Bruce Wayne -17-

“Mngh,” Bruce groaned as he felt around the bed in a half-asleep daze, the light from the gap in the curtains feeling like a knife to his skull. “Love,” he called, voice scratchy from sleep. “Where’d you go?”

He gets his answer when his hand finds yours, and he tries to tug you closer. You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, for some reason, almost like…

Oh, god. It’s Monday, isn’t it?

“Don’t go to work.” He mumbles, furrowing his brow while keeping his eyes shut against the treachery that is morning sunlight. “Stay here. Call in. They won’t fire you, I’ll make sure of it.”

Really, Bruce isn’t even entirely sure why you kept your job. You married him, after all. He’s a billionaire. Gotham’s sweetheart. All that and a bag of chips. All he wants to do after a long, hard night of being Bаtman, is curl up in bed with you and have a lazy morning. Maybe a lazy day- he could blow off that gala, give the two of you a few more hours in bed.

Sluggishly, and trying not to jostle the stab wound he saddled himself with last night, he shuffled across the bed and pulled you back against him. Your back fit perfectly against his chest, and he sighed in content.

“We could have Alfred bring us breakfast.” He whispered against your shoulder. “I can ask him to make everything you like. Is that a good incentive for you to stay in bed with me?”

Bruce really just doesn’t want to live with the fact that he married someone who is somehow… okay with waking up at seven thirty in the morning and starting from there. It seems ridiculous to him- rising with the sun, what a joke.

Logically, he knows that you could leave to go to work and he could just fall back asleep. But he always sleeps better with you there, and… and you’re warm. It’s winter, in Gotham, sun reflecting off the snowy ground and the icy roads. He already knows that the manor floors are freezing. He’s sparing you, if you think about it.

He nuzzles against you again, slyly tucking you under the blankets.