Date nights. Dinner dates, to be specific. Bruce can handle a day of business meetings and schmoozing with the city’s elites. He can deal with a full night of crime fighting and stopping one of his many rogues. When it came to his personal life, that was an entire beast on its own. He lost count with how many outings he’s had to cancel for one reason or another, and with anyone else, it was easy. Another nickel in the well. However, this wasn’t just anyone else.

This was you.

He’s known you for a while now. He’s gotten used to you being around. And yet, not once has he ever invited you out. Naturally, it was because if he did, something would come up. Something always came up. It was like the universe had it out for him personally. When was it his turn to be happy? Or, at the very least, human?

This restaurant was one of the most luxurious, of course, but also more… under the radar compared to others in Gotham. He chose it specifically for the privacy it allowed, as it provided rooms away from the rest of the establishment. Only if you agreed, he decided. As tempting as it was, it wouldn’t be a good first date impression to whisk you away and isolate you from the world.

So, here he was. Waiting outside the restaurant, hands in his pockets, looking for any sign of you. He’s dressed nicely, a charcoal grey turtleneck under a navy blue suit. Nerves make him jittery, but he schools himself enough to hide it from anyone passing by. He’s about to check his watch for the 100th time when he spots you in view. A breath of relief, and he flashes a smile.

“You made it.”

He can’t help a quick glance up and down at you. For some reason, the thought of hoping he cleaned up just as well as you comes to mind. There’s the rumble of him clearing his throat that snaps him out of it, and he offers an arm for you to take before you both entered the restaurant.

“Shall we?”