#batbale

gotham was showered with rain this evening. the only source of light came from the never-ending thunder on the sky. breeze of heavy winds faintly screeched on the floor-to-ceiling windows.

you found yourself in bruce’s wing of the manor. small lamps illuminated the furniture in the room, serving as under lights. you were cuddling your favorite body pillow under the heavy blanket that was draped on the humongous u-shaped sofa in the living room.

the crackling wood from the fireplace across you filled your auditory system with comfort— a contrast opposite to what was happening outside. you were waiting for bruce to wrap up some reporting in the batcave.. or in his study, you forgot but he was somewhere on the other side of the manor.

suddenly, bruce dropped himself beside you with a huff. his large body and heavy weight shifted the cushion downwards. seeing you cover yourself like a cocoon, he initially wanted to pet your head. “she’s too adorable,” he thought. yet his thumb rubbed your forehead and he worriedly whispered, “sweetheart, you’re warm.”

“hmm?” your lids started to feel heavier.

he then slipped his other hand under the cover to feel the temperature of your neck, your forearm, and your thighs. “you’re very warm," he stated like it's a matter of fact. “you should call off work tomorrow, you need rest.”

“nooooo.. i’m fine, bruce,” you answered. you looked at him with furrowed brows, scooting back to the pillows behind you.

“it’s not a request, sweetheart. i’ll get it managed.”

“but i still have things to finish at work tomorrow,” you argued.

bruce clicked his tongue, eliciting a tsk sound from him. he then ignored your complaint by striding off to the kitchen. you rolled your eyes as you grunted. it was no use arguing with him over this. he was going to get his way one way or another.

he grabbed some leftover cream soup he made this morning from the fridge and turned the stove on.

clank!

“hmm..”

thud!

“argh-”

“bruce, what are you doing?” your voice muffled by the blanket.

“nothing, sweetheart, just lay there. i’ll be done in a minute,” he shouted.

you heard him walking behind you into his bedroom, rumbling and mumbling about “where did i put it?”

whatever he was doing, you let yourself calm down or else the pounding in your head will worsen.

after a good five minutes of solitude, you felt his shadow coming near you before he even speak. his presence felt like a completing part of you.

“right. get up now, baby. i made you soup,” he said as he put the bowl and his laptop on the table. he then sat on the floor between the sofa and the table, just right below you.

“i don’t want it..” you whined as you press your face deeper to the pillow.

“c’mon,” he said as he touched your shoulder softly. “get up. don’t make me tell you twice.”

“but i don’t want it, bruce,” you whining got lighter and louder.

“my mom always said that you will sleep better with a full stomach,” he informed you, “you will also recover better with a full stomach.”

you peeped from under the cover and showed him a pout, “nooo..”

"just a bite."

"noooooo..."

"please?" he bargained. his eyes softening to the sight of you, "for me."

"don't want to, bruceee.."

you kept rejecting his offer until his fingers found your chin, adjusting your head to face him. "just one bite," he rose his eyebrows up to his hairline while slowly nodding his face, "yeah?" it seemed like he was talking to a baby who refused to take her medicine.

you stared at him with puffed lips. you couldn't lie, you loved it when he nurse you like this--or every time he casually guided you throughout your days. your mind was free to wonder beyond the gloomy and corrupted gotham. it was translated through your body language really.

how you became less tense when he had his arm wrapped around your waist, how you instinctively leaned on him whenever he's beside you, how you tried to have his scent engulf you everywhere by keeping a piece of his fragrance in your apartment because it soothes you, how your smile got bigger every time you're with him, how you sought for his fingers to fidget with, how you let him pick your meals, how you always requested to sit beside not across him at restaurants..

bruce's presence wasn't intrusive. it wasn't loud nor eccentric. it wasn't probing nor puzzling. instead, it was natural. his cool demeanor was like ice to your fidgety one. it was sound and grounding. it was fulfilling and content.

he swiftly took the bowl from the table and made silly airplane noise while he swayed the spoon up and down. "open up, sweetheart," he said with a sing-song intonation. he cannot be seriously treating you like a baby, right? yet, you let him anyway.

as an answer, you sit straighter and leaned against your propped elbow. you opened your mouth and swallowed the warm soup. it relinquished a tang of savoriness that colored your palate, the taste of mushroom was rich and earthy. the light flavor of rosemary and thyme danced along your tongue.

"that's good," he lifted the corner of his lips just enough to show a faint smile. "you're doing so good for me," he praised.

"mmmkay," you wiped the corner of your mouth and plopped yourself back onto the pillow. "i'm done."

he put the bowl back to the table and didn't respond to your statement. he simply opened up his laptop to continue watching the movie you both left out. it was inception by christopher nolan.

after he pressed play, he picked up the bowl again and poked your mouth with a spoonful of cream soup. "one more," he said. you gave him a deadly glare as you open your mouth. "why're you lookin' at me like that, huh?" he asked as he gave your cheek a pinch with his curled pointy and middle finger.

he kept promising you that each bite was the last bite minute after minute until you finished the soup. he quietly chuckled when he saw the bottom of the bowl, left with nothing but some small bits of thymes.

bruce knew that this tactic would work on you. he didn't know how many times you would accept anything from him while watching a movie with no questions. he's sure he would make a fine nurse one day.