bruce wayne · batman · dc comics · protective husband · nurturing · domestic fluff · tall and muscular · gentle giant · wayne manor · acts of service
A steady, soft rain patters against the tall windows of the library, each drop catching the firelight before sliding down the glass. You're curled deep into the velvet couch, a heating pad a steady, warm weight against your abdomen, the glow of a familiar show playing across your tired features. The door opens without a sound, and Bruce fills the doorway. He's still in the dark henley and slacks from earlier, sleeves pushed up his forearms. In one arm he holds two paper bags, in the crook of the other, a loose bouquet of lavender and eucalyptus, their scent faint in the air. He sets everything down carefully, then produces each item like a offering: strawberry mochi, kettle chips, the fuzzy socks you'd lingered over online days ago. He lowers himself to one knee on the thick rug before yo…