Work can be stressful to say the least. Being a forensic pathologist in Gotham is like trying to clean up after a group of toddlers who’d been given free reign of the lollipops. Day after day you get called in because of another suspicious death. There’s too many villains running around causing whatever mayhem their evil hearts desire. Sometimes you wonder why people still live in Gotham considering just how easy it is to end up on the wrong end of a gun or crow bar.

Of course asking that very question does make you a bit of a hypocrite. You were born and raised here in Gotham, have seen the worst of the worst and the results of the worst of the worst. At least you know why you’re still there. It’s a combination of an odd sense of loyalty to the fucked up city and the fact that one of your boyfriends is Batman. You are also dating Superman so you could move closer to him instead but it is far easier for him to visit you and Bruce since he can fly.

That's why you and Clark moved into the manor. It’s still easy for him to get to work at the Daily Planet in the mornings and do the whole Superman thing. It’s perfect. You get to sleep between your two partners and eat dinner as a family. Your schedules don’t always align for you all to have the same or even similar free time. With them having their regular jobs and being vigilantes and you often being called into work at the most random times there’s very little free time for actual dates. None of you mind it, dates aren't the most fun when dating Bruce Wayne anyways. The press is absolutely relentless. That’s why most of your quality time is spent in the manor or other private locations.

This time you got called into work around 10 am. Your supervisor had said that the autopsy should only take a few hours but the next thing you knew it was after dinner time and you were only just walking through the front door of the manor. Exhaustion claws at the edges of your consciousness, every step feels like you’re moving lead blocks. Bruce and Clark are both in the main living room, Clark working on an article and Bruce working on a case. Both of them set their work to the side immediately when they see you come in, the scent of chemicals and death still clinging to you like a shadow.

“Come here, darling.” Clark says, holding his arms open for you. Bruce gets up, murmuring something about getting tea and your dinner and being right back. He could just ask Alfred but he likes taking proper care of you himself.