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What We Once Were

Summary: How could you possibly be strangers to each other in a shared home? 

A/N: So this is actually my first (published) written work in over 3ish years? I’m so nervous

Warnings: Slight angst, swearing, a bit of a makeout session but nothing too serious. 

Word count: 2187

Nights like these didn’t come around often. 

Between Bruce’s dedication to keeping crime down in Gotham and your much needed assistance at the orphanage, the only time you two really had together was spent parading around galas neither of you wanted to attend (but attend you did when it came to appeasing Alfred).

It was just past one in the morning when you finally entered Wayne Manor. From the entryway you could see a flicker of light which either meant that Alfred was still up waiting for you or you were about to witness Bruce take off into the night yet again without so much as a kiss goodbye. You heaved a sigh at the thought, heart sinking and shoulders slumping at the fact that it was probably the latter of the two options. 

You didn’t bother making your way to the light source. You knew full well the most you’d get out of Bruce while he was wearing the batsuit was a fleeting hug and if you were lucky, a kiss on the cheek. 

You slipped off your coat and shoes at the door before going any further, knowing that Alfred would scold you if a speck of mud was found anywhere but the mat stationed at the door. You could hear heavy footsteps from the kitchen as you got closer, brows scrunching as you checked the time on your watch. Alfred doesn't make that much noise at this hour (or at any hour, really) which could only mean one thing.

Bruce.

Honestly, you considered sneaking to the bedroom. The very thought of dealing with Bruce's absence tonight has your head reeling, you don't think you can handle seeing him off.

You turn on your heel quickly, a silent thanks to the quiet padding your socks provided falling from your lips as you half shuffled, half ran to the hall that would lead to your shared room. You were just about to slowly push the door open when you heard Bruce's voice call out to you.

"Fuck."

He said your name again. Once, twice. You heaved a sigh and started the trek back to the kitchen.

"I'm in here!" Bruce shouted, poking his head out.

But before you could say "I know" he disappeared back into the kitchen, sounds of water running and dishes clanging drowning out any hope that he'd hear you from back here. "I'm coming, I'm coming," you grumbled. "Isn't it nearly time for you to go? I'll take care of the dishes in the morning or something just—"

You stopped dead in your tracks.

There was Bruce hunched over the sink, his arms almost elbow deep in a pan of soapy water. The suds were everywhere; in his hair, the floor, on the cabinet, and somehow on the ceiling. You suppressed a giggle at the sight before you in hopes of making tonight so much easier on yourself, that way you wouldn't dwell on the moments when it was just you alone in your shared bed. "What are you doing?"

"Dishes," he stated.

You deadpanned. "Bruce."

"Yes?" He questioned, finally turning around to look at you. The action only caused more suds to land on the floor as he spun and he winced at the wet plop it made. "Sorry."

"Did you call me in here because you need help?"

“What?” He looked almost offended that you even suggested that. “No. No, you make me sound awful.”

You gave a sheepish “sorry” and stepped closer, allowing your eyes to roam over the mess again. You didn’t know what to say and by the looks of it Bruce wasn’t too keen on speaking up either. He almost looked boyish standing there with his eyes cast down, no doubt trying to figure out a way to explain himself. Luckily you didn’t have to wait for long. He opened his mouth and closed it quickly afterwards, a faint blush spreading over his cheeks as he used the damp dish rag to wipe off his hands that were steadily dripping water onto the floor. 

“I uh—” he started, gesturing to the sink with the hand that wasn’t holding the rag. “I’m not going out tonight. I don’t think they need me.” 

You nodded wordlessly, wondering why he decided to spend his one night at home doing the dishes.  

“But you,” he continued, meeting your eyes for what felt like the first time tonight. “I think you need me. I think we need each other, you know? I mean apart from the galas we don’t get to see each other as much. Not like we used to. I just,” he began to trail off, his blushing cheeks growing darker. “I miss you, y/n.”

You nearly rolled your eyes. He missed you? He fucking missed you? You’re met with half-hearted hugs and broken sentences when you come home from work most nights but he missed you? You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something you would regret in a few hours. “I’m sure you did Bruce.”

You were sure the look you threw at him was the reason he didn’t press further. Instead he opted for tossing the rag back into the dish water, the sloshing sound of the water being disturbed was the only thing that could be heard within the kitchen. You wanted to give in, wanted to tell him how much you missed him too but you knew that tomorrow you’d fall back into the old routine of mumbling your goodbyes on deaf ears as he fled into the night to protect Gotham. The thought made your stomach churn, your shoulders slumping impossibly further as you thought about the past few months. 

“I made dinner,” he mumbled, his hands falling limp at his sides. “I tried to, at least.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing toward the open oven. “Where is it?”

Somehow his cheeks flushed scarlet. “I burned it. All of it. I’m surprised the bottom didn’t fall out of the pan. I’ve been scrubbing for the past hour and it’s still caked on.”

