metalogs | ( open-ish ) dedicate and sacrifice my everything

( that night still lingers there within the depths of his thoughts. a mutual desperation, heated touches, chased kisses, and trembling limbs. a wonder if it was something they should have done — if it will simply be left here in the past after all this... if it should be left here with everything else.

they haven't spoken about it — focused on the reason for being here and with dick so close by... not to mention bruce simply being... bruce. they maybe could now. just the two of them here and yet... does he want to? should they, with an inevitable ending to some degree set for tomorrow?

he sits there, gaze lingering on her for a moment before he looks back out to the skyline and he falls quiet. as always. yet gently leans over some, pressing his shoulder to hers. )

No matter what happens tomorrow, I don't regret coming here.

[ His armored shoulder is rough against her bare one, but she can feel his warmth beneath the suit he wears, and she's grateful for it. For this, to have him here with her. For the chance to know him all over again, for him to know her. ]

I'm glad.

[ Words soft, almost too soft to hear beneath the cool night breeze. It tugs at her hair, sends strands of silky blue-black brushing against his cheek, so close to hers.

They haven't spoken about it. But now, she finds herself looking to him, allowing the memories of that night to play through her mind. How he touched her. How he kissed her. How he shivered in her arms. The way he said her name. ]

Do you regret anything else? Having come here?

( he knows what she's asking because it's on his mind, too, and yet... he doesn't know if he wants to. if he should.

even still, the way he looks to her is soft — like that night — and quiet, as if it's simply just the two of them here in this world they've found themselves within. unable to be anything above a quiet murmur when he speaks. )

No. I don't.

( a heartbeat, still soft. )

Do you?

Edited 2023-09-29 00:50 (UTC)

[ Those blue eyes of his, soft as they are while they watch her, are magnetic. She finds herself leaning closer, pressing her shoulder more firmly to his, her own eyes clear and solemn. ]

Not even slightly.

[ Again, she considers it – her glance drops briefly to his mouth before meeting his again – but she doesn't close those last few inches between them. At one point, she'd thought she knew what he wanted... but she hasn't been sure of it since their second day here. ]

( she leans in closer and he lets her. gaze fixated on hers. unable to make himself look away from her. somehow, this always comes natural. the pull between them. as if it's been done before in another life — as if, in some other life, they knew each other like this and they have, in some way. not exactly him and not exactly her, but. close enough that it feels almost familiar to do. even for bruce.

like always when it's just the two of them like this, his gaze is soft as he looks to her. as he watches her with the night around them. )

Guess that makes two of us then.

( but what does it make them? )

[ She has no words for this, for how it feels when he watches her the way he does, eyes soft, making that glance feel as intimate as a kiss. She'd told others, and him, too, that she's glad he's here, but glad doesn't feel like enough for how it feels to know she'll have him at her side. That makes two of us he says, and she can't help but be glad – that word again, not enough – they're together in this, too.

Things with Bruce – this one and the one she left back in her world – have always been... complicated... but none of that complexity has ever erased the gratitude she feels that he exists at all.

She could never regret him. No matter what happens. ]

Bruce.

[ His name soft on her lips, but without any other words following it. What can she say? That she not only doesn't regret him, but hopes for more, if they live? That having now had him once, she only wants more?

All so unwieldy. She nudges her forehead against his, noses gently at him as he had at her that night, her breath warm against his lips before she tips her head and brushes her own over them. Light and sweet as moonlight. ]

Edited 2023-09-29 15:51 (UTC)

( it's a tenderness he hasn't had much in his life — a gentleness he often doesn't believe he needs or deserves. yet when he finds himself with it, despite his not always knowing what to do with it, there's a quiet acceptance of it at the same time... perhaps even a silent yearning for it, deep down.

her lips brush over his and he finds himself unable to pull away. why would he ever? here, in this quiet moment they have with each other. tomorrow, he thinks, and yet... so gently does he let his own lips find hers as they'd done that night in the motel room. a kiss, like then, so soft and sweet. a contrast to how batman carries himself. stoic, intimidating. how bruce even carries himself. distant, quiet. yet genuine in such softness, such sweetness, as if from the very depths of a vulnerable persona. )

[ Tomorrow, things will change. Perhaps they'll emerge victorious. Perhaps they won't emerge at all.

None of that matters right now, when they're here, together, in the quiet of the night. She presses her lips to his, deepens this kiss with gentle determination before pulling away just enough to look at him, the warmth and taste of him lingering on her lips.

Maybe this is enough, tonight. Just being here with him like this. ]

( maybe it is. maybe it isn't. regardless, he doesn't slip away from her — doesn't disappear into the shadows of the night when she pulls back some. instead, he looks after her with those blue eyes of his still wearing such softness within them, quiet as he sits there with her.

it's only after a moment that he leans in — presses his forehead to hers, eyes falling shut and a sigh so very soft on his lips. no matter what happens tomorrow, at least he has this. at least he had this. all of it. brief as it was. in this timeline they both ventured back to. )

[ His sigh is as light as the breeze that tugs at her hair and his, and his lashes are long against his cheeks. He's too pale, even after their days here, when he was forced to go out more often during the day. She wishes she could take him to the warm beaches of Themyscira, let the sunlight and salt breeze bring the color back into his face. Offer him some time to simply be, without the weight of all his own expectations crushing him.

