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The crystal chandeliers of the Gotham Royal Hotel vibrated with the sound of string quartets and the polite clinking of champagne flutes. Bruce Wayne, looking effortlessly handsome in a Tom Ford tuxedo, was currently perfecting his "bored billionaire" expression.
Behind him, Dick Grayson—stepping in as Batman for the night to ensure the Dark Knight and the Billionaire were seen in the same room—was perched on a decorative gargoyle just outside the ballroom’s skylight, waiting for his cue.
Damian, in full Robin regalia, was crouched beside him, vibrating with a lethal sort of impatience.
"Remember, Damian," Dick whispered into the comms. "We enter, we secure the perimeter, we let the GCPD handle the small fry. Bruce is 'civilian' tonight. Don't make it weird."
"I do not take orders from the circus act," Damian hissed back.
Suddenly, the doors didn't just open; they exploded.
The Riddler, flanked by a dozen goons in neon-green suits, stepped into the ballroom. "Riddle me this, Gotham! What has a hundred guests, zero exits, and a very short fuse?"
Bruce Wayne sighed, subtly setting his champagne glass on a passing waiter’s tray. He looked toward the skylight. Now, Dick.
The glass shattered. Batman and Robin plummeted into the room on grappling lines. The crowd gasped, but they didn't run—they were Gothamites; they stayed to watch the show.
"Batman! Thank God!" a socialite shrieked.
Dick landed gracefully, his cape billowing. "Everyone, stay calm! Robin, get the civilians to the East Exit. Now!"
Damian didn't even look at him. He drew a katana. "Nonsense. The Riddler’s neck is within reach. I shall end this farce."
"Robin, stand down! That’s an order!" Dick shouted, his 'Batman' voice cracking slightly into a more frantic, brotherly tone.
Damian lunged forward, ignoring the exit entirely. He slammed into three goons, but the Riddler pulled out a modified sonic emitter. "Ah, the little bird wants to play? Let’s see how you handle—"
Bruce Wayne saw the device. He knew Dick was too far away to stop the blast, and Damian was too arrogant to duck. Bruce didn't think. He broke character.
Bruce sprinted across the dance floor with a speed no "playboy" should possess. He tackled Damian out of the way just as a wave of sonic energy pulverized the wall behind them.
"What are you doing?!" Dick (Batman) yelled, dropping down beside them.
"He’s a child!" Bruce snapped, standing up and dusting off his tuxedo, his eyes flashing with the terrifying intensity of the actual Batman. "He was about to get his eardrums ruptured because you didn't have him under control!"
Dick, stressed and sweating under the heavy cowl, put his hands on his hips. "I told him to go to the exit! Maybe if you didn't spoil him, he’d listen to the mission parameters!"
The Riddler blinked, holding his sonic emitter. "Uh... hello? I'm still robbing the place?"
"Shut up, Edward!" Bruce and Batman shouted in unison.
The crowd gasped. Bruce Wayne, the billionaire, was currently nose-to-nose with Batman.
"You're being reckless with his safety," Bruce hissed, pointing a finger at Batman’s chest. "If you can't lead a partner, you shouldn't have one."
"Me?!" Dick’s voice went up an octave. "I’m the one doing the work here! You’re just standing around looking pretty and judging my technique! Why don't you go back to your caviar and let the professionals handle the 'scary' stuff?"
"I am perfectly capable of handling myself," Bruce growled, stepping closer into Batman’s personal space.
Damian rolled his eyes, kicking a goon in the face. "You both look like fools. Stop flirting and assist me."
"WE ARE NOT FLIRTING!" Dick yelled.
The socialites in the front row began whispering furiously. “Did you see that tension?” “The way Bruce touched his cape!” “It’s definitely a domestic dispute.”
Bruce realized the cameras were on them. He had to pivot. He grabbed Batman by the shoulders—which looked incredibly intimate—and leaned in close. "Fix this," he whispered. "Or you're grounded."
"You can't ground Batman!" Dick whispered back, scandalized.