You couldn’t help it, you had to laugh. Before tonight and the occasional piece of overdone toast you don’t think Bruce has ever even attempted to busy himself in the kitchen, less known cook an entire meal. “And where was Alfred in all of this?” you questioned, still giggling. “Surely he had a thing or two to say about all of the smoke.”

“He did, yeah,” Bruce commented, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he regarded you. “I almost got chased out of the kitchen until I told him what it was for.”

“What’s it for Bruce?” The question was followed by a slight tilt of your head, your eyes searching his face for something that’d at least give you a clue to where this conversation was going. Sure, you looked composed enough on the outside but your mind was reeling with possibilities. 

He took a step forward and you found yourself fighting every instinct that told you to close the distance between the two of you. You could tell that Bruce was holding himself back, too. His hands fidgeted at his sides, no doubt wanting to reach out and hold at least some part of you. Your face was only mere inches away from his. You could smell the lingering hint of his favorite gum as he exhaled, the air from his lips ghosting over your cheek. “I wanted to apologize, wanted to make it meaningful this time. You deserve more than the usual ‘I’m sorry’ shit,” he confessed, gingerly taking one of your hands in his own. “Even though I am sorry.”

“Bruce—“

“No, no, I know. We’ve been through this a million times. You’ve heard it all before, I know. I’m an ass for taking this long to realize just how badly I messed up. I owe you more than I’ve given you in the past few months, you deserve more. I’ll never be able to make up the months lost but I’d like to make sure we don’t lose any more going forward.” Bruce was cradling your cheek with his free hand, his eyes glossing over with the beginnings of tears. 

You leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as you savored the feeling of his skin against yours for the first time in what felt like forever. One of your hands came to wrap around his wrist, making sure to keep your touch as gentle as his. “It won’t happen overnight, Bruce. It never does.”

“I’m not expecting it to.” He pauses and you take the time to give him a small hum of acknowledgment, your head turning just enough to allow you to press a kiss to the inside of Bruce’s wrist. “You need me more than this city and up until now I’ve failed to consider that. Gotham can hold its own for now, I’d just like to hold you.”

You opened your eyes just in time to see a tear roll down his cheek, the initial shock stopping you from brushing the tear away with your thumb. You couldn’t remember the last time Bruce cried in front of you. You pulled him into a hug without another word, your own sobs mixing in with his quiet sniffles as he tugged you closer. 

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, wrapped in his embrace, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back while you both swayed. By the time you pulled away your tears were drying on the collar of his shirt and his hair was a mess from where you’d been running your fingers through. “I’d like to hold you too,” you grinned, no doubt blinking up at him through lashes webbed with tears. “I missed this. Missed you.” 

“I’m gonna do everything that I can to get back to where we used to be.” He said it like a promise and the kiss pressed to the back of your hand only confirmed your thoughts. Bruce leaned his forehead against yours, his piercing eyes disappearing behind their lids. “I became a stranger to you in our own home.”  

You hummed again, slowly becoming all too aware of how close you stood. Bruce’s hands felt warm on your hips even through the fabric of your pants and you twirled a strand of his hair around your finger in thought. “Kiss me.”

You spoke quietly but you knew that he’d heard you. His hands twitched against your skin as soon as the word ‘kiss’ left your mouth. 

And yet, he found himself questioning what you said. “What?” he asked, pulling his forehead away from yours to look into your eyes. 

However, you didn’t falter. “Kiss me,” you repeated, your hand sliding from his hair. Your fingers trailed along the backside of his neck as you waited in anticipation. “Please.”

This was enough for Bruce to lift one hand and place it under your chin in order to tilt your face up to meet his lips. You melted into him all too easily, your mouth slotting against his like the final piece of a puzzle as you both allowed your bodies to move in harmony. He gripped you like his life depended on it, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your waist while you gasped into his mouth. You were almost certain that there’d be bruises staining your skin tomorrow but you didn’t care. 

You found yourself wishing you didn’t need air to survive once he pulled away, his chest heaving as he smiled down at you. Bruce’s cheeks were once again tinted a soft pink and it looked as if his lips were beginning to swell from how intense the kiss was. You allowed him a few moments to steady his breathing before pulling him in again, your lips seeking out his in a much gentler kiss. Instead of a pool of heat in your stomach and labored breaths this one left you with butterflies and a chest bubbling with soft laughter once you pulled away, a blush undoubtedly staining your cheeks. 

“I love you,” you whispered, almost afraid of losing this moment.

“And I love you,” said Bruce. “So much.” 

He gave your hand a squeeze and pulled you in for another hug before kissing the top of your head. “ It’s late. Why don’t you go run a bath and we’ll talk cuddle afterwards? I’ll take care of all this.”

You let another giggle escape once you regarded all of the water and suds, your hand squeezing Bruce’s in return. “Just hurry, okay? I miss you already.”

He nodded and spun you around but not before kissing your cheek, the smile from earlier growing wider as he playfully shooed you away. “I’ll be quick, I promise.” Bruce watched you make your way to your room with the softest expression he’s ever made, his feet carrying him back over to the sink with a small, content sigh, and as he glanced down at the mess he made he could only find himself thinking of how elated you made him feel. 

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