Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Selina Kyle wasn’t the only waitress the Batman had his eye on.

She undoubtedly knew more than you, was closer to the truth of the scheme brewing in the Iceberg Lounge, and she had a personal motive to uncover it, too. But that personal motive made her an unreliable partner and kept him on edge in a way that he knew would leave them both at a dead end one way or another.

But you had something she lacked; where Selina had to sneak her way into the club within the club, you regularly worked there. That’s where he had first spotted you, through the film of her contact lens he’d caught your profile talking to a key inner circle she was unwilling to engage.

In a room full of dropheads you were sober and sleek, ever so slowly sipping on a cocktail while the people around you could barely pick up theirs. A calculated arm rested on the shoulder of one man while you chatted with another, a cool smile on your face despite the situation you were in. You participated without participating, engaged without engaging. You could be a much better asset if he could get you to surveille without surveilling.

He replayed the footage on every computer screen he had, hoping it would pick up your identity each time he watched it, wondering how neither he nor Selina had noticed you the first time. He was captivated in one sense or another. Printing out your picture, he sighed. He’d have to put boots on the ground to find out more about you.

He perched on the rooftop across from the lounge, watching, waiting. He had to fight the impulses to follow each high-profile man that exited the club, knowing there was a possibility to get some answers tonight with a few fists thrown into their stomachs, knowing he might not even see you, and most likely wouldn’t even talk to you tonight. First, he had to find out who you even were.

Eventually, the wave of men with women in their arms passed, and the working women began to leave one by one, long coats wrapped tightly around them as they hailed taxis. It seemed like an eternity until you walked out.

But he was surprised to see that you didn’t immediately wave down a cab as you left. You made your way around the block, and he jumped from roof to roof to follow you as you crossed the street and made your way across another city block, puffing on a cigarette in the cold air. It was only then that you hailed a taxi, discarding the cigarette onto the wet asphalt and climbing in.

You didn’t make it easy on him, not that you were aware. He’d left his motorbike in the alley across from the club to be able to follow your cab from there, but he was getting his cardio in tonight.

It wasn’t long before it stopped and you walked out and into a tall stone building, a doorman opening the door on your way in. Most of the waitresses lived in shoddy little buildings packed on top of each other like sardines; he wondered how you afforded this place. Was it a perk of working at the club below? Or could you be peddling drops to your patrons on the side?

Another moment passed and the lights on one of the floors flicked on, warm light illuminating your silhouette behind sheer white curtains. She lives alone, he noted.

You passed from one room to another and back again before dimming the lights and pushing the curtains open. You were wearing a sweater that fell to your mid-thighs now, and he watched as you pushed the window open and crawled out onto the fire escape, with untied hiking boots thrown onto your feet to keep them dry. You shut it almost all the way, leaving it cracked open before sinking to sit with your back against the wall.

You looked up at the sky in silence, gazing out at nothing. He’d think you were stargazing if it weren't for the ever-present clouds that overcast the city each and every night, a shroud that seemed symbolic of the darkness that spread over the people every night, bringing out the violence. He could even imagine you were looking right at him if he squinted his eyes.

But you sat in it in peace. These same nights he spent getting covered in bruises and blood and leaving even more on others in his path of vengeance, you were here untouched by all the horrors he fought, even after a shift in a place that seemed to be at the center of it all. It was like you were completely separated from it.

This is what I fight for, he thought. For even one person to be peaceful here at night.

But you were out in the open, perfectly hidden in the shadows for him to talk to you. He had to take his opportunity, had to disturb your peace, even if he could watch you all night.

Chapter Text

You were startled by a whoosh of wind as a figure dropped down next to you, staring with wide eyes as it rose, trying to figure out what you were looking at. And then you saw the outline of his mask and the light reflecting off of his armor. He looked just like a shadow, towering above you as you sat alone.

“You…”

You had to swallow your nerves as he remained motionless, not saying a word. But you could just catch two bright eyes looking right into yours.

“Why are you here?”

“Your job.”

You blinked. It only made sense, but why did he find you? You were suspect at best but were careful not to entangle yourself in any… salesmen-ship, as some others did. And your personal business pursuits on the side- you kept those to yourself and didn’t need to convince others to keep it to themselves, too. They were the ones with something real to lose.

“What do you know about Annika?”

You looked down and away. Oh, that. Of course. You tried not to think about it too much. You didn’t know her well, but the whole situation troubled you deeply.

“Probably not more than you already do,” you finally said with a sigh.

“What do you know?”

He spoke louder this time, much more firm. You didn’t want to see what would happen if you didn’t say enough to satisfy him but still felt like you should keep your cards close to your chest. You didn’t want to end up like her, even without knowing where she was now, if she was anywhere at all.

“She was a nice girl. The kind men would open up to before they thought twice. She had kind eyes.” You took a deep breath. “Word is that someone told her too much.”

“About what?”

You started to feel frustrated with his sudden interrogation. “I don’t know, drugs, insider trading, business deals, the usual bullshit. Any man in there could have any girl killed on a whim because his image is more important than her life.” You looked straight into his eyes, a bit of snark behind your words. “Do you get that?”

Ever since she dropped off the face of the earth, you walked into there each day knowing you could end up just like her through no action of your own. And this interaction only brought you closer to that.

You shook your head and felt your face get hot. You hadn’t cried for her yet, and there was no need to cry now. But his eyes burned into yours, even as he crouched down next to you so you could see eye to eye.

“I’m sorry,” he said, softer this time, though his face still seemed so stolid. “That I haven’t found her yet.” A tear escaped your eye as you looked into him. You never did well under confrontation of any sort. “But you can trust me.”

You contemplated it. His reputation preceded him, and you sometimes imagined him in the shadows as you walked, a little fantasy to keep yourself from imagining the evils that could be there too on late night walks. He was a figure of protection to those in the city who needed it and terrifying to both them and the ones he was after. But you didn’t feel any fear, even as you looked down at his hands, knowing the faces they’ve bludgeoned with only enough mercy to keep them alive.

He must have taken your silence as an agreement. “Who told her too much?”

“I don’t know their names, but I know their faces. I mostly run with stockbrokers myself.”

“Will you help me?”

You let out a little laugh. The Batman, asking for your help. “I’m not sure you want the kind of help I can offer.”

“I’ll guide you through it.”

“I really don’t think you want to guide me through what I do best.”

Maybe he didn’t know as much as you thought. Not about you, at least. You couldn’t help but giggle nervously at his ignorance as he cocked his head, questioning.

“I get to know my clients a bit more… intimately than most other girls. It’s the only way I can afford a roof over my head that doesn’t leak every night.” He shifted a little bit, barely noticeable. He must have got the hint. “So I’m really not sure that’s the kind of intel you want. I wouldn’t know who to go for anyway, if they even take the bait. I told you, I don’t know their names.”

He was silent for a while, again. You pursed your lips and looked back into the sky, the faintest of raindrops beginning to fall in an uncomfortable mist. It was easy to say that much about yourself to a man who wore a mask, to share your secrets openly to someone who operated in secrecy.

Still, it made your blood run a little cold to remember that he was a real man under there, a man who could take advantage of that information in the same way any man could, for all the same reasons it was a secret even in the club, even in the club within the club. And he was much more capable than them. He was a defender of the innocent, but who ever said he was a good man?

“Just don’t throw me in jail for it. You said I could trust you.”

He reached onto his waistband and pulled out a little black case, handing it to you.

“I can see what you do through these contact lenses, and talk to you through this earpiece. Wear them tomorrow.”

“Yes sir,” you said sarcastically.

But the next time you blinked, he was gone.

Chapter Text

He didn’t love the idea.

Bruce sat in front of his computer, staring at a black screen waiting for the contacts to be taken out of their case on one screen while he had your information pulled up on another. Once he knew your address it was easy enough to find. He hadn’t even asked your name the night before.

Your ID photograph looked so sweet. It looked like how you did on the fire escape, intelligent eyes looking into the air in a world of your own. It was miles different than the picture he had printed of you from Selina’s contacts, exposed collarbones in a latex bustier top, a seductress commanding an entirely different world of your own. But now he could still see the softness there, in your sly smile and your half-lidded eyes.

Focus.

He knew better than to separate these two images of you into two different compartments. He reminded himself every day looking on at crowds of passersby that each person had their own life, complex with so many moving parts.

He played the footage of you on the fire escape again. You conveying to him what you did for money, the way your lips curled upwards and you avoided his eyes as you said it, uncertain but unashamed.

He wondered how long you had done that type of work, whose company you kept and how often, how you navigated all these different worlds and now you were navigating his, how you must be good at it. How if he visited you there as Bruce Wayne he’d pull you into his lap and pay to keep you there the whole night, and he’d say yes to every proposition you made.

Focus, Bruce.

It was why he became so blunt when he handed that little black box to you and disappeared without another word. He was more than used to not knowing what he was getting into; that was far from a foreign feeling at this point. Every day was something new, with unforeseen obstacles being thrown into his path. But not this way. And not with a woman like you.

