#✦ verse: joining the wayne pack (archie howells)

[normaltothemax]

@gothamsworn

He’s known it was coming for a while now; both Adrianna and Arthur have already gone through it, and Alexandria and Abigail are younger than him, meaning they still have some time. So when he’s called to his father’s office (something entirely uncommon in and of itself), he’s not actually all that surprised to learn that he’s being married off. Betrothed to a man, an alpha, he’s never met and only knows by reputation alone. A reputation that doesn’t entirely endear him to said man.

Honestly, the most surprising part about the whole situation is the fact that it’s a man his parents are giving him to. Though, considering the number of children Bruce Wayne already has, and the fact that Archie himself is only third in line of the Howells successors, he supposes his parents can maybe afford to be a little more progressive, in this case.

Then his parents throw an actual curveball at him: Bruce Wayne is here, waiting for him in the sitting room they use to host the most esteemed of guests. Archie is leaving today, now, and his things will be shipped to him, should Bruce allow it. He doesn’t know how long this has been in the works for, doesn’t know if his parents knew ahead of time and chose to keep it from him until it was too late (though he figures that’s probably the case). Hell, they might have simply forgotten to tell him; it’s not as if he ever crosses their minds until they want him to do something anyways. His head spins. He feels a little like he can’t breathe. Had it happened this fast for Alexandria and Abigail? He honestly can’t remember.

He feels a bit detached as his parents lead him to the sitting room. Almost like he’s watching a movie play out, rather than it being something that’s actually, currently happening to him. His heart is racing by the time they enter the room and his eyes finally land on the man. Bruce Wayne. He’s more attractive in person, Archie can’t help but think. Very aesthetically pleasing. Pleasant on the eyes. He can’t look away as the man comes closer. Doesn’t move, barely breathes as his parents introduce him as ‘Archibald’—he doesn’t bother correcting them, knows it wouldn’t end well. He just holds his hand out for Bruce to shake like he knows he’s supposed to, when he’s supposed to. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.” Archie has no idea how he managed to get that out and keep his voice sounding steady and sure, but he’s thankful that he did. His parents would never forgive him if he embarrassed them at a time like this.

[normaltothemax]

@heroing

Archie stands near the large windows of the study, anxiously watching as Bruce and Jason’s argument escalates. He’s never been good with conflict in his personal life, prefers to keep his head down and just take whatever the other person dishes out. It’s better that way. Jason’s sharp words are harsh and hurtful, sure, but Archie has long since gotten used to those sorts of verbal jabs—Jason isn’t the first person to not take a liking to him, and he’ll doubtfully be the last. Archie can handle it, even if it makes his stomach churn.

Today, though, Bruce overhears. Steps in and snaps back at Jason in Archie’s defense. He tries to keep the peace, to assure Bruce that it’s okay, really, it’s fine, but the man isn’t having it, and Jason clearly doesn’t like that. The growling undertone in his voice isn’t just frustration—it’s a challenge. Bruce, already a towering presence, squares his shoulders, growling out his own response, not backing down. Looking at the two of them and knowing what he knows, Archie isn’t sure which of them is more dangerous, at the moment.

His heart races as Jason bristles, and he sees the shift before the younger man even moves, the subtle tightening of his muscles—a telltale sign of what’s coming next.

Jason lunges and something in Archie snaps. He barely has time to process the blur of motion; the instant Jason moves, instinct takes over.

The suit he’d been wearing flutters to the ground in shreds as he crashes into Jason, the larger man’s back hitting the floor with a heavy thud. Archie lands atop him, looming over Jason with his hackles raised, large paws pinning him in place. The sound of snarling fills the air—his own, loud and vicious, as he bares his teeth. His heart hammers in his chest, but not from fear. It’s pure adrenaline, a primal need to defend.

Jason’s eyes are wide and startled, but Archie barely notices—his mind is too singularly focused on keeping Jason where he is, making sure he stays down. The world around him barely registers, only the press of Jason’s body against the ground and the deep rumble of the growl rippling through Archie’s chest.

[normaltothemax]

Send “ ❗❗❗ ” for your muse to suddenly and unexpectedly kiss mine. ❗❗❗ brucie for archie

Something not many people know about Archie is that he’s dyslexic. Most days, he feels as though he has a pretty solid handle on it. He does all his own casework and is an avid reader in his downtime. Sure, he has his bad days, but the good ones are far more frequent. However, since moving in with Bruce, he’s been struggling. Archie is well aware that disruptions to daily routines or unexpected changes can create additional stress, leading to more pronounced challenges with dyslexia.

