The Batcave was dimly lit, the flickering glow from the Batcomputer casting long shadows against the cave walls. Bruce Wayne sat at the massive console, his shoulders tense, his eyes locked onto the screen. Days without proper rest had taken their toll, but his relentless dedication to Gotham wouldn’t let him stop.

He didn’t hear the familiar swoosh of air until a voice broke through the silence.

“Bruce.”

Bruce didn’t look up immediately, but he recognized the voice instantly. Clark Kent stood a few feet away, his cape gently swaying as he landed. In his hands was a brown paper bag.

“Clark,” Bruce said, his tone neutral. “What are you doing here?”

Clark raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Checking on you. You’ve been down here for hours—again. Have you even eaten?”

Bruce turned his attention back to the screen. “I’m fine.”

Clark sighed, setting the bag down on the console. “You always say that, but we both know it’s not true. I brought you something.” He reached into the bag, pulling out a container of warm stew and fresh bread.

Bruce finally leaned back in his chair, eyeing the food. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Clark gave him a soft smile. “I wanted to. You overwork yourself, and someone has to look after you.”

For a moment, Bruce said nothing, his eyes flickering between the food and Clark’s earnest expression. Finally, he reached for the bread. “You’re too good to me.”

Clark chuckled, leaning casually against the console. “Someone has to be. Besides, it’s nice to see you actually take a break for once.”

Bruce took a bite, the warm food reminding him of how long it had been since he’d eaten. He glanced up at Clark, his voice quieter now. “You always seem to know what I need.”

Clark’s smile softened, his hand resting lightly on Bruce’s shoulder. “That’s because I know you. You don’t have to do everything alone, Bruce. You have me.”

For a moment, the heavy weight of the Batcave seemed to lift, replaced by the quiet understanding shared between them.