Work Text:
It was a Friday night in December. Christmas was two days away, and the Wayne Manor was quiet.
Nothing about that sentence was normal. How could this house be that silent when Bruce's obscene number of kids were all here for the holidays?
It's exactly what Bruce said when he got home from work.
Alfred wasn't there to welcome him. Tim and Damian hadn't come to complain about what the other had done or said. Dick and Jason weren't playing loud games and betting all their money just to lose against Stephanie. Cassandra and Duke weren't laughing along or trying to calm their siblings while also teasing them.
And most of all, you were nowhere to be found. Something was clearly wrong, and as he climbed the stairs looking for you, the atmosphere in the air made him uncomfortable.
Walking through the dark hallways, he saw Cass leaving her bedroom, walking slowly, trying not to make a sound.
"Cassandra?"
She turned to look at him and suddenly rushed towards the greatest detective in the world.
"B, you're done for."
He frowned. "I don't understand, Sweet."
"Look, I respect you and I'll always have your back, but right now I can't help you. You should apologize quickly."
Okay, that was weird.
In this house, there was no "I love you." Only "I respect you." Or "I'm proud of you." Or "I trust you."
And even those words weren't said often. This family simply wasn't affectionate. Not with words, anyway.
So why had Cassandra basically just said that to Bruce? Out of nowhere? He didn't understand.
"Did I upset you, Cassandra?" He held out his hand, Bruce's usual way of asking whether one of his kids was open to physical affection.
Cassandra wrapped both of her hands around his.
"I'm not, but I might act like I am because I'm scared of her and I don't want her to think I'm on your side." She squeezed his hand. "Sorry, B."
And just like that, she left.
Bruce then realized you were mad. And you had terrorized the children. Worse, you were mad at him, and he didn't know why. He was indeed done for.
He took a deep breath, trying to retrace his actions. He needed information. He couldn't just show up in front of you without being prepared.
That's why he headed straight for Dick's bedroom. The man was getting ready to go out with his girlfriend and, more importantly, to run away from the house.
"You should apologize. Quickly."
That was all Dick said with a serious expression when his father asked what had happened during his absence.
Bruce sighed. "I figured. But I don't know why she's angry."
Dick shrugged. "She was in the kitchen with Alfred and suddenly yelled, 'He did what?!'" He mimicked your voice.
Bruce frowned again.
"Then she went to check something on the Batcomputer and started breaking stuff here and there out of anger. At that point, we were all ready to run away, but she stopped us."
Bruce bit the inside of his cheek before swallowing. "Why did she stop you?"
"She said we needed to get ready for a family meeting because she's going to kill you and we need to discuss inheritance."
The door swung wide open.
"And she also poured all her anger onto us! She yelled at me because I'm always fighting at school, completely out of nowhere. She yelled at Jason for always being late to dinner and actually, I don't care about that one. I think he deserved it."
Damian complained.
"Stop eavesdrop." Bruce said calmly. "And you should indeed stop fighting with other kids."
Damian simply huffed. "Father, your wife is going to divorce you. It's not necessary to be on her side anymore."
"Yeah, and I'm really going to miss her. Though she scared the shit out of me when she got mad at me for always stealing her clothes, I love her. You really had to mess things up, didn't you?"
Stephanie, who was already dressed to leave with Cassandra, poked her head through the door to join the conversation.
Divorce. What the hell had he done? Why was everyone being so dramatic? It wasn't the first time you had gotten mad at everyone. In fact, you weren't the type to get angry often, but when you did, everyone felt it. They were supposed to be used to it.
Bruce exhaled. "Where's Alfred?"
"I don't know." Dick grabbed his keys. "Hiding?"
"Alright. You can run away, but you have to be here tomorrow afternoon for Christmas Eve. I'm going to see what I can do, but thanks to you all, I'm not very confident."
Steph patted him on the back, mumbling how happy she was to have known him and she smiled before leaving.
Dick chuckled and left after offering a few words of encouragement but most of them were tease.
