Work Text:
Alfred often brought up the oxygen mask metaphor. The one about being on a turbulent airplane when the oxygen masks drop down and securing your own mask before helping anyone else, to ensure you could provide that help. The principle was solid, but…
But Bruce had trained to increase his endurance, to operate on minimal sleep, to persevere through exhaustion. That increase in time, in addition to his unique resources and skills, couldn't be wasted when open cases were waiting. There were always cases waiting, the issues that had to be left to linger when someone was actively laying siege to the city.
Batman could head back to the cave and prioritize them, now that Polka-Dot Man was finally in the GCPD lock-up.
But as the batmobile rolled down the ramp, he could see some kind of structure had been built opposite the computer on the main platform. He stopped the car in its spot and turned it off. When he got out, his eyes locked back onto the… tent?
"John?" Bruce called out, because it was obvious who was responsible, even if the tent's exterior wasn't covered with smiley faces and bats, drawn with sparkly puffy paint.
The hum of the elevator across the cave joined the echoes of his voice. As Bruce ascended the steps to the computer, the platform descended into the view, and there was John.
"Oh no!" John exclaimed anxiously. He was wearing pajamas– a purple t-shirt and yellow pants with black bats– and held a large cardboard box. "You're back thirty seconds early!"
"What is this?" Bruce asked, walking closer to the tent.
"No no no!" John said, stamping his foot to get Bruce's attention. "Just wait. Waaaiiiiiit!"
Bruce sighed and took a step back. He kept his eyes up on John. "Okay, just don't–"
The elevator was still five feet from landing when John jumped off onto the suspended floor with a metallic thud.
Sighing again, Bruce hit the releases for his cowl and pulled it off. "You know I hate it when you do that," he said, tiredly running his gloved fingers through his hair. "Especially in slippers."
John hurried up with the box. "Sorry, sorry," he said, setting it on the floor before trotting over to Bruce and taking the cowl. "Allow me!"
"I'm sure you planned some fun, but I need this space to work."
John tsked as he set the helmet on top of the batsuit dummy. "Oh no no. You know what they say about all work and no play." He came back and started detaching the cape.
Bruce watched over his left shoulder. "We 'play' quite a bit."
John paused to giggle against Bruce's back. "Hee, we do, but uh, not that I'm not satisfied"– he continued to Bruce's right– "and not to make this about me, but it is one of your signs of burnout when you can't stay awake to cuddle."
Bruce shot him a smirk. "Maybe you should be proud of how well you wear me out."
Cape in hand, John came around and tapped Bruce's nose. "I would be, if it weren't for how you also flung your batcuffs at that mugger instead of a batarang, and how you nearly wore mismatched shoes to the office."
Bruce watched him affix the cape to the dummy. "I'm fine."
"Uh huh. Look!" John pulled him forward by both hands. "I've made us our own cave within a cave!"
Bruce must have been tired to only then realize he wasn't looking at a tent, but a blanket fort. The centerpiece was an olive green cabriole sofa, with velvety upholstery and short spindly legs, that he recognized from an upstairs sitting room. John had also collected four standing lamps from throughout the house; two with tasseled shades were placed a couple feet in front of the sofa, wide apart, and the second pair with stained glass shades on swinging arms stood just behind the rounded back. The lamps held up a slightly sagging pink quilt, lengthened with sage green sheets that John had attached with clips on the back and sides. The side sheets draped down over stacked ladderback chairs– likely from an old dining set in the attic– positioned wider than the tasseled lamps to give the fort more space. John had enough room to fit two ottomans in front and small tables on either side of the sofa. The swing-arm lamps glowed softly over each seat, adding a warm light to several stuffed pillows and the softest-looking blanket.
When Alfred got back from his trip, he'd have a heart attack that so many antiques had been dragged down here, not to mention that even if the puffy paint was peelable, it would likely leave stains on the bedding. But Bruce's main thought was, for being set up in a chilly cave on a metal floor, the fort looked downright cozy. His muscles ached.
"Why didn't you build this upstairs?" he asked.
"Uh, because of the biggest widescreen we have!" John laughed, gesturing to the batcomputer. "I put the streaming app on it two days ago and you never noticed. Another sign of burnout."
