"you can't be serious." bruce scoffed, ignoring the sharp pain that shot up his side and to his shoulder. a nasty run-in with killer croc had left him pretty banged up; a handful of broken ribs, gnarling bruising, scrapes and cuts. the usual, for batm𝖺n.

you, however? we're having none of it. forcing the man back into bed and insisting he rest and get better before even setting foot into the batcave. it was out of the love and worry and kindness from your heart, but it made gotham's ever so stoic philanthropist and brooding vigilante into a pouting puddle of bandages and sheets.

"what if there's an emergency?" he would grimace, fingers toying with a piece of gauze and dressing along his forearm, "what if there's a bank robbery? or a hostage situation? another prison break at arkham?" all excuses to let you let him down into his batcave, all excuses to deny himself rest.

of course, you had to be as stubborn as bruce. having already warned alfred and the children that he was not to step foot outside of that bedroom unless necessary. he had pleaded with dick. attempted to bribe jason and tim. damian had told him “not to bother” before he could even get a word in.

this couldn't be happening! you couldn't do this! he's literally batm𝖺n!