Authors Note: Hey everyone! Just to let y'all know, I originally posted this on Wattpad and I've written 17 chapters so far, so it's still in progress. :) Please give me a comment and let me know what you guys are thinking so far. This chapter is kind of fluffy for the most part but it does - hopefully - have some action...I think. ;) Just so y'all know, there is a point of view switch and I'll label it when it happens. Also, y'all get to meet John Blake (AKA Robin.) which is the same one you'll know from The Dark Knight Rises. It may be odd to include him in this time frame, but this is fanfiction so hey, who cares.
Disclaimer: I own nothing Batman or D.C related! I only own Sarah, Alfonso and random little small charcters that I place here and there. Butttt if someone wants to give me Bruce Wayne, go right ahead! ;) :P
It was odd, how waking up to a screaming man didn't even faze me anymore.
Despite the manor's thick walls and vast rooms, it was easy to hear Bruce when he really got upset at night. I often wondered how he kept from rolling off the bed and hurting himself when he got to going. As usual, I heaved myself out of the comfortable bed and warm blankets, tossing a borrowed robe - probably Bruce's, going by the initials - and crossed the hallway and moseyed into his room. Alfred was the usual person to do this task, but ever since I had moved in and gotten to know Bruce more, I had taken over the job. Alfred needed his sleep, whether he liked it or not, and something told me that both men appreciated someone else to do the job every so often.
I followed my normal routine and went towards his bathroom first, grabbing a washcloth and turning on the marble faucet sleepily as the water soaked the towel. He always woke up in a sweat, shaking and chilled to the bone. I had learned quickly that it was better to be equipped with a warm towel to calm him and an extra blanket to get his freezing body to a good temperature. It was such an intimate job in so many ways, and as much as I hated the necessity, I knew that it was responsible for the majority of our steady growth, relationship-wise. He had learned that I wasn't going anywhere, something I knew he needed to feel desperately after all but one man had left him.
I tip-toed to his bedside and slid under the covers myself, putting a steady hand on his back. He was known for lashing out, purely by accident and driven by fear, and I knew to stay calm and keep myself at a distance, just in case. If he hurt me just one time, I had a feeling that it would be the end of this thing that we'd been dancing around. Luckily, I seemed to have caught him before the nightmare got too violent and he bolted upright quickly without throwing punches or kicking me. Still, even after seeing him in much worse condition, it broke my heart to see such a strong and determined man turned into such a scared person. He reminded me so much of the children at my work, so confused and head-strong, eager to do things by themselves and tough it out. He's just a child inside, still. Withdrawn, scared and timid.
His face was white as a sheet and soaked with sweat drops, beading between his brows, body shaking with tremors. I didn't talk, I never did. I simply gathered his broad shoulders into my arms and pulled him back down, he was too exhausted, always too exhausted, to put up a fight. Soon, his head rested on my chest and I laid the towel across his forehead, wiping the tears and sweat off of him while he closed his eyes again. He wouldn't go back to sleep for awhile, but at least he felt comfortable and safe enough to rest his eyes and trust me with his body for just a moment.
"Thank you." Shaken brown eyes met my own, paired with a small, quiet voice. He fought hard to keep the tremors at bay but he couldn't hide the terror from me. I remembered the first night I had tried to comfort him, he fought me and demanded that I leave, insisting that he was fine and it was just a nightmare, nothing out of the ordinary. He had fought back the tears and kept his walls firmly in place, but then the next night, he started cracking. By week three, his walls crumbled down and the tears came flowing like waterfall. He was eager to lay his head on my shoulder, just for a moment. He never said much during the times, I did most of the talking once he was calmed down. He said my voice calmed him while he tried to go back to sleep, so I talked. I sang. I told him stories and on one particularly long night, I brought a book and read out-loud to him, finishing a sixth chapter as the sun rose and his eyelids fell. We had finished the novel quickly and he told me that he hated it, but I saw him tear up when a character died.
Bruce Wayne - so insistent on being unattached and not amused.
"You know I don't mind. You're my blanket, remember?" I joked, replaying another long night in my head. "My very, very heavy blanket."