That was a problem, not noticing a foreign application on his own computer. How did John do it without triggering the anticorruption software?
"I know what you're thinking," John said, "and maybe I'll tell you in exchange for some good ol' R-and-R!"
Bruce hesitated. "I should really… I'm not that…"
"You're just that!" John dragged over the cardboard box and pulled out some clothing. "Here's your comfiest t-shirt and lounge pants."
Bruce couldn't feel the soft material through his gloves, but just looking at it made the armor feel tighter and more restricting. He started to take off the rest of the suit. "Just for a little while," he conceded.
"Yessss!" John said with a fist pump.
When Bruce returned to the fort in his pajamas, John had everything ready. The side tables were now laden with snacks and drinks that made it clear whose side was whose: corn chips and chocolate caramels with orange soda on John's side, trail mix and peanut butter pretzels with black cherry seltzer on Bruce's. John waited in his seat with the blanket in his lap and a big bowl of buttery popcorn.
"You really thought of everything," Bruce chuckled.
John nodded, then tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Though if you're hungry-hungry, I can run back up and make–"
Bruce ducked under the quilt and kissed him on the cheek. "You stay right here," he said, sitting down and slinging an arm around John's shoulders.
John beamed and snuggled close. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Bruce's phone, bringing up the app controls. The batcomputer's screen lit up with movie selections.
"I thought some romcoms would be just the thing to wind down from another wild night. What looks good? There's Marley and Me… Serendipity… Jerry Maguire…"
Bruce plucked a piece of popcorn and popped it into his mouth. "How about Serendipity? Says it has a sense of humor right in the tagline. That's good for you."
"They're romcoms," John said, flipping back. "They all have…" He looked at the play button. Instead of "watch now," it said "watch again."
Bruce stared at it, too. "Oh, so you've–"
John swatted his chest with the phone. "You know I've never watched this, you big sap." He giggled and searched the screen. "Will it tell me how many times–"
"Just get on with it."
"Wow, that many?"
Bruce grabbed the phone. "It's pretty good."
"Oh, wait, don't play yet!" John exclaimed, setting the popcorn on Bruce's lap and leaning over the side of the sofa. He reached under the table and pulled out a familiar stuffed animal. "Somebody is joining us!"
Bruce snorted as the bat kissed his cheek, with a smooching sound from John. "Hello, Bela."
"He wants to help you relax, too. Give him a hug."
Bruce lifted an eyebrow. "John, I'm not–"
"He's a furry little stress ball!" John pressed Bela into the center of Bruce's chest and took the phone back. "Come on."
Bruce held the plush against him. He couldn't deny the softness felt nice. He put up his feet. "Lights: level three," he said loudly, and the cave dimmed.
John flicked off the lamps over their heads, then tucked his legs to the side and leaned into Bruce. He set the popcorn bowl on his ottoman to pull the blanket over them, then picked it back up. "Okay, now we're ready," he said, starting the movie.
Bela eventually ended up sitting between the two of them, so Bruce could keep his arm around John and have a hand free to eat and drink, though John fed him plenty of popcorn. John did enjoy the movie a lot, finding himself swept up in the final act when said serendipity signaled the leads to find each other. He looked to Bruce with wonderstruck gasps, and Bruce chuckled and held him a little closer– and of course, at the very end, Bruce tipped John's head so they could share their own soft, spellbinding kiss.
He tweaked John's chin when they separated. "Thank you for setting all this up," he said. "I needed a recharge more than I thought."
John felt so flushed and pleased, he couldn't help but wiggle a little. "Glad to help, buddy."
"How about you pick the next one?" Bruce suggested.
"Sure!" John replied happily, not because he had anything in mind, but because Bruce looked so relaxed. Eyes half-shut, he'd practically melted into the sofa, his arm still comfortably molded to John.
So it was no surprise that ten minutes into the next movie, John turned his head to find that Bruce had fallen asleep, head lolling back. John smiled and turned the sound way down, low enough that he could hear the squeaks of the bats and the deep, even breaths of the man beside him. He rested his head on Bruce's shoulder and closed his eyes, watching the light from the screen play on the backs of his eyelids until it transformed into another love story, one he knew by heart.