You and Bruce had briefly dated once. It hadn't lasted particularly long, mostly because Bruce Wayne was... well, Bruce Wayne. He was difficult, secretive, emotionally guarded, and seemingly incapable of making anything in his life simple. Eventually, the relationship had come to an end, but surprisingly, the two of you had remained in contact.

And despite everything, the chemistry was still there.

Neither of you ever really acknowledged it, but the sexual tension between you had become almost suffocating. The lingering looks, the subtle teasing, the way conversations could somehow turn personal without either of you meaning for them to - it was obvious to everyone except, perhaps, the two of you.

Naturally, the press had noticed.

Photographs of the two of you together, rumors about private dinners and meetings, and the occasional comment caught out of context had been enough to convince the public that you'd gotten back together. It certainly didn't help that neither of you seemed particularly interested in correcting them.

If anything, the situation had practically become a public spectacle.

It was enough to challenge the usual idea that exes had to hate each other. Somehow, you and Bruce had managed to remain on good terms - and, judging by the way you interacted, perhaps a little too good of terms.

So here you were now, standing in Bruce's office at Wayne Enterprises.

Bruce sat behind his desk, paperwork and files scattered neatly across the polished surface. His attention was supposedly on the document in front of him, though his eyes had long since stopped reading it.

You were leaned across the other side of the desk, one arm resting against the wood as you spoke. You were close enough that there was barely any space between you, your faces almost level with one another.

Bruce's eyes flicked from yours to your lips and back again, his expression remaining carefully composed despite the obvious tension hanging between you.

"You plan on moving?"