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Description
Warning: reference to possible sexual assault.
You don't have another conversation with Bruce the entire evening. He is extremely busy, surrounded constantly by other guests, and you have a feeling he is avoiding you anyway. You spare one last glance at him before you leave, hoping to catch his eye. You're being stupid, you know, but you can't seem to help yourself. There is something about Bruce that draws you to him. You slip on your coat and walk out, unaware of Bruce's eyes on you. You pull out your cellphone and call your friend, desperate to hear her opinion.
"Hey, (y/n)!" she answers. "How was the party? Did you meet Bruce?" She says this with a bit of mischievousness. You narrow your eyes as you walk down the street to your car.
"Yeah, um, you didn't warn me about him. You knew didn't you?" you accuse.
She giggles. "Yeah I might have known...." You roll your eyes.
"It was a boring party," you complain. "You better thank me for going. Besides the dress, I mean."
"Oh come on. Wasn't Bruce worth it?" she teases. You reach your car and pull out your keys.
"Maybe-" Just then, someone grabs you from behind, pressing their hand over your mouth to muffle your scream. You drop the phone and it smashes on the ground. You struggle, but the person is extremely strong. You are no wimp, but his grip is so tight, you can hardly move.
Lips press against your ear, nearly causing you to gag in horror.
"I told you you couldn't go until I was done with you," a eerily familiar voice whispers. Then a cold spreads through your body as you realize who it is. The man from the party. Why didn't you keep your eye on him?! You let Bruce distract you...
Frustrated, a tear slips down your cheek and you let out a whimper as the man tugs you away from your car.
"Hush hush," he says gently. "No crying." He tightens his grip on your waist and you squeal, renewing your struggle. It's no use. He pulls you into a dark alley. "This won't hurt. Much," he chuckles, turning you around. His fingers grab your zipper and are just about to tug, when he lets out a gasp, falling forward. You nearly topple under his weight as he collapses on you, but you stumble back in time. He falls to the ground with a loud smack. You are still in shock at what almost happened. It's a few seconds before you look up and see Bruce standing across from you.
"Hey, hey," he says, rushing toward you as you let out a shuddering breath. "It's okay."
He pulls you close and you let him, still staring at the man's unconscious body. "How-"
"Shhhh," Bruce rocks you side to side, rubbing your back. "It's okay," he repeats.
But you have to know. You push him away. "How did you do that?" you ask.
"I just knocked him out," Bruce explains. "I saw him following you after the party and-"
"No way. He's more than 6 feet tall!" you exclaim. Then your eyes widen. "You're Batman, aren't you?"
"What?" Bruce half-laughs. "You must be pretty spooked still. You're imagining things-"
"Don't tell me that," you say fiercely. Bruce turns serious.
"I'm not Batman. I was just in the right place, at the right time," he affirms. He's looking you intently in the eyes, as if warning you not to push it. You get the message.
"Okay," you whisper.
Bruce nods, pulling off his coat to drape it over your shoulders. That's when you realize the horrible man must have taken your coat off, because it's lying in the mud in the alley. A rush of terror runs through you again and you start shaking violently. So much so, you are unable to walk any further and your knees buckle. Bruce catches you before you collapse and he picks you up, cradling you in his arms. You bury your face in his neck, trying to push back tears. Bruce carries you to his car.
"I'm going to take you to my house. We can fix you up there, okay?" he rubs your back soothingly again and places you gently in the passenger seat. He looks at you a brief moment, then he closes the door and goes to the driver's side. It's a bumpy ride and you hardly pay attention for most of it. You vaguely remember Bruce calling the police and some man named Alfred. Mostly you stare blankly out the window. Finally, Bruce pulls up to a huge mansion. He picks you up again, carrying you to the door. It opens as soon as he reaches it, an older man ushering you in.
"I have a bed ready for her, Master Wayne," the man says.
"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce says quickly, hurrying up the stairs. "I think she's just in shock."