He hummed and turned his body over so he was facing me, an arm placed around my stomach and his head resting on my shoulder. I had once warned him about how far he was allowed to go. I was raised in a fairly conservative home and I didn't plan on changing my morals for a man, especially not one who was labeled as a "playboy" by society, but I did allow him to take comfort, so long as he was willing to be comforted. "Keeping you warm is the least I could do, right?" His words were slurred but obviously heartfelt, and I tried to keep from teasing him too much. He was still too caught up in whatever he dreamed about to properly banter and I was far too tired.
"I think you do plenty enough as it is, no worries, Batsy." I had dubbed him Batsy a few weeks ago, one nickname that I knew he prayed wouldn't stick, but it did. Even Alfred had once referred to the disgruntled billionaire as Batsy and I knew he pretended to be annoyed by it, as he scrunched his nose in disgust, but I had a feeling that e he enjoyed being treated like a normal guy and being teased by someone. AKA, having a friend.
"I'm trying to make up for everything you've been through, but it's hard. I'll keep you safe..." He paused as a yawn overtook his worn face before continuing on, wiping a hand over his face as he grabbed a hold of the towel and tossed it somewhere across his room. "Or I'll die trying."
I tried to laugh and pretend that his speech didn't effect me, but I failed miserably. My laugh came out throaty and confused, and I couldn't fake a smile. For some reason, it seemed that I had changed his life just like he'd changed mine, and I effected him just as much as he did me.
He burrowed himself deeper into my neck, turning his head so his nose wasn't knifing me. After all he'd been through, he surprised me at how gentle he was in situations like this. He was quite possibly the most...cuddly man I had ever been with before. It seemed shocking to think of Batman as a cuddler, but it didn't necessarily surprise me when I noticed it. He was a man robbed of parents at a young age, constantly begging for attention from people, desiring love from women, but being turned down or only desired for money. The women that tagged around and grabbed his arm were only interested in the label of being one of Bruce Wayne's dates for a night or getting a nice wad of cash to stuff in their wallets. Alfred was the only person he had ever been close to, other than Rachel. But even she betrayed him in the end, choosing a mad man over someone who was willing to give up everything just for love.
As he fell back to sleep and I rambled about Abby, a sassy little girl at work, I let myself relax, just for a moment. I hadn't had much time to just lay down and rest since my hospital stay. Even though I was confined to a bed or couch for most of the past month, I had been restless and stressed. It was hard to truly find rest when you were constantly looking around, checking for ways that a mad man could find you or get in the Manor, under construction yet again due to fire. Luckily, we only had to stay out of a small area after that and the repairs were rather simple.
For the first time since I had been kidnapped, I slept peacefully in the arms of the man I'd come to love.
I arose from bed much slower that morning, woken by Alfred as he waltzed in the room with two silver platters on both wrinkled and worn hands, somehow keeping the glasses steady and food from spilling. Black coffee and some disgusting looking smoothie along with a plate of eggs and an omelette, not unlike the one we had shared that first day at the restaurant, for Bruce, and a small glasses of orange juice alongside of eggs and bacon for myself. It still seemed odd to me to have a butler, waiting on me as if I were royalty or a billionaire myself. I had argued with Alfred several times and demanded that he stop acting as if I was some royal guest, but he refused to stop with the special treatment.
"Good morning, Master Wayne, Miss Dawson." He nodded to our general direction, not surprised at all that I was in the room. It seemed to be typical, nowadays, and I made sure that he knew that our nightly meetings were nothing but decent and pure.
True to form, Bruce grumbled and threw the blankets back over his head after his father figure tossed them away, his black t-shirt still soaked with sweat from his rough night. "Bats are still nocturnal, Alfred."
"That they are, Master Bruce. But business men are not, and you have a meeting at Wayne Enterprises in two hours. It would do you good to start your routine so you aren't late. Again." It seemed that Bruce had learned his lesson early on and knew not to argue with the older man. Alfred seemed to trot past the door with a proud air about him, smug as could be, as Bruce dropped to the ground to begin his day. No wonder the man is so heavy, I thought wryly. He went through the push-ups quickly and seemed to bounce up just as easily as he'd dropped down, as if he were a much younger man. If he were any other person, I would've accused him of being overly prideful and conceited, a show-off, but I knew that it was something he did every morning, audience or not, and if I hadn't of been in the room still, he probably would've done more.