Bruce turned to the crowd, putting on a fake, shaky smile. "I'm sorry, everyone. Batman and I... we just have very different ideas about... protection. Don't we, darling—I mean, Dark Knight?"
The Riddler threw his hands up. "I'm leaving. This is awkward. You guys have issues."
The villain literally walked out the back door. Nobody stopped him. Every phone in the room was pointed at Bruce Wayne and Batman, who were still standing entirely too close to each other, breathing heavily.
The Morning After
The next morning, the Gotham Gazette didn’t lead with "Riddler Escapes Gala."
The headline, in 72-point font, read: A TALL, DARK, AND BROODING ROMANCE? Wayne and Batman’s Public Spat Sparks Relationship Rumors.
Below it was a high-resolution photo of Bruce holding Batman’s shoulders, their faces inches apart, with the caption: “A lovers' quarrel or a billionaire’s obsession? Sources say the tension was ‘electric.’”
In the Batcave, the atmosphere was thick with silence—until the elevator opened.
Jason Todd walked out, holding three different newspapers and a box of donuts. He was wearing a shirt that said I Survived the Wayne/Bat Breakup of 2024.
"Morning, lovebirds," Jason chirped, tossing a paper onto the surgical table where Bruce was brooding. "I brought the wedding guest list. Can I be the flower girl? I think I'd look great in a tutu."
Bruce didn't look up from the Batcomputer. "Jason. Not now."
"Oh, come on, B! The internet has already named you 'BrucieBat,' Tim Drake said, sliding down the fire pole while staring at his tablet. "There are currently four thousand fanfics on AO3 about your 'secret rendezvous' on the rooftops. One of them involves a very detailed scene with a Batarang and a bottle of expensive merlot."
"It was a tactical disagreement!" Dick shouted from the back of the cave, where he was hiding under a blanket on the sofa. "I hate being Batman. I want my life back."
"The public disagrees," Barbara Gordon’s voice crackled over the speakers. A giant screen flickered to life, showing a montage of TikToks.
In one, a girl was crying: "I always knew Bruce Wayne’s 'dates' were a cover! He was waiting for the Bat! The way he yelled at him for not protecting Robin? That’s co-parenting goals!"
In another, a conspiracy theorist was pointing at a whiteboard: "Batman only protects Gotham because his boyfriend lives there! It's a protection racket fueled by passion!"
"Babs," Bruce groaned, rubbing his temples. "Tell me you're scrubbing the internet."
"Scrubbing it?" Barbara laughed. "Bruce, I’m the one who leaked the high-res footage of you 'caressing' his cowl. It’s the best cover identity move we’ve ever had. No one will ever suspect you're Batman if they think you're dating Batman."
"I am not dating Dick!" Bruce yelled.
"Well, they don't know it's Dick," Jason pointed out, stuffing a donut in his mouth. "They think it's the original recipe. Which makes it funnier. Hey, Tim, show him the interview."
Tim swiped his tablet, and a news clip played. It was a reporter standing outside the Drake estate.
Reporter: "Timothy Drake-Wayne! As the ward of Bruce Wayne, can you confirm? Is there a masked vigilante staying in the guest wing?"
Tim (on screen, looking incredibly somber): "I can't speak on Mr. Wayne’s private affairs. But I will say... I’ve noticed a lot more black Kevlar in the laundry lately. And Bruce has been very... distracted. We just want him to be happy."
"Tim!" Bruce barked. "Why would you say that?!"
"For the bit, Bruce!" Tim grinned. "The chaos is the point!"
The Press Conference from Hell
Bruce Wayne decided he had to shut this down. He called a press conference on the steps of Wayne Enterprises.
"I am here to clarify," Bruce said into the forest of microphones, "that my interaction with Batman at the Gala was purely out of concern for the young Robin’s safety. There is no romantic involvement between myself and the Batman."
"Then why did you call him 'darling'?" a reporter shouted.
"I slipped! It was a high-stress situation!"
Suddenly, a roar echoed from the street. A customized motorcycle skidded to a halt. It was Jason, wearing his Red Hood jacket but no mask—just a pair of sunglasses.
