About a Bat

His poor baby. Arthur pulls Bruce to him, ignores that he's touching him with hands stained in sex, and regrets his own dismissiveness. Bruce loves him, too-- and he chose that all on his own. Who is Arthur to change his mind? Who is he to try to? If nothing else, Bruce's confession is utter proof that they're meant to be together forever.

"Shh," he murmurs, guiding Bruce until he's sitting in his lap. In the wake of his masturbation the proximity tickles at the half-hard state of his cock, but Arthur's head dips so he can kiss the boy's hair as innocently as he can.

"Shh, shh... I love you too, Tiny." Bruce's neck is warm beneath his palm. Arthur holds him by the nape, and uses his other arm to wrap protectively around him. "I love you more than anyone in the world.

"And I want you to be mine, too."

It makes him shiver to say it aloud, as if fearing some divine retribution. But God doesn't strike him down with lightning, and the world doesn't implode.

Arthur laughs again, halfway to delirious, but manages to swallow the rest of his insanity down. He pulls back, and the hand on Bruce's neck slips to cup his cheek and guide him to look up at him.

"Can we start over?" he asks, stroking the trail of a tear off the boy's face. "Can I say 'I love you', and then you can say 'I love you, too', and then-- and then we can kiss, and touch, because we love each other so much?"

As Arthur pulls him into his lap and arms, Bruce closes his eyes and leans into him. There are slight sniffles and a few stray tears, but with Arthur finally accepting that Bruce is sincere in his feelings, he calms down a bit.

Each hold and kiss and word and touch only serve to make Bruce melt into the older man. His own hand reaches up to rest against his chest, a content sigh flowing through parted lips as he reassures him that everything is okay and that the feelings are reciprocated.

Bruce's eyes are shining with adoration as he leans into the hand on his cheek and nods.

"Go ahead," he whispers, reaching a hand of his own up move a few strands of his hair out of his face before moving to cup the side of it. "Tell me that you love me, so I can tell you that I love you, and we finally get to show each other how much we love each other."

The tip of Bruce's tongue flicked out over his lips in anticipation of what's to come.

It all almost feels so surreal. Bruce can't believe that someone as wonderful and sweet and handsome and good as Arthur could love him as much as he loves Arthur.

And maybe it'll be a dream he wakes up from, in the end, but lord is he desperate to see the dream until its end.

femlette

It shouldn't piss her off that he seems surprised, but it does. She fights real hard to hide it, but it does. There's a long time that she spends just staring at Bruce, not really sure if she should look away. It may have annoyed her that he was so taken aback by her passivity, but it was an expression she was glad she didn't miss. There were a lot of moments like that that Emily was glad she got to see. Moments that felt like belonged to them ( belonged to her ) and nobody else. This felt like one of those moments. After all, that was sort of why it worked, right? Even Emily had to think about it for a second ( a very, very split second ). If it'd been anybody else trying to tell her anything about these terrible habits, she'd probably have punched them. Made the habits worse. Bruce had a funny way of turning that around, just the same way he's been turning her around in the short amount of time they've been orbiting each other.

And man, it'd worry her how strong his gravitational pull was if she paid close enough attention. But she wasn't.

Her attention is very simply put on his awkward little show of avoidance in acceptance. Glancing anywhere but at her when he tries showing some kind of support that's not confrontational. She'd laugh if she knew it wouldn't break the moment. She'd laugh because it was something she'd do, too.

❝ ... Bruce? ❞ Something to bring his attention back, bring his gaze back. Emily doesn't move until she has it again. It's one small, deliberate step after another, her slow approach. One step after another until she's almost toe to toe with him. Blink and he'd miss the flash of vulnerable sincerity that melts her expression into something criminally soft.

❝ ... Thank you. ❞

It takes a moment for it to happen, but when it does, Bruce's gaze holds Emily's for as long as she so chooses. He's not used to having someone so close to him, even physically, that when she's well within arm's reach, he fights every nerve screaming at him to run. He knows what he's done- keeping people away- isn't good for him, but the thought of losing someone else the way he lost his parents... well, it shakes him to the core.

