Chapter Text
Bruce pocketed the painkillers in his long jacket and strolled out of the grocery store, face mask firmly in place.
He hadn't bothered with much more in the way of disguises tonight. It was late, he was currently in Metropolis of all places, staying at Clark's apartment after a mission gone wrong, and the painkillers weren't for him, but for his ridiculous friend who was unconscious. With Lois abroad, Bruce thought it was a wonder Clark remembered to buy food.
"Just because you don't usually need it,” he had told the delirious man who had been hit by the worst end of a spell from a wizard Zatanna had later taken care of, "doesn't mean that you shouldn't have it."
Of course, Bruce could have transported Clark to the Manor, where he had all the supplies, but seeing how close they had been to his friend's apartment, it felt more practical to simply slip a face mask on and head over to a store.
Now, seeing you in the parking lot with your swollen middle, poorly attempting to carry handfuls worth of heavy products to your vehicle a minute's walk away, Bruce wondered what would've happened had he not been here.
Hn.
How should he word this?
"Excuse me," Bruce raised his voice once he was at an acceptable distance and had thought it through, keeping his tone level but light enough that the words carried over the space.
You didn't turn around immediately, as though you hadn't believed he had been calling for you. So, Bruce repeated himself, slightly louder this time.
"Excuse me, ma'am?"
That was when you turned to face him, and despite his eyesight not being as it used to be, he was sure you were dazzling under the street lights. Glowing with an energy so bright it illuminated your features in a way he couldn’t quite describe. You had to be in his age range, and yet you were so full of life, literally and spiritually. Bruce was momentarily taken aback by how alluring the sight of you was now that he could see you better.
"Yes?"
"Sorry, I," Bruce's brain took a moment to kick back into gear. "I couldn't help but notice you across the parking lot. I was wondering...if you needed help?"
Your eyes poured over him, cold and methodical, as though trying to detect any ulterior motives, but he had none other than what was said.
"I suppose I wouldn't mind some..." You admitted, half alert, half relieved. "If you're offering."
"I am."
"Then please."
With your permission, Bruce closed the distance and took the bags. Neither of you spoke as both of you made your way to your car until he gestured for you to open the boot.
You didn't.
“Thank you, but I can take it from here.”
“No,” Bruce frowned. What kind of gentleman would he be if he let you finish his job for him? “Allow me.”
“I’m...I don’t think that is necessary.”
But. “I insist.”
You watched him, still eyeing him with both kindness and suspicion.
"...How can I be sure that you don't want something else out of this?" You eventually asked, and Bruce would have thought you were from Gotham had your accent not been so different to his. He supposed you had more than just yourself to protect, he understood. "I have nothing against you, but it’s late. We’re essentially alone. What if you're here to – I don't know – take my stuff, push me to the ground, and use my car for a bank heist?"
"A bank heist," Bruce repeated, a little incredulous. "That would be impractical. I could have simply stolen your things from where you were standing if I needed money."
"Maybe you didn't because you are luring me into a fake sense of security, so that I will hand you my car keys without any protest later," you replied. "Maybe you have a heart and you don't want to push a pregnant woman down to get what you want."
"Or maybe I have a heart, and I simply wanted to help you. Maybe you think too much," Bruce said, and it was admittedly odd to be the person on the other end of this accusation. Hypocritical even. He didn’t want to come across as overly critical. "But I'm not one to talk. I was analysing all of the ways I could approach you, so I came across the most natural."
You raised an intrigued eyebrow. "So this was premeditated?"
"Premeditated," Bruce huffed, unable to stop his amusement coming through. "You say that as though I have committed a crime."
"Haven't you?"
Bruce stepped closer once he had confirmed your ring finger was empty. "Unless you count talking to beautiful women a crime. In which case, yes, I am guilty."
You paused, a smile creeping into your expression. "You're a flatterer."
"I try."
The final part of your reservations seemed to thaw away then. The bright light of your gleaming soul melted your reasonable apprehension as you opened your boot, and he began to load it.
"...So, you really just came over to help me?"
"Yes," Bruce grunted, neatly slotting the grocery bags inside.
You hummed, leaning on the side of your car, hand absentmindedly rubbing your stomach. "I appreciate that. I am pretty exhausted, as you could probably tell, so this has helped."
"No problem."
"Oh, I'm sure it wasn't a problem for you,” Bruce could practically feel your smile growing. “It seems like you work out."
"Occasionally."
"I think it's more than occasionally," you pondered aloud, eyes darting across his body and what was exposed of his face from beneath the mask. "Although you were clearly born with good genes..."
"What are you implying?" Bruce queried as he finished his task, turning to give you his full attention once more.
"I don't think I'm implying anything," you leaned back off the car to steady your weight, and he had never wanted to lift someone into his arms so much. "You are quite possibly the most handsome man I've ever seen, and I have yet to see the bottom half of your face."
Bruce's breaths came out a little heavier, lips tugging at the corners.
"What if I look like a troll underneath this mask?"
You replied softly without a beat. "Well, then you'd be the most handsome troll I have ever seen."
"How inclusive," Bruce was smiling now. It came easily in this moment outside the grocery store. Easier than it should have.
"Oh, shut it," you chuckled just as readily, but it was different. He could tell that you were growing uncomfortable – physically, that was – and it unnerved him.
It was a primal feeling that overwhelmed him then, the pulsing desire to soothe your discomforts and protect you even if you weren't carrying his baby. That feeling made Bruce want to reach out so he could see up close just how clever you were, how elegantly you carried yourself, how strong you were to struggle with the mundane when someone should have been dealing with such things for you. Someone should have been taking care of you.
Bruce could—
Now that he knew how brilliant you were without caution in the way, he found that he wanted to protect you during the rest of your pregnancy.
No.
Bruce clenched his jaw, studying you who had stepped into his life and momentarily blinded him. "I guess I should be going now."
"That makes sense. Thank you for your help."
That was a ridiculous idea.
"Hn," Bruce paused, soaking the last of you in before turning his back to you never to see you agai—
"Could I—?" You started, and it was the first time in a long time that he was surprised by anything. "Would it be possible to see you again?"
But then you took a step towards him.
Bruce's mind instantly conjured up a vision of you beside him in a theatre, across from him on his dining table, below him in a hospital bed, holding out a baby that wasn't his but was half of you and oh so beautiful for it and could not believe how much he wanted that with someone he knew absolutely nothing about.
Yet it felt right.
"In a parking lot?" Bruce finally mumbled.
"I’d rather go to dinner," you pulled out your phone, just as quietly.
Bruce found he couldn't help but be a smidge glad his friend had been hexed, just this one time, smiling as he suggested. “I’ll make us a reservation.”
"Perfect," you beamed.