stories as they are its magnum opus. And for Bruce's story, this may well be one of its most important scenes.

"You've been here through everything. You've been here for my beginning. You were my beginning," Bruce—no, Batman said. You've gotten used to his name. It is still unnerving to see those eyes instead of Bruce's, but being now a common occurrence in your life makes seeing Bruce's eyes all that more special. The pair you helped match. The part of you that you returned to him.

You're too smart not to know where this is going. Still, you find yourself smiling so hard your cheeks are hurting. Gotham's fog may be chilling you, it's breeze may be whispering into your ear, and the darkness of its skies may be shadowing you, but nothing could take from this moment. The smile on his lips quirks as he finds his way through the connection, your elation seeping through strong enough where the hinges on that door strain with the weight. But it is a good strain this time, like a muscle repairing itself after a workout, growing stronger as the both of you and your relationship have over those years.

Now he's getting those flashes of memory from your mind. Your reflection in the tiles, blood rolling down your cheeks like tears, and then looking into that mirror and seeing a matching set of irises for the first time; Bruce's own face, shadowed in the moonlight as his finger circles your belly button and his lips form words he can't hear. He seems too pretty, his motions seem too sweet, and your interpretation of him in comparison to how he actually is takes his breath away. Did you really think he was so charming, so kind, so loving? Bruce wondered if you were different from how he saw you, but immediately denied such a thing. You were too beautiful to not be so real; your first kiss, an awkward and childish thing shared under the cover of night and dancing city lights.

"And I want you to... I want you to be my end, too." Batman said.

You raised a playful eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest and staring up at the Batman with teasing eyes, "...You want me to kill you?"

"No," Batman said with a frown, which lightened when you began to laugh into the back of your hand. "You know what I mean, Y/N."

"And what if I don't?" You asked, that mirth still tinkling like a bell in your voice.

Taking a step towards him, you rested your hands on either side of the bat on his chest, feeling the sweeping slopes of its wings as the black metal glistened. Bruce watches your eyes trace it's shape as your fingers did, how that matching pair concentrated, how your pupils dilated and contracted with the clouds and his cowl reflected in them.

"You can almost read my mind. I'm sure you understand how I feel, darling." Batman said. It felt wrong hearing the term of affection from him instead of Bruce, but it was too sweet to ruin. Well, almost...

"Fine. Bruce Wayne..." You pushed off him and crossed your arms, patiently staring up at that mask. You smiled, "If you're going to ask me to marry you, then take off the cowl."

He doesn't hesitate. You know that you're just on a rooftop right now, and that anyone can see, and that Nightwing and Robin are probably listening in on you, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that you're talking to Bruce Wayne now, and the helmet you detest is now rolling somewhere to your left. What matters is that Bruce is pulling out a ring.

"I'm sorry I didn't ask earlier." He whispered as your bodies neared.

"Oh, Bruce," you shake your head at him, "All I've done is wait for you. It's my job."

"I don't want you to think you're stuck behind me. This—" Bruce pulled open the small velvet case from his utility belt, unveiling a ring that makes your eyes water. You already felt unworthy seeing it. But wearing it for the rest of your life? That was... That's Martha Wayne's wedding ring, and you just know that Bruce has Thomas' on him somewhere waiting for your answer, because there's no way you'd say no to him. You couldn't. The bond wouldn't allow it, the world wouldn't allow it, you wouldn't allow it."—is me pulling you to be at my side, where you should be. Where I want you to be. You're my equal."

Bruce pulls off his gloves and tosses them aside. Then, one bare hand rises to lay against your cheek. You press his coarse skin deeper into your own with your palm and try to resist more tears. "You know I can't wear that ring, Bruce."

"Her will. She wanted you to. They wanted us to." He argues, already slipping it onto your finger.

"I love you," You whispered, clutching the ring to your chest and then slamming yourself into his.

Bruce didn't hesitate to keep you there, and you feel Thomas' ring warm the skin on your neck as Bruce cups it protectively. His lips press onto your hair and linger there for a breath, just long enough for you to feel instead of seeing or hearing what he's saying, "I love you too."