"Hey, Bruce!" Jason yelled from the bike, loud enough for every microphone to catch it. "Batman left his toothbrush at the manor again! He says if you don't bring it to the 'usual spot' tonight, you're sleeping on the couch!"
The press corps exploded into a frenzy of camera flashes.
"I don't even know who that is!" Bruce lied through his teeth, his face turning a shade of red that matched his tie.
"That's your son, Jason Todd!" the reporter screamed. "Are you saying the whole family is in on it?!"
Behind the scenes, in the Oracle’s nest, Barbara Gordon was laughing so hard she had to mute her mic. She began typing a new headline for the Gotham Gazette’s gossip blog: "REBEL SON CONFIRMS: THE BAT LIVES AT THE MANOR."
The Trolling Continues
The Bat-family took it to a professional level.
The following night, Tim Drake went on a late-night talk show to promote a charity. When the host inevitably asked about "BrucieBat," Tim sighed dramatically.
"It's been hard on us kids," Tim said, looking like he was on the verge of tears. "You know how it is. One parent wants to go out and fight crime, the other wants to stay in and watch opera. The bickering... it's constant. Sometimes Batman leaves the Batmobile in the driveway and blocks Bruce's Lamborghini. It’s a mess."
Meanwhile, on the rooftops, Dick (as Batman) was trying to stop a jewelry heist. He was interrupted by a group of teenage girls who weren't scared at all.
"Omg, Batman!" one cried, holding up a sign that said BRUCE + BATS 4-EVER. "Is it true? Is he a good kisser? Does the stubble scratch?"
Dick froze, a Batarang halfway out of his belt. "I... we... please, I am the night. I am vengeance."
"You're a trophy husband!" another girl squealed.
Dick grappled away in shame, sobbing quietly into his comms. "Bruce, I'm quitting. I'm moving to Blüdhaven. I'm changing my name. I can't do this."
"Not until you finish the patrol, 'darling,'" Bruce’s voice deadpanned in his ear. Bruce was currently sitting in the Batcave, sipping tea while Alfred looked over a "Team Bruce" vs. "Team Batman" merch store that Jason had set up.
"Master Bruce," Alfred said, looking at a screen. "The sales from the 'I’m with the Billionaire' t-shirts have already surpassed our quarterly earnings for the tech division."
Bruce paused. He looked at the numbers. He looked at the chaos on the news.
"Alfred," Bruce said. "Order more cotton blend. If we're going to be a meme, we might as well fund the new Bat-computer with it."
The Climax of the Chaos
The final straw came when the Joker—who had been suspiciously quiet—decided he couldn't stay out of the loop.
A giant screen in Times Square Gotham flickered to life. The Joker was wearing a tuxedo and holding a bouquet of dead roses.
"BRUCEY!" the Joker pouted. "I thought I was your special someone! How could you choose that flying rodent over me? I’ve decided! If I can't have you, and he can't have you... then Gotham gets a wedding to die for!"
The Joker announced he had "kidnapped" the "couple" (he had actually just kidnapped a cardboard cutout of Bruce Wayne and a guy in a cheap Batman costume).
The real Batman (Dick), Robin (Damian), and Bruce (who just put on his own suit because he was tired of the charade) converged on the Joker’s funhouse.
When they broke through the doors, the Joker looked at the two Batmen and the one Bruce Wayne (who had changed into his Batman suit but was standing next to Dick-Batman).
"Wait," Joker said, looking between them. "Two Batmans? And no Bruce?"
"I'm the main Batman," Dick said. "I'm the actual Batman," Bruce growled. "I'm the only one who is sane," Damian added.
The Joker threw his hands up. "This isn't fun anymore! The fan-fiction was better! I’m going back to Arkham. At least, there the delusions make sense!"
Epilogue
The rumors never truly died. To this day, the citizens of Gotham believe that Bruce Wayne and Batman are in a volatile, on-again-off-again relationship.
Every time Bruce gets a bruise from a fight, the tabloids report: "Rough night in the Bat-bedroom?"
Every time Batman is spotted near Wayne Manor, the paparazzi yell: "Give him a kiss!"