He’s fairly sure that suddenly finding himself engaged to a man he knows next to nothing about, moving in with said man, and turning his entire future into one big uncertainty counts as an unexpected change.

It’s especially bad today. He’s been staring at the same page of his file for the past forty-five minutes, now. Watching the letters flip and dance around, showing a complete disregard for his need to actually read them. More papers and files are spread out around him, a few decorated with sticky-noted annotations, but far less work done than he’d have liked, considering he’s been at it all morning. His elbows are braced on the table as he glares down at the page, hands fisted in his hair. Sharp pinpricks of pain light up his scalp, but he doesn’t let up. He needs to get this done. If he just tries hard enough, he can will the letters to fall in line. He can.

He can.

Distantly, he’s aware of someone entering the room. Of his name being called. But he’s too busy glaring and squinting at the page and muttering under his breath, to really notice. He takes a second to rub at his eyes, hard enough to see stars, before he’s back to pulling at his hair. Is so lost in his own frustration that he barely registers the fact that whoever else is in there with him has moved next to him.

It isn’t until a pair of hands are on his, gently untangling his fingers from his hair, that he really cottons on to the fact that he’s no longer alone. Blinking rapidly, he forces his gaze away from his work. Turns to look and see who—oh, it’s Bruce.

Bruce, who uses his thumb to smooth out the crease between Archie’s brows, his other hand still holding onto Archie’s. He opens his mouth to say something, to ask what Bruce is doing there, if he needs something, but the words die in his throat.

Because Bruce is tipping his chin up and leaning down and then his lips are on Archie’s and Archie’s mind goes blank. He goes a little cross-eyed for a second, still staring wide-eyed at the other man in shock, before his brain seemingly reboots and he realizes that oh, he should maybe be kissing him back. That he wants to kiss him back.

Huh. That’s a new development.

His eyes close as he leans into the kiss, the hand that Bruce isn’t holding coming up to cup the side of his neck. It’s soft and slow and thoroughly distracting. Leaves him out of breath, his lips tingling, mind full of static, when Bruce finally pulls back enough to let him breathe. Archie’s cheeks are flushed. He can’t seem to look away from the somewhat amused glint in Bruce’s eyes. Can’t really recall why he was so frustrated just moments ago, not that he’s thinking too hard on that, right this second.

“What…you…what was that for?”

@gothamsworn (x)

[normaltothemax]

Archie hesitates, blinking at Bruce for a moment, before carefully unbuckling his seatbelt. His hands feel stiff from clenching them so tightly, and they feel oddly empty now that Bruce isn’t holding them (not that he’d ever mention it to the man). Having his door opened for him, like the kisses to the backs of his hands, is something that feels like it should be charming, but just manages to make Archie feel even more unbalanced. As if he isn’t in control of anything to do with this situation—something he’s starting to suspect might be true. The worst part, he thinks, is that he can’t tell if Bruce is doing it out of genuine kindness or if, thanks to his new role in Archie’s life, he feels some sort of obligation to do it. Either way, it makes Archie’s chest ache in a way he doesn’t want to examine too closely.

His stomach churns with a mix of embarrassment and uncertainty. And he knows he should smile back, should at least try and meet Bruce halfway, but the best he can manage currently is a faint, tight-lipped twitch of his mouth that probably comes off more like a grimace than anything else.

“Thank you,” he says quietly as he steps out of the car, movements deliberate. His legs feel like they’re made of jelly, like they might give out at any second, but he forces himself to stand straight. Shoulders back, head high—don’t slouch, Archibald. It takes effort not to hunch in on himself, not to wrap his arms around his middle, duck his head, and try to make himself as small as possible, when he feels like this. But he already screwed up making a good first impression. It’s imperative, then, that he makes a great second one.

Eyes dart around as he takes in the manor before him, his nerves spiking all over again. It’s larger than he expected (though, as it belongs to Bruce Wayne, he supposes he really shouldn’t be all that surprised). Larger than his parents’, he’s sure. One might even call it imposing. He tries to picture himself wandering the grounds, the halls, sitting in various rooms, just existing in this new space, and the tight feeling in his chest almost immediately starts creeping back in.

