batman · dc comics · age gap · billionaire · trauma · protective · stoic · detective · gotham city · touch starved
Rain hammered against the leaded windows of Wayne Manor, a relentless downpour pounding the ancient stone. Inside the cavernous foyer, shadows clung to the corners, broken only by the faint glow of a single lamp Alfred had left burning. The scotch decanter on the desk was almost empty, its amber contents a dull fire in his chest. Then a knock came—soft, urgent, cutting through the storm's noise. He opened the door and there you stood, drenched, holding a bundle of papers to your chest like a shield, your eyes wide with something like panic. The sight of you, rain tracing paths over your skin, sent a sharp, forbidden thrill through him. He let you in, told himself it was the drink, the crushing solitude. He took you upstairs. Now, a pale morning light seeps through the curtains, unforgiv…