#tdk

A/N ~ A continuation of my last imagine here. I really enjoyed writing the last one and couldn’t resist this one. Enjoy!

For more pregnant reader imagines check out my master list.

Summary ~ You and Bruce are back in Lucius’s office but this time to discuss baby names.

Taglist ~ @unclearblur @christianbalefanatic

“Don’t get me started on baby names.”

Lucius raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of you. Another quiet afternoon in his office. Bruce had stopped by to check on The Bat, freshly painted in his signature matte black. You had come along because Bruce had promised to take you shopping afterward, though in true Bruce Wayne fashion, he’d rented out the entire Gotham Mall to keep you and the baby safe from the public eye.

“What’s wrong with George?” Bruce asked from his seat, lounging in one of the plush, velvet chairs that looked far more comfortable than they actually were.

You had eased yourself into the chair beside him, the fabric of your long-sleeved burgundy maternity dress brushing softly against your legs as you tried to get settled. The cushion behind your back refused to cooperate and you shifted for the third time before sighing. At seven months pregnant, even sitting had become an ordeal. Lucius noticed immediately, mentally noting to have more accommodating seating brought in. He remembered your earlier comment about how unfriendly his office furniture was for expectant mothers.

“George is an awful name, Bruce,” you said at last, crossing your arms, “He’s not a fifty-year-old accountant. He’s a baby.”

You reached for the pretzel bag resting on your lap and popped a few into your mouth, the quiet crunch filling the space.

“Honey, maybe that’s—” Bruce began but your glare cut him off mid-sentence. The doctor had warned you to watch your sugar intake but these were sweet and salted pretzels, so as far as you were concerned, it balanced out. Bruce, of course, disagreed.

Lucius tried and failed to hide his amusement. 

“Well then, Mrs. Wayne, what name do you have in mind?”

You shrugged, still chewing. 

“I like Lucas.”

“Lucas Wayne,” Bruce repeated, grimacing as though the name had an unpleasant taste, “Our son is not going to be called Lucas Wayne.”

Lucius blinked in surprise. 

“So it’s a boy, then?”

You waved a hand dismissively. 

“Yes, it is.”

Bruce’s lips curled into a smug smirk.

“Well, congratulations!” Lucius said warmly.

“Thank you,” you and Bruce replied in unison.

You turned back to Bruce, undeterred. 

“Why not Lucas? It’s short for Luke. Luke Wayne. It sounds strong.”

Bruce shook his head firmly. 

“No. Absolutely not.”

You rolled your eyes. 

“Well, it’s better than Theodore or Malakai.” 

You gestured vaguely with one hand, “Sounds like the name of a killer. My son is not a killer.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling through his teeth in that long-suffering way he did when he was trying not to argue with you. Lucius, who had been quietly observing the exchange from behind his desk, could tell this debate was going nowhere fast.

“Mr. Wayne,” he said, cutting in before things escalated, “I have the specs for interior of The Bat. Care to take a look?”

“Yes, please,” Bruce replied immediately, clearly relieved for the distraction. He stood and made his way around Lucius’s desk, his tone shifting from frustrated husband to focused engineer in a matter of seconds.

You sat back, resting your hands on the curve of your belly as you watched the two of them lean over the blueprints. The sight made you smile despite yourself Bruce in his element, completely absorbed in the details of his double life.

You reached absently for the bag of pretzels in your lap, only to find your hand met with air. Frowning, you peeked inside, then turned the bag upside down, as though sheer willpower might summon more. A few lonely crumbs fell into your palm.

“Bruce?” you called softly, holding up the empty bag like evidence in a crime scene.

He glanced over his shoulder, already sensing what was coming.

“Bruce,” you pressed, your tone edging toward petulant. You knew you were being childish but honestly, you’d earned it. You were growing a whole human being; a few more pretzels didn’t seem like too much to ask.

He sighed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“We’ll get some more on the way.”

You pouted but accepted the answer with a small huff, setting the empty wrapper on the chair beside you. 

Lucius was showing Bruce another set of blueprints. Something about new armour plating and fuel efficiency, from the sound of it. You watched them for a moment, their voices low and technical and felt a mix of affection and mild boredom.

Once upon a time, all that talk of gadgets and upgrades fascinated you. Now, it mostly made you tired. Still, you didn’t worry. You trusted Bruce. Trusted what he did for Gotham, for you and for the tiny life growing inside you. He knew what he was doing. If he ever forgot…well, he’d have you to remind him. 

“Honey, you ready to go?”

Bruce stood tall before you, one hand tucked neatly into his pocket, the other extended toward you. The walking stick he once needed was long gone. You looked up at him, eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. 

“What about Thomas?” you asked.

Bruce froze. His mouth opened, then closed again. You waited patiently, knowing that silence was just his way of processing. Lucius, however, couldn’t suppress a small, knowing smile.

“Wha… what?” Bruce finally managed.

“Thomas. For the name.”

For a heartbeat, the room went still. Bruce knew exactly what you were doing. From the moment you found out you were pregnant, long before the mood swings and cravings, you’d told him he’d make a wonderful father, just like his own. The idea of naming his son after Thomas Wayne hit deeper than you expected, stirring something in him he wasn’t ready to voice.

“Bruce?” you prompted gently.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes softening.

“For a middle name, maybe.”

You sighed and lifted your hands in mock defeat. 

“I really thought I had it that time.”

Lucius chuckled quietly.

“So what’s the first name going to be then? Benjamin?” he teased.

Bruce made a face. “There is no way I’m calling my kid Benjamin Wayne. Never. William, maybe.”

“That’s debatable,” you muttered.

“See?” Bruce turned to Lucius, a proud smile tugging at his lips, “I almost have her.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself up from the chair, though it took some effort. Bruce instinctively reached for you but his hand placement didn’t exactly help. You shot him a look, then turned your glare on Lucius as you finally stood with both of Bruce’s hands pulling you upright.

“You really need to do something about those chairs,” you said, pointing accusingly at Lucius’s desk as you adjusted your dress.

Bruce and Lucius exchanged a look of shared amusement, both trying not to laugh.

“Are you coming? I’ve got things to buy,” you called over your shoulder as you headed for the glass doors of the office.

Lucius chuckled, shaking his head.

“To think there was a time when she didn’t care about the money, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce smirked, glancing back at him.

“I know. I think I’ve created a monster.”

They both laughed quietly.

“Chop, chop! We’ve got things to do!” You called again, your voice echoing lightly down the hall.

Bruce gave Lucius one last faint smile.

“Chop, chop,” he repeated before following you out.

Lucius watched the door close behind Bruce, still smiling. You two were absurd, chaotic and entirely human and somehow, against all odds, it worked.

____

howdy