And maybe Bruce isn't the most spiritual person, nor is he certain he believes in fate, but for some reason, Emily ended up in his life, and he doesn't want her to leave it for any reason.

There's a bashful nod as she expresses her gratitude.

It's moments like these that makes Bruce realize just how much of his interpersonal skills were lost the moment his parents died. Though, even though she's aware of this, even though she knows the only time Bruce can be charming and extroverted is when he's playing the part of a Wayne, she's still here.

"You matter to me."

It's simple, but he hopes that maybe she understands just what he's saying.

#femlette #fl emily 1

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Why? is the first thing Arthur wants to say.

For a second, he fears everything he must have done wrong. And then, lips pressing together tightly, it occurs to him that not for a second did he ever want to be his mother's, not like this.

Is that what makes the difference? Is that what makes Bruce's decision his own, and not an obligation of family? Could it be possible that someone good like Bruce could want someone as broken as him entirely out of his own free will?

"I'm sorry," he says again, and this time he struggles to keep the self-loathing out of it. "Oh, I didn't mean... I'm sorry I dismissed your feelings, Tiny. Oh..."

Arthur aches. This whole time he's wanted to cry, and now he sits on his legs and looks at Bruce and feels so unbearably defective it makes him want to jump out the window.

Instead of doing any of that, though, he reaches out, curling his fingers tentatively into the hem of Bruce's shirt. Pulling.

"Come here?" he implores, throat hoarse. "Bruce...

"Come let me hold you. Please?"

Bruce's gaze shoots up towards Arthur's as he begins to apologize, feeling the tears he's tried to keep down beginning to rise up. He's heard the man go through some low moments, but he's never heard Arthur sound this badly.

Bruce never thought his heart could ever shatter into so many bits.

"No, don't... don't apologize. You don't have to apologize, Arthur, I swear. You wouldn't have any way of knowing," the younger man begged softly, his voice cracking as the unshed tears continued to claw their way out of his throat.

His stomach turns as he looks Arthur over, hating what he's done to the most important person in his life.

Though, when he asks for him to let him hold him, he lets out a strangled sigh of relief that he still wants him around. The tears began to fall onto his cheeks as he nods and follows the tug.

Words have failed him, but at least Arthur's arms are around him once more.

At least he's where he belongs.

Arthur's mentioned to Bruce that there are times he'll burst into a fit of laughter for seemingly no apparent reason, but he hasn't really seen it before this moment. Granted, it's not the giggles that cause any of the aray of emotions, but rather the words that came out of the mouth he's silently wanted to kiss for so long.

Humilation, worry, hurt, concern- they're all there, but none moreso than rejection.

"Do you really think I kissed you just to make you feel better?"

Bruce's voice is so small as the words come out, a part of him isnt even certain Arthur can hear it over the chuckles coming out of him. Though, he's partially doubtful that things will get any better if he can.

Despite his own feelings, though, he knows he loves Arthur and Arthur loves him no matter what.

Even if he doesn't actually want Bruce the way Bruce wants him, he'll be there for him in whatever way he needs.

A tender hand raises and delicately strokes the long strands on the back of his head.

"You don't have a problem, Arthur. I promise. I love you so much and everything here is fine. We're okay. Nothing has to change if you don't want it to." Bruce keeps his voice kind and soft as he reassures Arthur, despite the fact he's wants to scream his love for the man. But Arthur's having a rough moment, and having to deal with Bruce's own feelings isn't fair to him.

Bruce is so naive, so sweet, and Arthur wants to shove his own head into a microwave. Oh, it would be a dream for the kid to feel the way Arthur does-- in that adult, taboo, you're-for-me-and-I'm-for-you way-- but there's no way he understands what it means. In the haze of Arthur's unreliable memories he isn't sure he ever meant it when he told his mother he loved her, that he was for her, that there would never be anyone else.

But he didn't know any better then, did he?

"It's not-- HA!" Arthur lifts his head and immediately slaps his palm over his mouth, muffling every harsh, desperate peal of laughter. He's never felt this bad in front of Bruce; he wonders, briefly, if this behaviour is scaring him.

