Intervention: Bruce and Harvey

[heirtogotham]

For weeks now, Bruce had been feeling as thought something were stirring in his body, something was changing since the day he was assaulted by Falcone's nephew. Whether it was seeing the light, that things couldn't stay this way on the path he was headed, or whether that good people did exist and he wanted to be one of them, and not just another schmuck who took revenge. There was a lot of that already, T was a good example of that, and not that Bruce didn't adore him, but something about him killing Falcone's nephew left a few nerve endings unsettled.

 Was it really the way to gain justice? To kill those who killed or raped? All these thoughts have taken a tole on Bruce's mind and he'd slowly started to change his habits, one small thing at a time.

 And yet, he still bought the gun, hid it away, and thought about all the ways he wanted to see Chill die, to watch him breathe his last breath while his eyes did nothing more than bore into Bruce's soul. That's how he wanted to remember the man who murdered his parents.

 But standing in his way were a few people, namely Harvey Dent and Rachel Dawes.

 Harvey would be disappointed, T would understand. But it was disappointing Harvey, and leaving him when he was hauled off to prison that ached at Bruce the most. Somewhere down the line he had fallen in love with Harvey, unintentionally, and it was going to kill the boy when Bruce was gone -- he just knew it.

 Not to mention what it would do to Rachel.

 And both of them now had jobs in the court system. They would both see his case. Disappointed was bound to happen.

 Bruce had taken off, leaving the house the minute he heard from Harvey. He had grabbed the gun he bought, stuffing it into his sweatshirt pocket and then grabbed his last pack of smokes off his dresser. He headed out to the building at school that Harvey had taken him to, the just starting to set. When he arrived, he shut the door behind him and stood out on the edge, just looking down. He didn't need to drink or be high to know when things were calling his name, and that height was really calling.

 Instead, he turned off his phone, lit a cigarette and pulled the gun out, weighing it in his hand, wondering if any what he had planned his whole life was really worth it.

Harvey Dent

• • Something was off.
    
    When he texted Bruce to tell him that he got the job, his room mate who had seemed so supportive only hours before suddenly became terse, and even ... depressed.
    
    Harvey tried texting again, even tried calling, and Bruce's phone was off. He looked at the speedometer on the dash of his car and pushed the car faster, moving in and out of traffic on the freeway, and taking the corners fast until he got home and hurried upstairs.
    
    Sure enough, Bruce wasn't there. His phone wasn't there either. No note. No anything. Shit. Fuck. Damn. He never turns it off. Never.
    
    Harv's throat closed a little behind his blue tie and he scrawled a fast note: /Bruce, I've gone LOOKING for you. Where are you? Call me. - Harv/, and left it on the counter before he headed out, running to the bars. He wasn't there, either. He wasn't working on a car.
    
    A sickening thought occurred to him and Harvey stormed into the back alley where Bruce had been raped, worried that someone talked and they had him again and ... he wasn't there. Thank god. But where?
    
    Harv put his hands on his hips, frowning, and looked up, remembering that look on Bruce's face the night he took him to his favorite spot.
    
    "Fuck ..." he said, aloud, and ran to the car, speeding again. He tried calling again with no luck in the elevator, pacing in the small box, hoping Bruce just needed some time alone, or ... or ... or what?
    
    The doors opened and Harv ran out, pounding up the metal stairs, not fast enough, still not fast enough, and wrenched the door open, holding it as he stepped out, his heart rising and sinking at the same time when he saw Bruce there, where he hoped he wouldn't be.
    
    Harvey turned the deadbolt on the door so that it didn't close behind him and approached, very, very, very carefully. Bruce was awfully close to the edge, he didn't want to scare him.
    
    Harv's heart hammered in his throat, real terror overtaking him for the first time since his father died, but he pushed it away. Bruce needed him calm ... and he needed Bruce.
    
    "I'm here," he said, quietly. "Bruce, turn around."

    
    Bruce Wayné

    He smoking another cigarette, two down now, still staring at the gun, only this time he had cocked the hammer back, finger on the trigger, wondering what it would feel like to pull it, put that bullet right between Chill's eyes where it belonged.
    
