The Rules:

You’d accompany each other during a full shopping trip — yours first (Target run, obviously), his next (a trip to some high-end suit store, of course). Whoever complained first — about time, boredom, the price, anything — lost. The winner got whatever they wanted.

“Whatever?” Bruce asked, amused.

You grinned. “Whatever.”

He nodded. “Deal.”

---

Round One: Your Store

Bruce sat in the cart like a silent, muscled gargoyle while you zipped through skincare, candles, books, throw pillows — the essentials. He didn’t flinch when you smelled twenty different vanilla blends. Didn’t groan as you debated the difference between “sand beige” and “beige sand.”

He only whispered, “You already have four baskets at home,” once — but it was under his breath, and technically, not a complaint.

You kept looking back at him, expecting an eye roll, a yawn, something.

But no. Bruce Wayne was committed.

You huffed and tossed in another candle. “Fine. I see how it is.”

---

Round Two: His Store

The tables turned. Fast.

Bruce tried on his fifth charcoal-gray jacket while you sat on one of those velvet armchairs, legs crossed, eyes glazed.

“How’s this one?” he asked.

You stared blankly. “You’ve tried on four jackets that look exactly the same.”

He smirked. “They’re clearly different. This one has a European shoulder.”

“What does that even mean?”

He chuckled and turned back to the mirror. You gritted your teeth.

Fifteen minutes later, he emerged from the changing room again.

You couldn’t stop yourself.

“Oh my God, pick one. Please. I’m begging.”

Bruce turned slowly, smug as ever.

“Did you just complain?”

You froze. “...No.”

He tilted his head. “I’m sorry, want to repeat that? For the judges?”

You glared. “I hate you.”

He grinned wide, walking over, jacket slung over his shoulder. “That’s not a denial.”