"--n-not about what I want-- Bruce, I'm in love..." Laughter, again. "In l-l-love..."

It takes three minutes for Arthur to stop, and by then his stomach aches and his erection has flagged to half-mast. The muscles of his face hurt. He looks up, blearily, and almost cries because Bruce never left him.

"B-Bruce." Everything hurts. The fear that Bruce is simply being good instead of honest makes his lip quiver. He'd never do anything to hurt him, and in that reality Arthur fears Bruce would hurt himself for it. "Bruce...

"I love you like I want to marry you." Whispered and clumsy, Arthur sounds defeated, but honest. He feels stripped raw. "I love you like grown-ups do, but I... I don't want to hurt you. Do you understand?"

"I'm not a child, Arthur," Bruce begins, the slight bite to it getting lost before the words even have a chance to leave his lips. He can't figure out why Arthur's not understanding when he tells him he loves him or even what the kiss, no matter how unplanned, meant. Granted, Bruce recognizes his own inexperience and can't help but wonder if there's something he's not saying.

The frown is evident in every part of his expression, and he looks down at his palms in his lap, watching his fingers as they pull at hangnails nervously.

Maybe if he makes it all explicitly clear and lets Arthur know that nothing is impuslive in this moment he'll understand.

"Jenny from school- my lab partner in physics- she asked me to ask her out a few months back. I told her I couldn't do that, and when she asked why, I told her there was somebody else," Bruce admits, feeling his stomach twist violently in his gut as he face flushes once more. "She thought it was this other girl in our gym class, but it's not. It's not anyone who goes to school with us."

Bruce's lower lips trembles with a fear he's yet to know as he forces himself to meet Arthur's gaze.

"I... I didn't want to tell you about it because I was worried you'd tell me I should've taken her on a date. If you had, I-" his voice breaks and he looks down at his picked-at fingers again. "You're the only person who matters to me, Arthur. You're the one I love and the one I want to spend my life with. You're the only person who's made me feel safe and loved and wanted and- and I don't know what I'd do without you if we..."

The thought of being apart is too much for him that he can't even utter the words.

"I want to be yours, Arthur. It's what I've wanted for a while now."

Pulling the lower petal of lip between his teeth, Bruce worries on it as he sees how withdrawn Arthur becomes. It's all Bruce's fault he's like this, too. He wasn't even supposed to be home yet. But then he heard a strangled call for him and he was so scared Arthur was in pain.

Bruce lets out a soft sigh, the shock slowly draining from himself as he takes a few steps into the room.

"It's okay," he finally speaks up again, though, the words are timid. Throat clicking loudly as he swallows his nerves down, he moves onto the bed before Arthur, taking his face in his palms to have their eyes meet. He's gentle in his touch, pads of his thumbs lovingly stroking along his cheekbones. "You have nothing to be sorry about, Arthur."

Truthfully, it's a bit of a relief seeing him like this. There's been plenty of those kinds of dreams on Bruce's end- especially since turning seventeen- but he'd never admit it out loud. He's always been too ashamed to let Arthur know about his feelings for him.

But in this moment, without a shred of thought behind it as he gazes lovingly into the man's eyes, Bruce leans in and presses a slow, loving kiss.

There's a deep flush on his cheeks as he pulls back after realizing what he's doing, and he can't do much more than stammer out an apology as he gazes at him with wide eyes.

"No," Arthur starts, "no, it's not okay--"

But he finds himself silenced, immediately, when he feels the bed dip under Bruce's weight. Wide eyes watch him move, and though a part of him begins to form the words for get away from me, the feel of Bruce's hand on his face placates him.

And, inevitably-- because Arthur loves him more than anything else in the whole, wide world-- makes him whimper as he leans into the boy's touch.

Bruce says he doesn't have to apologise, but as tempting as it is to just listen, Arthur knows he shouldn't. Bruce doesn't know any better. Bruce is too young to know any better. Arthur shouldn't be thinking of him like this, not when the kid's twenty years younger than him, and he opens his mouth in a feeble attempt to correct him when--

--Bruce's lips meets his instead.

