It's after midnight when he comes upstairs from the cave. Exhaustion and lingering frustration settled into his lower back hours ago. The tightness has worked its way up to his shoulder blades and he contemplates a tough work out to loosen the muscles. Or maybe a shower would be easier. He's tired. And pissed. And hollow.

Light spills onto the tile floor in the hallway. His natural instinct is to be suspicious and he slows his footsteps. Alfred knows he likes to keep the lights off because he prefers the dark. But the old man isn't speaking to him either because Bruce is a "pigheaded arse", he believes were the exact words, so he's pretty sure it wasn't an oversight on his opinionated butler's part.

Two light steps forward and he smells her before he sees her. Jasmine scented shampoo. His eyebrows raise and his heart flips.

That's…different. She's here.

He would have bet good money she'd be long gone by now.

He enters the room with caution because he's not sure why she's here or what she'll do when she sees him. And he's a little upset to realize he's actually afraid. Because he shouldn't be afraid of her. Even though she can kill him with little to no effort. And he trusts her, he really does. But a part of him always wonders, just like it does with Clark…All it takes is one really bad day…

As he passes the threshold, he can see her in the bathroom. She's brushing her long damp hair in front of the vanity mirror. She's getting ready for bed. A sigh of relief passes his lips. He crosses his arms and leans a shoulder against the doorjamb. "You're still here?"

She glides out of the bathroom like the goddess she is, dressed in a floor-length champagne silk nightgown that dips low against the small of her back and crisscrosses the golden expanse of skin with only a thin set of straps. She's gorgeous and elegant and his heart flutters again out of desire and disbelief. He kicks himself for the fiftieth time in the span of six hours.

"Of course," she says with a guarded tone. "My flight isn't until Monday. Why?"

"Never mind." He shakes his head and pushes off the wall. There wasn't much in the world that surprised him anymore. But this…He never would have predicted this.

She must sense his inner disbelief and practically rolls her eyes at him as she turns down the covers like he's being an idiot. "Bruce, we had a disagreement. That is all."

"I know."

"Do you?"

There's that question again. Do you? He bites back the instant retort that rises in his throat. Repentant is difficult for him especially when he didn't really do anything wrong. So he says, "Diana, I've been in relationships before. I know how this works."

He's so full of shit, and they both know it. Up until five minutes ago, he was scared shitless that he'd fucked it all up because of his never-ending fear of loss. He doesn't need thousands of dollars in therapy to know that he's terrified of losing people. He knows why and he lives with that every minute of every day. It's imprinted in his DNA now and he's not sure he'll ever feel totally secure. So like a stray dog, he'll keep shitting on the carpet until he learns how not to. It may take forever. Her eternal patience may prove to be his saving grace.

She lifts the sheets and climbs into bed and the tension rolls off him even more. "Good then," she says. "Take your clothes off and get in this bed and come make it up to me."

Bruce scoffs for a second, despite how his libido jump starts his need to dive between the sheets please her. But his male ego has other plans and keeps his feet planted right where they are. He's not quite done with their argument and he stubbornly finds his hands on his hips. He tells himself 'no', but opens his mouth anyway. "So, let me get this straight. It's not up to me what you do, but you can tell me what to do whenever you want?"

"Yes. That's exactly how it is." She states it like it's a well-known fact. The twinkle in her eyes is adorable and he can't help it when he huffs an incredulous laugh.

"Princess, it doesn't work that way."

She smooths her hands over the fold in the sheet over the top of the blanket. A flicker of insecurity crosses her face and she lowers her eyes. "If you're too angry with me to make love to me, then I understand."

"Oh, I didn't say that." He catches her eye before he takes his time to remove his shirt and tosses it to the bench at the foot of the bed. His shoes, socks and trousers follow. Naked, he slides between the sheets and rests on his elbow. She watches him with a hesitant look in her eyes. He takes her hand in his and laces his fingers in hers, bringing them to his lips to place a kiss on the backs of her knuckles. "I'm not angry with you. I assumed you were angry with me."

"I am." Her face is serious for a long moment before a slow smile erases any uncertainty and she places her other hand over his. "But, I am also extremely touched by your misplaced gesture to try to protect me."

No matter how old he is, he will never understand women's capacity to harbor multiple conflicting emotions in the span of thirty seconds. Strangely, a weight lifts off of him and he can finally take a deep breath again.

"I'm sorry, Princess. I didn't mean to over step my bounds. It was just a plan I drew up with Alfred." She goes to speak but he cuts her off. "But before you get upset with him, he did question my motives in doing so. He warned me not to. As you might have guessed, I'm not one to be told 'no'. I should know better than to expect you to be told what to do, even if it's a suggestion."

"I, too, am sorry for my reaction." She shakes her head and settles against the pillows. "I must admit that I felt like you didn't have faith in my abilities and I'm uncertain as to why that upset me so much."

"Because no one likes to have their capabilities questioned especially if you take pride in them. Believe me, I know." He looks her straight in the eye. "That was not my intention. I just…I…" His voice catches at the top of his chest with a sudden tumult of emotion he can't gain purchase on and he clears his throat. Her gaze holds his patiently as she waits for him to find the words.

The curve of her cheek catches the golden glow of the light. He runs his hand over the sweep of her brow. Something in her expression unfurls the grip around his heart and he knows that he needs to say the words to her. To make the vow.

"I love you."

He says it because it's the only thing to say. And he owes her that much. He expects the apprehension to come, that taut ping in his gut, but it doesn't happen. Instead, a sense of warmth floods through every corner of his limbs. She gives him a watery smile as her eyes fill with happy tears. Relief spurs him forward. "I need you in my life. I told Alfred I can't lose you, but its more than that. Losing you would destroy me."

"I'm not going anywhere, Bruce. Not over an argument and certainly not because you want to protect me. I love you. You never have to doubt that."

"I don't doubt that." A frown ticks at the corner of his mouth. "I just don't always know how to accept the good things that happen in my life."

"Well you better believe it because we are a good thing in each other's life, Bruce Wayne, and I won't hear any argument on the matter." She kisses him so sweetly that he doesn't think he could possibly be any happier than he is in this moment.

Pride fills his chest and a triumphant smirk pulls his lips. "So Princess, get this gorgeous negligée off and get over here because I'm ready to make love to you now."

She sniffs in a breath but desire simmers under the surface of her eyes. Her lips touch his this time in a sensual, slow kiss that ends with his bottom lip between her teeth. "I think I'll leave it on, and you'll lie back while I run my tongue over every square inch of your body. How's that sound?"

"Perfect."

Maybe he does like it when she tells him what to do…