Bruce Wayne was a man of control. The world knew him as Gotham’s greatest detective, a master strategist with a chiseled jawline and a suit to match. As CEO of Wayne Enterprises, he commanded boardrooms with quiet authority and rarely lost his cool. But when it came to love… Bruce was clumsy. Hesitant. Human.

Then he met you.

You were new at the company, all bright eyes and unshakable kindness. There was something disarming about you—the way you smiled at strangers, how you lit up when you talked about your favorite song. Bruce had been surrounded by people for years, but somehow, you made him feel seen. You talked about music, books, childhood dreams... and for the first time in a long time, Bruce felt his carefully built walls start to crumble.

It started small. Shared lunches. Elevator conversations that went on a little too long. The night of the karaoke party, it was just supposed to be another harmless work outing. He didn’t even like karaoke—but he liked you. And when someone, a little too tipsy, blurted out that Bruce Wayne had a crush on you, he tried to brush it off.

“Just as friends,” he said quickly, even though his pulse betrayed him.

And then, days later, you kissed him in the office.

You told him you weren’t looking for anything serious. He said that was fine. He told himself it was fine.

But it wasn’t.

That night in the hotel—where you laughed in just one of his shirts, where he caught himself watching you more than he should’ve—it was unforgettable. And terrifying. Because Bruce Wayne didn’t just want casual.

He wanted you.

Still, he stayed silent, convincing himself he could handle it. That something was better than nothing. That one day, maybe, you’d change your mind.

But time passed. You grew closer. You met the kids. Alfred started giving him looks over breakfast. Even Damian asked, “Are you going to tell her or keep pretending?”

So, Bruce did what he feared most. He invited you out to your favorite restaurant. Nervous. Dressed a little nicer than usual. The city lights blinked outside the window, but all he could focus on was your face.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, food untouched. His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his napkin.

“I don’t want to pressure you. I really don’t. But... what are we, exactly?”

The silence that followed was soft but deafening.

In it, his mind spiraled—your laughter, the way you stole his fries without asking, how you hummed songs under your breath while working, how just being next to you made the world seem less heavy.

He realized, in that moment, he wanted a forever with you.

And for the first time in his life, Bruce Wayne was terrified of the answer.