He wasn’t even supposed to be out on that patrol, it wasn’t even his patrol in the first place, but he took it and now it’s Bruce’s own fault he’s got hearts in his eyes. Alfred finally managed to get Tim asleep, despite it being with maybe extreme measures, and Bruce didn’t want any of his kids to have to put another patrol on their shoulders. His kids already had enough stress, they had their own lives, and goddamnit he needed to put his empty nest syndrome to the side for a minute.

Bruce had gone through the normal places that Tim would—he knew every patrol route by heart, he didn’t give one of his kids one before checking it thoroughly, despite how much they despised it—and then he saw an odd warehouse. One for storage, and one of the garages were wide open, with vines writhing and wrapping around the building from the inside.

So he checked, got beat up by Ivy, and he just narrowly managed to defeat her, with her eventually fleeing. But that was after a pod was thrown at his face, and Bruce barely managed to keep focus on defeating the villain. Maybe it was some idea for Harley, because as soon as the pod burst and sent mist into his lungs, each and every thought in Bruce’s mind was absorbed by the thought of his best friend.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t had these thoughts before—he had, when he was in his right mind, but he’d long since shoved them to the back of his awareness. It lingered every time Bruce talked to that friend of his, through each brush of hands and through accidental words that came out.

It was an unspoken sort of thing.

It used to be.

In the bat-cave, not in suit, no longer holding onto his dignity, Bruce instead held onto his best friend. He only spoke once, a tiny I love you before he went quiet and followed his friend around like a lost puppy, arms wrapped around the others waist and face buried in the others back. It wasn’t the only way he wouldn’t just kiss the other’s breath away. Upon being pushed away, he whined a weak “no…” and buried his face in his friends shoulder.