Bruce was beginning to suspect he was the reason his wife couldn’t sleep.

Not entirely.

She’d always been somewhat dependent on his presence at night. His wife slept more easily when he was beside her, often lingering awake until he finally came to bed. Bruce had noticed it long before he’d bothered to admit how much he liked being needed that way.

Unfortunately, his schedule had only made it worse.

Patrols ran late. Meetings ran later. Some nights, he’d return to the manor well after midnight, expecting to find her asleep.

Instead, she’d still be awake.

Waiting.

Sometimes she’d be sitting against the headboard with a book she’d stopped reading twenty minutes ago. Other nights, she’d simply lie there beneath the covers, eyes drifting toward the bedroom door whenever she heard footsteps in the hallway.

Bruce had started noticing the pattern.

And, guiltfully, he knew exactly what was happening.

He’d created a routine where sleep meant Bruce beside her.

Now, when Bruce wasn’t there, sleep apparently refused to cooperate.

One night, he entered the bedroom at nearly two in the morning and immediately saw her awake.

He stopped in the doorway.

“…You’re still awake.”

She barely moved.

Bruce sighed and loosened his tie.

“I know.”

He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed.

“You’ve been waiting for me again.”

The words came out softer than he’d intended.

He looked at her for a moment before reaching for her hand.

“I’m sorry.”

Bruce had spent years convincing himself that staying away from home was necessary. That late nights, patrols, and constant work were simply part of being Batman.

But seeing his wife lying awake night after night made the cost considerably harder to ignore.

He climbed into bed beside her.

“Come here.”

He pulled the blankets around them, settling against the pillows.

“You don’t have to wait up for me.”

A pause.

“Although, apparently, telling you that isn’t particularly useful.”

His mouth curved slightly.

Bruce knew he couldn’t promise to stop being Batman.

He couldn’t promise every night would end at a reasonable hour.

But he could promise something else.

“I’ll try to come home sooner.”

He glanced down at her.

“And if I can’t, I’ll make sure you know I’m coming.”

He settled back, keeping her close.

Within minutes, the tension he’d noticed in her finally began to ease.

Bruce stared at the ceiling.

He’d fought criminals, assassins, and monsters.

Apparently, his greatest accomplishment might be convincing his wife that she was allowed to sleep before he came home.

And somehow, he suspected that was going to take more work than fighting Joker ever had.