#hat trick

It happened fast enough that you didn’t realize it had crossed a line until it already had.

You were standing at the front of the locker room with your tablet tucked against your side, heels planted carefully on concrete that still smelled like ice and sweat, walking the team through expectations for the upcoming press conference.

It wasn’t glamorous work, but it all mattered. The tone, posture, and giving answers that didn’t turn into headlines. You'd done this enough times to know when a room was listening and when it wasn’t.

Most of them were fine. Mildly bored, which was fair, but still respectful. But, it only took one of them to cause a ripple effect.

“Come on,” a defenseman muttered from the bench, not even looking up from retaping his stick. “We’re grown men. We don’t need babysitting on how to fuckin' talk.”

A couple of chuckles followed. Low and testing the waters.

You smiled anyway, the practiced, professional kind that kept your voice even. You'd had experience with this, you worked with men who had egos the size of planets.. of course they all thought lesser of you. “It’s not babysitting. It’s making sure you don’t give the press something they’ll twist. One slip up can destroy you're career, and that's not fair on you guys which is why I'm here.”

“Or maybe,” he went on, louder now, glancing around like he wanted an audience, “you just get off on telling us what to say.”

The room shifted.

You felt it, that subtle tightening in your chest, the way attention sharpened into something uncomfortable. You opened your mouth to redirect, to smooth it over the way you always did.

Bruce didn’t give you the chance.

The sound of his gloves dropping onto the bench cut through the room like a gunshot.

“Enough.” His voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be to make every head snap up.

Bruce Wayne stood from his spot slowly, deliberately, the way he did when a game turned ugly and he needed the ice to listen. His expression was controlled, jaw set, eyes dark with something colder than anger.

He didn’t look at you first, he looked at them.

“You,” he started, eyes landing on the defenseman, “need to stop talking. Keep going and you can stay in the locker room for the rest of the season.”

Silence fell so hard it felt physical.

Bruce turned, finally, and gestured you back a step without even looking, his hand firm but careful at your elbow, placing you just behind his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Bruce's voice was steady and lethal in its restraint, “This is our PR manager. She is here because the organization trusts her, because I trust her, and because every single one of you benefits from her doing her job well.”

No one laughed now, no one even dared to touch their tape, their gloves, no one even dared to shift on their feet.

“You don’t interrupt her, You don’t talk over her. And you don’t-.." his gaze sharpened, “..disrespect her.” He let the words settle. His presence doing more speaking than he would ever need to. The silence settling in discomfort and recognition.

“If you have a problem with how the team is represented, you bring it to me. Not to her, and sure as hell not in this room.”

The defenseman shifted, color creeping up his neck. “Cap, I didn’t-..”

Bruce raised one hand. “You did,” he corrected simply. “And you won’t do it again.”

The room stayed silent long enough that you could hear the hum of the lights overhead. Then Bruce turned slightly, just enough to glance back at you.

“You okay?” he muttered quietly, like they weren’t all still watching, like this wasn’t a line he’d just carved into stone.

You nodded, still a little stunned. “Yes. I-.. yes.”

“Good,” he uttered under his breath to you. Then, turning to the room with a sharp look, “She’s going to continue and you're going to listen.”

No one interrupted you after that.

And when practice ended, when the locker room emptied out and you finally exhaled, Bruce paused beside you, voice low enough that it was just for you.

“They protect what matters to the team,” he assured. “They’ll learn.”

Your heart was still racing, but something warm settled in your chest as you looked at him.

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