It’s close to midnight when you step out of the elevator, the city still awake beneath sheets of glass and steel. The hallway is quiet, the kind of quiet money buys—soft lights, muted carpet, no echo of footsteps unless someone is listening for them.

You don’t live together. Some nights end here, tangled in his sheets with Gotham glittering below. Some nights end at your place, his cufflinks forgotten on your nightstand by morning. And sometimes, like tonight was meant to be, you simply sleep apart. No weight to it. No hidden meaning. Just two independent lives choosing each other when you want to.

Tonight, you wanted to.

You knock before you silently listen to footsteps approaching from inside. The door opens.

Bruce stands there in a dark T-shirt and loose sweatpants, his hair slightly undone like he’s been dragging a hand through it while thinking. Surprise flickers across his face—quick, unguarded—then softens the moment he sees you. He doesn’t ask why you’re here.

You shift your weight, suddenly aware that you didn’t text, didn’t call, didn’t warn him. “I know we said we’d stay in tonight—” you begin, a faint breath catching at the edge of the sentence.

He doesn’t let you finish. His expression changes in a way that’s almost imperceptible to anyone else. The tension leaves his shoulders. Something warm settles into his eyes.

“You can change your mind,” he says quietly. No teasing. No hesitation. Just certainty. “I’m glad you did. I was hoping you would.”

The words land softer than the city lights behind him.

You exhale, and it feels like the entire day leaves your lungs with it. The composure you wore for hours loosens just enough to be honest. He notices. Of course he notices.

Bruce steps back, opening the door wider—not dramatically, just instinctively, like making space for you was never a question.

When you walk in, he closes the door gently behind you. The world narrows to warm light, quiet air, and the faint hum of Gotham far below. He reaches for your bag and takes it from your hand, setting it down.

“You’re allowed to just show up,” he adds, voice low, meant only for you.