She lifts a hand and gently pushes his hair back from his face, curves her fingers, warm, at his jaw, then the side of his neck. Wanting to touch him. Wanting him to know she wants to feel him beneath her fingers. ]

It's a beautiful night.

[ She says it again, an echo of her words from earlier. ]

Stay with me a while.

( as the night in the motel room, her touch is a like a balm he didn't know he needs. that soothes some part of him he's so often ignored, pushed aside, sometimes even forgotten, especially over the past two years.

it's enough to keep him here — to keep him from straying from her and with eyes softly fluttering open, he looks to her. so close as they are. a gentle, just barely felt, nudge into her fingers before they fall to the curve of his neck. )

If that's what you want.

I already told you what I want.

[ It hasn't changed, for her, at least, in the days since that first night. He leans ever so slightly into her touch, and she responds by running the pad of her thumb along the cord of muscle in his neck, where he's so often tense. Her fingers curved warm and gentle, the tips of them slipping into the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

She told him. He knows. Whatever he does with that knowledge is up to him. ]

( to make up his mind... that's what she asked him to do — what she hopes he'll be able to do and yet... he doesn't know if he can. if he should. even if he wanted to, right here in this moment, it's not the time. because time itself is so very much against them with tomorrow looming on the horizon.

he shouldn't. tomorrow continues to approach and yet...

twisting some to face her there on the ledge of the rooftop, an arm wraps around her waist, hand pressing to the small of her back and he looks to her with those blue eyes. soft and only a touch unsure for a brief moment. )

Hold onto me.

[ She doesn't question him, only puts her arms around his neck, holding him close. Trust has always come easily to her. ]

Alright.

[ Warm in the circle of his arm, against his palm. Yielding, despite her strength. ]

( the moment she holds to him, eyes fall shut and he's quiet there on the rooftop with her, their breathing and city life here and there around them filling that silence between them. it's only after a moment or two, everything slowly seems to darken around them — the darkness if the night itself folding in on them and they're sinking then. through a twilight of darkness. cold and vast, yet cocooned around them. it's a darkness that bruce controls — that he travels through when he slips into the shadows within this world.

they disappear from the rooftop — sink into the depths of the darkness that seemingly surrounds them. eyes closed for bruce, focused in the moment. the so-called trip through the darkness lasts for only a handful of seconds at best before they're slipping out of it and inside the building, which seems to be that of an office, dropping down into a break room where a table, chairs, couch are all around, along with a few other amenities.

touching down, the darkness slips away from them and bruce blinks a couple times — takes a moment to look around them before he's looking back to diana. quiet. then kisses her. there in the empty break room. )

[ Darkness circles them like the cape he isn't wearing tonight – shadows enfolding them – and then there's nothing but shadow, shadow and his warm, steady arm, his body against hers. It's like nothing she's ever experienced before, nothing like the warm, neutral blackness inside the lasso. Her senses are muffled, blanketed by darkness, and then she's blinking at a different sort of darkness. The kind that simply comes of having the lights off at night, while moonlight and starlight filter through windows.

She considers the room they've landed in briefly and with some interest, all of which falls away when he looks back at her, with those blue eyes still so soft.

When he leans forward to kiss her, she tightens her arms around his neck and kisses him back, lips and breath both warm, her body pressing up against his. The metal of her breastplate tight against his armored chest. The glow of the lasso the only light, aside from the moon and stars, that touches them. ]

( this is a bad idea, some part of him thinks, but is largely overshadowed by the way her lips feel pressed against his.

gloved hands smooth down her sides, fierce almost in the way he keeps her there against him. somewhere, in the back of his mind, he's aware time keeps ticking away. their time here — before tomorrow catches up to this present they're living in the past and their reason for coming back here in the first place is more than likely found. an event that may or may not take place and a meta who may or may not be involved in changing it... in changing them, possibly.

the thought causes kisses to grow more desperate with her — for a gloved hand to leave her side and cradle the side of her face. like that night in the motel room, falling into this feeling... whatever it is. but willingly falling. into it. into her. into the desperation of wanting and needing something that isn't heartache. that isn't pain. that isn't anger or grief or vengeance. )

[ His hands caress her, gloved fingers running down along the red fabric of her costume, the red and gold and blue armor that had been gifted to her all those years ago by her sisters, by her mother. When those same gloved fingers curve at her cheek, their touch somehow rough and gentle at the same time, she gasps a breath, shivering at his touch, and for a moment turns her face into his palm. His fingers. Uncaring of the glove between his skin and hers.

Before she kisses him again, and again, warm and wanting, her fingers threading through his hair to grip it. Her other hand tracing down over his neck, his shoulder, to splay her fingers against his chest. Her breath coming quick against his lips, her skin flushed at his touch.

They have tonight. Perhaps they'll have more, after tomorrow. Perhaps they'll be left with nothing. But, right now, all she wants is this: him in her arms, the way she can't stop pressing kisses to his mouth. Nipping lightly at his lip before she smiles against it. ]

( open-ish ) dedicate and sacrifice my everything

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