Proximity
For all the time they spent talking about building the team together, discussing the current stages of recruitment and the cast of heroes they had managed to assemble so far, they spent a surprising amount of time not doing that. Bruce, Diana had found, was surprisingly easy to talk to. He didn't speak much, but when he did it was concisely and with purpose. He threw away money like it was going out of fashion, usually as a way of maintaining his cover as a playboy philanthropist, but he tightly controlled the words he spent. He was more of a listener than a talker, she'd learnt, and if he had been anyone else she might have assumed the silence to be an indication of boredom or annoyance. But when she spoke, she had seen that he looked at her intently regardless of the subject matter, absorbing the anecdotes of her life she was willing to share with him.
When they first started to meet, shortly after the quiet funeral at a small farm in Kansas, the conversation topics were extremely restricted. She took extraordinary care when travelling to his home, keeping a watchful eye out for any hiding paparazzi. He'd warned her that on slow news days they camped out near his manor, hoping for a glimpse of a woman they could photo and speculate about. She had no desire to have her reputation dragged through the mud, so she was very grateful for her heightened senses which allowed her to carefully navigate the grounds while avoiding the gaze of any of the men watching the house with evident boredom. Bruce had provided her with directions to one of the secret back entrances that led directly into the cave he used for the base of his operations. The Batcave, as she had heard Alfred refer to it sardonically.
The topics during those first few weeks had been very carefully chosen, and when Bruce did decide to speak he followed her lead. Those weeks were dominated by stories from their current public lives. Never of the past, and never of their crime-fighting exploits. She would tell him about the antiques she had acquired, and the fakes she had found. He would occasionally entertain her with stories of the ridiculous antics of his wealthy peers at the decadent and excessive parties he regularly attended. It was all so impersonal. Stories about material things and other people as they continued to test each other out. They knew so much and so little about each other at the same time, privy to secret identities but not much else.
As more time passed the breadth of topics widened to include their less ordinary activities. He told her about the colourful assortment of villains he dealt with, but she noticed the obvious omission of anything related to the Joker or his partner Harley Quinn. She did not dare to ask why, the reason for his silence on the matter clearly written in mad yellow letters across a uniform designed for a smaller man. In turn she told him about the war, and of the men she had served with and in particular those who had been in that picture he had recovered from Luthor. Similarly she did not breathe a word relating to Steve Trevor, and if he noticed he did not say anything.
Once they had finally started to broach those uncomfortable subjects, Diana noticed that their relationship had considerably changed since they had first met. After a few more public events with both of them attending, the press had already started making assumptions about their relationship. There had been a particularly incriminating photo where it had seemed as though Bruce had been whispering intimately into her ear, where in reality he had been telling her about a new lead he had picked up on. When Bruce had not denied or confirmed the rumours, Diana had stopped taking the elaborate path to the hidden entrance and had instead opted for going straight for the front door. The first time it had happened the gossip blogs had a field day and her co-workers, who had previously attributed her meetings with him as purely civil, started to ask her increasingly inappropriate questions about the billionaire. Her only response to these enquiries had been a tight-lipped coy smile and an evasive reply. Bruce himself had not said a word, and seemed to have calmly accepted that they were posing as a couple in the public eye while remaining nothing more than friendly in private.
Other things changed as well with that first scandalous article. While Alfred had always been kind enough to invite her to stay for dinner with them, she had usually politely declined. As her and Bruce had grown closer, she had not only started to stay to share their evening meal but had also spent the night a few times when it had grown too late for her to consider returning home. Alfred appeared to have quietly set aside one of the guest bedrooms entirely for her use. It was cleaned regularly during her absences but was always ready and made up when she did come visit.
She had even begun to leave possessions there- a few sets of clothes, some nightwear, toiletries. If Bruce had noticed her gradual invasion of his home, he said nothing other than raising an eyebrow when she first arrived at the dining room for breakfast still dressed in a worn but comfortable set of plaid pyjamas. He had already been wearing one of his customary three piece suits, ready for a full day at the office running his business competently while appearing anything but. She had smiled at him innocently over her cup of coffee while Alfred good-naturedly complained about the mess Bruce had left in the Batcave and pointedly pretended as though that morning was as normal as any other.