And in the center of it all, the Bat-family sits around the dinner table at the manor. Jason wears his "I'm the Best Man" shirt. Tim tracks the "BrucieBat" hashtag for fun. Barbara keeps the rumors fueled with well-placed leaks.
And Bruce? Bruce just glares at Dick.
"Don't look at me," Dick says, reaching for the mashed potatoes. "You're the one who called me 'darling' in front of the press. Happy anniversary, B."
"Hush," Bruce grumbled. "Or I'm cutting your Grapple-gun budget."
"See!" Jason shouted. "Financial abuse! That’s a red flag, Batman! Dump him!"
The Cave echoed with laughter, the most chaotic secret identity cover in history firmly intact.
The "Body Double" Conspiracy
The morning after the Joker’s "Funhouse Fiasco," Gotham was in a state of intellectual collapse. The witnesses—mostly henchmen and a few kidnapped caterers—had reported seeing two Batmen and one very angry Bruce Wayne.
Vicki Vale sat behind the news desk of Gotham Tonight, her expression one of grim professional determination.
"New footage from last night’s confrontation at the Joker’s hideout has surfaced," Vicki told the camera. "And it raises a shocking question: Is Bruce Wayne so obsessed with the Dark Knight that he has begun hiring body doubles to play Batman so he can spend more time with the real one?"
On the screen, a blurry cell phone video showed Dick (Batman #1) and Bruce (Batman #2) arguing over who should cuff the Joker.
"Our experts suggest," Vicki continued, "that the Batman we saw at the Gala—the one Bruce called 'darling'—is the 'Home Batman.' While the one seen fighting alongside Robin is the 'Professional Batman.' Is Bruce Wayne effectively dating a franchise?"
In the Batcave, Dick Grayson dropped his head onto the computer console with a hollow thud. "Home Batman. I’m the 'Home Batman.' I sound like a secondary appliance."
"Actually," Tim said, sliding into the chair next to him, "the poll on Twitter says you're the 'Suburban Housewife Batman' because you were the one complaining about the chores at the manor."
"I was complaining about the tactical maintenance of the Batmobile!" Dick yelled.
"The public heard: 'You never take the trash out, Bruce,'" Jason yelled from the gym area, where he was doing bench presses while reading a tabloid. "By the way, B, the Daily Planet called. Clark wants to know if he needs to bring a gift to the engagement party."
Bruce, who was suturing a minor cut on his arm, froze. "There is no engagement party."
"Tell that to the florist who just delivered twenty crates of black roses to the front door," Alfred’s voice crackled over the intercom. "The card says: 'To the happy couple, from Selina. P.S. I want the house in the divorce.'"
Bruce closed his eyes. "I’m going to go patrol. Alone. As myself. No, wait. I can't. If I go out as Batman, I’m 'cheating' on Bruce Wayne. If I go out as Bruce, I’m the 'jilted lover.'"
"Actually," Barbara’s face appeared on the giant screen, "it’s worse. The hashtags #BrucieBat and #BatWedding are trending higher than the Gotham City election. If you want to kill this rumor, you have to do something drastic."
"Like what?" Bruce asked warily.
"A public date," Barbara grinned. "A very, very boring, very 'we are just friends' public date. If you're seen being totally platonic, the fire will die out."
The Most Awkward Dinner in History
The venue was Le Monocle, the most expensive and quietest restaurant in Gotham.
Bruce Wayne sat at a candlelit table, wearing a crisp white suit. Opposite him sat Batman.
The restaurant was surrounded by three hundred paparazzi, two news helicopters, and a guy selling "I'm with the Bat" foam fingers. Inside, the other patrons were vibrating with the need to eavesdrop.
Dick, inside the suit, was sweating. He couldn't eat because of the cowl, so he just sat there staring at a plate of expensive steak.
"Pass the salt," Bruce whispered, his jaw set.
"Can't," Dick hissed back. "If I move my arm too fast, the paparazzi will think I'm reaching for your hand."
"Just pick up the salt, Dick."
Dick reached for the salt. His gloved finger brushed Bruce’s hand.
