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Selina found Bruce in their room after patrol, sitting on the bed with his head in his hands. He didn’t even look up when she came in.
Selina knew that it had been a long week for Bruce. A long month. A long year.
Oh, who is she kidding? Bruce has had a long life since he was eight years old.
But, the past couple of weeks have been a test to everyone’s patience.
Jason and Tim had both been benched for the foreseeable future. Jason was taken out of commission by a lucky shot to the thigh from one of Black Mask’s men last week. Tim took a dip in the filthy Gotham harbor that has been wreaking havoc on his compromised immune system for the past few days.
Selina isn’t sure what type of witchcraft he uses, but Alfred managed to guilt both of them into staying at the manor until they recover. Unfortunately, Alfred’s magic doesn’t extend to making the boys happy about it.
Apparently, vigilantes are not meant to be caged. Those two have been alternating between picking fights, trying to sneak into the Batcave, and sulking in various nooks in the manor when they get caught.
Dick came over two days ago to help. Mainly by keeping Damian occupied so he’ll stop antagonizing Jason and Tim and to keep him supervised as robin.
Duke and Cass have been picking up the slack on patrols. Cass took over crime alley for Jason while Duke extended his day patrol to watch over Tim’s territory until Bruce could take over for the night.
Selina has been flitting from one person to the next trying to provide any sort of comfort and attention she can. She knew what she was getting into when she married Bruce, but even she is surprised at the stagnant tension in the manor.
And Bruce, the man who thinks the world rests on his shoulders, has been stretching himself thin trying to accommodate all of his children while getting the worst of their tempers as well.
Selina leans on the doorframe as she observes her husband. His hair is greasy and hangs in his eyes. He was supposed to get it cut this weekend but missed his appointment. He has dirt smudged on his cheek, though Selina can hardly see it past the three-day-old scruff. The lines in his forehead are more pronounced than usual. As are the bags under his eyes.
“You okay?“ she questions uselessly. She already knows the answer.
Bruce hums but doesn’t acknowledge her further. She glides over to the bed and sits gently next to him. The silence settles over both of them. Not exactly comfortable but not oppressive either.
When Bruce is ready, he lifts his head from his hands and looks at Selina. His eyes searched her face for something. She puts extra effort into making her face as unreadable as possible.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admits softly, “I feel like I’m messing up with all of them.”
He looks at her like he’s begging her to tell him what to do. Like she's not just as lost as he is.
Selina knew what she was getting into when she agreed to marry Bruce. She was prepared for all his neuroticisms, his know-it-all personality, his inability to let things go—and yes—the 7 vigilante children that each have their own quirks and needs and differences. Selina knew all this and walked into it happily. She also knew that there would be times when she wouldn’t know anything.
Now was one of those times. She had no answers or advice that would truly help. All she could think to do was allow him the space to rest. A place to retreat where the stresses of the day aren’t allowed.
“Get up,” she says while grabbing his hands, “Follow me,”
“Lina?” Bruce not quite whines as he lets her drag him.
Selina only looks over her shoulder and smiled mischievously.
They end up in the third family room. It has couches with tall backs and a variety of blankets and pillows. It’s the best room to quietly coexist with one another. It’s also one of the few rooms in the manor with an unspoken “leave the drama at the door” rule.
Selina immediately grabs the biggest blanket and hands one corner to Bruce, “Help me with this.”
Together, they drape the blanket over the couch back. Selina then drags one armchair to a few feet in front of the couch. Bruce, taking silent cues from his wife, drags the other. They drape the other end of the blanket over the armchairs so it creates a small cave.
“Get more pillows and blankets then get inside,” Selina gently commands, “I’ll be right back.”
By the time Selina returns Bruce is inside the fort with the pillow arranged across the floor.
“It looks perfect,” she compliments.
“This isn’t structurally sound at all,” he grumbles. “What’s the point of this?”
“To hide,” Selina says then displays what she left to get, “and drink.”
It’s a half-full bottle of 1934 single-barrel malt whiskey. One shot of it is worth the same as Selina’s first apartment’s rent.
“Selina,” Bruce sighs. No doubt because Bruce thinks taking time for himself is the most selfish act he could commit.
“Bruce, the kids are asleep. The city is asleep. You should be asleep. For one night, take a break, darling.” Despite Selina’s pleading tone, Bruce still has that stubborn look she loves and hates in equal measure. “No one can find us here,” She adds, like a promise.
It’s only after she’s given her proposition that she realizes she needs this respite just as much as Bruce does.
Bruce must see it too. Instead of answering he takes a deep pull of the liquor before handing it back to Selina. He waits for Selina to drink then places a gentle kiss on her lips. It only lasts a few seconds but Selina feels her shoulders relax at the same time she feels the same tension leave Bruce’s muscles. The promise of a night to themselves doing more to relax them than the drink ever could.
“So, dear, what do you want to do with the rest of our night?” Selina asks coyly.
“Selina, my love,” Bruce smiles, “I want to sleep.”
——————
By the time Selina woke up the house was quiet and the dawn sun was gently streaming in through the thin sheets of their shelter.
Bruce was still sleeping soundly. His head was on a decorative pillow, the sewn pattern leaving red indents in his cheek. Selina debated waking him to move back to their comfy bed when she heard shuffling from outside the blanket fort.
Peeking her head out revealed several trespassers. Scattered around the floor of the family room were the very same seven black-haired hellions the blanket fort was made to protect against.
Of course, they all looked absolutely angelic now, Selina thought with a snort.
“Bruce,” she nudged him with her foot and was rewarded with a grumble. “We have some guests. Look.”
Bruce shuffled within the fort, army crawling his way to the opening. He blearily watched his children snoozing away in the dim dawn light.
“Looks like you did okay by them after all,” Selina whispered.
“Hm.”
“They look like perfect little angels like this.”
“Hm.”
Selina watched Bruce closely. He wasn’t smiling but his eyes were lidded and relaxed and he looked the most content Selina had seen him since the night after their wedding. Happy that his whole family was safe and together. Of course, after this hell week, Selina didn’t think she could just let them be.
Selina nudged Bruce again with a smile, “Do you want to draw on their faces?”
“That's juvenile,” Bruce deadpanned. Selina waited a moment more.
“I’ll get the markers.”