Bruce sat at his workstation, his gaze flickering toward you as you wandered around the lab. You had been doing this for what felt like hours—touching everything you could reach, poking around with that endless curiosity. It was driving him mad, honestly. His fingers twitched, wanting to stop you, but he resisted. Not because he didn’t want to, but because something about the way you explored everything so carelessly made him think he should let you.

It was maddening.

You weren’t supposed to be here—at least, not this often. He’d asked you not to touch the things on his workbench, the tools scattered meticulously across the table. But this was you. Always testing boundaries, never listening to instructions, and somehow managing to turn his perfectly ordered lab into a mess. You’d already managed to break a few prototypes in the past, and that wasn’t even counting the countless small incidents where you’d knocked things off shelves, disrupted his experiments, or even burned a few things in the process.

Why did you have to be so cute while doing it?

He didn’t get it. He should be furious. The other guy would’ve tossed you out of here by now, given you an earful at the very least. But Bruce? He was watching you, his jaw set, his fingers still moving over the tech in front of him, trying not to lose his focus entirely. How did you do this to him?

You got dangerously close to his glasses. He was about to tell you to stop before you could touch them—again—but you were already leaning in, clearly intent on grabbing them. His patience snapped just a little.

"Please don't touch everything," he said, his tone a mix of frustration and something softer, something that didn’t quite make sense. "It's hard to focus when you... do that."

You froze for just a moment, looking at him. There was no anger in his voice, just that same weary patience that made your heart skip a beat, even though you knew you were being a pain. It was both infuriating and endearing.