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It had been a hard night for Bruce.
Selina’s not sure exactly why, because it is genuinely easier to steal ancient artifacts from the Gotham History Museum than it is to get Bruce to show any vulnerability, but she knows him well enough to know that he was struggling. If his attitude hadn’t given it away, this would.
Bruce, asleep. Before Selina. She’s spent the night with him before, in beds and across rooftops and on one memorable occasion on a fire escape, and no matter the circumstance, Bruce always, always fell asleep after Selina. Half the time she wondered if he even slept at all, or if he just waited for her to drift off before he snuck away.
But here he is, black hair unflatteringly mussed, lips open and the smallest snores coming from his chest. He’s on his side facing her, with his hands tucked up against his chest, legs bent.
Bruce isn’t young. Neither of them are, not like they were when they first met. Bruce hasn’t turned thirty yet but already she knows silver touches his temples, knows he pays an exorbitant amount of money to keep it dyed darker without looking chalky.
But he looks young now. If Selina squints a little, he’s still got that bit of baby fat on his cheeks. His eyelashes are long and thick, soft against his skin, and his cheeks are just a little flushed from the heat of another body in his bed.
It makes something in Selina’s chest soften. She resents it, if she’s honest with herself. Resents the weakness this man has become for her, resents that she knows she can’t do a thing about it. She’s in too deep with the Bat. The only thing that comforts her is knowing he’s just as far gone, that she’s got him as well as he’s got her.
It’s… delicate, this thing between them. Taut and dangerous and consuming all at once. Selina knows she could get swept up in it if she let herself. Knows that Bruce and his darkness could swallow her whole.
The thought doesn’t seem so bad, knowing she’d have this. Bruce vulnerable beside her, comfortable and trusting and safe. A presence on the streets, a weight to hold as easily as it chases. If she lets herself really dream, a partner.
(In the morning, she’ll extract herself. She’ll go home and remind herself that this is where she’s meant to be, with her strays and her babies and her career. Selina has been swallowed before. She won’t let it happen again, no matter how pretty the Bat is when he snuffles in his sleep.)
Wayne Manor’s door hinges are too well oiled to creak, but the sound of a knob turning, the sense of air moving through the room, is enough to have Selina sitting up and shifting to guard Bruce with her body. A little strip of light colors the floor, and then, before she can say anything, a figure steps in.
It’s Robin. Selina blinks at him and he glares back. Robin, in pinstriped pajamas.
He doesn’t look so young when he’s in his little costume. There’s something about him – the sheer skill, that wicked little laugh, the unshakeable confidence in a boy whose voice hasn’t even dropped – that makes you forget just how young you know he must be. A child couldn’t do what Robin does, a child couldn’t keep up with Batman. A child couldn’t be fighting crime on the streets of Gotham. But he is.
He’s… eleven, she thinks. Maybe twelve. As close as she and Bruce have become, the details of his ward have remained unspoken, though admittedly Selina has been intentional in allowing that boundary herself. She forgets, sometimes, that Bruce has a son.
Now, though… Christ, Selina wonders if there’s ever been a child so small. One of his pant legs is scrunched up to the knee, and his tiny feet are bare on the hardwood.
“Robin?” She whispers, but no, that’s not it. “Dick?”
His little face is scrunched up in annoyance, curls tangled across his forehead. “Why are you here.”
Selina blinks. “Um.” Oh God, please don’t let him be asking what she thinks he’s asking–
“This is Bruce’s room,” Dick says.
“We’re… having a sleepover.”
Dick’s eyes narrow as he scooches forward, footsteps silent against the hardwood, and Selina is reminded that this isn’t just a random little boy, this is Batman’s child soldier.
“Bruce doesn’t have sleepovers,” Dick says, voice lower now that he’s closer to the bed. At that moment, Bruce shifts on the mattress, letting out a sharper snort as he buries himself into the pillows. “And he’d tell me if he did.”
