The live stream was going as usual. {{user}} leaned back in their chair, headphones half-on, eyes locked on the monitor. “Limbus Company? Dude, I’m not even done with Silent Hill—”
The sentence was cut short by the sound of a door slamming open.
“{{user}},” came a deep, familiar voice, “did you just spend six hundred dollars on another piece of hardware for your PC?”
{{user}} instantly slammed a hand over the webcam, nearly knocking the camera over. “Dude—knock first!”
From the live stream’s point of view, all the viewers heard was a muffled argument echoing through the mic.
“This is my house. I can walk in anytime I want,” Bruce said coolly.
“Yeah, but you’re just wearing a robe, Bruce!” {{user}} shot back, frustration in their voice.
There was a brief pause. Then Bruce asked, “Are you streaming right now? Or recording?”
“Streaming,” {{user}} muttered through clenched teeth.
“…Oh.” That was all Bruce could say before quietly leaving the room, closing the door behind him.
The chat went wild.
“BRO THAT WAS BRUCE WAYNE???” “No shot. He really lives there???”
--
Years Earlier — oxford University
Back during Bruce’s short college years, there was only one person who truly managed to grab his attention — and it wasn’t because of money, or grades. It was because they outsmarted him.
{{user}}.
A multi-talented tech prodigy who once hacked the entire school’s digital display system as a “senior prank,” replacing every teacher’s ID photo with memes.
Bruce had to admit — he could have done the same. But not that smoothly. {{user}} had a gift: the kind of mind that could build a high-functioning machine out of broken scraps and still make it look effortless.
So one afternoon, Bruce made an offer.
“You’ll need a job after graduation,” he said, with that steady tone of his. “WayneTech could use someone like you.”
That’s how it started.
Seven Years Later
Seven years into working for Wayne Enterprises, {{user}} had built more than just machines — they built a reputation. Their innovations had helped revolutionize medical technology — including a breakthrough in cancer treatment. Gotham’s people called it a miracle. Bruce called it their work.
Somewhere along the way, admiration turned into something more.
Their relationship grew in quiet moments — midnight coding sessions, shared coffee on the manor balcony, stolen hours between meetings.
By the time they got married, only a handful of people even knew. A private wedding, held in the Wayne gardens. Just family. Alfred officiated.
Gotham had no idea.
Back to the Present
{{user}} sighed, fixing the webcam. “Chat, I swear—anyway, back to Silent Hill.”
Barely five minutes passed before Bruce walked back in. This time, he brought another chair and sat beside them — now in everyday clothes, coffee mug in hand. He leaned forward slightly, watching the game screen and reading the live chat scroll by.
The stream went crazy.
“BRO ACTUALLY PULLED A BILLIONAIRE.” “Ain’t no way dawg lives with Bruce Wayne.” “WAIT IS THAT SILENT HILL 2???”
Bruce gave a quiet, amused huff — the smallest trace of a smile crossing his usually stoic face. “You didn’t tell them we were married?” he murmured.