just us tonight
Pairing - Bruce wyane x husband!reader Coming home and spending time together.
The cave was quieter than usual when you and Bruce finally returned.
The mission had been long—one of those nights where Gotham refused to sleep and every shadow seemed to hide another problem waiting to erupt. Your boots were heavy with exhaustion as you stepped off the platform into the cave, the familiar hum of computers and distant dripping water wrapping around you like a second atmosphere.
Bruce moved beside you, already pulling the cowl from his head, dark hair slightly damp with sweat and the humid night air. Even after hours in the suit, he carried himself with that same steady presence that always anchored you. When his eyes found yours, the stern edge of Batman softened into something quieter, something only you ever got to see.
“You took that hit harder than you’re letting on,” you murmured, pulling off your gloves and tossing them onto the workbench where half-finished gadgets waited for you both tomorrow.
Bruce gave the faintest huff of amusement. “You should see the other guy.” You rolled your eyes, stepping closer, brushing soot from the armored plating across his shoulder. “That’s not a real answer.”
For a moment he simply looked at you—really looked, the way he only did when the masks of the city were gone. Then he reached out and squeezed your wrist gently. “Come on,” he said quietly. “Let’s clean up.”
The manor upstairs was warm and peaceful in a way Gotham rarely allowed. The lights were dim and soft, and Alfred had clearly anticipated your return, lamps glowing in the hallway, the house settled into a calm that felt almost sacred after the chaos outside.
The two of you slipped into the bathroom still carrying the weight of the night, armor clinking softly as you began shedding pieces of it.
Steam soon filled the room once the shower started, fogging the mirror and softening the sharp edges of the world. Bruce stepped under the water first, shoulders relaxing slightly as the heat washed over him.
When you joined him, the tension that had clung to both of you during the mission finally began to melt away. Neither of you spoke,
You reached for the shampoo bottle, pouring some into your palm before stepping closer behind him. Your fingers worked slowly through his hair, careful and gentle in a way that would have shocked anyone who only knew the Dark Knight.
Bruce leaned back just slightly into your hands, eyes closing as the water ran down both of you. The steady rhythm of your fingers against his scalp felt grounding, simple, quiet, domestic.
“Alfred says you’ve been overworking the drone prototypes again,” Bruce murmured after a moment. You snorted softly. “Alfred says that about everything.” “He’s usually right.” Your fingers tugged lightly through his hair, rinsing the soap out with your hands under the stream. “Says the man who went out tonight with cracked armor plating.”
Bruce opened one eye slightly. “You fixed it.” you smiled “Of course I did.”
When it was your turn, Bruce didn’t hesitate. He took the bottle from your hand and guided you gently beneath the water, his fingers working through your hair with surprising patience. His touch was careful, methodical even, but there was warmth in it, something steady and affectionate beneath the practiced movements. Water ran down your shoulders while his hands smoothed the soap through your hair before rinsing it away.
Then came the quiet routine that had become yours over the years. Washing away the grime from patrol. Passing the soap back and forth. Checking each other for bruises or cuts neither of you mentioned earlier. The intimacy of it had nothing to do with the closeness of the space, it was the quiet trust in every movement.
No masks. No Gotham. No criminals. Just you and him.
By the time you stepped out of the shower, the tension of the night had mostly faded. Fresh clothes replaced the heavy armor, and the scent of something warm and savory drifted down the hall.
“Alfred,” you said with a small smile. “Alfred,” Bruce agreed. The dining room felt cozy compared to the cold steel of the cave. A simple meal waited, nothing fancy, just hearty comfort food clearly chosen to refuel two people who had spent hours chasing criminals across rooftops. Alfred stood beside the table with that familiar dignified calm.
“Master Bruce. Master Y/n,” he greeted politely, though the faint smile on his face gave away his relief. “I trust the evening’s activities were… productive.”
“Define productive,” you muttered, sitting down. Bruce gave Alfred a small nod. “Thank you.”
Dinner was quiet but comfortable. The kind of silence that didn’t need filling. You talked a little about the gadgets you’d been designing together in the cave Bruce offering the occasional thoughtful suggestion while you described improvements you wanted to try next. Alfred chimed in once or twice with dry commentary about “explosions in the workshop,” which earned a rare laugh from Bruce.
Eventually the exhaustion of the night caught up with both of you.
The manor was nearly silent as you headed to the bedroom. Gotham’s distant lights flickered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold and shadow. Bruce changed quickly before sliding into bed, clearly more tired than he liked to admit.
You joined him moments later.
Bruce shifted closer almost immediately, one arm settling around you as if it had always belonged there. The world outside might have known him as the relentless protector of Gotham, the man who never seemed to rest, but here, in the quiet safety of your shared space, he allowed himself to relax.
Your arm wrapped loosely around his shoulders, pulling him closer without a word.
you soaked in each other's presence, breathing slowing as you cuddled into each other. The steady rhythm of his breathing slowed as he settled against you, the tension finally draining from his body. Somewhere downstairs a clock chimed softly, marking the late hour.
“Good work tonight,” Bruce murmured sleepily. You pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “You are too.” His grip tightened slightly, warm and reassuring. "I love you" Bruce yawned out, "I love you too Bruce" a smile glued to your face.
Outside, Gotham kept turning. Sirens in the far distance. Wind moving through the city’s endless towers.
But inside the manor, wrapped in blankets and each other, the night was finally peaceful.
