're doing her, no?" Selina casually took a bite of her scone.

"Just—I have to go," Damian shook his head, angrily dabbing at his pants with his towel. "Father, if you need me, I'll be down in the cave. But if Jolene calls, I am not in."

Selina laughed. "Why would Jo call? She just left, she'll be back tonight."

"Who knows? She's crazy." He started for the elevator. "Certifiably, in all likelihood."

Slowly, Selina turned back to the table after he'd left them alone. "I was not expecting that." She admitted. "Here we were, having a quiet, routine morning and then…shattered."

Bruce agreed with a nod. "I thought zesty scones were going to be this morning's only revelation."

After a moment of silent reflection, Selina reached an open palm across the table, watching Bruce expectantly as she did.

"What?" He asked, glancing down at her hand. "Do you need help up?"

She shook her head, maintaining her silence and tapping her open palm with the fingers of her other hand.

Rolling his eyes, Bruce pulled his wallet out of his pocket and counted out three $100 bills, slapping them down into her hand once it was all there. "Congratulations."

"Took em' long enough, am I right?" Selina laughed.