    Or maybe his own.
    
    He was fucking up all over the board, things he promised himself he wouldn't do to get things done... that /had/ to be done. He'd end up hurting Harvey anyway, why not just... leave it here, /now/.
    
    "Go home, Harvey," he said, not looking back, just continuing to stare off down the side of the building, blowing out smoke. It'd be pretty easy to not have to make those choices anymore. Or look on Harvey's face, Rachel's too when it all boiled down to disappointing them.

    
    Harvey Dent

    ‎"No." Harvey's voice was firm, but full of emotion as he stepped closer, trying to get close enough to touch Bruce if he could.
    
    His heart squeezed hard in his chest, to see Bruce like this. This was much more serious than before, and Harvey worried that he might very well just jump.
    
    "Can we talk? Because I'm confused. I thought you were in a good mood today." Harvey moved a little closer, still behind Bruce as he kept speaking, as though he could wrap his words around him, and reel him back from the edge.
    
    "What happened? You didn't leave me a note, so that gives me hope that you didn't plan to be here when you got up today, did you?"

    
    Bruce Wayné

    Bruce turned around, gun in hand, finger on the trigger, smoke in the other hand, just looking at Harvey like his soul was being ripped out. How could he even manage to do this /now/ with the blond looking at him like /that/.
    
    "I don't want to talk. I don't want to do anything. I just..." he shrugged, biting his lip to hold back the swell of tears that threatened to spring forward.
    
    He took small step back, heels to the ledge. "The very last thing I wanted was to ever hurt you, Harvey. And I will, one way or another. But /this/ way," He motioned the gun to the ledge, "I'll never be able to do it again. You or Rachel. Or Alfred. Just... one time deal, right?"

    
    Harvey Dent

    Harvey's eyes widened and pain twisted his features now, seeing Bruce with the gun in his hand. That was a surprise, one that made him stop breathing altogether.
    
    "You don't want to hurt me?" Harvey's blue eyes went glossy, and he swallowed, hard. "Bruce, if you let yourself fall-" he nodded at the gun, at the edge of the building, "you are going to hurt me, more than anyone has ever hurt me before. Don't you understand that? Knowing that I came up here, and talked to you, and you jumped anyway would ..." he let the ending of the sentence trail off as he stepped closer, and closer yet.
    
    "No one has done anything wrong yet," he said, softly, the wind catching his gold hair. "We can still walk away from this, and no one needs to get hurt at all. You are in charge of what you do, Bruce, and only you. Are you saying that you'd die to keep me from being hurt, but you won't /live/ to do the same?"
    
    He held out his hand.
    
    "You can choose. Choose me."

    
    Bruce Wayné

    Bruce put his foot up on the ledge, heel skimming the very edge, even leaning off of it slightly. What Harvey was saying, he didn't understand. He didn't know what Bruce was planning, he didn't know how horribly it would hurt him when he did do it.
    
    "My parents anniversary is next week," he said, as if ignoring everything Harvey had just said, only looking at the hand offered but not taking it. Not yet.
    
    "It'll be thirteen years since they were murdered. Do you..." he licked his lips and looked at Harvey, leveling his gaze on him, brows furrowed. "Do you know what I've wanted to do since that night? Do you have any /idea/?"

    
    Harvey Dent

    The air under Bruce's heel made Harvey feel like that gun Bruce was holding was pointed at his /own/ head. He was sweating now, desperate and nearly panicking inside, even if having grown up with a gun to his head some nights had one and on and only one upside: Harvey Dent didn't panic.
    
    He kept his eyes on Bruce's eyes, listening as Bruce spoke.
    
    "Yes," he said, simply, honestly. "Yes, I know. I know, because it's what T did to the man who hurt /you/. Bruce, I understand that feeling, but it doesn't make it right."
    
    He swallowed, taking a deep breath. "Is that what you're planning?" he asked, starting to put it together in his head. "You're going to go kill him?" It made sense now: the drinking, the drugs, the spiral of misery, how brilliant Bruce just didn't care about school. If he was planning to throw it all away to kill a man, then what did any of it matter?
    