"If I don't do them early in the morning, I won't do them at all." He had told me once, after I had asked him to ditch the routine for one morning to help me with something. Apparently, even superhero vigilantes had problems with procrastination.
I observed him as he finished up his mornng chore, his t-shirt straining against his biceps. I wasn't necessarily the most superficial girl in the world and I had prided myself on the fact that I didn't really care much for looks as long as the guy had a good heart, but I definitely wouldn't complain about my current view. It was nice, knowing that I had someone that was willing andcapable of protecting me. After 10 years of basically being on my own in Gothom City, it was nice to have someone to trust.
"Listen, Sarah. I've got a gala that I'm supposed to attend this week, Wednesday, I think." He paused for a moment, peeking over at me and wiping his face with a towel Alfred had left on the dresser. "I really don't want to leave you alone...not again. I'd like for you to come with me."
"As what? A friend? People will gossip."
"I was thinking more of as my date, unless you want to choose another option. We could always go as friends and just ignore everyone." He said, a smirk growing easily on his face. "Or do you prefer to kiss and run?" Considering just thinking about that kiss makes my heart beat faster and makes me want to be back in your arms, definitely not.
"No, no. A date sounds nice." I crept to his side slowly when he turned his back to me, chuckling quietly and collecting his things for an early morning shower. "But what will the paparazzi think of Bruce Wayne bringing a random poor girl to a gala?" I pressed my mouth to his neck shamelessly, feeling confident for a moment. He actually wanted me to be his plus 1?
"They'll think it's a charity case, but we'll know the truth, right?" His blunt honesty shocked me for a second before he took my face in calloused hands and turned back my way, placing a kiss on my forehead before moving down to the tip of my nose. "Besides, you are most definitely a step up from the annoying models I used to lug around." With that, he pushed his lips against mine and marched into his bathroom, nightmares and work-outs long forgotten as I felt the kiss linger.
Point of View Switch: Bruce's POV
I absolutely hate my day-job.
It wasn't a necessity and I had no reason to continue on with it, other than the sheer fact that I felt like it was my responsibility to make sure the company that my family worked so hard to keep up stayed on firm ground and is run well by good people. I hated being the mean boss walking around with pink slips and firing people, always getting tossed the dirty work because no one else had the guts to tell someone they were out of luck - and a job. But it had it's perks.
Linda, for instance.
Linda had worked for Wayne Enterprises for over 25 years, an employee hired by my father, himself. She worked at the desk, refusing any kind of promotion or retirement. At 66 years old, she was starting to be slowed down by aches and pains, but she never failed to greet anyone and everyone with a smile, even the younger employees that seemed intent on making her life miserable and hating her guts just because she was paid better for "sitting in a seat and resting all day." She, like Alfred, had become more than just a friend and more like a grandparent or maternal figure. It was hard not to feel that way for the sweet old lady, and she seemed to get past my tough exterior fairly easily in my younger, more rebellious years.
She was the perfect person to ask for help and I planned on taking advantage.
"Ms. Thornston!" I yelled out, ignoring the angry glances from every other employee on the 3rd floor, annoyed that the old lady was getting my attention.
"Bruce, dear. Call me Linda or I'll smack you. I've told you a thousand times!" And she would. I'd learned that the hard way.
"I need your help with something...someone, actually. There's a big gala on Wednesday and I found a date. I need you to give a few different stores in town a call and see if they have anything nice. Get descriptions from them and pick whatever you think would be best and have them send it over to the Manor." Recently, due to her not being able to walk around quite as much anymore, she'd become more of my PA when it comes to ordering things from the internet and helping me pick out things for the women I had to keep around for my playboy images' sake. But this time, it had to be special, not just run-of-the-mill. "Make sure it's classy, nothing like you'd see those others wear, okay?"
"And is this for a Miss Dawson, by any chance?" Her wrinkled hand lifted a newspaper, Sarah's face on the front cover as I led her into the black BMW just the other day at her workplace. Busted.
"Maybe." I snagged the paper from her pink-painted nails and fled away to the meeting room, already late. "I'll see you later, Linda."
The minute I stepped into the boardroom, I knew something was terribly wrong.
John sat in the head chair, gun strapped to his side next to layers of protection. It was odd to see him out of his Robin gear after such a long time.
"Bruce, we have situation."