When Bruce finally told her about Jason, it was late in the evening of a particularly quiet night while they were both curled up on a couch near the fire, with an empty bottle of wine between them. All the Costumes, as Bruce called the fascinatingly dressed villains that plagued Gotham, were in Arkham and he had no open cases to deal with, so he had taken the night off from terrifying the criminals of the city. While in public he never drank more than a small glass of whisky, although he often emptied several glasses worth over the night into various receptacles in order to maintain his image. In private he seemed more willing to indulge, but still very careful in the quantity he consumed. Alfred had quietly brought over another bottle, which Diana had started to drink but which Bruce had not touched a single drop of. Everything he did was controlled, and she couldn't help but wonder if he had ever honestly been drunk. It seemed impossible to think of him in such a state other than the regular pantomime he performed. She had even assisted on one such an occasion, supporting his unsteady frame as they bid farewell to the hosts of the fundraiser they had both attended. As soon as Alfred had appeared with the car and she had helped Bruce into the backseat, the façade had immediately faded and he had asked if she would be spending the night at the manor.
Now as he told the story, she could tell he was still in total control but more relaxed than usual. His limbs slightly looser than usual as he quietly explained what had happened, eyes intently focussed on the blazing flames in the fireplace. She had guessed that he would finally be bringing up the painful topic by the way Alfred had behaving that evening, cautiously watching his ward all evening and making himself scarce once the first bottle had been emptied. He had given her a significant look just after announcing that he was retiring to bed for the night, and she had mentally prepared herself for what lay ahead. It was a tragic story, and she had watched him with sad eyes as he retold it. When he had finished she had covered his hand with hers and not said anything, quietly lending her support and comfort without supplying him with meaningless platitudes.
She considered telling him about Steve that night, but somehow it did not seem appropriate. The stories were totally different, and deserved their own telling without being muddied with the emotions brought on from the other. Instead she had asked him about Jason's greatest successes as Robin, which had brought about a sad nostalgic smile and a multitude of exciting stories which lasted well into the night. Neither of them noticing that as the time went on, the space between them disappeared and they fell asleep on the couch with Diana's head on Bruce's shoulder and his resting against hers.
With time there were other stories, more personal stories. Some she had to work out for herself, rather than be told. One particular night, Bruce had been handily destroying her at a game of chess when Alfred had walked in, looking more tense than usual.
"Master Bruce, Miss Kyle is on the phone." Bruce had tensed up immediately, but had not raised his head to face the man that had been a father to him as he carefully placed down a knight and killed her castle.
"Is it urgent?" He asked neutrally.
"It did not seem so."
"Tell her I'm busy." Diana moved a piece to defend her king from an oncoming check, and wondered who the mysterious Miss Kyle was to elicit such a reaction.
"This is the third time this week." Alfred remarked significantly, and Bruce sighed heavily.
"Tell her I'll call tomorrow, and to stop bothering me unless it's urgent." He moved another piece. "Checkmate."
Diana used her index finger to knock over her king, and once Alfred had left she opened a bottle of Bourbon and told him about Steve. Time had healed those old wounds more than Bruce's, so the casual setting seemed more appropriate. The tone of the conversation was completely different as well, as she spoke of an old love where he had told her about a son. He had been as quietly sympathetic as she had when listening to his tale of tragedy.
A week or so later, Diana came to face to face with Bruce's own past love life. She had been sitting in the kitchen, casually chatting with Alfred as he prepared a meal. The man they both cared for was absent, busily working on a murder case which he had promised to set aside for a few hours once they sat down for dinner. An alarm had sounded, indicating that someone was approaching the house. A small monitor had emerged from behind a wall panel after Alfred discreetly pressed a hidden button, and revealed a woman walking up the path to the front door.
"I can get the door." Diana suggested. Alfred's hands were covered in flour from kneading and rolling out shortcrust pastry. It made more sense for her to do it rather than leave the visitor waiting while Alfred washed and dried his hands. At her offer he looked at her with a strange expression on his face, as though trying to understand her intent.
"If you wouldn't mind." He said eventually, a slightly calculating look coming to his eyes.
"It's not a problem." She rose from the seat and gave him a bright smile before making her way towards the manor's entrance.