    "Oh, god. Bruce ..." he whispered, pain spreading through his chest, and reaching his eyes. "Bruce, you're better than that."

    
    Bruce Wayné

    No, it wasn't right. Bruce was starting to see that, but every bit of him still wanted the agony to be over, to know the man suffered the same fate as his parents, to know he died, like his parents. It's all he thought about for years and it was starting to make less and less sense these days.
    
    "Yeah. I'm going to. And, I know it's not up to yours or Rachel's standards. I know it'll hurt you both." /It's why I didn't want to let you in/, he said to himself, too late as it was now.
    
    Bruce took a shuddering breath, shaking his head. "I'm not, though. I'm not." The words though seemed less confident than before, more broken, his voice quieter, shaking. He dropped the hand with the gun to his head, flicking the cigarette over the edge with the other, watching it fall, glancing back of his shoulder.

    
    Harvey Dent

    He stepped a little closer, "I know it hurts. I know the pain never really goes away, but that pain means you /remember/ them, and you love them. Killing Chill won't make you hurt any less. If anything you'll just feel worse because you'll know that you did something that would have broken their hearts if they knew about it."
    
    "You're still good. You might be where you are now, you might have thought about killing, you might have even bought the gun, but today, as miserable as you feel you have something that matters: you have integrity. The second you pulled that trigger, it's lost forever, as is your freedom. The moment you actually fire that-" he pointed to the gun, "is the moment you cross the line and become an executioner, and I know you, Bruce. You're not the type, no matter how far down you go."
    
    Harvey's eyes shone, not with sadness, but with pride as he looked at his friend, even now. "You are the best person I know, and the only one I love. Come here."

    
    Bruce Wayné

    Bruce's foot slid off the ledge and back onto the solid rooftop, thumb over the hammer of the gun, he flipped it back to neutral, staring now at Harvey with tears welled in his eyes. The blond was right, as much as it might make him feel better in the moment to shoot Chill, it would never erase the pain completely, and he would only be more miserable.
    
    Especially in /knowing/ his parents would never condone that behavior. He wanted to do it for them, but the reality was they wouldn't want that. Maybe there was another way to avenge them, but right now he couldn't and wouldn't think about that.
    
    He took the few steps between him and Harvey, biting his trembling bottom lip, and wrapped his arms around the the younger boy, burying his face into his neck, sobbing.
    
    "I'm sorry," he whispered, sniffling a little. Harvey was right, Bruce wasn't the type; and he sort of knew when it came down to it, he might just freeze up and not do the job anyway.

    
    Harvey Dent

    As soon as he could reach him, Harvey yanked Bruce into his shaking arms, letting him sob against his suit jacket as he thanked whatever God was actually up there than this hadn't ended with Bruce laying on the ground below with a snapped neck.
    
    "It's okay ..." he murmured, holding the grieving boy tightly, locking him in his embrace. "It's okay, I've got you, and everything is still alright. They were just thoughts, no harm done. You're safe, now."
    
    Harvey kissed the top of Bruce's head, trying not to break down, himself. "I'm glad you told me, you did the right thing", he reassured Bruce, rubbing his back, almost rocking him in his arms.

    
    Bruce Wayné

    Bruce's arms were tight around Harv's shoulders, not letting go, not easing up, just letting it out as he finally broke. Years of holding it all in, not letting anyone see him cry except when he was alone, and that night after Harvey first held him... When everything changed.
    
    For the better though. He /feel/ that much in the air. This was for the better.
    
    Harvey was his savior; he'd have probably tried it otherwise.
    
    After a few moments of just letting Harvey hold him, Bruce stepped back, arms length, eyes red and swollen; "Let's go home."

    
    Harvey Dent

    When Bruce stepped back, Harvey looked a little wary, and stepped with him, keeping one hand on his arm as though afraid he'd lose him again. Harvey reached over, and took the gun himself, shucking the bullets out with hands that were a little too skilled at the task before he pocketed it.
    
    "Alright," he nodded, slipping his arm around Bruce's back and walking with him to the door, eager to get him off of the damned roof. "We can do that. I drove."