The entire restaurant gasped. Someone in the back fainted. The sound of sixty camera shutters firing simultaneously sounded like a machine gun.
"Oh for the love of—" Bruce groaned. "We are here to show we are friends. Say something 'friend-like' loudly."
Dick cleared his throat. He used his deep, gravelly Batman voice, but because he was nervous, it came out sounding strangely intimate. "I REALLY APPRECIATE YOUR CONSTANT FINANCIAL SUPPORT OF MY VIGILANTE ACTIVITIES, BRUCE. YOU ARE A GENEROUS BENEFACTOR."
Bruce stared at him. "That sounded like I’m your sugar daddy."
"I'm trying!" Dick whispered.
Suddenly, the door swung open. It was Damian, dressed in a miniature tuxedo, followed by Tim and Jason.
"Father!" Damian shouted, his voice carrying to the very back of the room. "The butler says you forgot your 'night-night' vitamins! And the Batman has neglected to sign my permission slip for the League of Assassins field trip!"
Jason leaned against the doorframe, wearing a leather jacket and a smirk. "Hey, guys. Don't mind us. We just wanted to see if 'Dad' and 'Other Dad' were done fighting so we can go get ice cream."
The restaurant erupted.
"OTHER DAD!" a woman shrieked. "HE CALLED BATMAN 'OTHER DAD'!"
"Tim, get the camera," Jason whispered, "this is going to be the most-liked post in the history of the internet."
Bruce stood up, knocking his chair over. "We’re leaving. Now."
He grabbed Batman by the cape and dragged him toward the exit. To the observers, it looked like a passionate, dramatic exit. The headline the next morning: "CO-PARENTING CRISIS: WAYNE AND BATMAN FLEE DINNER AFTER CHILDREN INTERRUPT DATE NIGHT."
The Justice League Intervention
Three days later, the Watchtower teleporter chimed.
Bruce (as Batman) stepped onto the satellite, looking ready to punch a god. He was met by Superman, Wonder Woman, and a very confused-looking Flash.
"Bruce," Clark said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "We need to talk."
"If this is about Gotham, I have it under control," Bruce growled.
"It’s not about Gotham's crime rate," Diana said, her voice filled with genuine concern. "It’s about your... domestic situation. We’ve seen the news. Bruce, if you’re in a relationship with... well, with yourself, or a double... we just want you to know we support you."
Flash stepped forward, holding a tablet. "I did some math. If you're Bruce Wayne and Batman, but you're dating Batman... are you dating a version of yourself from a parallel Earth? Because that's a serious breach of inter-dimensional protocol, man. Do you know how much paperwork the Guardians of the Universe have for 'self-dating'?"
Batman stared at them. The white lenses of his mask narrowed. "It. Is. A. Cover."
"A cover for what?" Clark asked. "You're already Batman. Why do you need a cover where you're dating Batman? It's like a hat on a hat, Bruce."
"It started at the Gala," Bruce explained, his voice sounding tired. "Dick was filling in. Damian was being difficult. We had a disagreement. The media misinterpreted it. My sons decided to turn it into a psychological warfare campaign against my sanity."
"So you're not getting married?" Hal Jordan asked, flying in. "Because Barry and I already placed a bet on who the best man would be. I assumed it would be Clark, but then I thought, if Batman is the groom, who is the other groom? It’s a logistical nightmare."
"There is no wedding!" Bruce roared.
Just then, his comms chirped. It was Jason.
"Hey, B! Just a heads up, I just did an interview with GQ. I told them that the reason you and Batman fight so much is because he refuses to take his boots off in the manor and it ruins the Persian rugs. Also, I told them you're looking for a wedding singer. I suggested Celine Dion. Peace!"
Bruce turned and walked straight back to the teleporter.
"Where are you going?" Clark called out.
"To commit triple homicide," Bruce replied.
The Talk Show Strategy
Barbara Gordon realized that the "platonic date" had failed. The "Justice League" angle was a mess. There was only one way to end this: The Reveal.
Not the secret identity reveal, but a "breakup."
