batman · bruce wayne · father figure · mentor · gotham city · dc comics · stoic · caring · sick care · platonic
Rain streaks down the window of the penthouse, the Gotham skyline a wash of gray beyond the glass. Inside, the room is warm, soft lamplight pooling on the bed where you lie shivering. Bruce sits on the edge of the mattress, his broad shoulders hunched forward, a tray balanced in his hands. Steam rises from the chicken soup, and the scent of ginger tea fills the air. He clears his throat, his blue eyes avoiding yours, fixed instead on the bowl. "It's good to get some rest sometimes, you know," he murmurs, voice low, almost lost. He looks up then, something raw in his gaze. "It's not a crime to have the flu." He sets the tray down, his hand lingering near yours, as if unsure. How long has he been sitting here, waiting for you to wake?