He could easily blame Selina for it. She was the one who frustrated him with her teases and left him out to dry, the reason he resorted to you for intel in the first place. And he blamed himself too, for knowing you were already walking on a tight wire and how defeated you sounded when you said you knew you could end up just like Annika. And what if you did? And what if he wasn’t quick enough?

He was taken from his thoughts by the sound of familiar footsteps coming down the stairs and making their way behind him. He clenched his jaw, knowing what reaction he’d get from closing all of these images, you on almost every monitor and your pictures on the desk, sat beside the pictures of the men he was going to tell you to proposition.

“The Batman is popular with the ladies lately,” Alfred said, filling his water glass.

Bruce stared forward, unblinking. “I wouldn’t say popular.” He could feel Alfred’s smirk behind him. Best not to encourage it.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Just some privacy.”

Alfred nodded and walked away, back up to the main manor. This is the most interest he’d shown in women in maybe ever, as Bruce Wayne or the Bat. Best to leave him to it.

He released the breath he didn’t know he was holding and rubbed his tired eyes. If the people of Gotham only knew the things he did for them. The crux of this situation was not lost on him, not at all.

And then the box opened, and light poured into the camera feed. Your face peeked into it, tentatively taking it and fumbling to place it onto your iris. And then he was looking at you through your own eyes in the mirror, already dressed for work. A tight red dress that fell low on your chest and high on your legs, hair falling softly over your shoulders and framing your big eyes. You put your heels up on the counter to adjust the straps of your heels, not at all aware that he was watching, and he could see underneath your dress through your peripherals.

Focus, god damn it.

You suddenly seemed to remember the earpiece and placed it in carefully before stepping back and looking at yourself, taking a deep breath. “Are you there?” you said softly.

“I am.”

You brushed your hair down over your ears and looked closer into your reflection. “And you’re sure no one will know?”

“I’m sure.”

You sighed at yourself once more before grabbing your coat and heading to the door. “Okay.”

•••

You felt a rush as you walked into the club, the same as you had every night, except for one massive difference. “I thought my adrenaline junkie days were over,” you said into the air, knowing he’d hear you.

That was one of the main reasons you liked your job: secrets. You liked navigating this capsule in the underbelly, surrounded by the rich and powerful. They’d tell you things no one else knew, and you never told a soul. You would nudge them for more information, but not because you wanted to get to know them, or because you wanted to hold it above them either.

It was simply fun for you, to keep their secrets in your mind. You didn’t need to tell other people to validate what you knew. It was why the mobsters who ran this place took a liking to you, too. They understood that you respected that, and you knew if you crossed a line they’d throw you off a bridge without a second thought.

In the elevator down, you heard his voice in your ear again. “I’ll tell you what to do. Just do as I say.”

“Yes, sir,” you said in a sarcastic chipper tone.

His hand balled into a fist and he kept his mouth shut. Was that a common exchange for you?

He turned his focus to look between the pictures on his desk and the men around the club. It was early in the night, but it was already lively, dozens of doses of drops being worked through on each table.

“Try to make eye contact so I can see who they are.” You hummed in agreement, too wary to speak out loud. It didn’t take long before your eyes landed on who he was looking for. “Him. Just… do your thing.”

He was mostly alone at his table, most of the others at the bar, and the two who remained were too doped up to sit straight. You sat on his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world, and he listened in pain as you chatted him up.

“I don’t think we’ve met before.

So you’re an important man, you must have a lot of stress.

You can tell me anything you want, baby. Scout’s honor.

Is that so?

Maybe I could help you blow off steam sometime.

Let me freshen up.”

You coyly walked away and tried to find a quiet corner, waiting for the voice in your ear.

“I need to know who he was talking about.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“He’s already vulnerable.”

“I’m not sure if I can get him somewhere private here.”

“It doesn’t have to be here.”

“I’m not taking him to my fucking house.”

“Where do you usually take them?”

“…Shut up.”

You fixed a smile back on your face as you approached a bouncer and leaned against a wall. “What does the VIP room situation look like tonight?”

Knowing there were a few open you walked back to him, still at a distance but close enough to catch his eye, and beckoned him to you. You led him to a quiet dark room, and he took another drop before you sat him down.

•••

He could hardly watch, but he had to.

Through the red film on his screen, he watched as you took his suit jacket off and you began rubbing his shoulders. His head rolled on his neck in his inebriated state. Your hands moved easily down his chest as you pried him open with each question.

“So tell me more about what’s stressing you out, baby.”

How would your hands feel on him?

“I don’t like rats. I like a man who keeps his word.”

Could he keep his word to protect you?

“Does he come here? I’d like to avoid him.”

He’d like to never watch your hands on another man again.

“So maybe you can’t say his name, but maybe something it rhymes with…”

You were good at this.

And then he said it. You did it. It wasn’t for nothing.

“That’s enough, you got it,” he said, relieved. But you kept going, ignoring him. “I said that’s enough.”

You were off of his clock and back on your own schedule now. You were asking how much cash he had as your nimble fingers unbuttoned his shirt, the disgusting skin of a disgusting man in your soft hands. And yet he couldn’t look away.

Every time he tried, the greater voice in his head told him that he might say more, but the only thing that was revealed was the money he was willing to spend on you. And all Bruce could think about was the money he’d spend just to make you stop.

Or to be on the receiving end of it.

Your voice was in his ear whispering in a tone he never could have imagined from you. He shut his eyes to spare himself the sight, but it only helped him imagine that it was him in that seat, just the two of you in a room of your own, forbidden, dangerous, but your touch would never falter.

He could let you take the lead, to let you take it as far as you wanted to with him, whether it was because it was your job or not.

Or he could pin you against the wall by your wrists and watch you squirm as he scolded you for how dangerous this was, that no one else deserved to lay a hand on you. He could push your dress up and fuck you relentlessly while making you say his name in that soft voice, leaving welts on your ass as he spanked it and making you cry out that you belonged to him, and the music would drown it out.

You moved in front of the man and sank down to your knees, snapping him out of the theatre of his mind. Bruce stormed away, letting the feed roll to at least record it if anything of importance did happen, wondering what the fuck was wrong with him.

Chapter Text

“Are you there? Sorry about that.”

You decided to walk the whole way home under the assumption that he’d want to talk. You were pleased with yourself that you got the information that he wanted and the band of cash tucked into your bra.

But he didn’t respond the whole way there, and you worried that a popped bottle of champagne got the earpiece wet and you ruined the equipment he entrusted you with. Who knows how much it cost.

You looked up at the rooftops as you went, hoping to catch a glimpse of his ears sticking out in the shadows. Maybe you scared him off, but hey, you warned him. A man like him shouldn’t be put off by a little heavy petting. The man was too fucked up to do anything else, much to your relief.

“I’ll leave my window unlocked,” you said before you made it to the doorman, and took a long hot shower to wash the night off of you.

You were filing your nails in bed when you heard the wind howling through your open window. When you looked up, there he was, emerging from the darkness of the rest of your apartment.

“So, I got what you wanted?”

“You did.”

“I thought I disconnected.”

“You didn’t.”

He was stoic and hard to place and intimidating as he continued to step forward until he was a few feet in front of where you sat cross-legged on your bed. Maybe he was being short with you because he saw too much and was offended by it; most men would be unless they were the one getting it. But he was always short. And you told him what to expect.

“I’m sorry if you saw too much.”

“I didn’t.”

You were getting frustrated again. What was he here for that he couldn’t have said over the little microphone he gave you? “I guess you want your gear back then.” You had served your purpose, and now he was done with you. Not a new concept.

“No… I think you should wear it again tomorrow.” He seemed to soften a little at that, maybe aware that he was asking for more when you’d already given him more than enough to keep him busy chasing that lead. “In case he approaches you again or regrets it. To keep you safe.”

“Oh,” you said, a little surprised. “Okay. Will I need to…”

“No.” He cut you off before you could say it. Okay, maybe you had made him a little uncomfortable.

In truth, it would have been incredibly useful for him. That man wasn’t the only brain he needed to pick, but he didn’t want to see that again. Or more accurately, he couldn’t bear to. And he didn’t know why.

But he did know that even now he was going home just to replay this moment again. You looked so small in your bed, in an oversized cotton t-shirt with no evidence that you were wearing shorts or even a bra from the way it sat on your chest. And it was killing him. I all these years of building discipline, and now it was disintegrating.

“That’s fine and all, but I only work on weekends, so it would have to wait ‘til then. If that’s okay.”

“Keep it safe until then,” he said, “and I’ll be in contact.”

You watched him as he walked away, and leaned forward to look at your windowsill after you heard it close. He had stayed there, looking back at you, but all you saw outside your window was a jet black night. He watched until you pulled your blanket close to you and turned your bedside lamp off, seeing your legs splayed out on your bed.

He pulled his eyes away after a long moment and stepped back into the night.

•••

The next week was excruciating for him.

You didn’t have to work on weekdays, but he never got to rest. Each and every night he was in every alley in every neighborhood, big and small, wearing down his body until it was paper-thin just to do it all again the next day.

He’d step into the shower as dawn broke, watching blood, dirt, and kohl wash down the drain between his feet. He washed himself a million times before he finally felt clean, but his long showers seemed to take a little longer as his hands traveled down to the throb below his waist, but his guilty conscience kept his hands from lingering there long enough to untangle the knot suspended in his mind.