So, he takes a breath. Tries to summon the same polite mask he always wears when he feels out of his depth. The one his nannies taught him was appropriate for public situations, for being around socialites and other affluent individuals. But it feels flimsy, too thin to fully cover the cracks in his composure. His hands hover uncertainly at his sides, unsure whether to fidget or stay still. He slips them into his pockets, as if that will somehow hide his nerves. As if Bruce hasn’t already witnessed him mid-panic attack.

He’s going to try not to think about that.

the  wrinkled  nose  is  cute.  it’s  the  main  thought  in  brucie’s  mind  as  he  watches  the  other  with  careful  eyes,  trying  to  suss  out  his  emotions.  he’s  no  master  of  it,  not  the  way  bruce  or  batman  can  manage,  but  he’s  had  plenty  of  practice  navigating  the  upper  echelons  of  society.  it  requires  some  ability  to  see  through  the  facade  that  the  rich  and  famous  put  up  to  hide  their  true  thoughts,  their  hidden  machinations.  it  gives  him  a  good  insight  into  the  moment  archibald’s  brain  screeches  to  a  halt.  

“archie,  then,”  he  agrees  easily.  for  a  moment,  he  considers  sharing  his  own  name.  ultimately,  he  decides  against  it.  bruce  would  hardly  approve.  better  he  thinks  it’s  a  nickname  the  press  and  former  conquests  (and  hopefuls)  bestow  on  him.  even  if  it  does  make  something  in  his  stomach  clench.  

he  squeezes  archie’s  hands.  “that’s  understandable.”  his  brain  catches  on  the  last  few  words.  quickly?  how  odd.  he’d  been  in  talks  with  archie’s  parents  for  several  months  before  they  came  to  a  final  decision.  though,  in  the  grand  scheme  of  things,  that  could  be  seen  as  quickly.  the  usual  relationship,  after  all,  would  have  several  years  before  they  got  to  the  marriage  stage.  

“let’s  get  you  settled  and  you  can  take  a  moment  to  regain  your  composure.”  he  drops  archie’s  hands  with  just  a  touch  of  reluctance.  exiting  the  car,  he  moves  smoothly  around  the  hood,  opening  the  door  before  archie  can  do  it  himself.  a  little  smile  dances  on  his  lips  as  he  gestures  for  the  other  man  to  exit. 

[normaltothemax]

You don’t have to apologize, Bruce says, and Archie knows that’s not true. He absolutely has to apologize, because he’s making a fool of himself. Embarrassing both himself and Bruce. And, by extension, embarrassing his parents and his pack—his former pack? He’s joining Bruce’s pack now, he hadn’t thought about whether or not his parents will still consider him to be a part of theirs anymore, and frankly, he doesn’t have the emotional bandwidth to do so at the moment, so he pushes that thought to the back of his mind to deal with at a later date.

He knows better than to argue with his alpha, though, especially when it’s something that’s really not all that important in the long run. So, he keeps his mouth shut and just lets Bruce talk. Almost laughs when he calls it a big change. That feels like the understatement of the century—Archie’s entire life has just been turned on its head. Absolutely nothing is certain anymore, he has no idea what to expect, and he doesn’t know Bruce well enough to plan for what might be in store.

He never did do well with uncertainties and unknowns.

But Bruce is still speaking softly to him. Has taken his hands and is kissing the back of one of them. Again, Archie blushes, has absolutely no idea how to respond to the action. He doesn’t dare try to pull his hands away, though. The contact is…grounding, in a way. Gives him something solid to focus on that won’t end with him having ten new finger-shaped bruises.

Bruce promises to make it a smooth transition, says there’s no expectations—something else entirely untrue. This marriage is filled with expectations, and not just from Archie’s parents. An incredible amount of pressure has just been placed on Archie’s shoulders and the load feels impossible to bear. Thinking about it almost sends him into another panic attack, before his mind swiftly screeches to a halt at the name that comes out of Bruce’s mouth.

Oh.

Oh no.

No, that just won’t do.

Archie can’t help but make a face, nose wrinkling, despite hearing his mother’s chastising voice in his mind for it. “Archie. Just…just Archie. Please.” Maybe Bruce will hate the correction, but Archie won’t be able to stand it if he has to be referred to as Archibald for the rest of time.

