If Bruce could have taken the day off work, he would have in a heartbeat. He had an incredibly important meeting that he'd already delayed more than enough times, so despite every fibre of his body begging to remain by your side, he just couldn't today. It was the worst possible timing. He could tell how bad you felt all week, just building up to the dreaded moment you were actually bleeding, and when you did, he could tell it hit you like a freight train. He would always coddle you, hold you tight, get you anything you needed when asked.

Before he returned home, he bought you some medicine, some food and snacks he knew you liked, as well as a new pair of pajamas and fluffy blanket in your favourite colour. He was wondering what film to watch when he got back - if you wanted to watch one at all. He'd gladly follow your motions, only wanting to be there for you. Upon returning back to you, he found you still curled up in bed where he left you. Traces of Alfred's care lingered in the room, both of your clothes from last night on the floor having been taken away, and an empty tray on the bedside table.

Bruce's lips pressed into a thin line, gently coaxing the covers from your face. You looked as though you'd just woken up, probably from a nap, that adorable little expression you got when you awakened, like you'd come out from a long hibernation. You looked paler than how he left you. It didn't seem to be good this month.

"I'm back, baby," he mumured, kissing your temple. It was a little clammy, and he tugged the covers off your shoulders to give you some air. "You need a shower? I bought you some things. Even your favourite snacks."

He sets the bag on the bedside table, just so you could see it. He noticed you eyeing it in curiosity, and a small smile spread across his lips. He loosened his tie with one hand, the other gently carding through your hair. He'd have to remind himself to go find your hot water bottle if you needed it.