Usually after that he would sleep, but that was failing too. He’d lay in bed for hours keeping his eyes screwed shut, praying for sleep to bless him, but he couldn’t stop replaying those images in his brain. The hushed sound of your voice as you seduced another man, the way your clothes hugged your body, the way your hands knew just how to move, soft and purposeful, imagining how they’d be with passion behind them. If you could have passion for him.

He’d give up and head to breakfast, dodging Alfred’s worried words over the state of the bags under his eyes, at first thinking they were darker because he hadn’t washed the face paint off well enough. And then he’d pace the halls, and maybe his exhaustion would catch up enough to pass out on an armchair for a couple of hours before he was back in the cave, staring at you on his screen, letting it play for a little bit longer each time.

He felt filthy. Perverted.

Distracted. Needy.

And it didn’t help that you had left the contact case open on your dresser with the earpiece beside it, where he could see your shadow move across your walls and hear you shower in the next room, hear you dress and undress, sing to yourself, and whimper in the night. From restless dreams or impure thoughts, he didn’t know. It was just another thing he tried not to think about and failed desperately.

You would talk to him sometimes too, whether or not you thought he could hear you.

Ceramic shattered on your wood floors. You gasped and then you sighed. Oh, Batman, there’s a damsel in distress. Won’t you save my day?

And of course, it brought about other conflicts in his mind. You lived two vastly different lives that conflicted in every way. You were outgoing and wistful, and he was a cynical recluse. He was a vigilante, and you would be crucified if your employers knew how close to him you already were.

He was a Wayne and you were a seductress, looked down upon by the upper class, no matter the fact that those were the very people who paid for your time. He could give you everything, take you away from it all, but you didn’t need that.

He couldn’t invite you over either, as Alfred would teasingly suggest, seeing him agonize over his work with pictures of you still there, and he couldn’t take you out for coffee or dinner either. There was no path towards resolution, no matter how many scenarios he’d play out in his mind, and he was taking his frustration out on petty criminals who didn’t deserve the hospital bill that came with facial reconstruction.

But he had needs, and his body wouldn’t let him forget them. And he’d have to watch you all over again come Friday to protect you from the mess he put you in, his greatest need of all.

Chapter Text

You walked around your apartment in your bra and underwear, earpiece in and contact still in its case to keep your privacy.

“Are you there bats? Mic check, 1, 2…”

“I’m here.” He was tightening the bolts on a gadget he was working on, his earpiece already in, waiting to hear your voice. “Are you at work already?”

“No, getting ready now.” You looked at the clock. 7:30 pm, you better get out the door soon. “Black or blue?”

“What?”

“I’m trying to decide what to wear tonight. Black or blue?”

He looked back at the monitor, maybe secretly hoping he could see you in it. He fought to keep his focus, something he never seemed to get good at with you.

“You’re no fun,” you quipped up again. “Just trying to make conversatio-“

“Black.”

He thought about you matching each other and smiled to himself. It would be a good color to hide away if you needed to anyway.

“Black it is. You have good taste.”

He suited up as he watched you exit your cab and walk around the block to the club entrance. He figured you did it to keep safe; no one sees where you’re coming from, and no one sees where you’re going to, not even your cabbie. Smart girl.

As the night went on he listened in to the small talk you made and the bass beats in the background, going about his usual business but staying close by to you, every once and a while asking if everything was okay. You always hummed in response, careful not to draw suspicion by talking to no one.

All was normal until he heard a familiar male voice.

“Hey, can we talk?”

“Can it wait? I’m in a bit of a rush, hun.”

“No, it can’t.”

He sounded frantic, and Bruce could sense the sweat on his brow without even seeing him. He told you to wear the contact anyway, so he could watch it later.

“Hey, hands off! You can’t just grab me like tha-“

“Shut up.”

He made his way back to the block where you were as quickly as possible. What was he doing? The silence made his stomach sick and his eyes see red.

The man spoke again.

“I told you too much. And they know.”

Shit. Shit shit shit. He was surprised you weren’t dead already, and you were in the clamor of a club, exactly where they’d want you.

“Don’t worry, I’m coming.”

He was going to beat the shit out of him the moment he saw him. It was all his fault, and all his own fault too.

“You didn’t tell me anything except how badly you wanted to fuck me, now let me go.”

He made his way through the front door with brute force, fists flying and throwing people off of him as he went. He had complete tunnel vision, not caring for how exposed he was in the slightest. He barely even perceived the shouts that spread throughout the club, only waiting to hear from you for any clues as to where you were and what was happening around you.

”There she is,” a new voice spoke.

He heard you play nice and try to cooperate before you started struggling, spewing profanities as multiple men seemed to close in on you. ”Don’t you like it when they’re feisty?

He heard your fist make contact with one of their faces as he reached the elevator. ”Not that feisty.”

”This will calm her down.”

Your scream reverberated through his spine, sending blood rushing to his head. His nails were digging into his palms as his fists clenched impossibly tight, even through the leather of his gloves.

”What the fuck did you give to me? What the fuck… did you…”

Your voice trailed off and he heard them laughing as the elevator opened, and he tore through the crowd like a bat out of hell.

He made quick work of the guards at the front, operating on autopilot as fists collided and bullets bounced off of him. He didn’t even look at them, he scanned the crowd, looking for any sign of you. He flew open the curtains of every private booth, pushing the men that pounced on his back to the ground and kicking them swiftly in the ribs as he made his way to the next one. But they were all empty.

”Why don’t you shut up and show us a good time like you showed him?”

Through the flashing red lights, he saw a small gaggle of men walking shoulder to shoulder heading quickly towards a hallway. He cut through the dancefloor, the sea of sweaty bodies parting in front of him. It wasn’t until all three men were in puddles on the ground that he realized the only thing they were carrying was a tray of drinks and drugs.

“Where is she?” he screamed into a broken face, holding him by the collar. He was met with fearful eyes and hands shielding his face from another blow. “Where are the private rooms?” A weak finger pointed down the hallway they were walking towards, and he immediately moved on, leaving them in the dust.

”Seven, you whispered in his ear.

Room Seven.

He kicked the door in to see you laying on the table surrounded by four men jeering at the sight of you with knives in their hands, the man you’d been with last weekend nervous in the back corner as they handled the situation. Your hands and ankles were bound and a single bead of blood was dried on your shoulder. A needle was on the table next to you. They had drugged you.

He closed the door behind him and unleashed himself, inhibitions long forgotten.

•••

Your head rolled on the table as you looked around with cloudy eyes, fighting for anything to focus on to keep yourself conscious, sick to your stomach with every sight you saw. A sick smile, sadistic eyes, the gleam of a blade in the darkness. You tried to look them in the eyes despite it all, hoping at least that their identities could be recovered from your lenses even if Batman had to take it from your lifeless body.

You were brought back to all those silly little fantasies you ran through your head before you ever met him, imagining that he was running on the rooftops above you, ready to rain down on any threat that awaited you. You imagined that you were laying in your bed instead of on this cold hardwood table, looking forward to hearing from him again and drifting off to sleep with the thought that he’d sneak in through that window you left unlocked just for him, imagining that he’d creep inside without a sound just to watch you sleep, protecting you while you dreamed, so you wouldn’t fall asleep feeling so lonely.

But you knew your Batman was in your ear, and you let that simple presence comfort you too and held onto it with everything you had. He was there, and any minute your knight in shining armor would emerge from the dark spots in your vision and it would all be over like it never happened at all.

And if he didn’t, you’d leave this world with that thought, and it would be okay. You accepted death now that you were so close to it.

You were so focused on these thoughts that you didn’t feel your eyes close, and didn’t hear the sound of the door opening and bodies falling through the floor. You barely registered that you were in someone’s arms now, held tightly against a cold chest plate, a heavy cape thrown over you.

Chapter Text

You woke up feeling calm despite the ache in your arm and your wrists. You slowly opened your eyes to find that you were laying on your couch. You were home.

You tried to move but relaxed again as pain shot down your neck, a groan failing to escape your throat. You noticed that your hair was damp against it. Was it raining? You looked to see an IV bag above you, dripping slowly to where it connected into you, and the night came rushing back to memory.

The needle in your arm. The sedative entering your bloodstream. The useless struggle as you were overpowered. The jokes they made as they restrained you. The way it all faded to black as you clung to the thought that your bat would soon be there to whisk you away from it all.

You heard the sink running and looked over the couch and into your kitchen. You would have gone into shock in terror at the strange man in your apartment if he hadn’t still been wearing his cowl.

There he stood, shirtless over your sink, blotting his chest with a wet cloth. Bruises and scars painted his pale back, muscles jumping underneath his skin. He grabbed a bag of ice from the counter and held it to his ribs and turned around.

You both froze as your eyes met each others. There was so much fear in both of you at this moment. You didn't remember a thing of how you got back home and feared for everything your memory failed to keep. The memories of how he ended up so beaten, the lengths he went to keep you safe, and the fear that he’d be unhappy with you for how it all turned out.

