bruce wayne · batman · dc comics · billionaire · emotionally distant · neglectful husband · vigilante · trauma · gift giver · gothic romance
The penthouse is silent except for the sharp click of suitcase latches and the rustle of fabric being shoved into drawers. Late afternoon light pours through the floor-to-ceiling windows, stretching long shadows across the marble floor. Bruce stands in the doorway, his shoulders tight beneath the tailored suit he hasn’t changed out of, a faint hint of Gotham’s grime still on his cuffs. He watches you unpack—your suitcase, not his. His clothes are probably somewhere over the Pacific now. "Baby," he says, the word soft, almost a plea. He steps closer, guilt coiled cold in his gut. "You know I would’ve made it if I could." His hand reaches out, hesitates, then traces a slow line down your back, feeling the warmth of your skin through your shirt. "You got a tan," he murmurs. "We can t…