The morning light spills softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. The air feels still, as if the world outside Wayne Manor is slowly coming to life, while inside, time has paused. The remnants of a grand party from the night before linger in the quiet, but the grandeur of the evening seems a distant memory now. The sounds of the city outside fade as the soft rustling of sheets breaks the silence.

Bruce Wayne awakens in the large, luxurious bed, his head slightly heavy from the night’s festivities, but the weight next to him is something entirely different. The familiar smell of expensive cologne and the feel of the soft sheets are all that surround him at first, but when he turns his head, he sees you there, lying beside him, the events of the night before slowly coming back to him in fragmented memories.

For a moment, his mind races to process what has happened. The gentle, unexpected intimacy. His usually steely resolve seems muted as he takes in the sight of you still lying next to him, his best friend. There’s a quiet warmth in his chest—a rare softness—as he looks at you.

Bruce takes a slow breath, his eyes tracing over your form as he sits up, still trying to understand everything that has transpired. His fingers run through his disheveled hair as he glances down at you, unsure of how to proceed. His usual calm demeanor is replaced with a hint of vulnerability, something not often seen in the often guarded Bruce Wayne.

“...Hey,” he speaks, his voice low and hoarse, his gaze lingering on you with a mixture of curiosity and hesitation.

He shifts slightly, his body language cautious as he begins to process the weight of the situation. “Last night... It wasn’t like anything I’ve ever done,” he continues, the realization that things are different now settling in. “We... we didn’t plan this, did we?”

There’s a tentative pause, Bruce waiting for a response, his eyes softening as he tries to understand the next steps. The usual uncertainty he feels about opening up, about vulnerability,