And there he stood in your kitchen, exposed. Although he was only shirtless, it was like he was naked, a sight you shouldn’t be seeing but couldn’t look away from. You could keep a secret- but knowing something you shouldn’t is exactly how you ended up here.

And he was terrified. Terrified that you would see the weak man underneath it all, though the need to assess his wounds won out. His terror grew the whole way here, no longer filled with the rage he took out on anyone standing in his way of you.

He zipped through the city on his motorbike clutching your limp body against him, thinking only of how vulnerable of a position he put you in just so he could get some intel. You were only sedated, but they could have given you cyanide. He left you open to their greedy hands, and if he had been a minute too late…

He was so caught up. He let himself be so incredibly distracted by you and now you had seen so much of him in such a short amount of time, more than anyone, and although he was scared that you’d wake up and see him like this, he wanted it, too. But now that you had, he was scared all over again.

He made a few tentative steps toward you, and walked to your bedside, checking the progress on your IV. You took a closer look at the deep bruise blooming under the ice and a wave of guilt went through you. How much did he endure just to get to you?

He winced as he knelt beside you, not looking you in the eye.

“How do you feel?”

You struggled to form words, still somewhat sedated, and instead a lump formed in your throat and tears formed in your eyes. “Me..? Look at… I’m so sorry.”

He stiffened, closing his eyes as you quietly sobbed.

“I’m okay. You’re safe now, it’s all okay.”

You sat in silence until you calmed down, and the crying even sobered you up a little. But with that, all of the realizations of the consequences hit you and you threw your free hand over your face. “It’s all over, I’m dead. It’s all my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” he said sharply. It caught you off guard and you looked back at him. “I’m entirely to blame. I’m the one who made you do this for me, I’m the reason they were able to lay a single hand-“

He cut himself off before he started yelling at them to you, grinding his teeth. The images of you touching another man that first night you’d worn the contacts and your body on that table at another man’s mercy played through his head. It made him sick and made him want to storm out and never look back, but it was far too late to push you away like everyone else. He owed you now. And he would do anything to quell these possessive feelings that possessed him.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, and though you thought you were done crying, your tears escaped you again.

He crumbled at the sight. All the agonizing thoughts of you, the anger that he felt, the guilt of putting you in harm's way, none of it came close to the way his heart shattered to see you cry. To cry for him.

He leaned into you, pulling you against his chest, hoping to keep you together and hide the pain on his face in the crook of your neck. How badly he’d wanted to feel you against his skin when he held you in his armor, the nights he spent in bed clutching his pillow and wishing it was you…

You sniffled and spoke into his shoulder, “I really am dead though. I can’t go back, and when I don’t, they’ll find me here if they aren’t already on their way.”

He looked into your eyes, serious as death when he said, “then we should leave. Soon.”

You shook your head deliriously. “Look at me. Look at us. We’re not in any shape to go anywhere.” He gulped, his attention turning back to his aching ribs. You were right. “And I have bills due, I can’t just abandon my home.”

“I’ll take care of that.” He meant it. He had the means, it was his duty. Because it was his fault.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I can’t ride on a motorcycle with a drip in my arm, bats.”

You were right again. He was once again reminded of how blindsided he was by you, thinking he was being pragmatic by jumping to solutions without thinking twice.

“Then I’ll stay with you tonight, and you’ll come with me before dawn breaks.”

You looked into his eyes for a moment and considered it. You had to trust him. You wanted to trust him. The least you could do to make up for the mess you got him in would be to acquiesce. He clearly knew how to keep you safe better than you did. You had no other choice.

You had no idea where he’d take you or what you’d do, essentially jobless and homeless, but you wanted to put every ounce of faith you had into him. To let him carry you home again, to be safe in his shadow. But really, you plunged headfirst into that blind faith the moment you agreed to help him, knowing exactly what you were doing.

You nodded your head in agreement and closed your eyes.

He pressed his forehead against yours, thinking you were going to cry again. “Hey,” he whispered. “I’m going to make this right. I promise.”

You kept your eyes closed and squeezed the hand that had been on his shoulder. He was a figure that was larger than life and put the fear of god into a whole city, but in front of you was a man-made of flesh and blood, pleading for you to let him protect you when he was far more battered than you were.

He was glad your eyes were closed so that you couldn’t see how his bore into your face, how his jaw clenched and unclenched, keenly aware of just how close he was to you. You lay beneath him pressing those soft fingers he dreamt about were pressing into his burning skin, his lips mere inches from yours. He could take you here, be completely selfish just this once, hell he’d pay you if that’s the only way you’d let him have his way with you. He could even feel your breath on his jaw, see your pulse beat in your throat.

Not this way, he thought to himself. If you turned him away you’d surely throw him out, call him a bastard and a pervert, and he wouldn’t be there when they came for you. He had to hold himself together, at least until he could take you to the cave.

He stood up and walked back to the kitchen, not looking to see the surprise on your face at his sudden movements and change and demeanor. He had to put distance between you two if he was going to make it. He ran the sink again, blotting at scuffs he’d already cleaned, wishing he could take a long cold shower to get him to forget the way his body ached that had nothing to do with his wounds. He peeked back at you over his shoulder to make sure you weren’t watching as he adjusted himself in his pants.

He looked at the clock: 3:26 am. Only a few more hours until the sun would rise and he could get you out of here. And only a few hours to think of an actual plan once he did.

A cave was no place for a girl like you, who did what you had to do to get a nice little place like yours. He’d have to get Alfred to arrange a bed for you down there, and you would both need to shower. Anything you’d need, he’d be able to get from the manor’s guest rooms.

He wished that you could just stay in the manor for as long as you’d like, no need to get another apartment if you didn’t want to, so he could keep you there with him. He wished he could tell you his secret just like you told him yours, or that you could magically know without him having to tell you, that you could find out on your own.

But there was no way he could do that. Alfred would be scorning him enough for making him get everything ready for you in the wee hours of the night. He sent a text to Alfred to let him know and silenced it so he wouldn’t have to hear his grievances.

The next time he checked on you you were in a peaceful sleep. He walked into your room after watching you for half an hour, needing a break from running in circles in his mind over how he’d even handle you living in his space. He looked at the art on your walls, the little scribbles of poetry on your bedside, the makeup on your vanity. He ought to pack you a bag while you slept, just in case you had to leave in a rush.

He opened the backpack that lay on your floor and packed anything he thought you might want. Cosmetics, CDs, the planner that was on your bed. With each item, he felt like he knew you just a little better. And he realized how little he knew about you. You knew even less about him.

How the hell am I going to make this work?

He flipped the light switch in your closet and walked in. So many dresses were hanging there, from short and sleek to flowy and comfortable. He sifted through them, imagining how you’d look in them and where you’d wear them, blindly guessing at what your favorites would be and holding them over his arm. You seemed to like a little black dress, so he grabbed a couple of those.

Opening your dresser, he looked for basics- a pair of denim jeans and shorts, tee shirts, and blouses. He opened the bottom drawer to look for pajamas but was instead met with something else. Your lingerie.

He looked at them for a moment with a lump in his throat. He felt just as uncomfortable as he felt watching your contact lens, his brain failing to compute anything intimate with you. It took him forever to take a few items of different cuts and colors, unsure of what you’d like, and rushed to put them in your bag. Just touching them was too much, felt too wrong, like something he had to fight against.

Whether he was finished packing or not, that was enough. He sat it beside you on the couch and put his armor back on, needing to cover up to feel less exposed.

He checked the clock: 5:02 am. It was time to get you moving.

He shyly nudged you awake and told you the time, and carefully took your IV out. He gave you a minute to get ready, watching you bounce around your apartment, the heels you were still wearing clicking around on the floors. He watched anxiously while you clipped your hair up, threw a sweater on over your dress, and shoved some sneakers into your bag before slinging it over your shoulder.

“I think I’m ready,” you said, looking at your apartment for what could be the last time. He stood at your open window and extended a hand out.

“Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

And so that was how you came to live in a bat cave.

You walked in to see an older dapper man fretting over the futon he set up for you, fluffing the pillows and adjusting the bedside tables he brought in next to it. “I hope that this will do, it was so last minute. I’m Alfred, anything you need, just tell- …just tell the master to ring and I’ll bring it.”

You assured him it was more than enough, thanked him, and introduced yourself. It was a bat cave, but it was the nicest one you could have ever imagined. It was incredibly spacious and filled with computers, cars, and desks piled with paper and tools, but still as clean as could be. He excused himself and shot a look at Batman that you couldn’t read. It was surely weird for you to be here, for all parties involved.

You sat at the door of the bed and finally kicked your heels off, sighing in relief at your feet and the fact that you finally felt sober.

He walked to his computer desk, grimacing slightly as he walked up the stairs. He put the pictures of you that Alfred forgot about in a pile and turned them upside down.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Make yourself at home.”

He disappeared down a corner and started tearing off his armor as soon as he was out of sight, feeling filthy in every sense. Still, he took the quickest shower of his life, eager to get back to you before his thoughts drifted away to where they always did ever since you met. He ran the water ice cold to make sure he wouldn’t while away his time.

He changed into sweats and a tee shirt and pulled his cloth mask over his head. His wet hair seeped into it, but it would have to do.