“How do you know, if he’s never had one?” She asks. This close, she can see the monogramming on the chest pocket of his pajamas, and oh wow, he and Bruce have a matching set.
Her words seem to stop the kid in his tracks, and he tilts his head a bit, considering.
“Do you… need something?” Selina asks, relaxing a bit more against the pillows. She doesn’t think this little boy could kick her out, but Selina doesn’t like to think of herself as the kind of woman to stick around where she’s not wanted.
Dick sniffs. “This is my house too, you know.”
“I… do know, yes.”
Selina can tell the boy is frustrated with her lack of understanding. She thinks if Bruce wasn’t asleep he’d stomp his foot. “You don’t just ask one person if you can stay the night. B makes me tell him and Alfred when I have a sleepover. How come you didn’t ask me if you could stay the night? Huh?”
Selina blinks, and wonders if she’ll see this boy grow into a lawyer someday. Wonders if maybe she can get him to defend her.
“You’re right,” she says. “But I didn’t plan to stay over. It was… spur of the moment.”
Dick nods, looking at least somewhat mollified. But he doesn’t leave, just shifts his weight and looks past Selina, to the bed.
“I’ll ask, next time,” she says, before she can really think about it. Selina has spent Christmas Day in Wayne Manor, the idea of spending the night shouldn’t still make her blush.
“Good.” Dick moves forward again, sets a tiny hand against the bed. He looks at Bruce then nods once, turning to look up at her. “Scooch over.”
Selina knows she’s gaping. “...What?”
Dick huffs, and thenhe starts clambering up onto the bed, knobby little knees shoving Selina’s legs to the side carelessly. “C’mon, move. There’s, like, no room.”
Patently untrue, Selina thinks. Bruce sleeps in a California king. But she shifts a bit, lets herself be shoved to the side by the boy. He burrows up and under the quilt immediately, legs tucked up to his chest until he can wiggle himself fully under and straighten back out. Selina’s weight keeps half of the quilt pressed flat to the bed, but then Dick rolls his weight a little further away, right into Bruce’s chest.
Selina thinks it’s intentional that Dick isn’t looking at her, thinks that the polite thing to do would be to look away herself. Maybe even leave.
But then Bruce makes a little grunting noise, and Selina can see the way his body shifts beneath the cover, arm wrapping around the boy and tugging him close. He can see the way Dick all but disappears under Bruce’s body, until all she can see of him is a mop of hair and little tired eyes peeking up at her.
It’s a long, quiet moment before either of them speak again. But then, just as Selina is thinking she really should leave, Dick’s little voice pipes up.
“Go to sleep,” he all but whispers.
“What?"
He huffs, and she can see hm wiggle a little, can see the way Bruce moves with him. Clingy Bat.
“It’s late,” he says. “Even for us. You gotta go to bed.”
Selina lets herself shift back a bit, until she’s not quite sitting up, head on the silk pillowcases she’ll be taking before dawn. “Alright. You know, you’re bossy for a little kid.”
Dick snorts, but his eyes have drifted closed. Selina thinks he’d be arguing the kid part more if he wasn’t so tired.
She’d feel like she was intruding if the kid hadn’t climbed over her himself, and, well… Selina’s always been selfish.
She doesn’t climb under the covers, but she doesn’t leave either. For once, Selina thinks, she’d like to wake up without Bruce having run away from her in the middle of the night. She thinks Robin might be good for keeping him in one place a little longer.
Selina settles more, rests on her back and listens to the twin breaths beside her. It’s comforting, in the same way the sounds of her cats soothes her. Selina has never liked an empty bed.
“Good night,” she whispers.
“‘Night,” Robin says back, voice muffled under the covers.
Then, a moment later a soft mumble from Bruce that might almost be a good night of his own. Selina lets herself smile as her eyes drift shut, lets herself savor this for just a bit. Just one night, and she can disentagle herself in the morning.
She’s asleep before she can even convince herself that it could be so easy, to leave these two.