this is significantly longer than three sentences and it’s not quite a proposal, i’m sorry

Gotham’s winters are always cruel. High up on Wayne Tower’s gargoyles, Bruce hears nothing but the whipping of the wind and the muffled crunch of boots on the near-frozen snow that’s gathered below. Someone’s coming. He’s stiff as he makes to stand up and knows Selina wouldn’t have joked, never that but would have certainly said something about it. A sharp remark of a variety that’s never quite made him smile.

Something distant aches in Bruce as he grapples away. Selina left. It’s what she does. The ensuing months haven’t changed any of--

Mr. Freeze isn’t wearing his helmet. The rope tightens as Bruce reaches its end and nearly dives head-first into a building. Catastrophe is avoided out of sheer curiosity, it can’t possibly be cold enough to warrant that kind of exposure. He jumps down, a blob of black against the city, and lands quite directly in front of his would-be adversary.

“Victor,” Bruce says, a careful act of neutrality despite his racing heart.

“Leave me be, Batman.”

The faint metallic echo of the helmet, abandoned in the snow, gives way to the shallow breathing of a desperate man. No one knows loss like Freeze. Whatever’s compelled him to risk it all, Bruce thinks he’s been there. He might even be there now.

“Victor Fries,” Bruce starts and, despite himself, falls straight into a gesture that’s become familiar. He’s down on one knee before he knows it. “Will you marry--” He coughs, grateful for the cowl. “Will you let me save your life?”