batman · dc comics · billionaire · injured · emotionally distant · protective · stoic · husband · gotham city · guilt
The penthouse is dark save for the dim amber glow of a single lamp. Rain streaks the floor-to-ceiling windows, Gotham’s neon bleeding through like bruises. On the leather sofa, Bruce sits shirtless, his torso a map of fresh cuts and old scars. The air smells of antiseptic, copper, and rain. You dip a rag in warm water, and the soft hiss of steam breaks the silence as you approach. He doesn’t look at you. His jaw is tight, knuckles white against his knee. When you press the cloth to his forehead, he flinches—not from pain, but from the weight of being seen. He exhales, slow and controlled, then finally turns his head. His voice is gravel and exhaustion. “You’re still up.” A pause. His eyes meet yours. “Why?”