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You and Bruce got rid of the look of professionalism hours ago. Your shoulders snuggly wrapped with his broad black suit jacket that kept your sleeveless arms warm. His arm laid in between your shoulder blades gently. Your face hid in the crook of his neck. Exhausting heels dangled between his free fingers as he talked faintly to the rich person behind you. All the snobby voices blurred together as you fell in and out of sleep.
He promised you it would only be a few hours. He believed that even though these galas seemed to show nothing good to the city, he wanted to break that. He had the money; he had the resources. He was Batman.
Of course, no one knew that. But he wanted people to still trust in the city he once loved and cherished.
He also loved that you came along with him to this event. You always did, even when you knew the outcome of each meeting with another higher up. Another doctor, politician, or lawyer wanted to show up to say that they made a difference.
A quick picture snapped for evidence. They had a feeling of relief that swept through their bodies. It seeped into their fingertips when they left but a small tip for the workers. Believing they contributed to the fallen city.
Bruce left your mind to wander after a few minutes of torture that he put you through. He knew that these galas were tedious and boring. Leaving you to latch onto his coated arm after hours of words exchanged about Gotham that never seemed to happen.
You wanted the private whispers that Bruce painted across your lips and stomach as he wrapped you up in the warmth of his massive bed, providing you safety and warmness away from the stuck-up crowds that you had to endure right now.
Bruce was the only one that cared about Gotham. Words did not matter to him, only actions. That was why he pranced around at night, saving it from the worthless promises the rich seemed to preach to the hopeful citizens.
You believed he was making this city better. He wanted to help this city from falling to ruins since he expected to bring something new into it.
Someone.
A calloused hand gently rubbed over your hand that wrapped around the crook of his elbow. A soft press of lips pressed against your forehead as you heard the gentle mumbling of partings.
He pulled you towards the available table behind you, hoping to provide some stability from your sore legs,
having to hold your body up for long periods. You did it for him. But damn, was it hard. You became restless a long time ago, hoping that he would notice. He felt awful that he dragged you to this gathering. Alcohol poured from sinks as it was pretty much the only thing they served but brought you water and a bunch of snacks, trying to keep you hydrated as he pulled you through the long hallways of Gotham’s art museum.
He promised to get whatever you wanted after the party, hoping that it would give you something to look forward to,
—
“Just a slushie. Please, Bruce,” you begged as he walked you towards the Cadillac, pulling you away from the comforts of the mansion.
He smiled. Your soft lips coaxed him with a smile, believing you had to convince him. You knew that he would give you anything you asked. You were giving him a child. The least he could do is gift you with a slushie.
You deserved the world.
He heard your faint please, as it pulled him from the depths of your delicate glow that bled from your eyes. A smile grew on his lips effortlessly, laying his hands on top of your radiant cheeks, pushing the hair behind your ears. His lips rested by your ear as he whispered in the evening light,
“Anything you want, I promise,"
He would whisper a thousand Thank you's to the sky above and in your ear when he brought you home tonight.
—
"What do you need?” he made eye contact with your tired gaze. He knew it was getting late.
“Nothing, I just want you, Bruce,” you murmured. You wanted to go home with your husband. You craved to curl up next to him in bed, his hand resting over your stomach, caressing your aching body as you fell asleep with his lips resting against your forehead, kissing you goodnight, praying for a peaceful sleep. Hoping small kicks to your stomach from the child that kept you up for hours would rest with you.
Bruce grabbed the keys before you could even say please. He took your hand, pulling you towards his chest as he walked you through the crowds of people. The valet already pulling up with the car, laying you on the leather seat, adjusting the seatbelt across your body before he walked to the driver’s side to drive off.
The blinding street lights kept you from falling into a deep sleep, you felt the car pull into a drive-through, a mumble of your favorite flavored slushie came from his lips, and a small smile appeared on your tired face. You kept your eyes closed until you felt him kiss your temple gently, a sense of calm enveloped the car as you woke. You saw his thin smile grace his cheeks. The small dimples that only a few people have seen slowly showed.
People didn’t see his heart often, only you witnessing the richest man in Gotham professing his love to you in the air around you. In the most hidden parts of the world, in the mansion, against your stomach, he longed to take care of you. The softest touches from him at night to you, even as brutal as Gotham sees him.
When he heard your giggles echo in his car, he felt the condensation of the drink drip on his hands. He knew, at this moment, that you were happy. In this cruel city, filled with heartless criminals, and senses of false hope he knew your happiness was the most important thing to him.
The world didn’t care about him, but you did,
So if you wanted him to travel to the nearest restaurant to grab you a slushie, he would do it in a heartbeat because it made you happy.