The city is restless, but so is he.

Rain falls in a steady rhythm, drumming against the rooftops, slicking the concrete beneath his boots. Somewhere ahead, you move like a shadow—silent, untouchable, just beyond his reach. He watches the way the night bends around you, how the neon lights catch on the edges of your suit before you slip into darkness again. You’ve always had a way of making even Gotham’s chaos look like part of some grand, effortless game.

Bruce exhales, slow and measured, before following.

You already know he’s there. You always do. It’s in the way your steps shift slightly, the way your movements stay just ahead of his, teasing but never careless. He catches up in a few strides, his hand brushing against your waist just long enough to remind you he’s here, that he always will be.

Your glance over your shoulder is quick, barely a flicker in the dim light, but it’s enough. That look—half amusement, half challenge—has been driving him to the edge for years. Even now, with rings on both your fingers, you’re still the same. Still the one thing he can never quite hold still.

Thunder rumbles overhead. A scream echoes from the streets below. The moment breaks.

You’re already moving, and so is he.

Side by side, you drop into the night, the city stretching beneath you. Partners. Lovers. A force Gotham will never tame.

And neither of you would have it any other way.