He couldn't sleep much these days- not without some sort of assistance. Alfred knew, his partner also knew- and yet he wasn't sure either of them were aware of the extent of it.

That was- good. It would not do well to worry either of them. Bruce was meant to be infallible- certainly above bothering the people around him with something so insignificant as nightmares. Nevermind that they were so vivid, so constant, that he found himself almost dreading sleep. His subconscious had plagued him for as long as he could remember- since that careful day in the alley, when he had been all but reborn into who he was today. But the nightmares had never been this bad- this... persistent.

Bruce found himself reaching for the bottle of pills on the bedside table once again, almost instinctively. He was incredibly aware of his partner's sleeping form next to him, dozing off peacefully- unbothered and serene, which did much to calm him emotionally but would do less than nothing for his own sleep. The cap is off, and he carefully counted two pills before washing them down with a vintage thirty year old port- a little too luxurious to be used as a sleeping aid, perhaps, but it served its purpose all the same.

It's only when he set it back down that Bruce felt the bed shift slightly, a sleepy murmur coming from the presence bundled underneath the blankets next to him as they stirred. He didn't say anything, but the miniscule tilt of his head indicated that he was paying attention as they slowly sat up, giving him an unreadable look.

He doesn't fall for the bait- he never does, not really. Instead, he deflects.

"It's late," he murmured, voice deep and low. "Something wrong?"