leili

SEBASTIAN STAN as MIHAI GHEORGHIU

Synopsis: Bruce hasn't come home yet, so you bake some banana bread.

Warnings: Fem-Reader, Slight Angst, Reverse Comfort, Crying, Probably OOC, Let me know if i missed anything.

Author note/s: I do apologize for fall of the face of the planet... again. I lost my motivation to write and left the DC fandom, BUT IM BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER.

(also i am really sorry to who asked for this and it taking so long i really hope it is up to your standards. please dont murk me in my sleep, thank you🤙)

3:36 AM

That's what the clock said. Bruce was normally home by now. In bed? No, just home... in the batcave, in his office, or just being with you. But no.

Within this past week alone it seems like all of Gotham's villains had a meeting to coordinate their attacks all at the same time.

Joker,

Scarecrow,

Poison ivy,

Riddler,

Bane,

Mr.Freeze,

Two-face,

Killer Croc,

Mad Hatter,

and the list just keeps going.

So, the treats just keep being made. You have this thing when being really stressed out — you bake. Cakes, breads, cookies, brownies, you get the point.

So, when you didn't get sign of Bruce coming home you started to bake. First it was lemon cake, then it was sugar cookies, now it's banana bread.

Mashing the bananas, adding the sugar, flour, eggs, butter, milk, even adding those dark chocolate chips Bruce loves.

The clock struck 4:00

And you were so deep in that baking frenzy, you failed to hear the sound of boots dragging across the floor.

Bruce, who had just got back from stopping one of Penguin's many illegal weapon smugglings. He had one thing and one thing in mind only.

You.

His darling wife, the woman whom he loves so dearly.

Bruce, knowing about your little habit, subconsciously went to the kitchen. He knew that the stress he was under was also effecting you.

As he was approaching the kitchen he caught a faint smell of something. A warm buttery almost nutty smell.

Bruce followed the smell almost cartoonishly, feet dragging. Stopping at the doorway, he was greeted by the sight of your back.

Well, you being bent over to pull the loaf out of the oven.

Bruce and his oh so light steps make it impossible to hear him coming. He manages to get completely behind you and drape his entire body on you.

His arms holding you in a loose grip as if he could let go at any moment.

Your initial responses was panic, then relief.

"Hello, Bruce."

Your voice was light but sarcastic.

He's late.

You're mad.

Him being all cuddly wont stop your anger.

However, his tiredness will put it on pause for the time being.

He nuzzles the bridge of his nose into where your shoulders and neck meet. His attempt to say something was a failed one. Voice coming out as a low rumbling and pure vibrations on your skin.

You blink at him a few times, banana bread still hot in its pan.

"What?"

He tried again,

and failed.

"Brucie Baby, what are you saying."

"My starlet,"

Is all that was managed to be heard coherently before becoming a mumble.

A sigh leaves your nose as you take the banana bread out of the pan. Meticulously cutting it into even slices as Bruce continues to bury his face in you.

Picking up some of the crumbs with the tips of your fingers and licking them off.

A small hum of contentment was made at the taste of your baking.

"Brucie Baby."

You say softly taking your right hand and bringing it to his hair.

Pushing your fingers through his charcoal locks - slightly damp from Gotham's rain and his sweat.

"Bruce~"

You sing trying to get him to lift his head up.

"I made banana bread, with dark chocolate chips."

This gets his attention. Lifting his head up ever so slightly.

"Hm?"

Breaking off a corner of a slice and bringing it to his mouth to feed him.

"Open-"

You demand brushing the warm buttery bread piece against his lips.

He does as he is asked and slightly opens his mouth, just big enough to slip the piece of bread through.

The flavors of the banana bread hit him at once.

The warm nuttiness from browned butter,

The faint sweetness from the dark chocolate,

And of course, the creamy almost caramel taste of the banana.

"So... how is it?"

Questioning your silent husband as he buries his head again.

There was a moment of silence.

