I Bet On Losing Dogs

Heaven or Las Vegas

You're surprised you fell asleep so quickly, but catch yourself waking up when he pulls you closer, his hands resting on your arm. His chest is a firm pillow under your ear, heart thumping in his chest. Your heavy lids part to see the beginning of the sunrise. Too early. You close them tighter, snuggling up to Bruce. He lets out a soft moan in his sleep, adjusting slightly. You can't believe he stayed. You hope nothing happened in the city while he finally slept. He would try to find his disappointment but make the trek back to the town.

His fingers trace your arm as he shifts back to the waking world, his body tensing as he yawns. You lift your head to see his relaxed face. You wonder how long it's been since he's 'relaxed.' He looks almost surprised to see you, but he gives a sleepy smile, pressing his lips against your head.

"Good morning." You move to be inches from his face before moving away, self-conscious. He's never seen you undone, so fresh in the morning. His soft eyebrows lower, his hand resting on your lower back. "If only I could wake up to this sight every day," He says, touching your cheek. You lean into it, noticing his bedhead against the pillow. You lean down, pressing your lips against his. His hand lowers to your ass, the squeeze causing goosebumps up your spine. He breaks the kiss with a lazy smile before sitting up.

"We have an itinerary today." You hide your grimace with a smile. He can never be still. "We'll have to try to get Richard's records. Later, I set up a time to stop by an agency so we can get the adoption part started." You like his optimism as you get out of bed. You can only hope that he can keep it up if they give you negative news. "How should I dress?" You ask as you open the closet. He goes to his side, pulling out the usual black ensemble though more business casual. You look at your side and pull down a simple black dress. You'd match, and it's not over the top. "That's perfect, (Y/N)." You flash a smile as he pulls down his sweats. Your eyes bulge, and you turn away, face hot. He did not wear underwear. You wonder if he goes commando to sleep all the time. The thought causes a cold sweat at the small of your back. You grab the least lacy undergarments and excuse yourself for a shower.

The shower is a cleanser in more ways than one. You feel lighter today—the years of yesterday are down the drain. You know to take it day by day. There's no reason to push yourself like Bruce/Batman, and he's taking it easy. You wonder what he would have done if you didn't know he was Batman. He would have left no doubt and looked into Elliot's plans more. It couldn't have been thwarted in one go. He's being so careful with you this way. He comes into the bathroom a moment later to brush his teeth and handle his hair. He keeps his eyes on his reflection, using his fancy electric toothbrush to brush away his sleep. You stop staring and turn the water off. You wonder where he buys his soaps and hope when you move out on your own, he'll buy it for you, whatever it is. You can feel it's too expensive for you to afford in your bones.

You wrap the towel around your body after you dry off. He tears his eyes away as he brushes his hair, watching you go to your clothes. You see his breathing quicken by the rise and fall of his chest. Your eyes meet as you slowly take the towel body and hang it on the hook. You can feel his gaze on your back as you grab your panties. He lets out a soft exhale as you turn, pulling them up. He goes back to brushing his hair, his jaw tight. You wish he came over, brushing his growing erection at your hips. Maybe even a quickie. Fuck. You pull your dress over your head, pushing your disgusting thoughts away as you smooth the skirt. The corners of your lips dip downwards when you realize he's left. You wonder how he's so silent as you get ready alone.

You brush your hair and decide to go with simple jewelry. You don't know what to wear to "impress" the agency. Your eyes glue to the bruises on your arms. You grab a jacket on your way out, your teeth grinding together. You try to calm yourself down, your stomach in knots. As you go down the stairs, you see Richard playing outside. He's a pretty fast runner, flipping and laughing in the grass. Alfred sits under the veranda, observing. You doubt he saw himself doing this again. Richard's circus training comes through as he does a kickflip in the air. Bruce is waiting in the foyer, but his eyes are on the kid too. "He's talented," You say, touching his arm. "Very. I wonder who trained him." You can see his mind working. You add quickly, keeping up your smile, "Let him be a kid." You don't think Batman would want a kid sidekick, but Bruce's glance raises your doubts. He's a child.

You're surprised to see an arrangement of older fancy cars in the garage. You know they belonged to Bruce's parents. Though the furniture in the house is more timeless, there are little things that transport you back to 2002. He chooses the silvery blue Thunderbird. It's similar to his primary black car except for more round. "I don't want to use my car because I do not want them to track it." He explains as he gets in. The car smells like leather and old new car smell. "I get maintenance done on the cars." He continues, reading the expression on your face. He turns the car on, and it roars to life in an older car fashion. His face heats, but he turns the radio on. It's playing some pop music, an earworm, and he changes it before going on. Of course, he has satellite radio as he goes to a station playing more moody, dark music. You flash him a look as he pulls out.

Bruce puts his sunglasses on as he pulls into the sunny day. You fumble around in your purse to see if you have any. Before he pulls out of the extended driveway, he presses the glasses compartment revealing big dark brown chunky glasses that scream the early 2000s—his mom's. Your heart leaps in your chest, and you take them carefully. "Thank you," you say with a slight head nod as you put them on. You wonder if he remembers her in them but keeps your mouth shut as the moody song ends, going into an edgier one.

"I wonder if it'll stay sunny up here." He shrugs as he drives. "It's cloudier in Gotham because of the smog." You chuckle to yourself. So grim. "Maybe you could put some money into looking into that." Bruce's eyes lower, his mouth a tight line. He says nothing back.

You don't know where you're going as you head into the suburban area. The houses are smaller, still lovely nonetheless. Their lawns are manicured with different vehicles on the property or parked near the street. Their trees turn more yellow, orange, and red, but most keep their green. You remember your friends wanting to live in this neighborhood in your dreams. Safer this way than the bungalows and townhomes Gotham offers. Once you're closer to town, there's a bigger mall area with stores and restaurants. This is a town of fantasy you decide as Bruce continues down the road. They live their ordinary lives looking down their nose at the big city an hour away. You wonder how many of the husbands work downtown to make their wives happy, keep her at home while pumping her with babies.

You sigh, closing your eyes. Maybe you're not that different. Your glasses shield your gaze as you look over at Bruce. His jaw is still tight, head forward. "What's wrong?" He asks after a moment. "Nothing important. Just thinking about suburbia." He gives a quick nod. The agency is in a taller building next to the shopping center.

"Do you like it?" He asks as he pulls into the parking lot, waiting for an older couple to leave.

"I don't know. I'm probably judging it too harshly." His eyebrow perks up. "How so?"

You bite your tongue, trying to figure out how you want to phrase it. "I still see the 'nuclear family' and the 'ideal.' I used to want it, but now I don't care that much." Finally, you admit as he parks.

"What do you want?" He asks as he turns the car off.

"I think I want calm. I want to do what I want but also not worry about danger. But I don't want to be out here. It feels too ingenious, almost sinister."

Bruce pulls his glasses off, his eyes amused. "Your mind is so provocative. I want to know more later. If we're going to be taking care of Richard, we'll need to figure out where and how." The sentence makes your heart drop. The we's catch you off guard. But, of course, it's all with you. Why wouldn't it be? You put his mother's glasses back in the compartment before getting out.

Bruce waits at the front of the car. You're both nervous. You reach for his hand, giving him a slight squeeze. "This is a long process. So, whatever they say today can change later." Bruce says, primarily to himself. You nod, hoping if they say no, he won't overreact. He leans down, giving you a quick kiss on your head.