#reevesverse

It was the same thing again today.

He was up and about, sunglasses on his sensitive eyes, his dark hair falling over his forehead, black t shirt and matching joggers loosely hanging on his lean body, while his hands idly snacked on his favourite Bing cherries, lazily strolling around the dining table to plop down next to you.

Alfred sighed loudly and shared a look with you, one that was similar to a tired father of three juggling his kids' shenanigans, and you pursed your lips to stop the laugh from escaping. It was rather amusing to see him be the reluctant father to a sometimes petulant Bruce, which you and Dory both knew he did it on purpose to piss Alfred off.

Alfred sharply nodded at you, letting you take over the conversation and making your grown child of a boyfriend understand the reason behind this, before he straightened his cane and walked over to the kitchen.

Shaking your head, you turned towards Bruce, who was now reading the newspaper while slowly inching his thigh closer to yours- his way of initiating touch.

"Good morning, Batsy", you teased him, watching him make a sour face and pause, his tongue poking out to wipe some of the cherry juice on his lips, before he slowly turned towards you.

"Batsy? We're still doing this?", he deadpanned. A 'fan' had squealed Batsy at him after he had rescued them during a robbery. Ever since you had heard it on the TV, you spent the whole night teasing him about it, and still did whenever you wanted to rile him up for no reason.

He hated it.

But he hated how cute it sounded from your lips even more.

You made an exaggerated pout before bringing your hands up to his face, slowly removing his sunglasses, him letting you do it with no fuss. Everyone was off limits from touching his face, except you... and Alfred. Sometimes.

He squinted against the sunlight, his eyes shut tightly before he felt your soft hands gently rest on his forehead, they acted like an awning over his eyes to protect him from the light. Bruce immediately softened. His face went slack as he tried to lean closer to your touch, almost like a cat asking for pets, and he slowly opened his eyes to you already looking up at him with such content and fondness.

Bruce still doesn't know how the hell did he manage to be your boyfriend. You had no business being with an anti social, anxiety-ridden, traumatised grump like him, but he was so thankful that you chose him, because he fell in love with you every second of the day.

Your patience, your grace, the way you took a stand and corrected him on days where he was being stubborn, and how you were his one true friend even if you were romantically involved now.

"Hi", he whispered, now shy under your doting stare, yet he somehow managed to bring his hands up to rest on your waist.

"Hi, handsome", you replied quietly, the nickname making him redder as he tried to avoid your eye contact. God, you loved how shy he was, it gave you every chance to shower love on him and witness his adorable reaction to it.

"Can we talk about it?", you asked gently, not wanting to disturb the otherwise peaceful morning, and giving him some space to express himself freely, as if talking any louder would've made him bolt out of the room.

It might have, a few years ago when you were still friends, but not anymore. He trusted you with his life, and you, him.

A sigh left his rosy lips as he brought his hands up to hold your wrists tenderly, pulling your hands away from his forehead and resting them against his chest, his own larger hands barricading them against his soft t shirt as he wanted to fuse them with his skin.

"Honey. I-I don't know. I-", his raspy, low voice replied as he shook his head, as if trying to rearrange his thoughts, the excuse ready on his tongue as he opened his beautiful eyes to look into yours deeply.

"You know how it is. I don't know what to do in such...public events. They ask me questions and I freeze up or walk away as if they've threatened me. It was embarrassing enough that the Mayor had to accompany me the last time I went out. I...No. Not again. Please?", he softly requested, the insecurity and fear of stepping in front of the entire Gotham had already began to eat him from the inside.

You all knew how bad his social anxiety and reclusive tendencies got, so nobody forced him to step out besides when he was patrolling as Batman.

But the questions were becoming harder for you or Alfred to deflect. Everybody wanted to see the charming, sophisticated, and handsome socialite. They were hungry to know more about the Waynes' only, and mysterious, son, the ones who were hailed as the Royal Family of Gotham.

He was their very own Prince.

Alfred and you had dished out every single excuse for his absence. But it got to a point where you've got no way to refute any proof or claims about Bruce Wayne being Batman. You couldn't confirm or deny anything, without the reporters and citizens speculating even more ridiculous rumors about how Bruce was actually a clone, and the real one lived far away in some remote village of the Alps, or that Batman was the 'ugly twin' that the Wayne's had banished because they favoured Bruce for his good looks.

