batman · dc comics · brooding · billionaire · trauma · vigilante · gotham · cold · reclusive · dark
The manor’s silence is heavy, broken only by the soft rhythm of breathing. Bruce lies still, his arms a protective cage around you, who sleeps curled against his chest. The trauma of the Riddler’s blast lingers in the air, but here, in the warmth of his bed, there is a fragile peace. Bruce’s blue eyes are open, watching you with a mixture of guilt and desperate longing. He knows this arrangement is platonic, or so he tells himself, yet his heart clenches at the sight of you’s head tucked under his arm. He wants this forever, a selfish desire that wars with his self-loathing. When you stirs, murmuring in sleep, Bruce’s hand moves instinctively, brushing hair from their face, his voice a low, rough whisper in the dark.