The woman at the door was certainly beautiful, in a sleek and graceful way. The composed expression on her face had slipped as she saw Diana, clearly having expected someone else to answer the door.
"Good evening." Diana greeted politely. "Can I help you?"
"Is Bruce around?" The woman asked bluntly, glancing behind Diana as though expecting him to pop up.
"He's busy I'm afraid, is he expecting you?" She doubted it, he would have warned Alfred and the Englishman had only made enough food for three people.
"No." The woman shifted uncomfortably on the spot.
"Who's at the door?" A male voice called out from behind Diana, and she turned to allow him to see their guest. Bruce's face hardened as he spotted the woman, and if anything she looked more uncomfortable than ever. "Selina." He greeted shortly.
"Bruce." The woman called Selina returned hesitantly. "I was hoping to talk to you."
"We're about to have dinner." He told her pointedly to the point of being rude.
Without being asked, Diana moved out of the way and slipped back into the kitchen to give them both some privacy. Alfred still had the monitor out and had switched the camera feed so he could see the doorway and watch the interaction, a terse look on his face. He placed the pie he had made into the oven and washed his hands, before pressing the button which returned the monitor to its hidden place. He turned back to smile at her, but it was slightly strained.
"It smells wonderful." Diana told him, retaking her seat. Both of them carefully ignoring what was happening at another part of the estate.
"I hope it tastes as good as it smells." He returned, and Diana resumed telling him about the food they made on Themyscira in the hopes of distracting him from his worries. She did notice that while he paid her close attention, his gaze kept flitting to the door. Eventually, Bruce entered the kitchen alone and looking to be in a bad temper.
"Will we be receiving any more calls from Miss Kyle?" Alfred asked casually.
"I doubt it." Bruce grunted, leaning back against some counters. "I think she might have got the message now." He glanced over at her, and his gaze softened somewhat. "I'm sorry you had to see that."
"It's fine." She reassured him.
Diana had been quick to make the connection between Selina and the Miss Kyle who had been calling so often. She could make some assumptions about the nature of her relationship with Bruce, but she was still curious about what had led to the clear animosity Bruce felt towards her, and the longing she had seen on the other woman's face. Bruce knew about her romantic past, but she knew little of his. Despite this, she thought directly asking might have been intrusive. The matter was not any of her business, and if Bruce wanted her to know about it he would tell her himself.
If Bruce had intended on telling her, he had to postpone it as he finally gathered enough leads for them both to go out and attempt to find their respective targets for recruitment. They disguised their absences from their respective homes as a romantic trip to an exclusive and private resort in the Mediterranean. Her colleagues had reacted predictably when Diana had requested the time off, and a few had suggested some stores she could visit to pick up some suitable swimwear. Knowing that she and Bruce would have to actually go to the resort eventually to solidify their cover, she had been to the stores and her eyebrows had risen nearly to her hairline as she saw the risqué scraps of fabric they had the audacity to refer to as a bikini. She left the stores and walked down the road until she found one which sold beautiful, but more modest items of swimwear and purchased a few select pieces.
She and Bruce flew to the island and spent a few days enjoying the beach and the sun before they disguised themselves and took flights to separate destinations, Diana returning to the US to find the cyborg and Bruce travelling to a small fishing village that he had tracked the merman to. Bruce's research had been very thorough, and it did not take her too long to locate Victor Stone. He had thought the entire thing to be an elaborate joke, or a trap so that he could be experimented on by the government and it took a demonstration of her powers before he calmed enough to listen to what she had to say. Soon enough she returned to the island and waited anxiously for Bruce to make an appearance. He was gone for longer than she had been, and when he turned up the look on his face had not prompted her to ask for how the encounter had gone.
Without discussing their recruitment attempts, they enjoyed the rest of their holiday for a few more days and played up their fake relationship for the local press before returning to their respective homes. They arranged to meet again at Wayne Manor after Bruce had met their final candidate. He would be travelling to a city relatively close to Gotham so he could easily cover it up by attending a few business meetings beforehand.
