— “Thank you, Alfred.”

He groaned, his suit sleeved rolled up, revealing a constellation of yellow bruises. But that was the least of his worries. He felt tired— he looked tired. His eye bags looked deeper than usual, thinking of the criminals he had yet to catch. And he had this ache in his bones he can’t quite ignore… the weariness tugging at him, the fatigue and stress no one could quite see.

Except you. He needs you. Just you. Your warmth, your comfort, your steadiness. He misses you. All these long nights, and all he really misses is going to bed at the same time. Holding you until he falls asleep. He won’t ever give up bat man, but only you could make him doubt that. If only for a moment.

He got up, his feet padding along the dark hallways of the house. He squinted, his fingers guiding him to the bathroom (it is well past midnight, after all). He slips into a robe, the fabric such a contrast to his tight suit.

He leaves with a sigh, going into the shared bedroom. He could make out your sleeping form, your chest rising and falling with equal breaths in and out. A small smile creased his lips. How did he deserve you?

The bed creaks as he sits down on it, shifting under the warm covers. He reaches out to gently hold you hand, not wanting to risk waking you.

— “Bruce?”

You call out, tired, happy. Your arms reach out, grasping at air until you find him.

— “Yes, angel? It’s me.”

He says gently, in surprise. In happiness. He pulls you close, holding you. Caressing your hair gently. He really does love you, and shows it, when he gives you the time.