    
    Bruce Wayné

    He walked with Harvey, not protesting when he took the gun, or when he opened the door for him, too droned to care as they walked down the stairs to the elevator, quiet and wordless. The air between them seemed dead, but alive at the same time, and Bruce just wanted to go to sleep and wake up and know that he made the right choice tonight.
    
    That telling Harvey was the right choice.
    
    They got downstairs to the car and Bruce just stared at Harvey for a minute. "Thank you."

    
    Harvey Dent

    The car was parked haphazardly, half in a fire zone, half in a handicapped spot, and still running with the keys in it. At the time, Harvey had thought of nothing but getting to Bruce before he jumped.
    
    Harv paused in the act of opening Bruce's door for him, and stared back, touched and saddened that it had been necessary at all. "You'd do the same," he said, with a little smile, and a soft, almost chaste kiss on Bruce's cheek.
    
    "Besides," he said, trying to lighten the mood a little, "I was wearing my lucky tie." Harvey smoothed the blue tie down with his hand, still staring at Bruce, "how could I fail?"

    
    Bruce Wayné

    Bruce tried to smile back, a heaviness in his chest so thick still he couldn't almost breathe. But he knew the light was coming, he had Harvey and he had resolved the pain that was bogging him down for years, made a conscience decision to not do it. He felt /better/ already, and it was just time before he felt free.
    
    "It is a nice color on you," he replied, opening his own door and getting in. "You saved me, Hero. Let's go home and get you studied up for that test."
     

    Harvey Dent
    Harvey's face fell at the thought of the exam tomorrow. He had completely forgotten. "Right. That ..."
    
    He closed Bruce's door and walked around the back of the car to his own side, getting in and shifting it, starting to drive back home. He wasn't sure what to say, so his hand found Bruce's and squeezed it, protectively as they drove.
    
    "Remember when I picked you up out of the rain that one night?"
    
    Bruce Wayné Bruce watched the blond, not wanting to look anywhere else but at the savior to his left, because if he looked away, maybe he'd fall back down again. It was too soon to really let go yet. He squeezed Harvey's hand back, and nodded.
    
    "Yeah. I do. Why?"
    
    Harvey Dent

    Harvey smiled, pulling up to a stop light. "As drunk and angry as you were ... I wanted to kiss you, even then."
    
    He leaned over and kissed Bruce, quickly on the mouth, reassuring them both with the brush of lips that they were still together, and still alright. Despite all the adrenaline coursing through Harvey's body, and T watching Bruce from inside Harv's head, rapt with concern, everything was as okay as it could be.
    
    The light changed to green again, and Harvey started up, driving the last short block to their place without letting go of Bruce's hand.

    
    Bruce Wayné Bruce leaned into the kiss softly. "Really?" he asked, having figured that Harvey found Bruce annoying and rude for the first few months, only up until recently when he'd let a lot of his true self slip through his barriers.
    
    "Thought you hated me," he admitted as they arrived back home minutes later. Not that he could blame Harvey if he did, Bruce /made/ most people hate him on purpose.
    
    Harvey Dent

    ‎"You confused me," Harvey clarified, shutting off the car, but not leaving it yet, just talking with Bruce as he kept their fingers locked around one another. "I knew there was more to you, but you kept shoving me away. I never /hated/ you," he smiled, almost sadly.
    
    "I just wanted the same thing I always want, the truth." He pushed some of Bruce's hair out of his eyes, looking at him with open adoration, his blue eyes memorizing Bruce's expression.
    
    "Come on, let's get upstairs."

    
    Bruce Wayné ‎"Just like Alfred. Never giving up on me," he mused sadly, letting go of Harvey's hand so he could get out of the car. He put his hands into his jacket pockets, bumping the door shut with his hip. His fingers curled around his smokes, and he pulled them out, just staring at them for a long time.
    
    Finally, as they walked up the stairs and past the garbage can, he tossed them in.
    
    Harvey Dent

    Harvey noticed, but didn't comment, just kept his arm tight around Bruce's waist, holding him close even as they walked up the stairs together, more for Harvey's sake than Bruce's.
    