He returned to see you gazing up at the tall ceiling of the cave. “Quite a place you got, huh, master?

He stopped dead in his tracks at the words. Either you were used to teasing men and knew how to do it in all the right ways, or you truly had no idea what you were doing to him.

“That’s what Alfred called you.” You looked down from the ceiling to see him there, your breath stopping for just a second.

You marveled at the fact that he was just a man when he was shirtless in your apartment, but seeing him completely shed of armor, even fully clothed, he looked so… soft. You realized how young he was, how his posture made him look so meek, like a puppy left out in a storm, not looking you in the eye.

After a tense moment of silence, he spoke. “I’m sure you want to shower too. I can show you to it.” You nodded and looked away, opting to grab your whole backpack instead of rummaging for clothes, and followed him.

You took the longest shower of your life, taking the time to pamper yourself so you could leave feeling fresh and new, leaving the night behind you and doing your best not to try to make too much sense of the situation you were in, and the complexities of your new roommate.

You walked back out in a tank top and short cotton shorts, thankful he’d grabbed some of your cozy essentials. You threw your backpack back on the floor by your bed and slowly walked around, taking the place in with your arms crossed. You felt relaxed but knew your mind would race the minute your body stopped moving.

You made your way back around to where he sat at his computer scrolling away. You stood there for a while, as he made no effort to hide what he was looking at. Some intricacies of his case, you were sure.

“What do you like for breakfast?” he asked. You were always surprised when he spoke, because he didn’t often, and it was always short sentences when he did. In the bat suit it made sense, but seeing him now, could it be that he was just shy?

“Oh, um, usually just coffee, maybe some fruit and oatmeal.” He nodded and typed away, sending a message to Alfred, still not daring to look at you and your exposed skin. Your clubwear paled in comparison to what this did to him.

You leaned back against his desk, looking for something to say. “Thank you for letting me stay here, by the way. I really do appreciate it.”

He simply hummed in acknowledgment. How could you crack this shell of his? “I hope I don’t make you uncomfortable. You don’t seem like the type to take girls here often.”

“You don’t make me uncomfortable.” It was a blatant lie, and it wasn’t lost on you that he only responded to the first thing you said. It only frustrated you a little bit.

Alfred arrived then, wheeling a silver cart of food in front of him. “I hope you’re settling in well,” he said politely, lifting the covers off of the food he’d brought. “And I hope he’s being a gentleman.”

“Something like that,” you smiled at him. You could take little jabs at him all day if that’s what it took. Seeing this side of him, and being the only one to know, it only drew you in. You wanted to know more about the man behind the mask even if he never took it off, and you had to cut the tension somehow.

You kept your hands busy cradling a hot mug of coffee, alone with him again. You knew by now the sun was up and you were awake for good.

“Do you ever sleep?” you asked.

“Sometimes.”

“So you’re a vampire bat.”

The silence weighed heavy in the air between each minuscule interaction you carried.

“It’s good you have Alfred. It’d be a shame if Gotham’s champion didn’t have someone taking care of him.”

He can’t take care of me like you could. How did he become so deprived? How did you bring it all to the surface all at once? He sighed and turned in his chair, pouring himself a glass of water.

“And served on a silver platter, too. It’s a good thing to be pampered.”

A good thing? He had only ever been mocked for seemingly having everything handed to him, dehumanized for the wealth he was born into, and pitied for the loss of his parents. But then again, you probably had many wealthy men pampering you to earn your favor. Maybe it was a good thing. If he could earn your favor, it wouldn’t be because of that.

“Funny choice, to live in a cave though.”

That got a chuckle out of him. “I don’t live down here.” You smiled, making progress.

“Oh, of course. Now that would be batty.”

You were so close to getting it, he thought. He willed you to think, to rule out all the young men in this city that he could possibly be. Then he could take you upstairs and he could give you a proper place to sleep in, give you a proper life. He could take his time getting to know you and make it worth your while.

You took a few berries off the cart and walked down the little stairs and back to your bed, eating them and sipping your coffee as you unpacked your belongings. You hid your blush as you grabbed a handful of underwear and pushed them back inside. You sneaked a peek at him. How thoughtful, but how perverse. You wondered how carefully he picked them out and if they were to his taste. You didn’t mind the thought.

At the bottom, there were a few CDs. He really was thoughtful, huh?

“Hey, do you have a stereo down here?” you asked, holding them up and smiling.

He opened the chest that sat on the wall across from your bed revealing a built-in turntable and CD player. Who knew the Bat had a little music collection? Maybe you did have a few things in common.

You handed him the disc and he slipped it in, letting it read before pressing play.

You always played this album when you needed catharsis, a dreamy tune you knew by heart to pluck at your heartstrings and make you feel whole.

You let a deep sigh leave your lungs, closing your eyes. You were safe beside him, sharing this human moment together. You could drown out the noise of your fear and your doubts and let the sound cover you with safety, the same way it felt when he’d lay his cape over you.

You felt his shoulder brush against yours as you absentmindedly swayed. His arm wrapped around your waist to pull you in ever so gently. You leaned into it. He wanted you to feel safe, and you wanted to let go, and for him to let go too.

You didn’t realize how close he was until he whispered your name, barely audible above the music. His eyes were shut tightly, the cloth mask barely brushing against your forehead as he whispered a single word. ”Please.”

You looked at him in wonder as you let his lips meet yours, soft but sure. His hand moved into your hair, holding you near to him. You were flush against his body now, held together in his arms. You could tell how badly he was fighting to hold back, to treat you delicately, that this wasn’t the only motivation for bringing you here.

He pulled away from you but still held you close as if you’d break in his hands. “That was a mistake, wasn’t it?”

You didn’t say anything, you just kissed him back.

He answered with much more passion, his mind like an overflowing dam, overwhelmed with the permission you had given him. His hands moved everywhere they dared to go, from your hair, down your arms, around your waist, and against the small of your back. Step by step he backed you up until your legs folded as you reached your bed.

He hesitated over you, one knee beside you. You were cornered but you didn’t feel afraid in the slightest like it was the most natural place to be. Your mind was swimming, your hands on his arms, your fingers just underneath the sleeves of his t-shirt.

He remained motionless above you with his eyes closed. You pressed your fingers into his shoulder, a silent way to let him know it was okay to kiss you again. But instead, he placed a gentle kiss against your forehead. “Excuse me,” he said before walking slowly away, down the same hall Alfred disappeared down, and left you there alone.

The CD continued to play as you gaped, trying to gather your thoughts.

Leave your trail open, let me inside
Guess I'm confused more or less
Shed some light

He tore off his mask as he trekked up the stairs and disappeared into his room, pacing like a madman. He’d done it, he’d kissed you, opened himself fully to be vulnerable to you. He had felt your skin on his and you had kissed him back. And you were so close to knowing, if you would just think. Did you not care to know?

And tell me your secret
How are you trained?
I promise you I can keep it
Go on, explain…

You pulled your knees to your chest. It was all so mystifying, how quickly things had moved, how you took his gambit and fell headfirst into his world, and he caught you before you could reach the bottom. And now you were here, in his space. He had kissed you here.

You didn’t even know who he was. But you didn’t need to know his name. You just wanted to know him.

Provide me clues, just go ahead and break your silence

He had no idea what to do next. His cave was his own little world and he brought you into it. Now how would he go back there? How would he face you? It took every ounce of willpower not to push you back into your bed, to ravish you there and then. To take you, to leave his print on you until he could no longer envision the trace of any other man on you. To make you his.

But he’d have to face you. He had work to do. And he couldn’t wait until the night fell once more and he could drive away as fast as he could. He could hunt those men down one by one and break their arms so they could never hold you.

And tell me your secret…

You wandered back to his desk to pour yourself another cup of coffee. You sat in his chair and glanced at the papers on his desk. You flipped over a small pile of pictures, many of you, many of various members of Gotham’s high society. Some that you remembered from the club, others you didn’t recognize at all. You placed them back exactly as you found them.

The news was in an open tab on the screen. You scrolled through it, careful not to click on anything else. The latest on the Riddler, stock market statistics, and highlights from the mayoral candidate’s latest speech. A picture of Bruce Wayne was underneath the headline, including her quote, promising to pull him out of the shadows and continue his family’s legacy of philanthropy.

A young man who was wealthy beyond comprehension, who had every resource at his fingers. A recluse who was shy to take interviews, who hid away in his tower.

Or maybe in a cave.

You know I like to believe it
Go on, explain…

You went back to your bed and bundled up in the covers. You pushed the thought from your mind. You could guess a million names he could be, but prying for that answer would undoubtedly offend him. You didn’t need to know who he was. But wouldn’t it make everything so much easier? Or would it make it that much more complicated?

Despite the caffeine, you eventually fell into an uneasy sleep to the sound of the music.

Chapter Text

He finally swallowed his pride and walked back to the cave in the early evening. Much had transpired during the day, so there would be much to prepare for tonight.

You watched him walk in, both of you silent. All the jestful remarks that usually came to you caught in your throat before you could say them. You observed him as he moved, studying his jawline and his lips. The lips that kissed yours just this morning.

And you thought the tension this morning was thick.

