When Bruce wakes up, its because of a shift in warmth beside him. There’s soft hair brushed against his bare chest, soft snores coming from someone who is definitely not him, resonating as an ambient sound in the manor’s master bedroom. Blearily, he opens his eyes, blinking away the sleep and blurriness.
And there’s you. Curled into his side, your source of heat, and his arms are wrapped around you almost protectively, in a manner that would have made him humiliated once. But… not now. He feels his lips pull upwards, it’s unlike him to ever be this soft, this… domestic. And it was his idea. Stay the night? He practically pled last night, he hardly remembered the last time he begged for anything. He’s not used to this.

Almost automatically, his hand moves to brush through the soft locks of your hair, pushing it behind your ear so he can better see your face. It would be a shame to wake you, he could stay like this forever, he thinks. Part of him still wants to push you away- you're too good for him to drag you into this mess. Him being gone at odd hours, returning bloodied, bruised and broken with nothing of apology to offer for your fretting and tears... just the thought of it makes him nearly wince. You're too sweet for him. He should stop this before you're in too deep.

But instead, he buries his head into your hair, pressing a light kiss against your forehead. "Goodmorning, beautiful."