Of course, Bruce had scoffed at all of this, but there were other big reasons why you wanted Bruce to go into the public more often.

You shifted closer to him, your hands buried into his t shirt and eyes softer as you began to explain, "I understand. I don't like forcing you to do this either, trust me. But all the charities you donate to, the kids whose educations you sponsor, the food drives and shelters for the unhoused...it gives people hope in this hell hole. They feel at peace knowing that a privileged man like you has no shame in distributing his wealth and being unapologetic about it."

Bruce mulled over your words silently, his thumb caressing the soft skin of your hand.

"And if you spoke up and showed up once in a while, it would not only lay the ridiculous rumors to rest, but you'd also have control over certain things. It'd be easier to separate Batman from you. You could draw boundaries and ensure that nobody crosses them."

You slowly removed your hands from his grip and cupped his face, the pleasant scratch from his stubble a welcome sensation against your fingers, eyes lit up with unabashed affection for this complicated man you called your heart.

"The people don't want to be afraid, B. They want connection. They want somebody to give a damn. If Batman is risking it all to protect this god awful city by eliminating evil, then Bruce Wayne should be a breath of fresh air. He should be human. And I know he can be human. He just doesn't realise it."

The Wayne Manor and its inhabitants (except Bruce) know well enough that Bruce can leverage his charisma and genuineness very well. There's times where he doesn't even need to try. That's how good he is at being a giver.

That's exactly why you'd fallen for him.

His eccentric, and rather emo, persona is so captivating, it simply sparkles even more when he starts to show just how much he cares.

And he's nothing if not a fierce protector. Always has been. If his mother would've been alive, she would've attested to this.

After silently listening to your mini speech, he gets that same worried dent between his brows again, his lips pulled down with a frown as he tries to digest the praise you tried very hard to be modest with.

It was rather difficult to be modest, when you loved him and his uniqueness so much.

"I know I'm going to do something stupid. I can't even speak above a certain decibel. I've got no training on how to talk to the media anymore. And if I see the bat signal, I'm just going to get antsy to get out of there", his anguish was clear in his voice as he spoke of his concerns, and you felt your heart break.

Your Bruce was way more sensitive than he'd ever like to admit.

Everything he's seen as a child had affected him massively, and he was still carrying that into his adulthood, which is why he talked in a low, baritone pitch- an aftereffect of struggling with selective mutism in his childhood, after his parents' assassination. It was another thing that he was insecure about, even after you and Alfred, and even Mayor Reál tried to convince him that he didn't need to be loud to be right or heard.

His fears were valid, you did not wish to make him go through this anxiety inducing experience, because god knows you've seen first hand how badly he gets affected with all the pretense he has to keep up with in his dual life, but you knew he'd feel at peace knowing his work impacted so many people positively.

"Then I'll be there to handle it all", you said with no hesitation, his glassy eyes peering into your determined ones with a vulnerable gentleness, that made you brush your thumbs under his eyes.

"Really. You don't have to worry about a thing, Bruce. I've got you. I'm going to stick by your side if you're enjoying it, or if you wanna go home, or if you see the signal- I don't care. We'll call it off or continue it-- however long or short as you want to. But trust me, it will be worth it."

Bruce bit his lip as he pondered over your words again. He trusted you with his eyes closed, and contrary to popular belief, he actually does care about Gotham and wanting to make it a safe place for every single person living in it. While Vengeance will always be a part of him until he believes he's avenged his parents' death and has brought justice to every orphan like him, he also knows that he'd do anything to keep his family's legacy burning bright, and to make this world a better place for the family he has now.

So with fear and all the goodness in his heart, Bruce Wayne agreed to host his first ever gala ever since the floods of Gotham broke the city apart.

He kissed your wrists and brought you closer, resting his head on your shoulder, melting into you as his brain kicked into overdrive, except this time it was obsessing over how to host people 101.

-

The preparations were in full swing, and boy were they exhausting.

You had underestimated how overwhelming it is to plan a gala on this scale. Every single person in Gotham was invited. Everyone's so and so, the rich, the poor, the charities, the students--everyone.

Bruce had grown up rich. He knew what taste is. While his own style is laid back, emo and utilitarian, he knew very well about colour combinations, interior, dress codes, gifts, and all the overtop shit that the socialites did. He'd helped his mom way too often back when he was a kid, and his own refined palate shone in the way he had designed his Manor and his beloved cars.