Alfred follows behind, gesturing to a bedroom near the top of the stairs. "I fixed a hot bath for her as well."
Bruce nods. "That's all I need, Alfred."
"Yes, Master Wayne," Alfred replies, shutting the bedroom door quietly behind him as he leaves.
Bruce sits you on the bed, walking to another door in the room. He disappears for a moment, returning shortly.
He kneels in front of you, peering up at you in concern. "Are you alright?"
It takes a moment to register what he says. "No," you say softly. Maybe you are overreacting, but for some reason you just can't make yourself stop shaking. You hold your hands out in front of you. "I can't stop," you say frantically.
Bruce grabs your hands, holding them steady. "It's okay. It's normal." His warm hands and soothing voice makes you feel a little calmer.
You meet his brown eyes. He smiles faintly. "Let's get you into the hot bath. You'll feel better."
You nod, though a million questions are going through your head. How does he deal with this everyday? How could anyone want to stop Batman? What must his life be like? Bruce leads you to the bathroom and asks you if you'll be okay. You nod again and he closes the door, saying he'll be downstairs with some food for you.
You slip into the hot tub. You sit there for a moment, not doing anything. Then flashes of the man attacking you come back. Your heart starts beating and the shaking returns ten fold. You grab the soap and frantically scrub your arms, your neck, your waist, anywhere the man touched you. Your skin starts to turn raw and yet you still keep scrubbing. A knock sounds on the door, but you don't answer. Bruce bursts into the room, rushing over to you. He grabs the soap from you, clutching your arms still. You try to fight. Bruce whispers soothing words until you stop. Your chest is heaving. What's happening to you? Bruce pushes your wet hair back from your face. "Shh....you can cry. It'll make you feel better. Just let it out," he says softly. At his words you feel something break free in your chest and you let out a sob. Soon, it leads to multiple and then you are bawling. Bruce pulls you to the edge of the tub, holding you tight in his arms. You're getting his shirt sopped, but he doesn't seem to care.
He rocks you gently as you cry. "It's okay, it's okay," he says in your ear over and over. After a long time your tears subside and you pull away, glancing at his shirt.
"I'm sorry," you murmur. Bruce doesn't even look at his shirt.
"Don't worry about it," he dismisses it quickly. He's still in his dress shirt, though his tie and jacket are gone and the top few buttons are undone.
You blush, realizing you're naked in the tub. You glance down.
"Um..."
Bruce smiles, getting the hint. "I'll leave you to dry off. I'll be right outside, though." He shuts the door behind him once again.
You shakily stand up and dry off. You see a pair of sweats on the bathroom counter and you slip them on, reveling in the soft fabric.
You notice something red on your arm and you glance down. One of your arms is bleeding from your scrubbing. You open the bathroom door, sticking your head out. Bruce is standing by the bed, hands shoved into his pockets, chewing his bottom lip. When you open the door, he whips his head up.
"Uh- do you have a bandaid kit or something?" you ask awkwardly. Bruce nods, walking forward. You step back from the door and he comes in, grabbing a kit from the closet. He turns to you.
"Where are you hurt?" he asks, not handing you the kit even though you reach for it.
"Um.....you don't have to," you say.
"Where?" Bruce repeats. You show him your arm and he encases it in his hands, leading you to the sink. You watch as he cleans it and puts medicine and a bandage on the cuts. You glance up at him as he works. He's staring intently at your arm, treating your injury with the utmost care.
"Thank you, Bruce," you say softly. He looks up and smiles.
"Don't thank me," he says.
"You do this for girls a lot?" you ask teasingly, but your voice is still shaking so it doesn't come out as jokingly as you wanted.
Bruce grins at you, patting the bandage over your arm and then keeping his hand there. "Only beautiful women."
You grin too. "I bet you say that to all the women," you reply, going along with Bruce, reenacting your conversation from the fundraiser.
"Only to you," he says, though this time it's different. He says it so seriously. Your stomach flutters and you break eye contact with him, pulling your arm away and rubbing the bandage.