"You have to break up with Batman," Babs said via video link to the Bat-family meeting. "Publicly. It has to be heart-wrenching. Gotham needs to see Bruce Wayne 'heartbroken' and Batman 'returning to the shadows' so they stop looking for them together."
"I'll do it," Dick volunteered. "I’m great at drama. I’ll make them cry."
"No," Bruce said. "I'll do it. I’m the one they think is the 'pining billionaire.'"
The plan was set. Bruce Wayne would appear on The Gotham Late Show and announce that he and the Batman had "parted ways."
On the night of the broadcast, the entire city tuned in.
"So, Bruce," the host said, leaning in. "The question on everyone’s lips. You and the Caped Crusader. Are the rumors true? Is there a... 'Bat-mance'?"
Bruce looked at the camera. He squeezed out a single, glistening tear (he had practiced this using a mild irritant in his sleeve).
"Batman is a complicated man," Bruce said, his voice trembling slightly. "He belongs to the city. I thought... I thought I could be the one to give him a home. To give him a reason to take the mask off. But Gotham is a jealous mistress. We’ve decided to... move on. For the sake of the children."
The audience let out a collective sob.
"So it's over?" the host asked, wiping his own eyes.
"It’s over," Bruce said firmly. "I ask that the media respects our privacy during this difficult time."
It was perfect. The rumors would die. The identity would be safe.
Until the screen behind the host flickered.
"Wait!" the host shouted. "We have breaking news! Batman is... he's outside the studio?!"
The cameras cut to the street. Dick, in the Bat-suit, was standing on top of a van. He was holding a boombox over his head (a move he’d stolen from Say Anything). The boombox was blasting "Total Eclipse of the Heart."
"BRUCE!" Dick-as-Batman screamed into a megaphone. "I CAN CHANGE! I’LL TAKE THE BOOTS OFF! DON’T LEAVE ME, BRUCE!"
In the studio, Bruce Wayne’s face went from "heartbroken" to "homicidal" in three seconds.
In the wings, Jason and Tim were high-fiving. Damian was recording the whole thing on his phone.
"Look at his vein," Tim whispered, pointing at Bruce's forehead. "It’s about to pop. This is the greatest night of my life."
The Legend Lives On
The "breakup" was so spectacular that it actually made things worse.
Instead of the rumors dying, Gotham became obsessed with the "Star-Crossed Lovers of Gotham."
Graffiti appeared on walls: BRUCE + BATS: LOVE NEVER DIES.
A new tourist industry popped up: "The Brucie-Bat Heartbreak Tour," taking people to the restaurant where they fought and the studio where they broke up.
Bruce eventually gave up. He realized that the more he fought it, the more fuel he gave them.
One month later, Bruce was back in the cowl, patrolling the docks. He caught a mugger and pinned him to the wall.
"Please!" the mugger cried. "Don't hurt me! I'm a huge fan of your boyfriend!"
Batman paused. He sighed—a long, weary sound that echoed through the damp alleyway.
"He's not my boyfriend," Bruce growled.
"Right, right," the mugger winked. "You guys are 'on a break.' I get it. My wife and I, we're the same way. Hey, do you think he’d sign a headshot for my kid? Bruce Wayne is a hero, man. Taking on a guy like you? That takes guts."
Batman stayed silent for a long time. Then, he leaned in close to the mugger's ear.
"If you tell anyone I said this, I'll find you," Batman whispered. "But Bruce Wayne... he’s the one who wears the pants in the relationship."
The mugger’s eyes went wide. "I KNEW IT!"
As Batman swung away into the night, his comms clicked on.
"I heard that, B," Jason’s voice laughed. "I’m telling the internet. 'Batman admits Bruce is the boss.' That’s going to be another five million in T-shirt sales."
"Shut up, Jason," Bruce said, but for the first time in weeks, there was a tiny, microscopic smirk on his face.
Gotham was chaotic, his family was insane, and his reputation was in tatters—but at least nobody suspected he was Batman. They were too busy debating what they should get him for his imaginary wedding.
And as long as the city was looking for a wedding ring instead of a secret cave, Bruce decided he could live with being "the boss."