It's... clumsy, for one thing, which is a relief. When Arthur was Bruce's age he was great at kissing for the worst reasons in the world, so he's glad all Bruce does is press against him. It's exactly the kind of innocent thing Arthur wanted from him. It's sweet and it's soft and the fact Bruce is blushing when he pulls away and stammers makes Arthur's heart sing.

"You shouldn't be the one apologising," he says, and though he means it to be scolding, there's a laugh bubbling up his throat. "Bruce... oh, you don't have to kiss me to make me feel better..." Arthur's thighs shift, trying vainly to press together and hide the swell of his still-erect length. He wants to touch Bruce in turn, but knows he might just do something stupid. Something bad.

Arthur's fingers dig into the sheets, desperate. "You're the sweetest boy in the world, Tiny. I'm the one with a prob-- p-prob-HA-lem-- pffhahaha--"

The laughter starts, exacerbated by the mix of guilt and shame he feels. Arthur's head ducks and he shoves his face into the mattress in an attempt to muffle the sound, but his shoulders keep shaking.

He's still hard. God, he's still hard.

Humilation, worry, hurt, concern- they're all there, but none moreso than rejection.

"Do you really think I kissed you just to make you feel better?"

Despite his own feelings, though, he knows he loves Arthur and Arthur loves him no matter what.

Even if he doesn't actually want Bruce the way Bruce wants him, he'll be there for him in whatever way he needs.

A tender hand raises and delicately strokes the long strands on the back of his head.

Bruce knows he should be used to it by then, but every time he sees just how frail Arthur is, he feels his heart shatter all over again. Arthur is always making certain Bruce has enough to eat, and that he's as healthy as can be. Yet, to do this, he's constantly putting his own well-being on the back burner.

Bruce really needs to figure out how to get Arthur to take better care of himself.

As much as he loves sleeping on his chest, the other's fragility makes him choose, "Hold me." Fortunately, he loves being wrapped in Arthur's warm and loving embrace, and he likes to think Arthur likes to hold him, too.

It also means Bruce won't have to worry about inadvertently hurting him during the night.

And, as rough of a day as it had been, being able to cuddle Arthur during the night in his favorite pair of pajamas- black plaid cotton lounge pants with a plain yellow shirt- made it all worth it.

#hahaheratic #hh1 #finished

Bruce answers him and Arthur doesn't argue at all, more than happy to curl an arm around that slight frame and press his chest to Bruce's back. He loves this: when the world boils down to just them, and he can kiss the back of Bruce's neck and smile into his shoulder.

"M'kay..." The only reason he releases him is because he remembers, tangentially, to pull the covers up. Bruce is nice and warm, but this time of year is just about when it starts to get chilly. Bruce has never been sick since coming into his care, and Arthur isn't about to let that change any time soon.

Softly, he whispers, "Tomorrow we go on our date.

"So get some good sleep, Tiny."

The routine after that is standard fare, regardless of whether Bruce shares a bed with him or not. Arthur never lets a day go by without telling the boy I love him and sweet dreams; he is, after all, the most important person in his entire world, and Bruce just promised he would never leave.

Fingers tightening slightly in Bruce's t-shirt, Arthur sighs peacefully against him. Sleeping always came easy with Bruce in his arms, and now is no exception.

The moment the door opens, Arthur's fist tightens so hard it makes him wince in pain. But what hurt he might have felt is nothing compared to the humiliation of @adoptedbat seeing him like this: his right hand and knees pressed to the mattress, his head bowed and spine curved, and his left fist a replacement for a warm, willing hole.

His heart was hammering in his chest already, as it's wont to in moments like these, but now it races for an entirely different reason. With cheeks flushed red, Arthur shuts his eyes, letting out a soft: "Are you real?"

But then Bruce speaks, and his voice is so small when he asks--

"You want me?"

There isn't a good answer for it. Arthur's cock still throbs in his hand and leaks at the slit, and he'd been crying out Bruce's name up until the kid barged in. Postured like this, and with his dick still obviously hard, it wouldn't take a genius to figure out what he was doing.

