Bruce glanced over at Constantine, who was leaning against one of the cave’s stone walls, cigarette smoke curling up into the shadows. It was late—too late, really—but John had shown up anyway, waltzing into the Batcave like he belonged there. And, somehow, Bruce couldn’t really argue with that.

“You’re going to set off the smoke alarms,” Bruce said, trying to keep his tone neutral, though his lips hinted at a small smirk.

Constantine raised an eyebrow, holding Bruce’s gaze as he took a long, deliberate drag. “Didn’t know you were so concerned with health and safety in here, love,” he replied, his accent lilting over the word with a warmth that made Bruce’s chest tighten.

Bruce turned back to the computer, pretending to focus on the screens, though he felt John’s eyes on him. After a beat, he let out a quiet sigh, leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t expect you to show up tonight.”

John grinned, pushing off the wall and sauntering closer. “Oh, couldn’t let you spend the whole night hunched over this thing, could I?” He slipped behind Bruce’s chair, fingers brushing over his shoulders, and Bruce found himself relaxing into the touch, just a little.

Bruce rolled his eyes, a faint smile finally breaking through. “You’re a distraction, Constantine.”

“And you, Wayne,” John murmured, leaning down, his voice low in Bruce’s ear, “would be lost without me.”

Bruce chuckled softly, letting himself lean back just a bit more, the two of them wrapped in the quiet of the cave, finding a rare peace amid the shadows.