“I—” He has to physically bite back another apology, teeth pressing into the inside of his lip, before he rephrases. “Thank you. I didn’t mean to…to lose my composure like that. Everything just…happened so quickly, I suppose.”

an  encouraging  little  smile  curls  at  the  corners  of  his  lips  when  archibald  makes  eye  contact.  it’s  a  good  sign,  that  the  other  man  can  respond  to  a  command,  that  he’s  listening.  there’s  a  focus  in  the  man’s  gaze  that  has  been  absent  since  they  left  the  house  and  brucie  takes  that  as  another  win.  

it  takes  several  breaths  before  archibald’s  breath  even  begins  to  even  out,  until  he  can  finally  speak,  and  the  first  words  out  of  his  mouth  make  brucie’s  heart  clench  in  sympathy.  an  apology  for  something  as  simple  as  an  emotional  reaction  to  a  major  change  in  his  life,  even  if  he  had  agreed  to  it.  marriage  to  a  stranger  is  a  big  step,  one  not  uncommon  back  in  the  times  of  their  grandparents  and  great  grandparents  but  not  practiced  so  much  anymore.  it’s  for  the  best,  though  a  few  families  holding  onto  the  old  ways  certainly  has  worked  in  his  favor.  

he  reaches  forward  slowly,  giving  the  man  plenty  of  time  to  pull  away,  before  prying  his  hands  up  from  where  they  clench  in  his  thighs.  he  cups  them  both  between  his  larger  ones  and  moving  his  head  to  catch  archibald’s  gaze  again.  “you  don’t  have  to  apologize,”  he  says  in  that  same  soft  voice.  “it’s  okay  to  be  a  little  off  balance  by  all  of  this.  it’s  a  big  change.”  he  squeezes  gently  and  brings  one  hand  up  to  kiss  the  back  of  it�� in  a  mirror  to  their  meeting  just  a  short  while  before,  though  this  time  there’s  no  audience  to  play  for.  

“i  will  do  everything  in  my  power  to  make  this  a  smooth  transition  for  you.  whatever  you  need,  i’ll  make  it  happen.  there’s  no  expectations  here,  archibald.”  

it’s  not  untrue.  brucie  doesn’t  expect  anything  from  the  other  man.  there  are  expectations  put  on  them  by  tradition,  expectations  on  what  should  happen  on  the  wedding  night.  expectations  of  how  archibald  should  act,  should  defer  to  him.  but,  despite  seeking  out  this  marriage,  he  doesn’t  go  in  much  for  tradition.  his  parents  never  instilled  a  respect  for  them  in  him  and  even  alfred’s  gentle  guidance  only  did  so  much  to  teach  him  how  the  alpha  head  of  a  pack  should  interact  with  the  world.   

[normaltothemax]

He distantly hears Bruce’s speak—his voice sounds far away, like it’s coming from the other end of a tunnel. Archie’s mind is still spinning, caught in a tight spiral of anxiety, and it’s hard to latch on to anything solid. But Bruce says look at me, and the gentle command cuts through the fog, pulling Archie’s attention to the man beside him.

His eyes dart to Bruce’s, wide and panicked, but they manage to focus for the first time since they left his parents’ house. Bruce is staring at him with a calm intensity, and a slightly hysterical part of Archie kind of wants to laugh. Bruce is looking at him like he’s not going anywhere. Like Archie’s not a complete wreck, falling apart at the seams right in front of him. Like he’s not completely embarrassed or disgusted by Archie’s behaviour and regretting ever deciding to marry him—because it was his decision, that panicked part of Archie reminds him, not Archie’s. Bruce’s and Archie’s parents’.

The steady inhale-exhale rhythm of Bruce’s breathing fills the space between them, and Archie tries desperately to mimic it, but his own breath catches, uneven and shaky. In. He draws in a shallow breath, but it’s too fast, too jagged. He forces himself to hold it for a second, anyways, feeling the burn in his lungs before he exhales as slowly as he can manage (which isn’t very). Out. He can’t help but cling to Bruce’s voice, to the calm and steady instructions, like a lifeline.

And as soon as he can breathe again, he’ll be properly mortified by his own behaviour.