Arthur shivers, releasing himself slowly and reaching for the pants that're pooled around his thighs.

"Yes," he answers, cringing. "I'm sorry." Even with his sweatpants pulled up, his erection is still fat against the cloth-- evidence of his degeneracy.

Arthur keeps his head hung, ashamed. "I-- you weren't supposed to know. I'm sorry, Tiny."

Bruce lets out a soft sigh, the shock slowly draining from himself as he takes a few steps into the room.

But in this moment, without a shred of thought behind it as he gazes lovingly into the man's eyes, Bruce leans in and presses a slow, loving kiss.

There's a deep flush on his cheeks as he pulls back after realizing what he's doing, and he can't do much more than stammer out an apology as he gazes at him with wide eyes.

#hahaheratic #hh2 #track

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Arthur grins, kissing the tip of Bruce's nose. "Yeah, Tiny. Just get some pyjamas on and wait for me in bed while I tidy all this away."

The self-control required to remove Bruce from his side is, in fact, remarkable. Arthur gives him one last kiss to the cheek before urging him towards their rooms, then works on moving all their leftovers into containers for another day.

After quick rinses all the dishwasher-safe things are kept away. Arthur leaves the saucepot to soak overnight. It takes enough time that he expects Bruce in his bed after cleaning up, and the sight of him there-- ever so cute in those pyjamas-- brings a bright smile to Arthur's face.

It really is wonderful not being alone any more. Arthur moves to his wardrobe to change into his usual sleepwear himself: comfortable pants over his underwear, no shirt on top.

"Scoot," he says, climbing into the right side-- the one closest to the window, just so Bruce doesn't have to wake up to muted sunlight. "Mm, and now for getting comfy..." He's back to carding his fingers through Bruce's hair again.

"Do you want to sleep on my chest, Tiny? Or do you want me to hold you?"

Bruce really needs to figure out how to get Arthur to take better care of himself.

It also means Bruce won't have to worry about inadvertently hurting him during the night.

And, as rough of a day as it had been, being able to cuddle Arthur during the night in his favorite pair of pajamas- black plaid cotton lounge pants with a plain yellow shirt- made it all worth it.

"Mhm," Arthur whispers, like Bruce's words aren't lighting every neuron he has on fire. "We'll figure out a nice place to visit together soon, Tiny. Don't you worry about that.

"For now..." It almost hurts to think of responsibility, but Arthur's no fool. Bruce had a long day, and even if he isn't looking at his face he can picture the black eye perfectly. The warmth of Bruce's body stifles the otherwise remarkably protective side of him; he's cosy and happy now, and Arthur shouldn't be thinking of assault. "Well. For now, I think we need to get you in something comfy so you can get some sleep.

"I want you well-rested for our date tomorrow."

Is it cheating, calling it a date when Bruce is too sleepy to correct anything? Arthur doesn't bother contemplating it. He kisses the top of Bruce's head and strokes the lecherous dip of his hip with a thumb, staying connected as he breathes him in. God, his boy is getting so big.

"You want me to tuck you in?"

A small, dejected sound comes out of Bruce as Arthur mentions going to bed, but he knows he's right. He can't even manage to keep his own eyes open in that moment. There's no reason for him to keep Arthur pinned there.

Forcing himself to look up at Arthur, there's a hesitation as he looks down then back at his eyes.

"Can I sleep with you tonight?"

Rationally, Bruce knows he's too big to need to share a bed with his guardian, but he can't help it. It'd been such a rough day, and the only time he feels safe and warm and wanted is when he's next to Arthur. Sure, the man can tell him no and he'll accept it, but Bruce well and truly hopes he doesn't.

Falcone's. Everyone knows who owns that place, and the thought of taking someone sweet and pure like Bruce there makes Arthur scowl. More so when the kid so innocently admits that dear old Dad went there, too.

He doesn't know any better, Arthur tries to tell himself. He's innocent, just like he should be. He doesn't know.