He sat down at his desk and saw that the news was open to an article with his face on it. He paused for a split second before continuing his work.

Alfred arrived before long to drop off dinner. He seemed to be the only thing that would make the air feel a little thinner, but he’d leave just as soon as the masked man would shake his head when asked, “can I get anything else for you, master and miss?”

You leaned against his desk again, picking at the bowl of fish and greens. “Painting the town tonight?” He nodded, barely acknowledging you, glued to his screens. You pressed him harder. “So, how long should I expect to stay here?”

He shifted in his seat. He hadn’t honestly thought that far. “However long you’d like. I’ll get you set up somewhere new as soon as you say the word. And I’ll keep an eye on your place until then.” He half expected you to say you’d like to leave as soon as possible after being left alone with time to think about what he’d done that morning and regretting it. But you showed no hostility towards him.

You instead indulged him in your inner musings. “Maybe you’re into real estate. That could be how you’re so well off. I bet you got a great deal on this cavern.”

He shook his head and slightly smiled. That was probably the closest to a laugh you could get out of him.

“I think I’ll stay a week or so to get my head on straight, and then decide where to go.” You pushed a little harder, still masking it all as a jest. “Maybe you can set me up with a young rich man who isn’t a total piece of shit and I can shack up with him.”

He tightened again at how casually you brought up being with another man. He thought this was your way of turning him down before you carried on. “But then again, I think I already have.”

It felt odd to have the upper hand against a man like him, even in conversation. “You think so?” he asked.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed around a mouthful of food. “I have the best worst luck a girl could have.”

“What if I was just another rich piece of shit?”

You cocked your head. How bad could he be? You were sitting here with a man who actively sought out the foulest men in the city who used their money for power and control to do whatever they want. And if he was who you thought he was… he stayed out of that society altogether.

“I’m sure you pale in comparison to the men I’ve seen.” You were met with silence again and you polished off your meal, placing the bowl back and walking away. “The sun is setting, the night is waiting for you.”

You were right. He left to suit up, to brace himself for the night, and to brace himself to return, too. He got on his motorcycle and raced away into the night.

•••

You were sitting on the floor in front of his stereo when he returned, flipping through the booklet of one of his records while it played quietly. The past day and a half had already obliterated your sleep schedule, so you were wide awake while you awaited his return. You hadn’t been so keenly aware of how dangerous this whole thing was until you were left unattended while he was out taking hits and dishing them out.

He quickly hobbled up the stairs, tearing his armor off as he went, leaving them on the floor. The door of the bathroom slammed shut behind him, and you heard the shower run.

He re-emerged throwing a red first aid kit down on his desk and rummaging through it. He sat down and seethed through his teeth as he blotted rubbing alcohol on his wounds, then sighed in relief as he smoothed antibiotic cream over them and hid them beneath clean bandages. You stood up and flipped the record, eyeing him in worry as you dropped the needle back down.

He closed the case and walked stiffly over to join you on the floor, hunched over as he sat. You could see a bandage on his cheek peeking out from under his cloth mask.

“Rough night?”

He nodded.

You moved over to sit close enough to him that you could rest your head on his bare shoulder, trying not to stare at the scars and bruises decorating his torso. “You’re safe now,” you said, closing your eyes.

“Until tomorrow,” he said flatly. “And the next day.” You placed a hand on his knee and he moved his to your thigh.

“One day at a time. Let’s focus on tonight.”

“You mean this morning.”

You sighed against him. Such a troubled mind under that mask of his.

“If only we could watch the sunrise. I used to sit out on my fire escape and do that when I couldn’t sleep. It’s the most peaceful time of day.” You were talking to yourself more than you were to him. “Listen to the birds wake up, the church bells ringing, watching the clouds clear away.”

He squeezed your thigh. If only he could take you to the roof of his manor, let you watch it from the highest point in the city, seeing out for miles as the sunburned red and covered the city in warm light as the sky turned blue. He used to do that too.

If only you could just get it. You were so close.

“I’ll find you a place with a nice balcony.” He sounded sad saying it, knowing that each day you came closer to leaving, and if he kept you as safe as he could, he’d have no excuse to see you again.

“Unless you set me up with that young rich man,” you said, trying to lighten the mood.

He could feel his heart wrenching like your hands were squeezing around it. He couldn’t be everything you deserved. But still, he turned his head into yours and caught you in a delicate kiss. You stayed like that, hip to hip, soaking up his scent as you received his lips.

“It isn’t lost on me, you know.” He pulled away and whispered the words like a confession. “I’m not much different from them. I use my money to do what I want and to get away with it. I hide in the same shadows they do. I just hide my face.”

You rested your forehead against his to reassure him, to keep him close so that he couldn’t hide away. “The difference is that they hurt me, and you saved me from them. That puts you in two separate categories.”

You took him into a kiss again, a little less shy as you deepened it. Your tongue briefly met his every time, allowing him to kiss you deeper. He was tentative but eager, and you knew he had much more on his mind. But you could keep those thoughts away for just a moment, you could keep his mouth busy to keep his doubts at bay.

You let your hand move up his stomach, feeling his muscles and warm skin as you brought it to rest against his chest. You felt a familiar feeling stirring within you, that basic instinct to bring him in closer.

He muttered out between kisses. “I’m violent. Have no idea the things that I do.”

You kissed him again to shut him up, make him realize that none of it mattered. To bring him into the present moment, and let everything else fall away, even briefly. Long dark hair peeked out from under his mask. Could it really be..?

“I used you for my own self-interests. Just like they did.”

Your hands brushed down his arms until you lifted his hands to your waist and leaned in even closer. You moved your lips along his jaw and whispered into his ear, “then why not use me some more?”

His lips crashed back into yours, pulling you in by the waist until you were halfway in his lap. His fingers found their way under your shirt to hold your bare skin there, squeezing and pulling you in. You felt the heat where you were pressed against his thigh, and each time he pulled you in it increased the pressure, grinding on him without even meaning to. You didn’t mean to make the soft little moan in your throat either, but it only spurred him on.

In an instant, he flipped you onto your back so you were pinned between him and the hard ground. His hands were on your wrists, less like he was restraining you and more like he needed anything to hold onto as he hovered there. “I’m not going to be able to stop myself,” he panted, “I need to know you mean it.”

Your hips squirmed, wanting the pressure between them back. “Please.”

He dove in to kiss you again, hard and hungry. Your hands cupped your face as he pulled you up by the small of your back to close even more space between you. You angled your hips until you could feel his hardness through his sweats just where you wanted him, feeling his size as it rubbed perfectly against your slit, beautiful friction between the thin layers of your clothes.

He scooped you up in his arms to bring you to your bed in that same position, his cock never once leaving its place against you. He began pushing your shirt up and you helped him work it over your head. He kneaded your breasts in his hands before pulling it down to expose them. All the while his mouth stayed glued to yours and his hips continued rocking between your legs.

His hand moved south to wedge itself against the both of you, rubbing your pussy through your shorts and grinding himself against the back on his hand to relieve the pressure. He hissed through his teeth at the feeling and you moaned the word “please” again.

He took the hint to pull your shorts and underwear off together, only momentarily regretting the lost opportunity to see you in the panties he picked out for you. It was hard to regret it for long as he saw you spread your legs for him, raising your hips in the air so you could reach behind your back to unclasp your bra and throw it somewhere to the side.

He moved back to kneel beside the mattress, pulling your hips to his face and taking the sight of you in. He grabbed your thighs in his hands, his thumbs on either side of your cunt to watch you spread as he gripped you.

A callused finger moved up and down your center, collecting the wetness inside and opening you up until he dipped inside of you. He grabbed himself through his sweatpants at the thought that if you were this right around a single finger, how tight you’d feel around his cock.

You sighed at the feeling as he moved it in and out of you, slow and steady to simultaneously give you relief and work you up. He added another digit and pulled his pants down just enough to reveal himself and give himself some relief too.

Your moans increased as he picked up the pace both on you and himself, soaking up the sight of him touching himself. His muscles were pumped, veins popping out of his forearms and his pink cock. It was so hard in his hand and you wanted to hold it in your own, to take it in your mouth, so you could see just how big he was without his hand in the way.

You keener into him as he curled his fingers inside of you. “Like that?” he asked, keeping them inside this time and curling them over and over. Your gasp served as a yes. He fucked you with them again before keeping them inside of you like that, fucking you again, then keeping them inside, repeating those rhythms and bringing you closer each time he did.

“I’m so… so close,” you panted. You were trying to lean into his touch, writhing around him to help him find just the right spot. But every time you were on the brink, you lost the feeling and felt all the more desperate to find it again.

“Tell me what you need,” he said before dragging his tongue across your clit. Your back arched as it sent a jolt throughout your body. “Is that it?”

“Yes, please, do that again.”

“Please what?” he wasn’t going to move a muscle until you said what he wanted to hear. “Please who?”

It was hard to think straight with what he was doing, but your brain was eventually able to put the pieces together.

“Please, master.”

He set right back to work as soon as you said the words. You had no idea what hearing you call him “sir” and “master” had done to him, even laced with sarcasm. If anything it drove him crazier, wanted to fuck your mouth until you couldn’t joke around with him anymore.

