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Morning light slowly filtered into Bruce's room as he lazily opened his eyes, his bare back pressed against the mattress and warm skin.
He raised his head, weary, and was met with the lovely ghastly sight of Minhkhoa's uncovered face glancing down at him.
"Were you watching me sleep?" Bruce raised an eyebrow, and Khoa only shrugged, leaning his head back against the headboard. They were in the Haunt, where almost all of Khoa's possessions were an eye-splitting shade of bright white. Even the curtains.
Khoa's lips were in his usual smug half-smirk. Bruce wanted to either punch or kiss it off his lips. He settled for the latter, the action slow and lazy, as if in disbelief that he was still here. Khoa tasted like sleep, a fact that Bruce mumbled to the other man before laying his head back down.
"I was simply reminiscing. You still sleep the same way."
"Like a normal person?"
"Like a vampire, all prim and proper in the coffin," he huffed out. "Also, you never told me how you lost your hand."
Bruce smiled awkwardly, propping himself up into a seated position, blankets barely covering his skin. He raised his hand, the metal fingers moving as he picked at the spot where his nails would be.
"It's… complicated," he sighed, rubbing at his eye.
Khoa raised his eyebrows. "So? I still want to know."
"I was on another Earth," said Bruce, wondering if that would be enough to dissuade Khoa from further questioning.
The beat that passed between them indicated nothing of the like. In fact, the lack of further elaboration seemed to make Khoa more interested.
"You cut it off," Bruce coughed, and Khoa raised his eyebrows even higher.
"I think I'd remember doing that, Bruce," he said with a tinge of amusement.
Bruce rolled his eyes. "Not you. Other Earth you."
Khoa let out a small hum, that smug smile still on his lips. "So, what I'm hearing is that across multiple Earths, I'm still the one who can get the drop on you."
"Khoa!" groaned Bruce, but the man was already grinning and laughing, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Bruce couldn't help but smile.
It was always like that for Bruce when he was with Minhkhoa. When he uttered his name, it was with the same amount of reverence and devotion as the first time Khoa had let it be in his mouth.
If Bruce didn't know any better, he'd treat knowing Khoa's name like a privilege. But he also liked riling up the old bastard too much to grant him that. It didn't really make sense. It didn't need to.
Khoa's hand was running up and down Bruce's arm, the motion making him want to go back to sleep.
"C'mon," murmured Khoa, nudging Bruce in the side as he leant his head on Khoa's shoulder. "Let's get up. Shower. Have some actual food, and not just coffee."
Bruce shrugged, closing his eyes for a moment to bask in the warmth of the sun and Khoa's skin.
"You're warm," he hummed, yawning.
Khoa scoffed, lifting his hand from Bruce's arm to rake through his hair. "No, you're just perpetually cold, little bat."
"Fuck off," Bruce grumbled, opening his eyes and getting to his feet, stretching his back as he walked around Khoa's room.
The man only snorted in response, his eyes tracking Bruce's movements slowly. "Such profanity in the early hours of the day? My, my."
Bruce rolled his eyes, walking to the bathroom before brushing his teeth with the spare toothbrush that Khoa always had set out for him.
"Really, it's quite indecent, you know," continued Khoa as he brushed his lips against the curve of Bruce's neck, his breath fanning out slowly as he talked.
"Do you know what's indecent? Your teeth are not being brushed," replied Bruce, spitting into the sink and rinsing the toothpaste out of his mouth.
It was Khoa's turn to roll his eyes as he too began to brush his teeth, leaning against the counter and attempting to flex his biceps to Bruce in the process.
"You can stand normally, you know," he said, clearing his throat. Khoa shrugged, washing his mouth out after a few minutes so he could saunter over to Bruce, linking his arms over his shoulders.
"And you can wipe off your dramatic eyeliner from last night's patrol in the shower," replied the taller man.
"It's not dramatic."
Khoa snorted. "You can keep telling yourself that, hm?"
"I will," grumbled Bruce.
He rubbed his eye again, yawned, and stretched his aching back. Last night's patrol had taken a toll. That and the fight that he had with Khoa.
Getting body slammed into a brick wall shouldn't become a regular occurrence, Bruce thinks. Then again, he'd repeatedly told him that seeing Khoa shouldn't be one either.
The shower turned on; he stepped in and leant against Khoa. The water was warm. Khoa's hands ran through his unkempt hair. Bruce faintly smiled up at him. Comfortable silence ensued.
"You need a haircut," hummed Bruce as he washed off soap from his shoulder. Khoa coughed.
"My hair is fine," Khoa replied, tousling his dark hair.
Bruce shook his head. "It's turning into a mullet," he said, lightly yanking on one of the strands, eliciting an irritated groan from Khoa.
"So?"
"So, you're starting to look like you're one of my kids."
Khoa shrugged. "Eh, same same. You have too many kids; I don't even know which one you're talking about."
"Of course."
Bruce knew that Khoa knew who he was talking about. He also just liked to annoy him by pretending that he didn't know. It was a glaringly obvious fact to Bruce, and an endearing one nonetheless.
"I'm going to grow my hair out just to annoy you."
