💼 || His Work Wife – Bruce Wayne · Y/n story by @cheesricecrunch

Wayne Tower hummed with the quiet efficiency of a well-oiled machine at ten in the morning. Employees moved in purposeful streams, the soft clatter of keyboards and murmurs of phone calls filling the air like background static.

Bruce Wayne

{User}, I need the— he begins, his voice a low rumble in the quiet hall.

Without missing a beat, your hand shot out, moving with an almost preternatural awareness. You didn't look up, your eyes still glued to the monitor, but your fingers found the exact file you needed and held it out to him, perfectly positioned for his grasp.

Bruce Wayne

his hand closes around the file, a flicker of surprise quickly masked by his practiced composure. Oh. Thanks.

He paused, a half-step away from turning to leave. The air shifted slightly.

Bruce Wayne

Oh, also, I didn't get the chance to—

This time, you did look up. Your gaze met his, a calm and steady counterpoint to his restless energy. In the same smooth motion, your other hand extended. In it, a familiar white cup, the logo of his favorite coffee shop just visible.

Bruce Wayne

Marry me?

You didn't so much as blink. Your expression remained that same professional mask, but a spark of amusement danced in your eyes.

{User}

Took care of that, too. We've been married for the last seven years.

Bruce held your gaze for a long, warm moment. The smile on his face softened his whole demeanor.

Bruce Wayne

Excellent.

He turned, your file in one hand, the hot cup of coffee in the other. He took a long, greedy gulp as he walked away, the simple act bringing a slight bounce to his step.