#brucs

we want a 1shot of nat killin someone , we waitin

       ‘   the   thing   is  ...   ‘       she    muses,,  hair   tossing    from   side  to   side,   almost     teasing.     ‘   you   always    say    you    have   nothing  to    hide.   i    agree,    bruce.   i’ve    double    checked,    triple     checked    your  company  files.    they’re   squeaky    clean.   ‘      an     eyebrow     raises,    a     rosemary    smirk    formed   premature   -     serendipity    like     a    flytrap    upon    her    memory.   ‘     ran    into   some    trouble     tracking   some    drug    vendors     near    east    gotham    last   night,   but  -   i   got    help.   you    were    supposed   to    be   at   the    city    hall    gala    right   ?    for     the    dedication  ?   but    you    weren’t.   ‘     her    voice    lowers.

          ‘    bruce,   i   tracked    your    records.    your    unexplained   absences,     the    security    cams   on   your   street.    it    wasn’t    much,    but   -    i    figured   it    out.     ‘   its   upfront,    casual,   but   her    eyes   narrow    like     daggers,   she    already    knows   the    answer.    ‘    are   you    the    batman  ?   ‘  

BATLANE AESTHETIC. @brucs. 

bonus: 

     ‘     hello    mr    wayne.    i’m    lois    lane    from    the    daily    planet   -   ‘   a    tulip    brow   rises,    simpering    like    any    ‘girl   reporter’   should,   but   the    facade  is    exhausting   indeed.   ‘    any    comment   on   the   usage   of   wayne   techonology    weapons    in   the    war  ?  ‘

LOIS LANE DOESN’T DO ANYTHING EASILY. arguably one of the most stubborn woman in the world, she won’t do anything without a fight. & it is a fight, at first ….  from scourging his company records to find dirt that she finds out is nonexistent, buying drinks to charm him at first, then to laugh over the antics of various socialites surrounding them, to staring into the face of the night & getting a feeling in her gut  that she knows who it is. it takes strength to pull out an answer out of someone to care about - an answer that could cost them. its even worse when he rebuffs her, has she gone too far? was the price of truth too high, at this time? or is she just being dramatic. she’s uncovered worse revelations, so she fights against the guilt even as it engulfs her, helplessly.

but eventually, he calls. they reconcile, & she can breathe again. she knows who he is, but it doesn’t change how she views him, much. she always manages to see past people’s facades, bruce’s more then most, she guesses. they laugh over drinks in evening dress, going out for burgers instead of listening to some political heir’s speech. they ditch dedications & navy balls, until one night - he’s in a pinstripe silk suit, with his jacket slung over his shoulder & his tie all loose, smirking at her over a milkshake & using her full name again - when she looks at him & realises that…..well, shit. she’d never admit it out loud. not unless he did first. she’s competitive like that.

so yes, she picks up his calls, but not as often. she’s too busy fighting, fighting against herself, thepossibility of vulnerability….it’s enough to make anyone terrified. she feels bad, yes, but its worse when she’s looking directly at him, into his eyes, seeing his spirit, feeling his presence. you take take a girl out of the army, they say, but never the armyout of the girl. fighting wars are within her nature. but maybe,maybe….she hasn’t seen him in maybe a week, & she’s terrified that she’s done it. she’s pushed him away. but one day he comes over. & she’s wearing that ratty old college sweatshirt of her’s, with lucy’s dog licking at her heels. she hugs him before she comes in - she takes a deep breath & inhales the scent, pressing her forehead against his shoulder & smiling against his collar; she strokes the back of her beck with her fingers& sighs. it’s a sweet, sweet comfort, & she breathes out with relief.