"No, you won't," Bruce murmured against Khoa's jaw.
"I'll grow it out so you have something to pull on, then."
Bruce laughed. "That's not any better."
"Yes, it is," said Khoa with a sly smile as he kissed the corner of Bruce's lips and linked his arms around his waist. "I'm going to dry off and make some food for us. You look malnourished."
He raised his eyebrows and stared at Khoa in mild disbelief.
"Malnourished?"
Khoa nodded solemnly. "All pale and thin. It's because you live in Gotham. Everything here is terrible."
"You were not calling me thin last night," Bruce huffed, crossing his arms in mock indignation.
Khoa shrugged, kissing Bruce's forehead. "Opinions change, hm?" With that, he promptly ruffled his wet hair and left the bathroom with a towel loosely wrapped around his waist.
It was terrifyingly easy to fall into domesticity with Khoa—or their version of it, at least. Patrol in the nights that faded into early morning, then hours spent hunched over details of a case or curled against each other in quiet sleep, and then afternoons that they treated as their mornings together.
It had started becoming a regular routine, something that shouldn't surprise Bruce as much as it did.
Bruce Wayne knew Minhkhoa Khan too well. He kept his knowledge of him in the cages of his aching ribs, nestled between his still-beating heart and the shuddering movements of his lungs.
He knew how Khoa complained about Bruce's lack of body warmth but didn't mind it anyway. He knew that the other man found some semblance of peace in silence but liked to listen to Bruce talk anyway. He and Khoa knew each other best, from the way Bruce knew that Khoa now preferred milder teas to coffee to how Khoa's jaw ticked either with frustration or amusement after being hit particularly hard.
Bruce stepped out of the shower, lightly drying his hair with a towel as he changed into some clothes that he'd taken from Khoa (a pair of shorts).
"Ah, sayang, you're back," called out Khoa from the kitchen counter as Bruce lazily made his way over. "You still have black on your eyes."
Bruce scoffed, coming to a stop behind Khoa, who was busy in front of the stove. "No, I don't."
"Coffee's behind you," Khoa said, the words rumbling against Bruce's chin as he tucked his head on Khoa's shoulder. A half-empty mug of tea was beside him, undoubtedly drunk by Khoa the moment the water was at boiling levels. The man always drank things when they were insanely hot.
Bruce murmured a word of acknowledgement, idly watching Khoa pour a ladle of clear broth into a bowl of thin noodles and meat.
"Eat," he said, gesturing to the bowl. Bruce nodded, closing his eyes and leaning against Khoa.
"I will. Just… give me a moment."
It was silent for a while—as silent as it could be in Gotham, even if they were in the Haunt. In the lapse of peace, Bruce could feel his own heart beat in accordance with Khoa's.
Slow, steady, alive.
As things tended to go with Khoa, it was soon disrupted.
"Bruce, darling, if you don't unclasp yourself from me to eat some food right this instant, I am going to force-feed you," said Khoa, his voice holding enough amusement for Bruce to know it wasn't a real threat.
With a sigh and an exaggerated roll of his eyes, Bruce pulled back and picked up the bowl, making a large show of eating his food. It was hearty, driving off any remnants of lingering sleep.
"Satisfied?" Bruce raised an eyebrow in Khoa's direction as he set the bowl down on the counter. There was still some left, nothing that Bruce would waste. He, or Khoa, would eat the rest later.
Khoa nodded, leaning against the counter. "Exceedingly," he mumbled into his cup of tea. "I can see your malnutrition fading."
"That's just the effect of being around the great Ghost-Maker," replied Bruce, moving in front of Khoa again so he could run his hand through the taller man's damp hair.
Khoa snorted. "Is that so?"
"Indeed. I think Gotham may actually be improving with your presence," teased Bruce, his smile widening as a laugh slipped from Khoa.
"Oh, Bruce," he laughed, shaking his head and caressing Bruce's cheek. "There's no saving this city."
There's no saving us, too.
Bruce shrugged again, leaning into Khoa's touch. His gaze, despite his words, was fond. "I don't care."
It was a message to both himself and Khoa.
Slotted between Khoa's legs, Bruce leant comfortably against Khoa's chest, his hand warm against the back of his neck.
"Sometimes," he began, his words soft. "I wish that you didn't hate Gotham."
"Sometimes?" Khoa's response was slow.
Bruce nodded, looking up at Khoa and those big brown eyes of his. He raised his eyebrows for a second before they returned back down.
Khoa took a breath, huffing it out in a soft laugh. "Oh Bruce, Bruce, my Bruce. What am I to do with you?"
Bruce laughed. "What am I supposed to do with you, Khoa?"
There was no answer needed. Bruce would never need an answer when Khoa's lips were on his, when the chatter in his head faded out because there was Khoa, in front of him, holding him, kissing him.
"You are-" Khoa pulled back to laugh, but Bruce pulled him back down. He didn't care for words right now.
"You can tell me what I am later," he mumbled against Khoa's skin. "For now, shut the fuck up."
Khoa obliged. He tasted like the honey in his tea. He still, faintly, tasted like sleep.
The food and coffee had long gone cold before Bruce and Khoa remembered about them.