Hand drifting down, Arthur tucks Bruce that much further into his side, making sure he's nicely aligned against him. "So you wanna take me somewhere fancy, huh, Tiny?

"I should be the one showing you off." The temptation to take Bruce back into his lap makes his stomach twist. Arthur bites back the desire to laugh that comes with it, keeping his cheek against Bruce's head as his fingers delicately stroke along his side. "Pretty thing you are.

"It'd be nice to show everybody how good you are for me, too."

"Pretty?" Bruce repeats in a mumble, as if checking that he had heard Arthur right.

It's a strange compliment, certainly, but Bruce can't help the way his cheeks feel like they're warming up. He's never considered himself pretty, but the thought of the older man seeing him in such a light makes the butterflies in his stomach flutter. They soar enough in his gut that he almost begins to wake up again, though, the stroke to his waist is enough to keep him relaxed.

"'m glad you think I'm good," he admits softly. "I want to be good for you."

In fact, of all the things he's certain of, wanting to be good for Arthur is the only thing he knows he truly wants. Arthur's so good for him. He takes good care of Bruce, and the least Bruce can do is make his life easier.

"I just want to do nice things for you. You know I love you. Wanna show it, too."

femlette

Her tongue finds her teeth and she tests the edges of them, like she should've been feeling sharp points instead of their blunt lines. Her head shakes, eyes still kept away from him as he tries his best to get through to her. Emily didn't like being this way just as much as he didn't like when she got like this. Who asks to be broken into a mess like this? Who's happy only knowing violence like this? She can't stand that she knows he's right. She can't stand herself for not being able to just listen to him like she should. A slow, slow, deep breath is taken in from her nose and she holds it for about as long as she can before she let's it out the way someone lets out a drag of smoke. It ends in the same kind of scoff it began with.

She knows she should apologize. She knows, she knows, she knows...

So fucking do it, dammit.

It shouldn't be this hard to accept that someone cares. It didn't used to be.

❝ ... I'm sorry... ❞ It doesn't have to be anymore. The thought comes to her about as suddenly as the apology slips through her lips. Like it almost surprises her. Her breath catches, and she holds it again to keep her composure. There's a long, long moment of silence. Not really because she's thinking of anything. She's just... silent.

❝ I'm sorry. ❞ More conviction. More genuine. Emily finally turns to look at Bruce and there's a lot more emotion there than she meant to let out. Her eyes are doe wide and full of all the contempt for herself that she's trying to turn into that same kind of understanding he wants to give her.

He's not going to be able to help her until she helps herself.

❝ I'll - ... ❞ Another break, but she's trying. ❝ ... I guess I could stop drinking... ❞

"I..."

Bruce wasn't expecting this conversation to go as easily as it did. Though, he's not one to turn away a good thing. Especially not from her.

Despite their relatively short time together, Bruce has come to care for Emily quite a bit. It was rather strange having someone he's even remotely begun to let in, but maybe it helps that beneath all of the expensive suits, wealthy status and playboy persona, he's just as damaged inside as she is. At the least, that's what Alfred constantly references when pointing out their kindred spirits.

You're both stubborn and angry, just as you are lonely. Perhaps her company will be good for you, Master Bruce.

"Good," he finally says, clearing his throat and looking down slightly. "Good. That's... I think that'll be good for you. I can ask Alfred to clear out all of the liquor here, if you think that'll help."

Bruce sighs as he looks up to meet her gaze once more.

"And, you know, if there's anything else I can do..."

Why was it always so easy to talk to people who only cared about his image and never when it was someone who mattered to him on a personal level?

"Um, yeah... Just, uh, just let me know."

#femlette #fl emily 1

"You should work on days I'm working," Arthur says pointedly, fingers of his right hand absently playing with Bruce's hair. The left, however clumsily, puts noodles together to keep eating.

Arthur doesn't really have a "regular" schedule any more, but he certainly tries. The whole thing with robbing, he finds, is that to make sure people are willing to come again dividing the spoils is inevitable. And while it isn't his favourite thing in the world, it's the only job he's got after Murray. Rent's bad, and utilities are bad, and food will always be an issue; Arthur wants to make sure Bruce never wants for anything, though, which is the hardest thing of all.