He watched you intently as you threw your head back while he licked it again and sucked on it, fingers working all the while. You grabbed for his hair without thinking about it and instead grabbed his mask. You put your other hand over your eyes and grabbed it tighter to pull him into you against his knee-jerk response to flinch away.

Knowing you were close, he worked even harder, and you came with a mess of ”oh god, yes I’m- fuck, thank you, so fucking good at that.”

He removed his fingers and wrapped them around his cock, moaning into your cunt as felt your wetness around him and lapped you up. Your legs shook slightly, your arm still thrown over your head, trying to catch your breath.

He relished the sight. He wasn’t going to tell you that he’d never gotten this far with a woman, his experience was limited to high school handjobs and heavy petting. It was just another thing he could hide behind the mask, a facade of confidence and primal desire taking over his actions.

He pulled his mask back down and stood up, stepping out of his pants before crawling back on top of you. He moved your arm from your face, letting you know it was okay to look. He wanted to look you in the eyes while he sunk into you for the first time.

He lined himself up and lowered into you inch by inch, a hand softly on your neck to keep your gaze connected. Your lips parted and he placed a thumb into your mouth, your tongue pressing against it and suckling on his fingertip, not breaking eye contact for a second.

Dripping in your own cum, he slid easily into you and picked up his speed with each new thrust, but not too fast. He had to keep himself together, to make this last. He wasn’t anywhere close to done with you.

He put his hand under the bend in your knee to reach deeper inside of you, folding you in half with one hand while his other still held you by the throat. He was pressed close to you, fully enveloping your body.

You could see a gleam of sweat form over his skin and see the details of his teeth as he gritted them together. His sharp thrusts were growing more and more erratic every time he slapped against you, in and out and in again.

“It’s okay, you can-“

“No,” he gritted out. “I’m not done with you.”

He stayed inside for a moment, ceasing his movements to gather himself before pulling out and flipping you onto your stomach. He angled your bodies slightly to the side and layed on top of you so that your back was against his chest, feeling him all around you.

A hand wrapped into your hair and gripped it firmly. “Look straight ahead,” he commanded while sliding in again.

His hips thrust into you in fluid motions, less rough this time, savoring your tight heat around him in this new position. You kept your eyes closed for good measure- they’d already rolled to the back of your head anyway. You gripped the sheets tightly, using them to leverage yourself against him and match every new thrust.

“Such a good girl for me,” he breathed into your neck, leaving wet kisses behind your ear. “Such a perfect cunt.”

You moaned louder at his words, completely unashamed at how you sounded, hearing them bounce off the walls and echo back to you. He took his hand from your hair, confident you wouldn’t look back and see how his mask rode up his face, and placed pressure against your clit with it. His movements were picking up pace and becoming erratic again, even more snug inside of you this way.

“Cum for me again. Do it now.”

The mere sound of his husky voice commanding you was enough to bring you there once more, toes curling and holding onto the sheets for dear life, more than happy to bend to his will. And feeling you spasm and cum around him was more than he could ever hope to resist, his own arriving fast.

“Where?” he growled, “Where?”

“Just like this,” you reached a hand back to hold his hip to keep him inside. You wanted to feel this for days, to be made into a complete mess by him, for him to mark you as his.

He pushed your head into the mattress and pulled your hips up to drill into you as he came with white-hot heat flashing behind his eyes. The sounds that escaped from his mouth were primitive and sweet, completely uninhibited and euphoric.

His chest shook as he slowly thrust into you as he came down, being sure to spill every last drop inside of you. He couldn’t believe you let him do that, hadn’t even considered it as an option in all of his fantasies; fantasies that were filled with shame, but now he only felt true completion.

He fixed his mask back down onto his face and finally removed himself with a husky gasp, grabbing your ass to pull you apart. He came so deep inside of you he couldn’t even see it drip out. And he knew it was so much inside of you.

He collapsed beside you and you lay in a puddle. You could barely feel your own face. When you both calmed down he turned you around and pulled you into his chest, stroking your hair.

“Was that okay?” He asked out of fear he was too rough by the state you were in and felt the fear of overstepping a boundary as he said it. He still felt like he shouldn’t have even kissed you that first time, but it was far too late to look back now.

But you were oblivious to the subtext of his question, laughing as you replied, “that was so much more than okay.”

He smiled to himself and kissed your forehead. You kissed his chest in return and sank into him, and before you knew it you were asleep.

Chapter Text

You woke up alone with the covers tucked tightly over you. You flinched as you grabbed your phone from the nightstand to check the time, feeling every muscle he made sore the night before. Your aching back, your naked body, and the wetness that escaped from you were sharp reminders that last night happened.

9:13 am

You scrambled to find your clothes from the floor, realizing Alfred would be coming down with his morning offerings at any minute. You found his shirt before your own and threw it on along with your shorts, not having the energy to wrestle with the bedding to find where the rest of your clothes were tangled within it.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and sighed. You weren’t at all surprised that he wasn’t here. You pondered what he might be doing at this moment- sleeping in his own bed, at some meeting, out and about in town, or maybe bashing his head into a wall with regret.

Alfred’s entrance pulled you from your thoughts. You gave him a tired smile as he pushed the cart to the usual spot he left it in and looked away, expecting him to excuse himself as usual.

He cleared his throat and brought your attention back to him walking closer to you, hands clasped behind his back. “The master said you’d like your bedding changed.”

“Oh!” You looked down at it, images of the night before flashing in your eyes, keenly aware of the puddle of cum that had slowly dropped out of you in your sleep. “I suppose they should be.”

He nodded as you stood up so he could clear them, and saw the awareness in his eyes as they passed over the shirt you were wearing. His shirt. You thanked him and walked to the cart to hide your blush, and for a much-needed glass of cold water.

“I’ll be back in just a moment with fresh linens.” He walked away with the bundle in his arms. Alfred seemed like a sweet man, you felt a bit bad that he was carrying such dirty sheets away. But it still made you smile through the embarrassment, another reminder that last night happened.

By the time you got out of a much-needed shower, he was back, tucking the new sheets under the mattress. You thanked him again and asked if he wanted any help, unused to the concept of hired help.

“Thank you miss, but that's quite alright,” he smiled back at you while he worked. You sighed and sat down at the desk, letting the chair slowly spin you in circles. He finished and walked back to you, brushing his hands together. “He says you’ll decide at the end of the week where to go?”

You nodded and stared off. You really needed to think about that a bit more. “I’m not sure what my plan is right now if I’m being honest.”

“Well, things are a bit complicated. But I assure you you can take your time to think.”

Complicated, yeah. You wondered if he told Alfred what exactly happened. But it wouldn’t take a genius to figure it out from his position.

“I appreciate it. But a bat cave isn’t exactly my style of architecture, as cozy as you made it.”

You both chuckled a little bit. This was the most you’d talked to him so far, and you enjoyed it. He was a welcoming presence here. Maybe you could try to get some information out of him, or some sage advice on how to walk the tightrope you found yourself in.

“I know he feels a strong duty to provide for you, considering the circumstances of you being here. It’s refreshing to see him take after a woman.”

“Really?” You imagined again what he’d be like outside in his day-to-day life. “He does seem to be a bit shy.”

“That would be an understatement.”

You pressed your lips together in thought. Maybe there was a better word for it. A word often attributed to a certain young heir.

“Maybe a bit reclusive?” You studied Alfred’s face, looking for any clues that you were onto something there. He blinked and cocked his head slightly, but you couldn’t tell if it was because he knew what you were getting at or that he was a bit baffled.

He pulled a chair out and sat on the edge of it, interested in the conversation. “You know, I always tried to figure out if the mask hid who he was, or if it let him be his true self,” he began. “And I still go between the two. But I think it’s both. His armor doesn’t just protect his body, it lets him pretend he’s more emotionally resilient than he is, too.”

He continued. “He’s very vulnerable underneath it. And I think he needs to learn to let himself be vulnerable, to at least one person. I think you’re a very smart young lady, and he hasn’t pushed you away yet. Maybe you could push him in that direction.”

You nodded and took in his words. A push to be vulnerable to you…

“I think I understand,” you said.

He stood up and bowed slightly. “I’ll give you some time to think. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you, miss.”

Was that confirmation that your theory was correct? But what you’d said was so simple and open-ended, and you could have taken his reaction in either way. It felt more like he was permitting you to pry for an answer from him. Maybe he wanted you to know, but couldn’t tell you himself with the position he’s in.

But what would he do with you when you found out? He could deny it no matter what name you said. Alfred seemed to acknowledge some mutual connection between you two, but it was still so early on. What if he turned you away and decided better of being with a woman like you like so many had done before? What if he pushed you away after all?

You tried to think about where you’d want to move to too, scrolling through rental listings in safer parts of the city and job openings that would let you keep your head low. You cleared notifications from clients asking when you’d be available with a sigh. You had no idea when you’d be back in the saddle or what that would look like. And if you were being completely honest with yourself, the thought of seeing someone would spoil the feeling of him that remained on your body, even if it was for work. And god, how the hell would you balance him and work?

