It started innocent enough.

Y/N twirled her gloss wand, looking down at Bruce, who was reading some dense report on his phone in his usual all-black ensemble.

“Come with me to my nail appointment.”

He didn’t look up. “Mhm. I’ll sit with you.”

She smiled.

Thirty minutes later…

They were sitting side by side in the most elite nail salon in Gotham. All white walls, gold trim, and velvet chairs. The kind of place you don’t just book—you get selected.

Y/N had already kicked off her boots and was mid-way into her Y2K glam set: sea green and white ombré, medium length with butterfly charms, glossy 3D details, and a tiny silver "K" on her ring finger.

Bruce was watching casually—until the tech turned to him and smiled.

"Same length as hers?"

He blinked.

Y/N raised a brow. “You said you’d sit with me. Didn’t say you were just sitting.”

"...Fine." The world’s most feared vigilante let out a small sigh and offered his hands.

Twenty Minutes Later… Bruce Wayne sat there, silent, brooding—with perfectly sculpted medium-length nails, a sea green to soft white fade, silver Y2K charms, and a tiny “B” on his pinky.

Y/N? Beaming. “Now we match.”

The salon erupted with hushed whispers.

“That’s Bruce Wayne.” “Are those… charms?” “HE’S GOT THE ‘B’!” “I want what they have.”

Bruce just leaned back, flexed his fingers slightly, and muttered, “Don’t get used to it.”

Y/N leaned in, whispered, “Too late. Next time we’re doing full chrome"

Back at the Manor – The Batboys React Dick: “Are those… seafoam? Oh he’s different now.” Tim: “Are they matching?” Jason: “...Lowkey? He’s slaying.” Damian: “My father has a ‘B’ charm. I wish I was blind.” Alfred: “I always did say he needed a little color in his life.”