So, although he was still hesitant, you were surprised to see how proactive he was in designing the whole theme for the gala. He helped pick the venue and the theme, the draperies and interiors, the dining table centers and how the stage would look like, along with the lighting and picking out the media representatives he preferred to speak to-- Alfred and you were just happy to let him takeover and make changes as he wished.

The only parts he wouldn't indulge in, were food and outfits. He left both of them to you. Which was understandable, considering his rather ignorance and lack of variety in both of those areas.

Finally, the invites were sent out, with the Wayne house sigil and Bruce's signature, along with some gifts for a few special guests, and you were all set.

In three days, Gotham will see her Prince Wayne, up and close, for the first time since he was a child.

-

The day of the gala had approached quicker than anticipated.

Bruce's anxiety had gotten worse, so you let him go out on patrol for longer just so he could get rid of the restlessness. The moment he'd come back home, he'd come back tired and quieter than usual, passing out on your chest after taking a shower and spending the day sluggishly wandering the Manor or fixing his cars.

The anticipation was getting to him and he just got more restless as time passed by. You could see it even now, as he tried to fix his bow tie with shaky hands in the mirror, his mouth tugged into a deep frown, forehead scrunched up with worry and nervousness.

“Baby”, you called out quietly, entering the room to stand next to him in front of the vintage vanity.

Bruce lifted his blue eyes to look at you through the mirror, their brightness dulled by the stress and anxiety he was feeling, his shoulders looked uncomfortably stiff, and they were almost touching his ears. He looked like a spooked hamster, bless him. His ever so messy hair were gelled up neatly for a change, and it made him look like some otherworldly prince who was about to be coronated today.

You silently said a small thank you to Martha Wayne for birthing this beautiful man in front of you.

As you stood next to him, your arms engulfed him in, your head leaning against his bicep and right hand gently rubbing his right arm to soothe him.

"You look handsome. Like always", you whispered, as if talking any louder would've set him off for sure.

You knew he hated looking at himself in the mirrors, and his nocturnal behaviour also translated in the way he dressed and looked. He was always too burdened by his own problems and the world's, so he'd decided to simplify his dressing choices--his wardrobe only had black clothes, almost all of them identical black t shirts, band tees, and a few silk shirts here and there. That continued for his pants, all of them either in black or charcoal or gray.

His awkwardness extended to his looks as well, constantly worried that everything he does, says, moves a certain way-- is all being judged or surveilled. Having a very public childhood does that to you. So he preferred to stay hidden with some shades, jackets or hats, says it makes him feel safe and protected. And to attend such a big event, in such formal and dressed up clothes, without any of his safety gears, he was on edge. He felt like he was the one being monitored by Batman's photographic lens.

Luckily, he still had one of his safety blankets with him, still.

You.

"It's not too much?", he asked just as quietly, clearing his throat and fidgeting with the bow again.

You gave a gentle smile before turning him, your hands replacing his over the tie and straightening it, keeping it loose enough so that he doesn't feel suffocated in case of a panic attack. He obediently looked up to let you work on it, his big hands slowly settling over the delicious, and frankly expensive, velvet fabric of your gown. (Which, he will get to soon.)

"It's a gala, B. "Too much" is allowed today", you joked lightly, making him pause the nervous ministrations of his hands, a small chuckle leaving his lips.

You were too good at breaking his unnecessary worry bubbles.

"Yeah...you're right. Like always", he murmured and squeezed your waist, making you bite the inside of your cheek to stop the giggle from escaping.

Your hands carefully smoothed the bow before sliding down the lapels of his jacket. Your eyes taking him in his custom made, three-piece tux. "All done."

"Thank you, honey. I-", he abruptly stopped whatever he was saying as his eyes scanned you head to toe. As if he could finally focus on your now.

Heat rose up from your neck as his eyes appreciatively drank you in.

The black, strapless, velvet dress hugged you like second skin and it had loose dark blue fabric on both sides of the waist, which was held up by a sparkly, pearl and crystal trim cinching the waist. The fabric looked like water, and both the colours complimented your skin so well that Bruce couldn't stop running his hands across your back, his mouth slightly open.

"Honey, this is...", he managed to whisper, his blue eyes flicking up towards your face to appreciate the stunning glam, the diamond earrings and dainty necklace gifted by him adorning your skin, and your hair framing your face beautifully while also letting him run his pointer and middle finger across the smooth skin of your shoulder in awe.