It all felt so dependent on if he let you into his world. Both of them. You were a girl on a string, dangling in the air and blowing in the wind, preparing for the cords to be cut and praying you’d land on your feet. Or better yet, in his arms.

•••

Time moved by achingly slowly for him while he waited for the sun to begin its descent into the west and he’d see you again. He expected to feel so anxious he’d puke, but instead, he felt calm. He was still worried, sure, but he was level-headed. He realized more than ever how deprived he was now that he’d finally gotten what he needed so badly. You.

He expected Alfred to scold him for what he did, lecturing him on the way a gentleman should a lady, but he didn’t. He could tell by the look in his eye that he understood and that it was up to him to decide how to do this.

But he softened as soon as he stepped into your presence. He’d taken you selfishly, and he wanted this to be on your terms. The ball was in your court.

He did at least feel comfortable enough to be the one to start up your small conversations.

“How are you today?”

“I’m good,” you walked over to him as he tinkered with something on a workbench. “I think you have a new case though.”

He perked up. “What’s that?”

“Well,” you started, closing the distance between you and standing beside him, “I woke up this morning so sore that my legs barely worked. A brute like that is clearly dangerous. Maybe you could find him for me.”

“And what will you do when I find him?”

“Ask him when he’d like to do it again, I suppose.”

He couldn’t hide his grin as he worked away, and it was contagious. He was beaming with pride that your praises came genuinely with no initiation from him, satisfied that he pleased you with how hard it was to not focus solely on himself. The feeling of butterflies felt foreign in his stomach.

You bit your lip, remembering Alfred’s advice. You were hoping to find a point in the conversation where you could organically slip something in. You had to push him, but how hard?

Instead, he took the conversation in a completely different direction. “I was thinking… You said you liked to watch the sunrise. If tonight goes smoothly, maybe I could pick you up and take you somewhere.”

“Really?”

“It’s not right to keep you down here all day. Even flowers need fresh air and sunlight.”

It made you blush to think that you were a flower in his garden and not a weed he was waiting to pick the day you’d inevitably leave. It was a rare moment of flattery from him, too.

You agreed to it. And although you were worried you’d fall asleep, the anticipation of both being with him and catching a breath of fresh air was enough to keep you up until he roared back on his bike, grabbing his backpack and telling you to get on.

Chapter Text

You held onto his cape as you followed him up flights of a dark and dilapidated stairwell until you reached an opening at the top. You followed him to the edge, holding your dress down as a gust of wind whistled through the hollow bones of the building’s structure.

You had never been so high in the city before. You could see straight over every building, and the major skyscrapers were far enough away that they didn’t obstruct your view of the dim sky as it turned that blue-ish gray hue, waiting for the sun to peek up against the horizon and snuff it out. You tried to map it out in your mind, genuinely curious if you could see your apartment from here.

Carefully, you sat and scooted forward until you were close enough to the edge where all you had to do was lean forward to be able to see straight down. He threw his bag against a pillar and sat down next to you with his arms resting on his knees.

“It’s beautiful,” you remarked. “How did you find this place?”

“It’s good to know the city well.” Ah. Duh.

Maybe this was the beautiful city he saw in his mind, one that would turn gold as the dawn broke, even for just one moment before the clouds would cover it again. The far horizon was starting to turn purple, a sign that the sun would poke up soon.

You rested your tired head against his armored shoulder and gazed at it as it emerged, orange and yellow light reflecting off of the glass windows and silhouetting the skyline. You sighed at its beauty and the fact that this was your life, hidden away in such a tender moment with Gotham’s dark crusader.

He tried in vain to swallow the lump in his throat. He could keep you underground with him forever- he certainly had the power- but he knew the inevitable was fast approaching. A week would be up in just a few short days, and you’d be out of his grasp. Things would change.

He waited until the sun was fully visible before he spoke. “I know you’re going to decide where to go soon. Anywhere you see, it can be yours.”

He stared at the Wayne tower from where it was erected in the middle of his view. Anywhere.

You sighed and took your head off of him. It was an internal battle you struggled against every day since he kissed you, and even before that too. The constant longing to speak to him, to be with him, to be close to him in any way you could be. But this was unsustainable. You knew he knew that too. And maybe this was his way of letting you down with a fond memory to think about.

You could feel his eyes on you but you looked straight ahead, struggling with your own lump in your throat. You couldn’t tell him that you wanted to stay, because you didn’t want to stay in the cave where he worked. You wanted to stay with him, whoever he was.

But you know who he is. At least you’re pretty sure.

Alfred’s words play through your mind as you turn to face him, avoiding his eyes. His strong jaw, the smallest trace of stubble, his thin pink lips. The dark brown hair that was long enough for you to catch a glimpse of it while in the throes of passion.

You cupped his jaw in your hand and grazed your finger against the little cut that was healing on his cheekbone. He flinched away slightly when you ran it just under his cowl.

“I’m not going to take it off,” you whispered, “I don’t need to.” You could feel how tense he was but you leaned in to press your lips against his anyway. You rested your forehead against his and repeated the words, hoping he would understand. “I don’t need to…”

“Why not?”

“To know who you are…” you swallowed nervously before finishing the sentence, “…Master Wayne.”

You finally gathered the courage to look him in the eye, but there was nothing there. He didn’t move, didn’t even blink. Were you wrong? Or did you just ruin everything? He took a hold of your hand and removed it from his face. Was he pushing you away now like Alfred said he would?

“Bruce,” you whispered, barely even audible. He stood up slowly and walked a few paces away and stood with his back turned to you. “Bruce,” you said again, firmer this time, but couldn’t hide that it was a plea.

He took his time to gather himself and think of exactly what to say. He wanted you to know, but now he found himself completely unprepared for this conversation.

“How long,” he started, “have you thought that?”

He didn’t confirm it but he didn’t deny it either. “Since the day after…” you struggled to finish, so badly wanting to keep him here, to not let him run. “I saw a picture, and I saw your hair, and it clicked.”

You looked at you from behind his shoulder, fists clenched to hold his nerves tightly in them. Even in the morning light, he looked utterly menacing.

“And what if I wasn’t?” You blinked. “What if I was somebody else. What if I was nobody?”

“It wouldn’t matter.” You shook your head. Of all the thoughts that occupied your mind this past week, the question of who he was was low on the list. “I just want…” you struggled against the tears welling in your eyes.

He turned to face you on the ground, shaking your head, so small there beneath him. He felt like he was watching your heart bleed out in your hands right in front of him. He was happy you couldn’t see that he was doing the same.

“What do you want?”

Your tears broke free and you looked at him through them. ”You.”

He couldn’t keep the act up. He couldn’t be this stoic pillar of justice and fear in front of you, not after everything. He failed to keep himself from kissing you, failed to keep you at a distance, failed to not let himself become possessive, and failed to resist the urge to occupy your body. He even failed to give you a happy moment here with him to watch a simple sunrise. You were crying for him of all people. Because of him.

He could fail to keep his secret. He could fail at keeping his heart guarded. He could fail at everything the Batman had to do if it kept you with him. Because that’s what he wanted. It wouldn’t be a failure to Bruce Wayne.

And if it was what you wanted too, it wouldn’t be a failure at all.

He kneeled down in front of you and stroked your hair behind your ears. “Look back at the city,” he started. “I said you could live anywhere you want. So, where do you want to live?”

You looked back and blinked your tears from your eyes, trying to figure out what he meant. The city square, One Gotham Center, the Crystal Palace… your eyes finally landed on the one place that stood poignant above them all, the needle on top piercing through the clouds.

You said it aloud as you realized it. “Wayne Tower.”

When you looked back at him, your mouth fell open as his hands lifted the cowl from his head. Underneath it revealed messy brown hair and bright blue eyes that looked meekly into yours, with black kohl smudged around them.

He closed them as you sat in shock and silence, taking him in. You raised a hand to run your fingers into his hair. How badly you’d wanted to do that all this time, to hold him close by it as you kissed him…

And so you did. You crashed your lips into his, desperate to keep him there, even though you had no more reason to be. He held you to him, his tension being carried away by the breeze with each sweep of your tongue against his as you kissed him deeper.

He was here and he was yours. And he knew he’d keep you for as long as he possibly could, move your life into his home, and worry about figuring everything else out some other time. He didn’t have to fight against failure anymore, and without a mask, there was nothing else he would ever have to hide from you. He could keep you safe with him and he wouldn’t have to worry about you falling from his grasp.

You pulled back and took in the sight of his face again. It was so much different than in pictures, raw and stripped of the image he put on for the world. He was burdened and tired, yet tender and unstinting.

But it was true in every sense when you said you didn’t need him to take off the mask to know who he was, even if you never knew his name. You loved him for his truest self.

Bruce Wayne, the Batman, and everything else he encompassed.

The sun was high in the sky before you finally left each other’s arms.

“I have something else to show you.”

He excused himself to change into the plainsclothes in his bag and walked back down the stairs with you, hand in hand. He roared through the city with you gripping his back.

But this time, he took a different route than the one to the cave.

He parked on the street and held his hand out to help you off, and walked you to the front door, pressing the buzzer.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred said as he opened the door to the manor. “And the miss, too. Come inside.”

You walked in and squeezed his hand. You were home.