    He unlocked their place and kissed Bruce's temple as they stepped inside, sighing as he saw the frantic note he left on the kitchen counter, still waiting there for them to find.
    
    "Are you hungry?" he asked, getting go of Bruce only long enough to pull his suit jacket off and hang it up.

    
    Bruce Wayné

    ‎"No," he replied, shrugging his leather jacket off and hanging it up as well. "But I'll eat if you're making something." He sat down on one of the stools, holding his head in hands, rethinking the words said on the roof, the things Harvey said, wondering if he meant them.
    
    "So..." he looked at Harv, honesty in his hazel eyes, still hurt but the cloud was fading fast. "What... are we?" It was weird, he'd never had to ask before, he always called it off. But he wasn't backing down this time.

    
    Harvey Dent

    Harvey was just loosening his tie, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, when he heard Bruce's question and looked at him. He still looked so incredibly fragile, close to teetering on a very dangerous edge.
    
    "We are ..." to be honest, he wasn't sure, either. He knew what he wanted, but this seemed like the wrong time to press that on Bruce. And yet, the other boy deserved the truth. He needed to know that someone loved him, more than anything, and needed him not to fade away.
    
    "I don't know what we are," he began, "I only know how I feel about you." Harv went very still for a moment, looking up at Bruce, adoration clear in his eyes as he moved closer, tucking some of Bruce's hair back, behind his ear.
    
    Even now, Harvey felt like admitting his feelings was like laying down with his bare neck on a chopping block and handing Bruce the axe, all he could hope for was a swift slice. And yet, another part of Harvey believed in love, he believed in the growing bond between him and Bruce, and trusted him implicitly, even with his fragile, taped together heart.
    
    "I'm in love with you."

    
    Bruce Wayné

    Bruce, now, had no plans of going anywhere, stuck in this moment with Harvey, realizing now more than ever he really wanted things to work out at school, that he'd get to go back and finish and start a career out of it. And stay with Harvey. That was important.
    
    Pressing his lips together for a moment, he watched the blond's eyes, emotional and honest, perfect and caring. Bruce would either be dead or well on his way to prison right now if he had not met him, and they never shared this apartment. He didn't believe in fate, but he was beginning to.
    
    He wrapped an arm around Harv's waist and pulled him close, to feel the heat coming off his body, to lean into him for a moment while he collected himself. He felt the same way, but saying the words was harder than he thought it would be, so he leaned more and kissed Harvey instead.

    
    Harvey Dent

    Harvey's knees nearly went weak. Bruce had been quiet for what had been in reality, only a couple of seconds, but to him felt like an eternity. After imagining a million gentle and not-so-gentle ways Bruce would let him down, the kiss was answer enough.
    
    He stepped into Bruce's embrace, kissing him back, gratefully as he wrapped arms around his shoulders and held him in, against himself, sharing his warmth and strength.
    
    Words were tricky, sometimes, and Harvey trusted actions more, having been lied to regularly as a child. This way, he could /feel/ what Bruce meant to say, the honesty of it, and it left no doubt in his young mind that he was loved back.
    
    Another kiss, and then another and Harvey pulled back just enough to breathe against Bruce's cheek, eyes closed as he held him where he still sat on the bar stool, a little above Harvey.
    
    "I don't want to see anyone else," he said, "but I think that goes without saying." The truth was, Harvey couldn't see anyone else, the world had been divided into two sorts of people: Bruce and those who failed to be Bruce.

    
    Bruce Wayné

    Bruce kept his head near Harvey's, forehead to forehead, breathing him in slowly, getting used to the sound of the blond's own breathing, perfect and /there/. No doubt he'd always be there for Bruce, and it was reassurance enough.
    
    "I don't either," he admitted, with a bashful smile. No one else mattered enough to catch his attention long enough anyway. Harv was the first person, aside from Rachel, that Bruce trusted completely enough to actually /want/ a relationship. "Just want you."

    
    Harvey Dent

    Harv reached up and brushed the pad of his thumb against the corner of Bruce's shy grin, fascinated by the way it made Bruce's entire face change.
    