Another shaky breath, then another, and another after that. His fingers still grip his thighs so tightly his knuckles are white, but the tight band around his chest is loosening, just a fraction. Eyes remain locked on Bruce, as he tries to anchor himself to something solid. His heart is still racing, but the panic slowly starts to feel less overwhelming. Slowly, he starts feeling like he might eventually be able to breathe normally again.

“S-sorry,” he chokes out. “I’m sorry.” His breathing hasn’t fully evened out yet, but shame still creeps into his expression, face heating once more. Eyes dart away in his embarrassment, Archie feeling incredibly foolish for losing control like this.

He can only hope this doesn’t make Bruce renege the entire engagement. His parents would never forgive him.

extracting  archibald  is  surprisingly  easy.  he  makes  his  promises  to  check  back  in  about  the  wedding  preparations,  gives  some  meaningless  pleasantries,  and  that’s  it.  he  glances  at  the  other  man  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  and  he  sees  the  moment  the  world  fades  away  from  him,  noting  the  way  his  eyes  seem  to  glaze  over.  go  time,  then.  he  gently  touches  archibald’s  elbow,  slides  his  palm  to  the  small  of  his  back  and  guides  him  out  of  the  room,  remembering  the  way  back  to  the  front  of  the  house.  

no  words  are  exchanged  as  brucie  opens  the  door  of  the  car  for  archibald.  the  man  slides  in  with  that  same  distant  look  on  his  face  and  brucie  frowns,  making  his  way  to  the  driver’s  side.  he  pulls  out  of  the  long  drive,  watching  the  other  man  from  the  corner  of  his  eye  as  he  turns  onto  the  main  road.  there’s  a  clear  air  of  anxiety  spiraling  into  something  deeper.  perhaps  some  time  to  himself  will  allow  him  to  pull  himself  together.  

brucie  turns  on  the  radio,  the  smooth  voice  of  an  npr  reporter  filling  the  car,  one  of  their  pieces  on  yet  another  political  candidate  in  their  series  on  the  election.  he  lets  it  wash  over  him,  giving  his  passenger  some  space  and  focusing  on  the  driving.  it  provides  him  a  chance  to  think,  to  turn  over  the  realities  of  their  situation  in  his  head.  it’s  hardly  an  ideal  situation.  it  means  a  lot  more  time  for  him  to  be  active,  at  least  in  the  introductory  period.  he’s  tired  already  just  thinking  about  it.  

well,  at  least  bruce  will  get  a  rest  out  of  it.  he  has  no  clue  how  bruce  and  batman  plan  on  handling  that  situation  but  he  makes  a  point  of  knowing  as  little  about  what  they  get  up  to  as  possible.  his  job  is  to  play  nice  for  the  cameras  and  sell  their  love  story  to  the  papers  and  that’s  it.  

there’s  a  deliberately  deep  breath  right  as  they  make  the  turn  onto  the  manor’s  drive  and  brucie  finally  turns  his  head  to  look  at  the  other.  fingers  curl  tight  into  his  thighs  as  he  stares  straight  ahead,  expression  tight  and  eyes  wide.  ah.  he  can  recognize  the  tells  of  a  burgeoning  panic  attack  easily  and  he  pulls  into  the  garage,  putting  the  car  into  park.  he  turns  to  face  the  other  man.  

“hey,”  he  says  softly.  “look  at  me.”  he  tries  to  mimic  the  voice  the  others  use  when  speaking  to  victims  of  the  crimes  they  solve.  “let’s  take  some  deep  breaths,  okay?  just  breathe  with  me.  in-”  he  inhales  deeply.  “-out.”  he  exhales  slowly. 

[normaltothemax]

Bruce’s voice, saying his name calmly but firmly, silences the growl. Archie’s ears twitch in response—he’s listening. It’s okay. You can let him up. It takes a moment for the words to sink in. For Archie to realize what exactly it is he’s doing, who he’s pinning to the ground.

It hits him like a shock to the system, like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head, as the reality of the situation suddenly crashes back in.

He’s pinning Jason to the floor. He attacked Jason. His teeth are inches from Jason’s throat.

Oh. Oh no. Oh shit!

Eyes wide, Archie scrambles off of Jason as fast as his legs will carry him, paws slipping slightly on the polished floor. His mind reels as he backs away from the younger man, ducking his head, ears pinned flat against it, tail tucked. The horror he feels towards his own actions is no doubt clear as day in his body language.

