#im tired so idk how good this is but lksjdnflsjkdfn

[daedalusdavinci]

someone in the rogues server requested “That isn’t an option.” with twobats

send me a prompt!

“That isn’t an option.”

“Harvey,” Bruce pleaded, stepping forward. The water splashed under his foot, but he was so drenched it hardly mattered anymore. Rain pounded down around them like a warning, urging them to go inside before anyone else could get hurt, before Gotham could grow any darker.

But Harvey stood his ground, as stubborn and determined as he’d always been. The streetlight cast deep shadows across his face, turning his scars fierce and severe. His curls stuck flat against his forehead, the white side hanging low in front of his eye. Even drenched, even angry, he looked stunning, dangerous and sublime and as beautiful as he’d been the day Bruce met him. His finger never strayed from the trigger of his gun, his hand never wavering, but the safety was still on. Still, silently, he held back. “You always had too much hope, Bruce. You put it in the wrong man.”

“No.” Bruce shook his head. “Never.” His shoes pinched and his socks squelched, his suit pulling in uncomfortable places, but he pushed forward against the rain anyway. Harvey stepped back, but Bruce kept pushing forward, trudging through the flooded street towards the man he’d once called his best friend. “Harv, you made a difference. You still can. Don’t do this.”

“I can’t.” But Harvey sounded less certain, now. He took another step back, his eyes flickering over his shoulder. “You don’t understand.”

“Then tell me.” Bruce held out his hand, finally coming to a stop in front of him. “Help me understand. Don’t make yourself go through this alone.”

“You don’t want to understand me,” Harvey said.

Bruce cracked a tiny smile. “It’s like you don’t even know me. Harv, come on. Give me a chance. For old time’s sake.”

Harvey’s eyes flickered down to Bruce’s hand, then up to his face again. After a long moment, he reached into his pocket.

A heavy feeling settled over Bruce’s chest. He’d hoped Harvey would be able to make a decision without the coin. His smile tinged sad. “Don’t lose it in the rain.”

Harvey paused. Then, he withdrew his hand again. His gun returned to its holster. “Just go home, Bruce,” he said, his voice barely audible over the rain. He sounded tired.

Bruce’s heart felt suddenly fragile in his chest. Unable to help it, unable to resist, he stepped forward again, reaching for Harvey’s hand.

The look Harvey gave him was surprised, but not terribly so. Almost immediately, his fingers closed back around Bruce’s, squeezing as Bruce moved in front of him. “You really have a taste for trouble,” he said quietly, touching his forehead gently to Bruce’s.

“You were never any trouble to me,” Bruce said, cupping his cheek.

Harvey pressed just slightly into it, closing his eyes. He looked so exhausted, so fragile. It made Bruce wonder just how much he’d been dealing with on his own, after all this time.

“Come home with me,” Bruce said softly.  “Please. Just for one night.”

Harvey took a slow, shaky breath. He didn’t respond. But when Bruce pulled him closer, he folded into him easily, tucking his face against Bruce’s neck, and Bruce knew.