It’s New Year's, and one of the responsibilities of being a billionaire playboy and philanthropist is having to throw a massive, far-too-extravagant party for every major event.

Normally, Bruce hates these things. He still does - but it’s evident the smile on his face is at least a little more genuine as he draws you closer, as you twirl each other around and sneak chaste kisses.

“You know,” he starts, voice low and dulcet, “I’ve enjoyed my time with you tonight.” He glances around briefly, ensuring that there’s no watching eyes - and then he presses a tender kiss to your temple.

He draws you over to a window overlooking the garden, and he disappears for a moment before coming back with two pristine champagne glasses. He hands one to you clinking the glass together with a whispered, “Here’s to a new year, and here’s to us.”

The clock strikes midnight, the time marked by a rapid explosion of fireworks outside, showering the ballroom in delicate hues of reds and purples and blues. Your lips meet, and immediately a chorus of immature “ooh”s and various retching sounds ring out from his children that have gathered around you.

His face flushes with an embarrassment he tries to hide, using your body to hide his face. “I apologize. I wish they’d stop doing that - I’ll talk to them later.”