Damian simply stared at his father, arms crossed, brows furrowed.
"You're not going to encourage me, son?" Bruce tried to joke, hoping to lighten the mood, which only made the teenager huff.
"Your wife scolded me, Thomas, Drake, and all the pets —which is extremely concerning.—"
"Duke? Why him?"
"Why are you more surprised about him than the pets?!"
Duke was a less difficult kid than Cassandra, and that was basically an achievement.
"Listen, I'm going to see what I can do for you and your siblings. Don't let her catch you outside your room."
Twenty minutes later, Bruce Wayne was standing in front of his bedroom, hesitating to knock.
He still hadn't found Alfred and still didn't know why you were angry, but one thing was certain; he was ready to beg for mercy.
Slowly, he knocked. "My love? I'm coming in."
He slowly pushed the door open before quietly closing it behind him.
You were lying on your shared bed. The room was dark, lit only by a candle, and you were silently scrolling through your phone.
"Hello... What are you doing?"
He stepped closer, slowly, as if he were afraid you might jump at him.
Silence. You simply ignored him.
When he reached the bed, he sat down beside you, carefully studying your features. Though he looked unbothered, the man was completely stressed out.
"I heard today was..." You lifted your head, looking him straight in the eyes, allowing him to see your anger which made him clear his throat. "I heard Duke went completely crazy?"
It was an inside joke. Whenever something felt strange, one of you would say that sentence to point out how weird the situation was.
And the fact that you had actually scolded Duke made him think he could be casual and maybe calm you down with a little joke.
"Bruce Wayne, if you think I'm playing with you, just say it out loud so we can see what happens."
Okay. No jokes.
"Could you perhaps explain what got you so angry, my love?"
You went silent again, typing on your phone.
"I don't know what it is, but if you could just tell me, I'll make sure to take responsibility."
You kept typing and scrolling, he glanced at your screen and realized you were looking at funeral plans.
Cool.
"I know you're not angry for no reason. I'm already pretty sure I'm the one who messed up, and if you trust me enough to explain, I'll—"
"Trust you?" You finally spoke, your voice sharp. "You're hiding things from me, Bruce. Can I really trust you?"
Bruce pressed his lips together.
He did hide things from you, often actually.
He never lied, but he did leave information out whenever he thought it was better that way.
Now he just needed to know what exactly you had found out.
"You have nothing to say?"
"Alfred told you?" he asked, as if he already knew what you were talking about.
You slammed your phone down onto your lap. Instinctively, he leaned back ever so slightly, almost as if he expected you to hit him.
"Don't play that game with me, Bruce."
You knew your husband far too well. That man was a fucking detective, the greatest detective.
He was trying to make you say out loud what you had discovered by using his usual interrogation techniques.
"Alfred told me, yes. Tell me what it is."
He was cooked He still didn't know what you had learned. There were so many things he had forgotten to mention. What exactly had you heard?
His mind was racing. Too many thoughts. Too many excuses swirling through his head. He stayed silent for too long.
Long enough to make it painfully obvious he was trying to figure out how to get himself out of this situation.
And your glare, angry, cold and disappointed was suffocating him.
You scoffed. "Incredible." You mumbled as you reached for your phone again, ready to ignore him once more. "I'm not sleeping with you tonight. Go aw—"
"I hide a lot of things from you, my love."
He cut you off desperately before you could push him away.
"It's not because I don't trust you. But being married to me is already scary and stressful enough. I don't want to burden you with even more information when it isn't that important."
"You got shot twice, Bruce! And you never told me. You were about to die, and you never told me! I feel like that's a little relevant, don't you?"
Six months earlier, he had been in Metropolis with Superman and had been shot. He never told you. He hadn't told any of his kids either because you were all about to leave for your summer vacations.
Why ruin everyone's excitement over something he had recovered from in two weeks?
"You hide other things like this? What is it? Did you get blown up?" You started getting sarcastic.