Alfred warmly greeted her when she appeared at Wayne Manor after being absent for a few weeks, and informed her that Bruce would be waiting for her in the Batcave. She made her way there, no longer needing Alfred to show her the way and she and Bruce spent a few hours discussing their successes and failures, with Bruce attempting to make it seem as though his encounter with Arthur Curry had gone more positively than it had.
"We have an army of four to go up against an unknown number." Diana noted with a worried frown. "Will it be enough?"
"It's better than two." Bruce pointed out. "It could grow to five if Dick starts answering my calls again." It was the first time she had heard that name mentioned, and when she looked questioningly at Bruce he explained further. "Dick was the original Robin. We had a… falling out a while ago."
Sensing it was a sensitive topic, Diana did not ask any further questions and told him of her own fallout with her mother after she had stolen her armour and left Themyscira.
"Did she forgive you?" He asked curiously.
"Eventually." Diana admitted. "But she still struggles with my decision to remain in Man's World."
"I sometimes wonder what my parents would think of my choices." Bruce said quietly, sweeping his gaze around the Batcave and all the equipment he had assembled, lingering for a time on his suit in its display case. He had never told her about his parent's death, he hadn't needed to. Shortly after meeting him she had done her research and it had not taken long for her to learn about the tragedy and to understand why he had stepped up and become the Batman.
"You've done wonders of good for Gotham." Diana told him insistently. "I've looked at the crime statistics- since the Batman first appeared they have only gone down. Your actions would earn you the respect of any amazon warrior. I am sure they would be proud of you."
"Thank you, Diana." There was a sincerity that shone out of his eyes as he looked at her, and there was something in his small smile that tugged at her heart and warmed her through to her bones.
It was later that day, when she lay in the antique bed of her borrowed room, that Diana finally acknowledged to herself the attraction that lay between them which had existed ever since that first conversation where he had confronted her over her theft. Since Steve she had dated a few times, both men and women, and had even had a few short-lived relationships. But none of them had evoked the same feelings in her that Bruce had in the short time they had known each other. He had won her trust and her respect so quickly and so effortlessly, it seemed only natural that she would eventually develop stronger feelings for him.
With her new understanding she found that their meetings were now tinged with an unexpected hypersensitivity. She was acutely aware of his location at all times, and whenever he touched her it left a searing heat in its wake that she would continue to feel for a long time afterwards. She also found that he touched her more than truly necessary, always finding any excuse to rest his hand on her lower back whenever they walked anywhere together. If anything she started to return the favour, greeting him at parties with a kiss to the cheek and a soft embrace.
It didn't help that every time she turned her head when she walked down the street she could either see a tabloid with their faces splashed across it or a man with a camera discreetly taking pictures of her. Her public relationship with Bruce had led to some of his fame rubbing off on her, and one of her colleagues had found an article naming her a style icon and listing every item she was wearing in a series of photos that had been taken of her while visiting museums for work or attending fundraisers.
The expectations of their relationship, and the fact that she and Bruce now seemed to comfortably slip into the guise of couple in public only made her long for it more in private. She did still feel conflicted on the matter. She was immortal, he wasn't. Any relationship they began would have an end date, and if they were happy it would only be until that inevitable ending finally came around. Maybe that was the reason he had not yet initiated or suggested they begin a relationship. He knew she was immortal, he would have known ever since she confirmed that the photo he had found was not of her ancestor but of her. But if he truly had no interest or desire for her, surely he would not continue this public charade?
They continued to exist in their increasingly uncomfortable state of friendship/quasi-relationship, both of them wanting more but neither willing to lay their cards on the table. The day their carefully established equilibrium was abruptly destroyed was the day they had spent all this time preparing for. The invasion. She had been at the manor when the news had hit, and had immediately grabbed his hand to get his attention. She caught his eye and gave him a look of determination and defiance that he returned with equal ferocity.
"Contact the others." He said, and she nodded.
As Diana typed the messages up, she silently decided to herself that if they both survived this whole mess, she and Bruce would have to deal with the uncertain state of their relationship.
Author's Note: So I saw the trailer for Justice League, which really hyped me up for the film. I hope you enjoyed it! I like the idea of Bruce and Diana becoming a couple in public ages before becoming a couple in private, and Alfred just on the sidelines giving the oblivious pair significant looks all the time and subtly nudging them towards each other.