"Wow...You look so beautiful", he continued to whisper, torn between feeling shy and bold at the same time in your presence, his eyes closing on their own accord as he leaned in to press his nose against your jaw, inhaling the soothing scent of bergamot on you.

Your hands grabbed his elbows as a pleasant shudder ran through your spine. "Bruce...they're all waiting for you."

Bruce simply hummed and pressed a kiss to your jawline, bringing you closer before the door was knocked on, causing you two to jump.

"Master! Miss! The announcers will call your name anytime. The guests have all joined in", Alfred's voice rang out in the room, making Bruce groan in response.

You pursed your lips and smoothed a hand across his back. "Okay, thank you, Fred!"

-

Bruce held your hand tightly in the crook of his elbow, his thumb circling over your knuckles absently as you sat in the car, on the way to the venue.

He kept worrying his lips with his teeth, sunglasses back on even though it was 7 pm, his head constantly moving, checking out of the windows for any threats or overexcited people, only to pause once he felt your chin touch his shoulder. He met your fond eyes and melted in the seat, his entire attention dialed into you and the colours dancing in your eyes, and how you smelled so divine.

He couldn't control it anymore and leaned in to press his lips to yours, you returning it immediately as your noses brushed against each other, Bruce's hand lifting up to cup your cheek oh so gently.

The kiss served as a wonderful distraction as you had reached the venue already, the car stopping making you two separate slowly as chauffeur helped you with the door.

Right away, the clicks and flashes of the cameras and the screams of the people and media alike hit your ears, causing Bruce to stiffen up for a moment before he squeezed your hand tightly, getting down from the car first. He kept his head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone until he walked around the car and opened your door, the commotion somehow becoming louder as soon as your heel hit the pavement.

Everyone knew who you were.

Bruce Wayne's Sweetheart, is what they called you in tabloids and news. They knew you were his best friend, partner, an investigative journalist yourself, how you and Alfred were always seen together, how you acted as Bruce's unofficial PR manager and how long you'd been with each other. They'd even seen you at the funeral of Mayor Mitchell, a solid support next to Bruce as he refused to let you out of his sight and how he had dived in to save you and the deceased Mayor's son from the oncoming car.

But they'd never seen you two together in such a fancy, non-threatening setting.

Of course, they went crazy.

The flashes were blinding now, everyone trying to get a glimpse of how Bruce's tall frame bent down and held out a hand for you to hold, his other hand holding the door open, how he wouldn't take his eyes off of you, your sweet smile directed towards him as your hands clasped tightly against his, the cameras clicking louder when Bruce flashed his rare, small smile, reserved only for you before his arm settled against your waist, a shaky hand pushing a few loose hair back from his forehead. A few girls screamed at the motion.

"Mr. Wayne over here!"

"You two look incredible! Who are you wearing today?"

"Miss, one look over your shoulder!"

"Can we get a kiss?"

"Look! It's the Prince and his Princess!"

"Mr. Wayne, are you two engaged?"

They spoke from all sides, every one wanting a juicy picture or interaction that they could capture and sell for their own, but Bruce was smarter than that, and he was quickly growing anxious as these random men kept shouting at you to turn this way and that.

Clenching his jaw he raised his hand, silencing everyone momentarily and schooling his face into a neutral expression, softening his eyes as he looked at you, his lips pressing against your temple.

"C'mon, let's go in", he softly ushered you away from the crowd, his free hand gingerly helping you bunch up the loose fabric of your dress to help you climb the venue's stairs, his other arm still protectively holding your waist to support you.

Whenever someone tried to push you even through the human chain of security around you, Bruce shot them a look that was so searing, they could feel it even through the shades covering his eyes.

And it was quickly established that Bruce Wayne does not play when it comes to you.

Luckily you had reach the top, Bruce dropped your dress, giving you time to settle to your liking, his tall body a shield against your back as he patiently waited for you.

"You okay?", he murmured tenderly, his palm rubbing your back gently.

You looked up at him with the same adoring look in your eye, a soft smile already present on your lips at his worry for you. "Yeah, baby. Don't worry."

Bruce simply nodded and looked around tensely. Your heart broke for him, really, but you needed to turn this into a fun night for him. So you thought of a way to distract him.

"Let's give them a show, hm?", you offered, your hands pulling him closer so that he could hear you.