Then the silence continued,

"Bruce?"

You were about to call out to him again but you felt something wet against your neck.

The wetness rolled down your back.

You felt frozen.

Bruce Wayne.

BatMan.

Gotham's golden boy and nightly savior,

Your husband was crying into you.

You have only seen Bruce cry a handful of times.

The night him and Dick had an argument that lead to Dick becoming Nightwing,

The night that Jason had died,

When he had gotten Tim back from the Joker Jr. situation,

And the day you got married.

So standing here. In the kitchen, with your husband quietly crying into your skin you really don't know what to do.

"... Bruce?"

Your voice is shaky and quiet.

Bruce's response is to press his face further into you. His arms moving from being slack around your midsection to gripping your waist and bringing your back flush with his chest.

He just barely lifts his head up and opens then closes his mouth again.

A silence was deafening before he actually spoke.

His speech was broken and hoarse. Voice just barely audible as his lips ghosted your skin.

"I'm just happy that you're still here..."

His words fell heavy on you.

Your breath stills, taking a moment to figure out what's next.

Taking a deep breath you slowly turn around in his arms and he lets you.

While his hands never left your waist they did loosen a little. His thumbs now rubbing against the exposed skin.

His face was still firmly placed on your neck — quiet tears still come from his crystal blue eyes.

Taking your hands and lifting his head slightly to cup his jaw. You are met face to face with him at last.

His beautiful blue eyes are red and all puffy from crying. Tears still streaming down his sculpted features.

He looks at you with this tired expression, one that held years of exhaustion yet still so full of love for his family, for you.

His starlet.

Bringing his forehead to yours and letting it rest there for a moment for two.

Closing your eyes and just being there for him without any words. Like an anchor on a ship or the string that holds the kite.

Bruce watched your face through his lashes. The way your eyes twitched trying to keep them closed, your lips being slightly parted in the slightest frown of concern, the furrow of your brow.

And then, you leaned in.

Bruce's eyes flutter closed on instinct when he feels you shift in his embrace. Your lips meeting his in a slow, thoughtful kiss. Gently, you snake your arms over his shoulders, loosely wrapping around his neck to bring him closer. Bodies flush with the warmth and familiarity of each other's shapes fitting together so easily.

Safe...

You could feel Bruce tremble, but only for a moment, his arms squeezing the frame of your waist. Even though you were close enough to feel every shift, breath, and beat in his body. The man couldn't help but try to hold you closer, tighter.

Like he was still worried that no matter how secure his grasp on you was...

You could be gone.

Slipping through his fingers even if his hands were white knuckled and bloody.

The thought alone makes Bruce's chest shudder slightly as he tries to collect himself. Taking a gasp of air rather than a full breath when he parts his lips from yours, only to lean back in and continue the kiss just a bit longer. He wouldn't have called it desperate. But you would have... Your husband was many things.

The CEO of Wayne Enterprises. Billionaire and philanthropist.

The Dark Knight. Protector of Gotham.

But under it all...

He was your husband.

A desperate, paranoid man, whose only want.

The one selfish desire he truly lets himself have out of any and everything.

Is to have you. To hold you. To, at the end of his days, still be able to crawl into your shared bed and call you his...

And in a way. You know. You can feel it in the way his fingers twitch, subtly tightening their hold on you even now. The way he tilts his head to deepen every kiss you've shared. How his tongue traces the seam of your lips, not for entry, purely to savor as if this kiss will finally be his last.

... One day that may be the case. But not today.

Pulling away from the tender moment, letting each other just be in the presence of the other.

"Where else would I be?"

It was barely a whisper, something that could only be heard between the two of you.

His grip on your waist had tightened.

"I.."

He trailed off in his sentence.

"I don't even want to think about it..."

You didn't push, just let him place his head back in your neck. Wrapping your own hands around his body in a tight hold to ground not only him but yourself.

"Brucie Baby... I think we should head to bed"

"Yeah, I think that would be for the best my starlet."

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