#defaulttwig

The chair scraped against the wooden floors as the paper floated to the ground just as your anxiety brought up what little you had in your stomach.

His hair was disheveled as he ran his hands through it constantly as he walked to the garage with the keys in his hand. You froze as you heard the garage door creaking as it opened. His shoes untied as he slammed the car door, revving the engine like the billionaire he was. But not to show off.

He needed to blow off some steam. Your words were always comforting to him even on the darkest nights. Your soft-spoken whispers to him, that you loved him even when he was asleep.

He was comfortable with you, and your words. But the words that left your lips just seconds ago terrified the fuck out of him.

He couldn’t be a dad. He couldn’t take care of a child. He could barely take care of himself since you always looked out for him. Always had Alfred to remind him to eat; to sleep.

But here he was, driving his Cadillac to god knows where trying to figure out how he ended up here.

—

The clink of the teacup next to your face pulled you from your gaze at the chair that Bruce sat at only an hour ago.

Oh god, what were you thinking? Why would you tell him like that? You knew Bruce didn’t like surprises.

Alfred heard what happened as he looked through the daily mail, waiting for Mr. Wayne to do something irrational and dramatic like he just did.

Leaving you with your panicky thoughts. A sigh came from the butler's lips.

He knew Bruce was still young. You were both still in love, as you were the one that kept him alive.

He was grateful to have you in Bruce’s life. You loved him. You cared for him when he couldn’t.

Bruce didn’t trust anyone but you.

But again, you were young and in love. Things happen.

He saw that you fell back into your frozen state. The steam slowly settled as the tea cooled. He pulled out the seat next to you as he relaxed into the chair. His arm rested on the table as his face rested on his hand.

You both waited until you couldn’t anymore. He was gone for hours while Alfred tried to pull you from your panic. Making you fall asleep from stress.

A pillow was put under your head as Alfred’s footsteps walked away hours ago.

—

The roar from Bruce’s car pulled Alfred from his daze at his desk. The front door shut softly as his quiet footsteps echoed. The resounding noise walking upstairs as plastic ruffles from the room above.

The guest room that collected dust over the years Thomas passed.

No one ever visited, which confused the butler but knew Bruce had his confusing stubborn ideas that he tended to himself.

He left him alone because he trusted Bruce even through everything. He cared for Bruce like his son, and he loved him even when he disappeared or risked his life for something stupid.

—

You woke up in your bed. The soft bedding covered your body, still wearing the same clothes as earlier.

You heard distant hammering from the room down the hall, you were confused.

What happened? Where was Bruce?

You pulled yourself from the bed, as you walked to the noise. The door was cracked slightly as you looked for Bruce.

A hand brushed against the wood as the “wind” pushed it open. Your curiosity peaked.

You saw Bruce on the floor with a hammer in one hand, and a piece of white wood in the other. An instruction manual sat next to his thigh as his glasses still sat upon his pale face. He didn’t even change from earlier.

It was close to dinner, as you saw him just this morning.

Now you remember.

As you felt the angry and anxious tears roll down your cheeks you caught Bruce’s gaze.

He saw your worries, and somehow some of yours floated away. He didn’t smile or say any comforting words. But just from the scene that lays before you, you forgot how much you loved him.

And how much he loved you.

The crib's instructions laid next to him, a small pamphlet crumpled in his back pocket that was titled something about child care.

Buckets of paint scattered around the room bolted down the plastic sheet that covered the wooden floors to avoid mess.

A nursery.

“I’m sorry for leaving.” You heard him grumble from his lips. His voice graveled from crying.

But you couldn't see the tears hidden behind the damn glasses.

But you didn’t need to see how much he cared because you already knew. You walked towards the mess. Bruce, a mess surrounded by chaos.

But he was your Bruce, and he had his ways of showing you how much he wanted to be there for you.

Because he cared for you too much and now he cared for someone even more.

Someone that was created only for you and him.

“It’s okay.” You kneeled next to him, his hands dropped the tools as yours ran through his greasy, ratty hair.

Your hands cupped his cheeks as his hands met your waist. His gaze leaves yours for a second, looking at your stomach.

You weren’t showing but he knew.

He had three people he had to protect now with his life. He would do anything for you.

His promise wasn’t with words, but with his actions. The crib, his hands, his head that curled into your neck leaving a soft kiss on your skin. His hot breath hits your skin.

It was a seal of protection; of love.

He might seem like he didn’t care about others. The brooding persona that became of him in the media.

But you knew Bruce Wayne. He was a lover, a caretaker, now a father.