"Thank you," you say again, not continuing what you said before.
"Of course," Bruce says, pulling back. He seems disappointed, but he doesn't say anything further about it. "Alfred prepared a small meal for you, if you feel like eating."
You swallow. "That's really nice, but I think I'd rather just sleep now."
Bruce nods. "Goodnight, (y/n). I'll see you in the morning."
You nod too. "Night Bruce." Bruce leaves and you stand watching the door for a moment. You almost wish he would come back in, taking you in his arms and kiss you. You shake your head. How silly of you. You crawl under the thick bed sheets, moaning at how wonderful they feel. You are soon asleep.

You toss and turn restlessly, dreaming about the man from earlier. You jolt awake. You're shaking once again. You rub your hands over your face, brushing back the hair and sweat. Then you slip out of the covers, heading out the door and down the stairs. You see a soft light coming from an archway and you head toward it. It's the kitchen. A nice fire is going in a fire place and wicker chairs are set up next to it. You walk toward them, hoping the fire will make you feel better. Then you notice someone is sitting in one of the chairs. Bruce. You try to back up quickly, but he sees you.
"(y/n)," he says. "Nightmares?"
You pause. "How did you-"
Bruce shrugs. "I have them too. I often come down here."
Curious, you sit into the chair next to him. The firelight dances across his features and your heart beats a little faster. He's beautiful.
He's dressed in a t-shirt and sweat pants, much like your own. You realize he must have lent you his clothes. You flush slightly at the thought.
He's also holding a book in his hands. You nod toward it.
"What are you reading?" you ask.
Bruce glances at the book, seemingly forgetting he even had it. "War and Peace," he answers. "It puts me to sleep," he chuckles.
You laugh. "I use it for that too," you admit. Bruce glances at you sideways, smiling.
You stay quiet for a few minutes, enjoying the fire and each other's presence.
Then Bruce turns somber. "Will you be alright?"
You shift in your seat, turning toward him. "I will. It's just..." you shrug.
"I know," Bruce says, shifting toward you too. His eyes are filled with sympathy.
"Bruce, I don't deserve your sympathy. You need it more than I do," you say.
Bruce furrows his brow, confused for a moment. Then he laughs dryly. "Oh yes...I forgot you figured it out."
"It wasn't hard. I knew at the fundraiser you weren't who you were trying to be," you tilt your head, frowning.
Bruce sighs. "I fool everyone else."
You shrug. "I'm not everyone else." Bruce meets your eyes. He leans forward, so he's inches from you.
"No," he says quietly. "You're not." You stare into his eyes, made darker from the shadows surrounding the fireplace. Then he breeches the distance. The fire shifts and flares next to you as you both kiss, gently at first, then with more eagerness.
He lifts his hand up to cup your jaw, angling your head to better press his lips against yours. His lips are rough but move sweetly against yours and you sigh, parting your lips slightly. You see the fire dance across your closed eyelids and you press closer to Bruce, slipping your fingers into his thick hair. He slips his tongue against your lips and the kiss turns hotter. He reaches for your hips and picks you up, shifting you onto his lap. You wrap your hands around his neck and your legs around his waist. He hands slip from your waist, up your shirt, causing it to bunch around his hands and you feel the heat from the fire hit your exposed skin. Soon his shirt is on the floor. He breaks away to kiss your neck, rubbing his hands up and down your sides.
You pull him away from your neck and kiss his lips again, lightly this time. Then you press your foreheads together, breathing deeply.
You draw back and encase his face in your hands, beaming at him. He returns your smile, rubbing his thumb along your hip.
You kiss his cheekbone, then his nose, his jaw, his eyelids, pressing one long kiss to his forehead. "I think you're amazing, Bruce. As you are," you murmur against his skin.
He pulls you back down to his lips, kissing you harder and deeper than before. When it ends he says, "I don't want to do this with any beautiful woman. Only you."
You grin, hugging him tightly, your horrible experience and nightmares pushed far from your mind.