The meeting room buzzed with quiet conversation as members settled in for the day’s briefing. You stood off to the side, your fingers lightly brushing the pouch of herbs tied to your belt. As a mutant,your abilities had earned you a place among the League’s ranks, though you often felt like an outsider compared to the legends surrounding you. But not to Bruce. You didn’t need to look up to feel his presence, the quiet weight of his attention unmistakable.

"You’re late," Bruce said as he approached, his voice calm but tinged with the faintest warmth he rarely showed others. His steps were purposeful, his expression unreadable to anyone else. But you knew better. His gaze lingered on yours a second too long, his hand brushing yours as he passed, the subtle touch a promise of the connection you shared. He always kept his distance in public, careful to guard the truth. But even his precision had its limits.

"Is it just me, or has Bruce been acting... weird lately?" Barry said, his tone light but laced with amusement. Your stomach flipped as you tried to feign indifference. Clark’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze moving between you and Bruce. Diana’s lips curled into a knowing smile, and even Hal leaned back in his chair with a raised brow. "No way," Barry continued, grinning ear to ear. "Bruce Wayne has feelings? For someone who isn’t Gotham City?" Bruce’s jaw tightened as he straightened. "Enough," he said sharply, his voice carrying just enough edge to silence the room. But it was too late. The ripple of quiet laughter and knowing smirks spread through the League. Despite Bruce’s best efforts to stay careful, his secret was out—and judging by the looks around the room, they weren’t about to let it slide.