I Bet On Losing Dogs

TTYL

Your emails have been a mess since you stopped working. Your brows knit together as most of them are organizations worried about their future with Wayne Foundations since the lockdown. Rachel's email sent an automatic email letting them know we'd respond as soon as possible. You group them up in a folder before going to the emails about applications. You click the first one, resting on your elbow as the study computer opens the document. You don't recognize them as anyone you spoke with but don't remember anyone besides Harvey. You grimace. How quickly life changes.

You follow your steps, running all the names of everyone involved. There's a ding. You grimace, looking into it. It's a young woman named Nina Elliot. You sigh. It's a very common last name. You don't know if she has any ties to Thomas, but you don't want it to slip to the cracks anyway. Bruce hasn't told you why he doesn't trust him besides he's involved with Harvey somehow. You check her Facebook to find she's a very private woman. Everything is mainly hidden beside a picture of her and her husband, Chris Elliot, on their wedding day. Since she married in, you focus on him. He's not as private with his page. You get another hit and grimace.

Thomas.

However, you don't see what their relationship is. You consider looking into it further. If it's the same Thomas Elliot that Bruce has on red alert, it's a wrap. If it's a different Elliot, you can consider it. You would have to utilize the Wayne Enterprise search. You're pretty sure it's illegal and didn't understand why you have access to such an in-depth search for people. Until you know, it is Batman's doing. He probably uses it a lot for his research for his enemies. You search for Chris Elliot Gotham and wait as it searches. You narrow it down by his wife's info before it finds him. You make an idle face as you look through potential relationships, looking for Thomas. He doesn't show up. You decide to leave it alone. It's better to say no than let it slide when you can't find the answer.

The subsequent applications are simple as no one gets flagged. You check the clock and laugh to yourself. You've killed two hours. It's gone by so fast you didn't even notice. You chalk it up to the adrenaline from your quickie with Bruce. You sit back in the chair, taking a slight break. It's quiet outside of the study. You peak, seeing Alfred asleep in his chair and Dory reading a book next to him. You smile to yourself. Maybe it's because they're two older people, but you think they should get together. You don't plan on telling them. It is none of your business.

You go up to your room, wanting to check your phone. Bruce sluggishly opens his door as you start to open yours. "Should you sleep longer?" You ask with a warm smile. He makes a face. "I had an epiphany. I can't sleep until I look into this." He explains, rubbing his face. He continues down the hall and descends the stairs. You watch, hoping he will go to sleep as soon as possible. You wonder if he ever sleeps at all.

The news is stagnant, the lockdown lifted. Your friend adopts a new puppy who looks like her old one from high school. You keep scrolling, not seeing anything interesting enough to keep you from staying from working too long. You would walk around, get water, and scroll on your phone mindlessly in the office. Since staying off, you don't see a need to check it as much.

You toss the phone on your bed and lie on your back, looking at your ceiling. What will you do once Bruce deems it safe for you to be outside of his home? The thought is slightly overwhelming. Is it because you told him you loved him? The phrase warms your heart, closing your eyes. It's risky. You can't imagine staying here forever. It's easy to sit and have your meals and clothes catered to you while you do absolutely nothing. But you're restless already. You miss going to your cornerstone, buying the essentials, and going the fuck home. Maybe you'd go to your friend with a bottle of wine, watch a cheesy romantic TV series, or even just read a book of your choosing in your bed. Bruce would let you do those things. Imagine him at the cornerstore trying to be normal, meeting your friends, maybe even cuddling with you while watching some movies. It's so silly, you think. So domestic. You sigh, knowing it can't exist in the way you want. He would be torn between Batman and Bruce Wayne again, and you can't say when you'd see him if you didn't live with him.

He's still in the study using the computer, eyes bleary as you return. "Oh, I didn't know you'd be in here." You say softly.

"I'm finishing up." He speaks against his hand on his chin. "I found what I needed. I need to double-check." His eyes tear from the screen and meet yours. "Are you okay?" You nod, perking up. "Yeah. Happy to be doing something." His eyes crinkle, his smile hidden by his hand. "Good. I'm glad you found something to do while you're here."

You shrug. "Sorta, I guess. It's just work." You rest against the desk as he prints out his findings. "You said you're okay, but something is wrong." He says as he stands. He touches your hand, standing in front of you. "Not anything terrible." You admit, touching his cheek. There are dark circles under his eyes, not remanent of his dark makeup. He's just tired. "I was thinking about easing back into my world when it's safe."

The corners of his mouth twitch down, and you swipe your thumb back and forth on his stubbled cheek. "It's simple things... I want to do stuff myself instead of depending on your lovely staff." His hands are warm on your hips. "What do you want to do?" He asks, his brows creasing his forehead. "Well, I like to go and get my own groceries and see my friends. I'd say shopping too, but you've got me covered." He considers this. "You can go to the store with an escort. Your friends need to be vetted, but they can come here." He says after a moment. It's the closest to a yes you'll get at this moment. You know it's only because he's tired.

He carefully lifts your head to his, pressing his lips against yours in a chaste kiss. He pushes you slightly against the hard wooden desk, unforgiving against the edge. You wince against his mouth as he deepens the kiss, sucking on your bottom lip. You rest your hand on his shoulder, pushing softly. He pulls away, his sleepy eyes focusing on your mouth.

"I have to work." You whisper. "You need to sleep." He grimaces and sits up. "Let's be responsible then, (Y/N)." He says, grabbing his papers from the printer.

You decide to call your coworkers. You don't know what to expect, however. Greg will complain that staying in and being with his family is a drag because he can't escape to the range with his bros. Rachel will probably gush about her vacation that you hope went without any issues stemming from Gotham. You call Greg first, tapping your pen on the desk. He answers quickly. "Hello?" "Hey, Greg! It's me, (Y/N)." He doesn't say anything, and you hear kids laughing in the background.

"Um. Is everything okay?"

You blink, realizing it wouldn't make sense for you to call. Maybe for Rachel, but you? "Yes, everything is okay. I was just checking on you and your family."

He lets out a breath. "We're okay. Staying at home is a bit of a drag, but we'll survive. If it's nothing work-related, can I go? My wife is making lunch, so I'm watching the kids."

"Oh, yeah, for sure. Bye." You hang up quickly, groaning in embarrassment. Why did you do that? You sit back in your chair, reeling in your feelings. You hesitate before calling Rachel. You don't want a repeat experience. Luckily, she doesn't answer. "Hi! You've reached Rachel Jones! Sorry I missed you! Call you back as soon as I can! Byeee!" You hang up. Well, you tried. You get back to work, finishing your email applications.

Jacques knocks on the door, as you call it quits. "Ah, there you are. I made you lunch. It's simple spinach and tomato quiche." He puts down the plate with a small smile. "Are you feeling alright (Y/N)?" He asks, lingering. You nod, smiling. "Just tired, but I'll survive. Thank you for the quiche." You're relieved when he doesn't stay. The quiche melts in your mouth. You take your time, savoring every bite. Finally, you sit back in the chair, resting your eyes. You wish you had gotten your friends vetted so you could hang out with someone other than Bruce. Maybe if Batman doesn't interrupt your world, you'll see about them coming tomorrow.