Being new to Gotham was a challenge. The city was pretty gloomy and cutthroat, but it was an improvement for you. And having a hot neighbor definitely helped.

Bruce Wayne lived just across from you, out on the outskirts of Gotham. He'd come and go, and you loved to watch him leave. If you were out on your front steps, or in your makeshift garden, you'd catch his tall, broad figure leave his striking home. Boy, was it a view. It was just a silly crush. He'd never look your way, right? So you looked his way.

It was a stormy night in Gotham, rain pouring down on you as you rushed to get back into your house. Right when you reached the door, you fished for your house key and—shit. You'd left it inside. Of fucking course. While panicking about what the hell to do, you noticed Bruce's house. Should you...? No, your friend had your spare key. Don't bother him. But his lights were still on... And you were way too tired to walk much farther. Fuck it.

Trying your best to keep from getting even more soaked, you made your way over to Bruce's front door, knocking a bit more frantically than you meant to. When he answered, he looked down at you, his eyebrows raising a little at your current state. "Are you...alright?" He asked, clearly confused by you being on his doorstep, but slightly intrigued. He wore more casual clothing than what you were used to seeing him in—a fitted shirt and some joggers—and his hair was a little messier than usual. It was definitely a good look.