The Horror and the Night

Running toward danger

Disclaimer: The following chapter contains an explicit smut scene! Reader discretion is advised.

      "Shouldn't you be at home resting?" Bruce asked opening your office door wider and glancing inside, "can I come in?"

"Sure!" you smiled looking out from behind the computer screen, "I'm fine. I told you I don't need sick leave."

"And I'm telling you for the third day in a row that I'd rather you take a few days off," he replied, leaving the door slightly open behind him as he was in the habit of doing. He walked over to you and, while placing a mug of aromatic coffee on your desk, asked, "Why are you so stubborn?"

"A manufacturing defect," you smirked, as you reached for the hot beverage, "I appreciate your concern, but you won't make me." Even his charming smile and compelling dominance couldn't keep you at home. Locked inside your four walls you were losing your mind as intrusive thoughts returned time and again replaying images from the past few days. Fear of what you can do, guilt over what you have done, confusion, a feeling of powerlessness, enchantment, a fleeting feeling of happiness, an unstoppable desire to escape. All of them fought for control, tried to determine your next step, drove you to the brink of insanity. You could escape from them at work, working was a distraction at least until Bruce wasn't around.

"I noticed," he smiled then pulled a chair over so he could sit next to you.

Wednesday evening was slowly descending over Gotham. Heavy, rainy clouds loomed in the darkening sky, dimming the cool glow of the setting sun. The pale, cold sun had long since hidden behind the horizon, taking with it a touch of autumn warmth, shrouding the city in a familiar mystical veil. Just as the setting sun took with it the warmth of the day, the approaching evening brought with it the anticipated comfort, the comfort of his gaze that seemed to watch over you every evening. So it was that day and each that came after Sunday. Monday morning dawned with a smile on your face when a message full of concern appeared on your phone screen suggesting that you should stay home instead of going to work. You refused, which led him to your office in the evening hours. Bruce Wayne, although absent for most of the day, seemed to be always nearby, watching attentively. He maintained a slight distance, but his eyes betrayed more than he may have intended. You were learning about him, studying him while conclusions and assumptions formed on their own. Bruce was a man of action. Determined, confident, insanely intelligent, and yet cautious. You could only assume that if he decided to take one step, he didn't plan to wait long for the next one, let alone back down. His constant presence kept building confidence in you with each passing day. Always close, yet so far away from you. Always charming, always composed, a perfect gentleman. You couldn't help but admire the professionalism he displayed in the office. The door was always left ajar, physical contact was almost non-existent, while only his gaze seemed to be touching your soul, looking longingly at you as he silently built tension between you. He was driving you crazy with that deep voice of his that seemed to pierce you to the core, that gaze that seemed to look into the deepest corners of your mind, and that infuriating, barely visible smile. So you tried, you tried your best to stay calm and relaxed as he came closer to you. You tried so hard to match his level of professionalism, but his mere presence was enough to trigger thoughts you shouldn't have in the office. It was enough that he came close enough for you to smell his perfume again, to ignite still lingering memories, to recall the touch of his lips on yours, the closeness of his body against yours, the words he whispered in your ear as you twirled together in a dance. Some part of you screamed: "Fuck professionalism!!! Fuck the cameras, fuck the possibility of being noticed! Don't hesitate!!! I won't either!" But although he seemed to be getting closer every day, he didn't make another move forward, and you certainly weren't going to urge him to do so. Instead, every evening you replayed in your mind that brief moment when you felt safe when you felt that perhaps the fairy tale didn't have to come to an end after all, those magical moments of the past few days. You couldn't lie to yourself, even though you knew you shouldn't, you were falling in love. And that feeling was more frightening than any other.