A soft whine escapes him. He hadn’t meant to do that. Had only wanted to deescalate the situation. Why in the hell did he do that? What is wrong with him? Jason already hates him; this will no doubt make things infinitely worse. Because Jason didn’t seem afraid—he seemed angry. (Not all that surprising, really; anger seems to be his go-to reaction for a lot of things, but it still doesn’t bode well for Archie.)

He takes another step back, glancing between Jason and Bruce, not sure if he should stay or leave. Leaving feels a bit like running away, avoiding having to face the consequences to his actions, but he can’t see sticking around ending very well either.

it’s  always  like  this.  no  matter  what  jason  does,  bruce  reacts  the  same.  aggression  and  growls  and  tense  standoffs.  if  he  was  shifted,  he  knows  his  hackles  would  be  raised,  ears  flat  against  his  head  and  head  lowered.  as  it  is,  he  bares  his  teeth  at  his  former  pack  head.  because  they  aren’t  pack,  no  matter  what  bruce  thinks.  they’ve  long  since  moved  beyond  that  and  bruce  has  no  sway  over  what  he  says  or  does.  

(and,  okay,  maybe  this  time  he  did  go  a  little  too  far,  picking  on  bruce’s  husband  where  bruce  could  hear.  but  he’ll  never  admit  it.)  

for  a  bit,  it  seems  like  it  will  just  be  their  usual  snapping  and  posturing.  and  then  bruce  threatens  his  current  project  in  the  narrows  and  jason  sees  green.  no.  no  way  bruce  is  shutting  him  down  now  when  he’s  so  close  to  finishing.  he  tenses,  growl  deepening  as  he  prepares  to  lunge.  he  can’t  shift,  doesn’t  have  the  time  or  space,  but  that  won’t  stop  him  from  slamming  into  the  older  man  and一

before  he  can  do  more  than  brace  himself,  he’s  slammed  off  his  feet  by  a  lean,  light  grey  wolf.  his  back  hits  the  floor  and  his  air  is  forced  from  his  lungs  in  a  rush.  there’s  a  muzzle  in  his  face,  teeth  bared  as  the  wolf  growls  down  at  him,  aggressive  and  threatening,  a  sound  of  a  wolf  protecting  something  precious.  

green  eyes  stare  up  at  who  he  recognizes  as  archie,  wide  with  surprise  at  the  sudden  show  of  backbone.  if  he  wasn’t  so  startled,  he  might  almost  be  impressed  by  the  way  paws  effectively  pin  him  to  the  ground,  weight  ensuring  jason  can’t  move  without  allowing  archie  the  opportunity  to  bite.  his  heart  thunders  in  his  chest  and  he  bares  his  teeth  in  return,  feeling  bones  begin  to  shift  under  his  skin.  

“archie,”  bruce’s  voice  cuts  through  jason’s  tension  and  his  head  snaps  to  the  side.  “it’s  okay.  you  can  let  him  up.” 

[normaltothemax]

Archie’s breath catches in his throat when Bruce takes his hand and bends to press his lips to his knuckles. The old-fashioned gesture should seem cheesy or insincere, he thinks, but somehow, with Bruce’s intense gaze locked on his the entire time, it feels anything but. Heat floods Archie’s face, a deep blush creeping up his neck to the tips of his ears. His heart starts racing even faster, and suddenly, he is extremely aware of just how close Bruce is. He can’t tear his eyes away from him, and the moment feels like it stretches on forever.

It’s the eye contact, Archie thinks a little hysterically, definitely the eye contact.

Bruce drops his hand, and the world seems to shift back into focus. The only problem is, Archie is barely present for it. His parents are talking, but he doesn’t hear any of it, can only tell that they sound incredibly pleased. The rest of it is lost to him, a single word ringing loudly through his skull, over and over: fiancé, fiancé, fiancé.

His father clasps his shoulder, warmly says something else to him that Archie can only nod along to. His mother hugs him and kisses his cheek. The most affection they’ve ever shown him in his life, and he’s in too much of a daze to even soak it in. Somehow—he really has no idea how—he manages to keep himself looking at least mostly calm and composed. The only reason he knows this is because his parents would be far less pleased if he didn’t.

Before Archie knows it, they’re moving. He’s walking, but none of it feels real. His feet carry him along, but his mind is elsewhere, too focused on the heat still lingering in his hand and the overwhelming pressure building in his chest.

