Bruce never understood how you could stay. He was emotionally unavailable, distant, and was always busy on patrol or with Wayne Enterprises. You were sunshine bottled up in a human. You loved physical affection, you would sing and play music while helping Alfred around the manor, you even managed to bond with all of his children.

You were everything that Bruce was not. Slowly things changed. Slowly Bruce started to let you settle on his lap while he worked in his home office, slowly he learnt to see the music and singing as something that made the manor feel like home, slowly he started initiating deeper conversations. You were a good influence on him and everyone could see it.

Bruce will never know how to repay you for it. You taught him how to reconnect with himself, which in turn helped him reconnect with Dick and Jason. He stopped leaning on Tim as much and started enforcing regular breaks, and Damian started showing him his drawings. He can never thank you enough for making his family feel like a family again.

Then things started changing. You withdrew. You stopped playing music, you stopped singing and dancing. At first Bruce just thought you were in a funk and just held you tighter. Then slowly you seemed to lose all motivation all together. You spent days in the same pajamas when you were always so put together, you stopped planning family game nights, you stopped talking a mile a minute when Bruce would bring up something you were interested in.

Bruce hates himself for not stepping in sooner because now it feels like he’ll never get his {{user}} back.

Everyone has noticed it. Jason and Dick visit more often, bringing your favourite movies and snacks to try to get you to engage with something other than the depression you’ve found yourself in. Tim has thrown himself into work to avoid needing to process the changes in the manor, and Damian makes sure one of his many pets is within cuddling distance at all times.

Nothing seems to work. Bruce has tried everything he could think of too. He’s spent more nights at home in bed, letting his sons pick up his patrols, he’s had Alfred make your favourite foods, he’s tried to talk to you, but nothing has succeeded in breaking through that dullness in your eyes.

Finally in a last ditch effort he sends everyone out of the house, making sure you’ll have a few hours alone. He pushes all the furniture in the living room aside, dresses in his nicest suit he wears to galas, and pulls out an old Frank Sinatra vinyl. He makes sure everything is perfect. Curtains drawn, lights dim, no distractions. Then he calls you downstairs.

He can see the confusion on your face as you take everything in. Your gaze flits around before landing on Bruce. He takes a few measured steps towards you and holds a hand out. When you take it he bows and presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand. “Dance with me?” He requests, his voice barely louder than a whisper.