[10:15]

the rain drizzled outside your apartment. the night was turning colder by the minute. the sky darker.

a knock on your kitchen's window knocked you out of your concentration on washing the dishes. you looked up to see a shadowed figure crouching facing the building across from yours. you knew who it was. turning off the tap and wiping your hands on the kitchen towel you unlatched the lock, then slid the window up. the batman turned his head to look at you.

you, in some home clothes, comfortable in your own place. the clean dishes now drying on the rack. "tough night?", you asked hands still on the window sill. he didn't say anything instead slipping inside, "you didn't answer my question.".

but he just walked past you, he took off his boots– remembering your no shoes policy. heading to your bathroom to take a shower. from the nights before, he made sure he had several change of clothes at your place. guess the night's not his. you let him be for the duration of his shower.

you were arranging a jug of hot turmeric tamarind tonic on the table with homemade snacks that you made before he came when bruce stepped out of the shower, no longer the bat, just him.

you turned to look at the opened door, the steam still coming out from the bathroom. he had hung his suit on the railings of the bathtub. his head bowed down, towel still slung over his shoulders, hair still wet. "early night" he grunts out, "don't want to go back.". you heard him, thought not giving him a response knowing that he still needed the space.

bruce rounded to where you were still going in and out of the kitchen. he stood in the junction, like a lost child, before asking whether you needed help on the arrangements. you told him to bring the bowl of meat stew and rice over to the table, and so he did.

once everything was complete, he dragged your chair out before you and pushed it closer to the table when you finally sat. he sat across from you waiting for you to take your portion of dinner first then getting his. it was the comfortable type of quiet that landed between you.

gathering the empty dishes he walked into the kitchen to put them down getting to work on the washing. when he came back he saw you snacking on what's left of the snacks. on the couch. watching the tv.

it's a sight he'd like to see everyday. every time he comes home. no ..scratch that, he just wants you.

he sat next to you on the couch his hands already circling the back of your shoulders. tugging you closer to him. "I did something bad," he starts, " I think.". he was just a new comer in this world of vigilantes trying to make gotham a better place without criticism coming from each and every direction. you scanned his face, the way his jaw clenched, his eyes adverting yours gazing blankly at the sitcom that you're watching.

"it's okay if you want to talk about it you know."

"let's save that for another day. right now, I want to waste the night like this with you.", taking the remote from your hand he turns the tv off. pulling you closer to his chest.

that night, you fell asleep until dawn broke. you woke up in your bed with a glass of water and a note on your night stand.

it's better if you didn't see me off, I'm on my way back – bruce

[19:30]

it started with small glances at galas, then it evolved to sending bits and bobs from a distance through the servers. bruce wayne never cared for the galas, they whispered and you heard, neither did you. it was the excitement of the chase, small hints of each others presence in the midst of all the phonies at the galas. every gala after he's seen you, he started to polish himself more. to everyone else it seemed like it was to pull all the ladies. in hindsight, it was but among all the models and elitist women that approached him during the galas (charity cases , he calls them), he only wanted you.

you with your impeccable dresses (he'd never admit that), you with your poised stature when talking to other men investors (his fists clench when he sees them sliding up a little too close to his liking). you with the practiced smile that turns into something gentler when looking across the hall at him (it drives him up the walls. and you, you noticed him too.

the way he rakes his hair after talking to someone who's impossible (you wanted to let the loose hair frame his face, your jaw clenched when the new girl swiped the hair to the side), the different rotation of cufflinks he uses (made you want to gift him one, as a gift on his support on your cause of course, nothing else), the way his eyes catch the light when he tilts his head back to laugh at an unfunny joke the senator says.

he made the galas lighter on you, he always had something up his sleeves. even if the two of you hadn't talked much. he'd grown. not the boy who kept tugging on his dad's (more so alfred's coat) to fix up his tie before entering the hall. not the teen that had voice cracks every other sentences.

he was just a guy, you didn't want the egoist (albeit fake) inside of him to roar to life if you called him a man. his behavior didn't encourage... manly behavior, man child would be a better fit at the moment. you knew it was just a front. you didn't let that get the best of you.