Bruce looked down with an incredulous look. "Honey...You know I can't-"

"-Yes, you can. Let them see what they're missing", you shushed him, your hand going around his back to turn him around towards the many cameras and Gothamites gathered, a wave of gasps greeting you as you posed next to Bruce, his hand naturally steadying you around the waist, a classy smile on your lips and his face arranging into his usual smoulder, one that he didn't even had to try hard for, showing off his impeccable bone structure. You two looked like a marble statue of Greek gods.

Nobody had ever known how Bruce looked like or act as a grown adult.

Everyone sort of assumed that he must be this spoilt, elitist asshole who threw his money at people to shut them up, but nobody got to see your Bruce.

The Bruce that was sweet, caring, shy and chivalrous. The Bruce that was dashing, well-spoken, graceful and hardworking. The Bruce with the surprising charm that is slowly taking it's effect over everyone as they look at you two with a new lens.

Their eyes and cameras captured the love and trust between you two, the protectiveness that went both ways, your efforts to make him comfortable, his to keep you safe.

And as Bruce leaned down to press a kiss against your hair, the cameras went wild again, a few people fainting and swooning in the crowd, gladly witnessing the lover that was Bruce Wayne.

-

"Whoa, this looks so good, B", you quietly mused as you entered the venue hand in hand with Bruce, who let out a huge breath of relief as the outside noise dampened, making way to soothing jazz music, air con, the clinking of glasses and the white noise of a quiet murmur of people politely chatting amongst themselves.

The camera shutter inside was quiet and sophisticated, Bruce could see Alfred and Dory in the distance, along with Gordon and Martinez, and he could slowly feel himself relaxing further.

The dim lighting, dark curtains, candlelights, and a pleasant scent wafting in the air prompted him to remove his shades right away, his thumb caressing the soft skin of your hand, your arm raising to wave Alfred over, who walked over to the two of you with his cane thudding dully against the carpet.

"Finally, the royal couple is here!", the older man mused, making Bruce grunt and you giggle, your arms going around him in a hug. He met Bruce's eyes over your shoulder and checked in with him, squeezing his shoulder in greeting.

Bruce gave him a tight lipped smile.

"Okay, young lady, I need to steal you for sometime. I'm sure your loverboy will be okay without you for a bit, right?", Alfred quipped as he separated from the hug, his hand gracefully holding yours like you were a princess.

Your lips made an 'O' as you looked at Alfred then Bruce, whose face had paled at the question, his eyebrows were scrunched so hard that you were worried he was going to have a headache.

"W-what? Why...I wanted her to meet-", Bruce tried to cover up in a desperate attempt to not let you leave, his arms extending to bring back next to him, but Alfred held his hand instead.

You pursed your lips to stop the laugh from escaping when you looked at the deadpan look on Bruce's face.

"Uh, No. She will be back soon. 'Kay? See you, Master Bruce", Alfred smiled and whisked you away. You turned around and looked at your very tall cat-like boyfriend, who had the saddest frown on his lips watching you go.

You pouted and waved, mouthing 'I love you' before disappearing around the corner.

Bruce stood there, his heart racing at the empty space next to him, hands sweaty almost immediately from nervousness, which he attempted to wipe on his pants when he felt a shadow next to him.

"Mr. Wayne, you're finally here!"

Bruce swallowed against his nerves to look at the person calling him-

Mayor Reál.

Now he had to socialise.

And he did not have you next to him.

-

"That's why you're here", Alfred tapped his cane on the carpet with a pleased smile, clearly happy with his plan.

You shook your head with a chuckle. "You're amazing."

He had separated you from Bruce so that Bruce could navigate this thing on his own. Connect with people. Kinda like exposure therapy.

You had a softer approach to Bruce because of your relationship to him. But Alfred? He knew exactly how to make Bruce shine- by challenging him. And that's exactly what was happening in front of you.

Bruce, arm in arm with the Mayor, had gone around the ballroom and talked to almost everyone.

Alfred was giving his commentary about the who's who- the Johnsons that were the Wayne's oldest business partners, Anita Perez who was Martha's close friend, whose grandma had pulled Bruce's cheeks and cupped his face in her wrinkled hands and cooed about how handsome he is, making Bruce turn pink.

You had aw'd out loud at that, Dory stifled a giggle behind her hands.

Then you saw how Bruce was surrounded by a group of suited men, and he stood tall and poised among them, commanding the room like he's always done this, which made Mayor Real turn around and meet your eyes, shooting you an impressed look.

