Her bare breasts press the space of his clavicle. The high-rise apartment smells like wine and gratuitous, hours-long sex. She stirs underneath the luxury, wine-red sheets and then pokes a ridge of scarred flesh on his abdomen — older, smaller, and darker.
"This one, Deedee?"
Bruce takes a moment to lift his head from his pillow. "Ah. Boating accident."
Silver delivers a swift, hard smack on his left pectoral. "Bruce…" she warns.
"Do you think I'm lying to you?"
A pout. "No… but, what, did you shove a propeller blade into your stomach?" Silver asks.
His laugh — clear, full-toned, loud. "Saved one of the crew," he confesses, half-lying.
"… Mister Nice Guy."
DC Comics isn't mine. Another another older fic I got to show off that didn't get published here! Not a popular opinion but I love Bruce Wayne with Silver St. Cloud and ughhhhhhhh. Just hit me with that good fluff. Hit me real good. If there's any shippers out there PLEASE TELL ME WHO YOU ARE. Comments/thoughts appreciated!