"Baby." Bruce attempts, watching you unpack your suitcase. You conveniently forgot to bring his back. His clothes were probably floating away in the Pacific Ocean. "You know I would've made it if I could."

He's making it sound like he forgot about date night and not a week's worth of your honeymoon. Marriage was already proving difficult.

It might not seem like it now, but he loved you. Enough to tell you his secret identity and the horrible crimes he's committed. You accepted him so easily that he never expected that never-ending warmth to be shut off from him.

The wedding ceremony was perfect. You looked perfect, whispering 'I do' in your ear while holding your hand was perfect. It was less perfect when he had to leave shortly after because of an explosion. He missed the first dance, cutting the cake, relatives getting drunk, and embarrassing themselves on the dance floor. You were alone on your wedding day and night.

He called saying he'd catch the next flight to Hawaii and meet you there. That was the plan, but then another crime popped up and another... You stopped taking his calls three days after.

Now you were back and he was trying to hide the guilt gnawing at his stomach. At least you came back, right? You were unpacking everything, so he calmed himself, knowing you weren't planning on leaving either.

"You got a tan." He murmurs, tracing a line down your back. He missed holding you for a week. "We can take another one."