    "Good," he said, the touch to his lips turning into a slow, gentle stroke of Harvey's hand down the side of Bruce's neck to his shoulder. "So-" his eyes squinted a little with happiness when he smiled, "we're officially kissing and ... um, well."
    
    The usually well-spoken future lawyer looked up at the ceiling, beaming as he fumbled for words. "You know ... " he sighed, choosing the right one out of the air and looking back at Bruce.
    
    "Together. We're officially together?"

    
    Bruce Wayné Chuckling, Bruce kissed Harvey on the forehead, an odd sort of feeling behind it, as if trying to get him to just settle down, not to fret over it, because it was just going to happen. He rubbed the blond's arms reassuringly and then kissed his lips. This was a nice change of pace though, from just minutes before.
    
    "Yes," he said.
    
    Harvey Dent

    Harv relaxed a little, into the sweet, sort of funny kiss on his forehead and hugged Bruce, indulging in the moment, but not letting himself forget that as happy as they were right now, he /had/ just talked Bruce off of a ledge. It would be too easy to get carried away in kissing and touching the hazel eyed boy.
    
    He looked at him, eyes moving over Bruce's handsome features with compassion, and concern.
    
    "This is the third time I've seen you tempted to jump," the blond said, keeping his voice un-accusing, and just between the two of them. "I know that deciding not to kill Chill is a huge step forward but-" he took Bruce's hands in his own.
    
    "I'm afraid this is going to happen again," he said, frankly. "Will it?"

    
    Bruce Wayné

    Bruce seemed to consider, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, teeth grazing thoughtfully. He was being... aloof about the situation, as he usually was, keeping fingers from being pointed, to avoid talking about it. He'd just made a huge choice not to kill someone /or/ to take his own life.
    
    Couldn't blame Harvey for being concerned.
    
    "I've been unhappy since I was ten. First two years I was numb. After that..." He shrugged, /this/ is what he turned into. "I stopped caring. Did things for people, kept busy because I had no choice, no escape. Knew I just had to wait for the moment I could kill him. It's not... rational. And I never told anyone about that. Not even Rachel."
    
    He gave Harvey a sincere sort of smile, reassuring. "Meeting you has changed my perspective things. Allowed me to rational with myself. I wanted to jump today only because I didn't know if I had other choices anymore. I didn't want to kill Chill and that hurt as much as anything else. I was lost without the path I had been on. But... then, you were there, Harv. Reminding me that... I'm /not/ and don't have to be that person. I have you."

    
    Harvey Dent

    Harvey listened, and then led Bruce over to the big, ivory couch, sitting him down so that Harv could sit with him, properly. Bruce's smile was reassuring, not to mention oh, so beautiful, and it made the blond boy smile back, but didn't take the knot out of his stomach entirely.
    
    He took Bruce's hand, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles. "I'm proud of you," he smiled, "incredibly proud. It took a lot of strength to do what you just did but ..." he moved closer, still worried.
    
    "But that's a /huge/ change to make, no matter how positive it is. I feel like I'd be a shitty friend if I let my guard down right now as far as assuming you're going to be ... fine as of right now."
    
    He squeezed Bruce's hand with a small, patient smile. "If you just talked me out of killing someone or shooting myself, I think you'd see it the same way, right?"

    
    Bruce Wayné

    Bruce sat, letting Harv touch him anyway he needed or wanted, it felt good to have someone near right now, because if he had just been left after all of /that/ on the roof, he might just try again. A firm body next to him was a good grounding, and as much as he wanted to convince Harvey he would be fine, neither of them were stupid.
    
    Issues like Bruce's don't just go away and Harvey couldn't be the only reason Bruce needed or wanted to live. He'd have to find something else to balance it out.
    
    Slowly, Bruce nodded. "Yeah, I-I do. I want to tell you I'll be fine, Harv, and I think I will be, but I don't want to lie to you either, I think we're past that."

    
    Harvey Dent

    Harvey smiled again, relieved. Seeing Bruce like that, scared, reckless, armed and ready to blow himself away because the world didn't make sense anymore put another layer of age on the young man, another experience to add to his collection, and when he smiled, the edges of his blue eyes crinkled just the tiniest bit as though the stress of it had carved a miniscule notch at each corner.
    
