(Untitled)

[rattle_thecages]

OOC: Backdated to last Sunday morning. Yah. ;__;

Rachel knew Harry and MJ weren't in the penthouse because for once since the weekend began, it was quiet. It was just as she liked it on an early Sunday morning. Despite the fact none of them had slept much last night because Harry Osborn had been the birthday boy, and Harry Osborn demanded to be

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[bruisedwayne]

Bruce dropped his gaze to Rachel's chest as she swiped the crumbs away, distracted for a moment. "I'm not afraid of her if that's what you're suggesting." Aside from the fact that he'd been oddly quiet in the redhead's presence, there was nothing else he did that was out of the ordinary. Bruce still came home late, pretending to be slightly tipsy whenever Rachel told him that MJ was still awake and hanging out in the living room, and he tended to space out during dinner conversations, simply letting out a derisive snort or two whenever Henry was mentioned. Which was often.

[rattle_thecages]

Rachel hadn't been impressed with MJ's behavior, either. And she didn't exactly want to recall their latest conversation regarding Henry. It left her sad, unsettled. She was thankful Bruce was sleeping when said conversation occurred. He'd have noticed something was wrong just by looking at her.

"I'm not suggesting anything of the sort."

Rachel plucked the paper from his hands, tossing it to the nearby table. Slinging her arms around his neck, she was the picture of pleasantness, fingers curling into his nape. "Just play nice for one more day. I'll be patient with Harry."

[bruisedwayne]

He pulled her onto his lap, allowing her to straddle him as he leaned back against the couch to get comfortable, cup of coffee forgotten. Alfred moved from the living room back to the kitchen, doing so quietly as to not disturb the young couple.

Bruce smiled up at her. "And what do I get for playing nice?" He ached a perfect brow up at her as he rested a hand on Rachel's thigh.

[rattle_thecages]

His smile elicited one of her own. Quiet, and sweet, a memory all of its own. "You get me, isn't that enough?"

A silly question. She wondered what was enough for Bruce Wayne. What was enough for any of them. Her fingers never left his nape, lips hovering inches away from his before they met in a familiar dance. She rediscovered this man every time and some days, she still had to wonder if it was real.

[bruisedwayne]

A year ago, he'd told Alfred that he'd forego all the riches of the world if it meant he could lead a simple life with Rachel. Now, if given the choice, he'd still pick that over anything else.

Bruce met her lips with a smile of his own as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her against him. He loved her and it showed in the way he looked at her. Adoringly. Always adoringly.

He stood up and lifted her into his arms. She protested the movement, murmuring something about an unfinished crossword puzzle.

But later, he said. There would always be later.