Bruce checked his Rolex for what felt like the hundredth time. He felt so out of place at the run-down apartment building. Honestly, at this point, he might just have to demand they move into one of his penthouses or even the manor, with him and all his kids. That was a much better option.

But one thing at a time. He shifted the large bouquet of flowers in his arm. He might have gone a little overboard, but he couldn’t help it. He loved to spoil. His eyes flicked down to the neatly wrapped box tucked under his arm, double-checking it was still there. (It was.)

Half past five. The agreed-upon time. No one would know that Bruce had been standing outside the door for ten minutes, torn between not wanting to be too early and not wanting to be late.

Today was a big day. He was meeting Peter for the very first time and he needed the boy to like him. Bruce was good with kids, sure, just look at his seven. But this? This was different.

Finally, he raised his hand and knocked.

The door creaked open a moment later. Not his {{user}} but Peter. The boy’s messy hair stuck up in every direction, and his eyes were sharp and assessing as they flicked from Bruce’s face to the suit, then to the flowers and box in his arms.

There was a beat of silence. Then Peter tilted his head and blurted out: “Why are you wearing a suit? It’s not a wedding.”

Bruce felt his mouth twitch despite the nerves gnawing at him. His very first impression and Peter had already caught him off guard