if he wanted me, he'd have to get me.

you too have grown, he noted. not the girl who filed the bottom of her dresses because "she didn't like the way it fits", no longer the girl who routinely knocks on the wayne manors front door every afternoon after her extracurriculars to gift the family another sweet experiment. you're a woman now. someone who can stand her own ground. the woman who feels comfortable enough in her own body to not tug on the edge of her dresses.

he was no match for you. not now, and maybe not ever.

it'd been a few months after you arrived back in gotham after studying for your masters abroad. you're now a woman who has the power and will make a change in gotham. it had been several years since bruce settled back down in gotham, he spent those years learning the meaning of vengeance, never grudges. he learnt to let them go after the second strike of batons on his back.

as he turned to leave, the distinct sound of your heels clicking on the ground made him stop in his tracks.

"it's good to see you, bruce.", he let a low chuckle.

maybe this was his chance to see the light again.

the sound of the fan whirring greeted him as he entered the corridor. setting of his shoes in the foyer, tidying it neatly next to your work shoes. he noticed that your shoes weren't in it's usual placement. something ought to have happened, he thought. iwaizumi realized then that there wasn't any sweet tunes that greeted him once he entered the door. iwaizumi set his work bag above the guest table.

walking over to the living room, he noticed you laying on the couch. "you okay?" you barely moved, feet facing the entrance where iwaizumi stood. he approached you slowly, unbuttoning his cuff links rolling his sleeves up. the light was dim in the living room leaving only the moonlight slithering through the gaps in the blinds.

his eyes flitting all over your face, he asked with a crack in his voice, "is it something I did?". coming up to you keeping a safe distance between the both. you shook your head. eyes facing towards the head of the couch "it wasn't.", you mumbled. Iwaizumi let out a sigh of relief, his posture relaxing. he left you in the living room right after.

you heard rustling coming from the kitchen, he must be raiding the fridge. he came back with a glass of cold tea sitting himself down on the floor in front of the couch. offering the glass to you, you took it. swallowed it down in a few gulps. "you must be tired, huh?", he murmurs. he felt you nod above him.

"let's head to bed."

the door clicked open, the dark room was now flooded with the light coming from the hall, "my sweet.". katsuki's silhoutte was stood in the middle of the door fram, a paper bag from their favourite bakery in his arms. he approached her shaking form slowly and sat next to her in a distance, at that moment, felt just right.

neither of them spoke. his weighted presence calmed her, her form relaxing. katsuki casted her a knowing glance, placing the paper bag next to her, now casual, form. without offering another word he stood up and leveled the lights to atleast give the room some warmth before leaving the room.

after leaving, she tugged the bag closer to her and placed it in her lap, opening it slowly. her favourite pastry. it's been a while since they went to the bakery. he stills remember her order. a soft smile spread on her lips. she picked the pasty to find a note on the side of the bag.

I heard from a friend of a friend that today was hard on you. If you want to talk about it you can be my guest. You've softened me you know, only mom made me do shit like this. I'll be in my room if you need me. Don't be too much of a crier, even if it does look good on you, but I prefer seing your opps shivering in fear 'cause you decided to kick their ass. Thanks, sweet. — Katsuki Bakugo

sensing that she needed to find the source of distress she sliped on her cardigan she had hung on the back of the door over her shoulders, she opened the bedroom door quietly not wanting to alert the unwanted guest.

as she went down the stairs, she heard the thumps of military boots and the fall of a duffle bag, a familiar sound. one that she hadn't expected for another three weeks.

in the dim lighting of the entrance, caleb was sat on the stool taking of his boots. hearing a creak of the floor board his eyes flickering up to her figure coming down the stairs.

her eyes widened in shock as she stumbled down the stairs. hopping over a few steps.

before she approached, he stood up to greet her in a warm hug, one that they've been awaiting for far too long. she wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he bent down to get closer in her arms. his circling around her plush waist. caleb nudged his nose to hers offering a small kiss, "i'm home, my dove".

"welcome back.".