"You'd been dreaming about that girls' trip since... forever. My life wasn't even in danger. And I swear, every time something like this happened, I wasn't really in danger. If I were, I would've told you."
"I don't care!" You raised your voice and got up.
He straightened up too, taking a step back as you walked towards him.
"I don't care about that fucking trip, I care about you! I care about your well-being. Do you know how anxious I get every time you come home late from patrol? I'm dying with fear because I just want you to come home safe!"
Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes.
"But I let it slide because I knew what I was getting into when I said 'yes.' I let it slide because I respect your convictions and your double life. And though I'm fucking terrified every time you come home bruised, I know you're doing it for the best, and I love you."
His back hit the wall as your index finger kept poking at his chest while you spoke.
"I love you, so I want to know when you're okay and when you're not, even if it scares me. I deserve to know. It's my right. And as long as I'm married to you, I swear on my life, Bruce, you're going to tell me everything."
He gently took hold of your wrist. You didn't pull away, and he felt grateful for it.
"I thought I was protecting you." he whispered.
"I don't need to be protected by you. I need you to come back home to me safely, and I need you to tell me every time you're not okay because we're a team. I need you, and the kids need you. And if you're not okay, you can't be there for us properly."
You grabbed his shirt, clenching the fabric tightly in your fist.
"Tell me, so I can help you. So I can make sure you'll get back on your feet. Tell me so you can be there for us."
"You cry every time one of us gets hurt. I don't like it." he said, still not completely convinced.
"I won't. Not in front of you, anyway." You said without realizing it.
But then you frowned, thinking. "Actually, I will. You don't get to tell me how to react. You're the one who messed up. You apologize and you make up for it. I don't have to compromise. You do."
He chuckled and kissed your knuckles.
Keeping your hand in his, Bruce led you back to the bed, making you sit down as he dropped on his knees in front of you.
You were still looking at him coldly. He took both of your hands, gently stroking them, then lifted his head to look you straight in the eyes.
"I'm sorry, my love. I shouldn't have hidden things from you. I can't say I'm convinced by everything you said, but I understand how you feel, and I promise I won't ever put you in a situation where you have to find out my secrets on your own."
You rolled your eyes, making him smile.
"I don't want you to cancel your plans just because I got hurt, especially when my life isn't in danger. Let's say I'll let you know whenever something like this happens, but you have to promise me you won't cancel anything if you're busy."
You frowned. The man had the audacity to try to make you compromise with him? He was the one at fault! You were about to pull your hands away from his, but he tightened his grip, suddenly panicking.
"Alright, tell me what you want."
"I already told you, Bruce. You tell me when things go wrong. I react however I want, and you just shut it."
He was about to negotiate again —as always—when you clicked your tongue.
"Bruce, I'm not even joking."
He hated being the one in the wrong because he couldn't do anything against you. He sighed, defeated.
"I apologize again. Just know that I trust you. I just love you so much, and I thought I was doing the right thing."
He nuzzled his face into your lap, hugging you tightly. You patted his head.
"I still don't fuck with you. I'm not sleeping with you tonight, and tomorrow by ten, you'd better hand me a report with the dates, times, and details of everything you've hidden from me."
He stayed silent for a second. "And if I—"
"I'm killing you tonight."
He hugged your waist tighter. You had never been that ruthless, everyone usually listened to him without putting up much of a fight. And when they did, like Alfred or the kids, he always managed to find a compromise and somehow come out on top.
He was very convincing but rarely with you, most of the time, you had the last word. Especially tonight. At least he tried.
"Why did you scold Duke?"
"He overheard my conversation with Alfred and tried to ease things by defending you. I went a little too hard on him though. I should apologize."
"I love that kid." he mumbled.
"You're running out of time." His cocky comment only made you want to kick his ass out.
He groaned. "Just... five minutes. Please."
And you accepted. You were still furious with him, but after the fear you'd gone through that day, you really appreciated his embrace.
"Four minutes."
You were still going to have the last word though.