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