Though you could see the hunch in his shoulders and he was still speaking softly as ever, you were happy to see him take control of this, your love for him somehow growing tenfold as you got to witness a new side of Bruce.

Powerful, Commanding, and Captivating.

Something you all knew he always had in him. Now the whole world could see it.

-

An hour later Bruce slipped out, leaving the Mayor with Gordon, who side eyed Bruce's retreating figure, but chose to stay quiet.

Bruce's blue eyes squinted in the dull room, trying to find your lovely figure, so that he could relax in your arms, when he heard the sweet melody of your giggle inside the dining room.

He slowly made his way towards the room, leaning in to confirm your presence and-

There.

Your head thrown back in a carefree laugh, the gloss on your lips glistening under the chandelier, your dainty hands wrapped around a flute of champagne, free hand balancing on Alfred's shoulder as he cracked a joke, and Bruce got lost in the shine of your shoulders, his chest squeezing in yearning to get back to you.

Which is ridiculous, because you were right there. But love is a ridiculous thing that makes you do ridiculous things.

Not even the stoic Wayne Prince is immune to it.

"Close your mouth, Master, you're going to attract flies", Alfred smartly commented, making Bruce blush hard and you giggled harder, a hand pressed to your mouth to stifle your laughter.

"'Fred, leave him be. C'mere, Bruce", you beckoned him closer, your eyes shining with admiration and pride this time as he stared back, quickly falling into place next to you, both arms snaking around your waist like twin Boas.

"Oookay, this is my cue. Let me know when you guys are ready for dinner", Alfred sighed out and gathered his cane, slowly making his way out of the room while murmuring "Indisciplined. No respect for an oldie!"

You shook your head with an incredulous chuckle again, never getting tired of Alfred's dry, British humour, before looking up at Bruce, who was simply staring at you like a statue.

"What?"

Bruce simply shrugged and brought you closer, the sensation of his arms cocooning you in making you sigh in content, keeping the champagne flute on the table next to you and wrapping your arms around his neck.

"I'm so proud of you. You did so good, B", you squeezed him as you said that, making him duck his head in shyness.

"No, no, don't hide, c'mon. You were literally commanding the room. Like you've done this before. A total natural. And you looked like some Greek god doing it. They were all looking at you with stars in their eyes. Especially Grandma Perez", you quipped, making him laugh, his eyes crinkling in the adorable way they do when he's truly happy.

"God, she pulled my face so hard, like she was kneading dough!", he managed to joke between his quiet giggles, making your heart jump in your chest.

You don't even remember the last time he was so carefree.

God, you were so grateful for this gala. If it meant that you'd get to see Bruce be himself for just one night, you're ready to do it all over again, even if it is a bit stressful.

You rubbed your palms over his chest soothingly, pressing a kiss to his cheeks before murmuring against it, "I love you, baby. Thank you for doing this. Even when you were so stressed and nervous."

Bruce paused before his hands rubbed your back, his voice falling back to the decibel it does when he's around you, his eyebrows scrunched with an earnest and thoughtful expression. "Don't thank me, honey. I should be thanking you. You have stood by me like a pillar the entire time. I could do this because I knew you were with here. This is your hard work. I am better today because you motivate me to be. So, thank you. I'm...I'm so glad you exist, my love."

Your heart was about to burst out of your chest. Bruce rarely did loud declarations of love. But when he did, he said the most romantic novel lead shit anyone could ever do.

With misty eyes you smiled at him, making him return it with his classic half smile, his forehead coming forward to lean on yours, a hand leaving your back to press yours against his heart.

Without knowing, the two of your absently swayed against the faint music, lost in your own world, his nose buried in your hair, your cheek resting against his beating heart.

An hour later you gave Bruce the opportunity to feel the same pride for you, as you took over the role of addressing the crowd for the evening, the lovesick look in his glassy eyes making Alfred emotional too, as the older man patted his not-son-figure's shoulder knowingly.

The cameras caught that look of his, and the media printed it along with the powerful picture of you two posing outside venue on the front page of Gotham's newspaper with the tagline:

A first look into the new age Waynes' world....

And it is full of love, respect and honour.

Fin.

-

AN: oh my gosh i love battinson i love battinson I LOVE BATTINSON!! i want a bf like him pleek...my cutie cat.