𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭, 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞

𝟕: 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦

As Cassandra opened her eyes, the morning sun streamed through the blinds, casting soft golden rays into Bruce's penthouse. She sat up slowly, a smile tugging at her lips as she realized she was in his bed. Last night, she'd come to Bruce seeking comfort before Anthony's funeral today. They hadn't done anything—just slept side by side, but that was enough. A warm feeling blossomed in her chest as the reality settled in: she was here, with Bruce. They hadn't defined what they were, but they both knew they wanted only each other, and for now, that was all that mattered.

Rising, Cassandra padded into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. To her surprise, Bruce was at the stove, cooking breakfast.

"Hey," she mumbled sleepily.

Bruce glanced back, a soft smile brightening his face. "Morning, beautiful." He crossed the kitchen, wrapping an arm around her waist and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "How'd you sleep?"

"Good," she murmured, sinking into the warmth of his embrace before he returned to the stove. "But...I'm still nervous about today."

"You're going to be amazing," Bruce reassured her with a grin.

Cassandra sat on one of the kitchen stools, watching him cook. "What if I'm not? His family's going to expect this perfect, moving tribute. What if I choke? What if I can't do it?"

Bruce turned off the stove and walked over to her, his expression serious but tender. He took her hands in his. "Hey, stop. You've got this. You've rehearsed, right?"

Cassandra nodded. "Yeah, over and over. Even with Noa."

"Then there's nothing to worry about. Gordon wouldn't have asked you if he didn't believe in you. And I believe in you."

She exhaled, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. "You're right. I'm just working myself up."

Bruce smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You want pancakes?"

Cassandra grinned. "Yes, please."

"Perfect." He walked over to the stove. "I didn't know you could cook," Cassandra said, raising an eyebrow.

Bruce smirked as he flipped the last pancake. "What, just because I have private chefs, a butler, my own helicopter, and a company to run, you think I can't make breakfast?"

Cassandra crossed her arms, giving him a teasing look. "You do hear how ridiculous that sounds, right?"

Bruce chuckled, shaking his head as he placed the plate in front of her. "Enjoy."

Cassandra's eyes widened in surprise. The pancakes were perfectly stacked, topped with strawberries, blueberries, and a swirl of whipped cream. She couldn't help but smile down at them.

"You know," she teased, "if you cut them into the shape of a bat, you could call them 'Batcakes.'"

Bruce chuckled. "Batcakes?"

"Yeah," she said, still grinning.

He leaned against the counter, rubbing a hand along her arm. "What?"

"Nothing," Cassandra replied, her smile softening. "I just like seeing you happy."

Bruce's gaze lingered on her for a moment. "I'm happy with you, too."

A quiet beat passed between them before Bruce broke the silence. "I've been thinking...after I put the Joker away for good, I think I'm going to hang up the cape."

Cassandra blinked in surprise. "Bruce—"

"I've made up my mind," he interrupted gently. "I like being Batman, but...there are things I like more."