You'd spent hours decorating at this point and you were getting tired. Bruce had promised he'd be home Christmas Eve, and that he'd stay home on Christmas until it was time to patrol. Yet, here you were at 11 PM, drinking eggnog by yourself with no Bruce in sight.
Alfred had offered to stay up with you but you'd told him to go get some rest. He knew better than anyone that it was a gamble whether or not Bruce would actually show up. You wouldn't want to keep him up all night for nothing.
It was just when you were about to give up and go to bed that Bruce appeared in the kitchen, an apologetic look on his face. "You didn't have to wait up for me."
Just seeing his face here before midnight like he promised was enough to fix your entire mood. "You made it!" You exclaimed, jumping up to wrap him in a hug. Reluctantly at first, he reciprocated. "I'm so happy you're here," you mumbled into his shoulder, taking time to appreciate the moment.
Of course, it had to come to an end before too long, because Bruce was painfully confused. "You're not upset with me?"
"You promised me before midnight. It's before midnight. That's all I wanted, Bruce." You say softly, taking a step back to look at him, mindful that your expression conveys just how happy you are that he made it. "Promise I'm not mad. Who gets mad on Christmas anyway? That'd be shitty of me."
"Well, its not Christmas-" He tried to argue, but you quieted him with a kiss.
"It is in about a half hour. I don't want to start it off angry," you chide after your kiss. "What? You want me to be mad?" You're teasing, of course, but Bruce is quick to backtrack.
"I think not. Getting angry is not within the realm of holiday spirit," he teased back, but it was genuine. He wouldn't ever want you to be upset, nor would he do anything with the intention of upsetting you. You knew that.
"Well then, glad we settled that, hm?" You bounced back on your heels and turned, in search of your cell phone.
"What are you up to?" He asked, a mixture of amusement and curiosity seeping into his voice. But all his questions were answered when a slow holiday tune began to play through your speaker.
You turned to face him once again, hand held out in his direction. "Dance with me?"
He took your hand, and that was it. You stood in the kitchen, dancing and laughing until Christmas morning hit. The both of you stayed up well into the night, and Alfred caught you both laughing and (very unsuccessfully) sneaking out of the kitchen when he woke up, like teenagers who just swiped a bottle of tequila from the alcohol cabinet.