Work Text:
Betty was in the doorway for a little over two minutes before Bruce noticed her. He straightened out of his meditative position on the floor, and she padded over, bare feet quiet on hardwood in the darkness. She sat down in front of him, folding her own legs to mimic his.
“Are you okay?” she asked softly. He nodded, then held out his wrist. She could see his heartbeat steadily dropping, evening out to a more normal level. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around his wrist, bringing it up to her mouth. She pressed her lips to his pulse point.
“That’s a little counterproductive,” he joked softly. She smiled and he stretched his fingers out, letting his palm cup the side of her head. She turned her face a little into his hand, the familiar scars and calluses raised slightly against her smooth skin.
“Bad dream?” She kissed the juncture of wrist and hand. He swiped his thumb under her eye.
“I’m good,” he promised. “Just needed to clear my head a little. You know how I get.”
“I do.” She reached up to tug at the skin of his forearm. “Want to head back to bed?”
“Sure,” he agreed, letting her help him to his feet before she guided him back to their bedroom, two pairs of feet quiet against the hardwood.