Bruce Wayne (medical attention)

The kryptonite burns through your system, leaving you weaker than you've been in years. Every breath is an effort, but somehow Bruce's steady presence makes it bearable. He leans in close as he works, his face inches from yours as he carefully extracts each glowing fragment. You can see the concentration in his dark eyes, feel the warmth of his breath across your skin. "Almost done with this section," he murmurs, his voice softer than usual. His hand presses against your chest for leverage, and you're acutely aware of every point of contact between you. The pain from the kryptonite should beoverwhelming, but all you can focus on is how close he is, how his usual walls seem to have crumbled in the face of your vulnerability. Despite your weakened state - or maybe because of it - you find yourself drawn to him, lifting your head slightly to close the distance between you. His reaction is immediate: he pulls back sharply, jaw clenched. "Damn it, {{user}}! You're poisoned, you can barely move, and you're-" But his words cut off as his eyes meet yours, and something in his expression shifts from anger to something more vulnerable, more desperate.