By the time they reach the car, Archie’s ears are ringing. He doesn’t actually remember the walk, doesn’t know if he opened his own door or if it was opened for him, doesn’t recall when he sat down in the passenger seat. The world feels like it’s closing in on him, everything growing smaller and smaller until it’s just him and his anxiety. Or is it panic? It might be panic, he can’t really tell the difference. His breaths start coming quick and shallow. His hands begin to shake. Too fast, his mind screams. Everything’s happening too fast.

As they get further and further from his parents’ manor, the tightness in his chest becomes unbearable. His hands grip his thighs tightly in a desperate attempt to steady himself, head bowing, eyes squeezing shut. He’s fighting to even out his breathing, to keep from hyperventilating, because he needs Bruce to think he’s fine. He needs to not embarrass himself. He needs to not embarrass his parents. But there’s a tight band around his chest, constricting further with every passing second, and he feels lightheaded. He’s so overwhelmed, his entire world turned on its head in an instant, his whole future now completely uncertain, and he can’t breathe.

he’s  getting  a  little  old  to  do  the  “brucie  wayne,  gotham’s  bicycle”  routine  to  keep  his  reputation  as  far  away  from  batman  as  possible.  or,  at  least,  that’s  what  bruce  told  him  when  he  decided  on  this  whole…  charade.  well,  the  marriage  will  be  real.  but  the  love  story  that  will  be  presented  to  the  media  will  be  entirely  false.  this  is  convenience,  a  cover,  nothing  else.  

the  sitting  room  he  was  guided  to  is  opulent,  a  deliberate  show  of  wealth  meant  to  impress.  it’s  pretty,  he  thinks,  but  a  bit  soulless.  he  much  prefers  the  manor,  decorated  light  and  minimal,  with  the  occasional  thing  out  of  place,  showing  that  the  kids  have  been  around.  sometimes  he  wonders  if  alfred  deliberately  leaves  damian’s  books  on  the  table  or  tim’s  gadgets  on  the  counter  for  exactly  that  reason.  still,  he  can’t  help  but  be  a  little  nosy.  he’s  no  batman  but  he’s  not  nearly  as  stupid  as  the  media  thinks.  there’s  a  family  portrait  hanging  on  the  wall,  massive  and  serious  looking,  no  smiles  on  any  of  the  faces.  (he  thinks  about  his  own  portrait,  hanging  in  the  entryway  of  the  manor.  it  depicts  him  sitting  on  his  mother’s  lap  with  a  goofy,  childlike  grin.  martha,  smiling  at  the  viewer  with  a  twinkle  in  her  eye,  thomas  looking  down  at  the  two  of  them  with  a  soft  look  of  fondness  on  his  face.)

footsteps  interrupt  his  musings  and  he  turns,  his  most  charming  smile  spreading  across  his  face.  brucie  barely  pays  attention  to  the  parents  as  they  introduce  their  child.  his  future  husband.  archibald  howells,  bruce  provides.  thirty  years  old,  five  foot  and  ten  inches,  dark  hair,  blue  eyes.  he’s  the  third  of  five  and  a  lawyer.  he’s  not  in  the  public  eye  nearly  as  much  as  his  parents,  a  wealthy  couple  who  frequent  the  same  circles  he  does,  though  brucie  is  only  passingly  familiar  with  them.  

he  looks  different  in  person,  brucie  decides.  softer,  with  fluffy  hair  and  bright  eyes.  the  anxiety  practically  radiates  off  him  as  he  extends  his  hand  in  greeting.  the  man’s  voice  remains  steady  despite  it  and  brucie’s  smile  widens.  he  takes  the  hand  and,  instead  of  shaking  it,  turns  it  palm  down,  bending  slightly  and  bringing  the  hand  up  to  brush  his  lips  over  archibald's knuckles,  holding  eye  contact.  “the  pleasure  is  all  mine,”  he  responds  smoothly,  letting  the  hold  linger  for  a  moment  before  dropping  it.  

“if  you  don’t  mind,”  he  says  to  archibald’s  parents,  “i  would  love  to  show  my  fiance  to  his  new  home.  i  don’t  mean  to  steal  him  away  so  soon  but  i  have  a  few  errands  to  run  later  this  afternoon.  if  you  could  have  his  things  sent  to  the  manor,  i  would  appreciate  it.”