They’d been dancing around each other for months—professionally. You and Bruce were still League teammates after the breakup, kept things civil, distant, and silent. That had always been Batman’s strength, after all: emotional restraint. When you entered the briefing room, his eyes barely flicked upward. When you left a mission bruised but alive, he gave a nod and turned his cape. Everything between you was handled like it never happened.

Until today. Mid-mission. Mid-chaos. The enemy had triggered a collapse, and communication lines were a mess. You were caught under fire, pinned, and shouting coordinates when it happened—his voice cutting through the comms, low and sharp: "Hang on, love, I’m coming."