    He had the feeling Bruce would give him lots of worry lines yet, but didn't mind.
    
    "Good," he said, moving right over to Bruce and wrapping both arms around his shoulders, holding his head to his own chest as he stroked his hair. "We are past that, both of us." From now on if Bruce wanted to know anything, even about his Dad, Harv would tell him. No more baseball injuries, but he suspected that Bruce didn't really want to know all that.
    
    "I start my job on Monday, but until then I just want to be around you, okay?" He kissed the top of the boy's head, "More for my sanity than yours."

    
    Bruce Wayné

    Bruce would definitely not want to hear about Harv's dad unless the boy was willing to tell divulge information or stories without Bruce having to prod. He didn't feel that was his place.
    
    Wrapping his arms tightly around Harvey's torso, head to his chest, Bruce leaned, letting himself be held, because it's really the only thing keeping him grounded at that moment. He let himself be talked down, he let himself be lead off that roof, but if Harvey hadn't had a hold on him, Bruce didn't know if he'd have ever really left at all. It would have been too easy to just not worry anymore.
    
    But in the end, he couldn't do that to Harv, Rachel, or even Alfred. Not like that.
    
    "You have that test, Harv. I don't want you to miss that on my behalf." Really, he'd feel /worse/ about himself if Harvey missed it because of him. "I'll be fine tomorrow. I'll keep busy. Pack our stuff to go home..."

    
    Harvey Dent

    ‎"I can take it again in a couple of months, when things are a little more settled. It doesn't matter, it's just a test." A test he paid over two hundred dollars to schedule, and weeks preparing for, but he wasn't about to tell Bruce that and put more pressure on him.
    
    "We'll drive to the manor tomorrow, instead, together." Harvey really wanted to get Bruce home, somewhere more stable than the town so much had happened in so recently. He suspected that Bruce and Alfred might get a long a little better now at any rate.
    
    "We'll wake up, have breakfast, pack everything up and go."

    
    Bruce Wayné Bruce wasn't stupid, he knew those things cost money, and where as it wouldn't be a huge deal to him, money wasn't so easy to come by for Harvey. He pulled back and leveled Harvey with a knowing gaze.
    
    "Alfred's not even expecting me until Sunday afternoon. We're going to throw him off if we show up early." It was an excuse, but probably true. He felt guilty, even if Harvey said it wasn't an issue, he knew better.

    
    Harvey Dent

    Harvey doubted very much that anything short of a cannonball launching itself into the manor could throw Alfred off, but didn't say so, just looked back at Bruce.
    
    "We'll see ..." was the most the blond would stretch to right now. Bruce might seem alright in the morning, but then again, he'd seemed alright this morning, too and in a matter of hours he was nearly dead.
    
    "Still hungry?" Harvey pulled his phone out of the pocket of his dress pants, definitely not in the mood to cook of all things.

    
    Bruce Wayné

    Bruce always seemed alright, for the most part, it was a part of that facade he put forward to keep people off his back. And he'd do it in the morning too, just to make sure Harv went to his test, Bruce didn't want that weighing on his conscience, too. Bad enough he nearly offed himself that evening just because the blond got the job he desperately deserved.
    
    It was pretty selfish of the billionaire, and he knew it. He wouldn't let Harv throw away good money on a test he would have to pay again to do. But he kept to himself, seeing as the blond dropped it.
    
    "No. Not really."
    
    

    Harvey Dent

    The ease with which Bruce pretended was one of the things that kept Harvey the most worried. It meant that when it suited him, he could and would shut Harvey out completely, but he hoped that like the lying, they were past that.
    
    He shifted closer to Bruce, sitting behind him now, one arm curled around his chest as he dialed his phone with the other hand. "I'm ordering Chinese. I couldn't eat this morning. I'm starving. If you're hungry when it gets here, help yourself, of course."
    
    He pressed a kiss to Bruce's cheek from behind, letting his lips linger there until he had to order over the phone.