Sometimes he wonders why he didn't just kill himself like he wanted. But the warm body against his own is sweet, and Bruce is his destiny.

"Hmm." Having swallowed his food, Arthur speaks again, combing delicately through Bruce's soft hair. "What do you imagine when you think about treating me?

"Where do you wanna go?"

"Yeah, that's a good idea," he murmurs, eyelids gradually falling shut as he answers.

As Arthur plays with his hair, Bruce finds himself beginning to relax a tad too much. He knows he's supposed to be eating and then studying some more, but Arthur's gestures feel so soothing- especially after such an emotional moment.

Still, he forces his eyelids open and hums thoughtfully.

"Well, maybe once a month or something, we can order in or something. That way I can treat you, but still save for special occasions like your birthday. And for your birthday, I can take you somewhere really nice, like that Italian place that all those really nicely dressed people go to. What's it called? Oh! Falcone's I think!"

Fortunately, most of Bruce's plate was finished, because all he could do in that moment was curl further into Arthur's side.

"Doesn't have to be there, but it just seems like one of those places that'd be really special, you know? I remember my dad liked going there from time to time."

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"You look pretty even when you cry," Arthur coos. Still, having gotten what he wanted out of him, he allows Bruce to get off his lap and make himself as comfortable as he needs.

He even brings Bruce's plate closer to his own so he can sit beside him instead of across. A little Friday crying always made the kid cuddlier, and Arthur takes the initiative by slinging an arm around his shoulder so Bruce can lean against him while he eats. Moments like these are exactly why Arthur can use a fork with either hand.

He's smiling as he collects more noodles on his fork, nodding at Bruce's observation-- "Mm, isn't it always a nice time, as long as we're together?" But considering he's built his life around Bruce, that's only to be expected.

Arthur leans his head against Bruce's, humming in clear contentment.

"But I'm excited to take you out. We haven't had any time for that in a loooong while." He sighs, just a touch of dramatic. "It's real nasty when we're both busy, isn't it? Thanksgiving break needs to come now."

Maybe Bruce's appetite has dwindled a bit, but it doesn't matter to him. The only thing that matters is how glad he is that everything is okay with Arthur, and that he's right where he belongs- at his side.

Still, he knows better than to waste the food he's lucky to have made by a man he's also lucky to have.

His free hand moves up, over to the larger one settled upon his shoulder.

There's a soft buzz behind Bruce's lips as he agrees.

"Well, maybe on the nights we're really busy I study wherever you are. Might not be fun, but at least we'll be together." From where his head is against Arthur's shoulder, the younger peeks up at him from under his lashes. "I can sit with you while I do my homework, too. And I know if I start working, it'll be some time away, but maybe we plan it so I'm only gone for a few hours a week.

"That way I can treat you the way you treat me."

femlette

@adoptedbat. ｡°⸻ "Why waste your energy on them?"

Her laughter is nothing short of a harsh bark cut off by a sharp hiccupped breath. Vindictive in the wrong direction. Malicious only towards herself. Emily rolls her eyes and gets a little lost, turning completely away from Bruce and his ( rightful ) judgement. Her fist flexes and she does her best to act like the sting doesn't bother her, shaking her head as if that'd dismiss this whole conversation entirely. Unfortunately for her when she turns back around, Bruce is still staring right back at her in all his ( rightful ) pointedness.

❝ Instead of what? ❞ A question she lets linger longer than it probably should. Her eyes flit between both of his before another little breath slips from her, halfway between a scoff and a sigh. ❝ You can't... babysit me twenty-four seven, Bruce... ❞ Her tongue runs across her lips, gaze falling as she turns away from him once again. She can't stand the look he's got, and she can't stand the look she feels her face settling in to.

❝ I don't know what else I'm supposed to do, alright? ❞ The words come out a little more rushed than she'd like. Her hands push up into her hair, eyes following until all she sees is the sky. ❝ I don't- .. ❞ Her voice cracks. ❝ .. I don't know what else I'm meant to do.. anymore... ❞