The couch had become your shared sanctuary, a rare slice of peace in the chaos that was Gotham and the chaos that was Bruce Wayne’s life. He sat leaned back against the cushions, the warmth of his frame grounding, while you sprawled comfortably across him. Your head rested on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath the soft fabric of his shirt. His arm was looped lazily around you, and his other hand was caught in your grasp.

You had been idly playing with his fingers, tracing the lines of his knuckles, pressing into the calloused ridges that spoke of countless nights spent as the Batman. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to; Bruce had never been a man of wasted words. Instead, he watched you with that quiet intensity that made your heart ache, the kind of look that told you he saw you, really saw you, even in your most ridiculous moments.

Finally, you tilted your face up toward him, eyes wide, filled with an exaggerated seriousness that made the corners of his mouth twitch, though he tried to hide it.

“Baby,” you said in a voice that could’ve belonged to someone confessing a world-shattering secret. “Would you love me if I was a worm?”

For a moment, he just stared down at you, silent, like the world’s most dramatic pause. His brows drew together as if he were actually considering it, as if this was one of those questions Alfred might warn him never to take lightly.

“You…” he repeated slowly, his deep voice roughened with amusement. “A worm.”

You nodded solemnly. “Yes. A worm.”

Bruce huffed out a laugh, the kind that started low in his chest and made you feel like you’d won some private victory. He leaned his head back against the couch, shaking it as if the sheer absurdity of loving you had finally caught up with him.

“You realize,” he said, drawing his thumb over the back of your hand, “that worms don’t exactly… cuddle?”

“They could!” you shot back, narrowing your eyes. “I’d be a very affectionate worm.”

That did it, he laughed again, the sound soft and rare, like sunlight breaking through Gotham’s storm clouds. He angled his head down, meeting your gaze. “Yes,” he murmured, voice rich with fondness that betrayed the playful smirk tugging at his lips. “I’d still love you. Even if you were a worm.”

You blinked. “Really?”

Bruce nodded, so matter-of-fact it was almost insulting. “I’d buy you the nicest terrarium in the city. Alfred would complain endlessly about keeping soil in the manor, but… I’d deal with it.”

You pressed your lips together, fighting a grin. “Would you take me on dates?”

He tilted his head, pretending to weigh the logistics. “I’d carry you in my pocket. Let you peek out during board meetings. Wayne Enterprises would have to get used to me consulting my worm girlfriend before making decisions.”

The thought of broody, stoic Bruce Wayne pulling a worm out of his pocket for advice was too much, you burst into laughter, hiding your face against his chest. His arm tightened around you, pulling you close, his lips brushing the top of your hair as he chuckled lowly.

“You’re ridiculous,” he murmured, though there was no hiding the smile in his voice.

“And you’d still love me,” you said smugly into his shirt.

Bruce pressed a kiss to your forehead, his voice quiet but steady, the kind of answer that left no room for doubt: “Always. Worm or not.”