[Third Person POV]
The next morning, Betty's eyelids trembled weakly as the world around her slowly filtered back into her senses. The first thing she noticed wasn't the pain in her head or the stiffness in her limbs, but rather the loud beat of music pounding through the room. Poker Face by Lady Gaga was blaring throughout the base, each bass drop making her skull throb as though her head had been turned into a drum.
Her lashes fluttered until her eyes cracked open just enough to take in the blurry shapes of two figures looming over her. The light overhead made her squint, and their faces wavered like mirages as their voices reached her ears, muffled and distant, like she was underwater.
"Dude, what are you even doing?" Harry's voice cut through, tinged with amusement. "Why are you playing this song?"
"What? She likes it. It's a good song to wake up to," Peter defended himself, his tone casual but his smirk giving away his mischievous intent.
Harry tilted his head, his lips twitching as though he was barely holding back laughter. "How could you possibly know that she likes this song?"
"Duh, because her brain activity spiked the second I put it on," Peter answered without hesitation, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He grabbed one of the floating holograms and turned it to show Harry, its neon-blue lines pulsing with data. "See? Clearly, it's a sign she enjoys it."
Harry leaned closer to study the graph, eyebrows raised, before chuckling. "Or—and hear me out—it's a sign that she's waking up, genius."
"That too," Peter admitted with a shrug, still grinning as he crossed his arms. "But I also saw it on her Facebook page. So I'm not wrong. A good song does wonders for the brain so it doesn't hurt to have it on"
Before Harry could fire back with a sarcastic retort, a low groan escaped Betty's lips. Her hand sluggishly lifted to her temple, pressing against her aching skull. "Ughhh… w-what…?" she mumbled, her voice weak and raspy.
Both boys immediately snapped their attention back toward her, their teasing halted. Their expressions softened into awkward, almost guilty smiles.
"Heyyy~" Peter greeted, his voice higher than normal, his strained smile practically begging her not to be mad.
"Looks like someone's finally awake," Harry added, matching Peter's overly cheerful tone. "How're you feeling?"
Betty cracked her eyes open wider, though she instantly regretted it as the light stabbed at her pupils. "Like my head's about to split open," she groaned, rubbing her temple harder.
Before Peter or Harry could speak again, a firm hand landed on each of their shoulders. In one swift motion, they were pulled back a step. Both boys glanced up, wide-eyed, only to meet Bruce's sharp glare.
"Would you two not bother her?" Bruce scolded, his voice stern and brooking no argument. "She literally just woke up. Give her time to breathe,"
Both boys raised their hands in mock surrender, slowly backing away like children caught with their hands in the cookie jar.
Betty shifted, pushing herself upright with some effort. Her fingers ran through her messy hair, trying and failing to tame it back into place. Her tired eyes flicked toward the man standing protectively near her bed. "Bruce…" she whispered weakly.
"Betty…" Bruce's voice was quieter now, almost awkward. For a long, heavy moment, the two simply stared at one another, neither sure how to bridge the silence.
Peter and Harry glanced between them, instantly sensing the tension thickening the air. Like two kids sneaking out of a classroom, they began inching backwards toward the other side of the room to give them space and privacy.
The silence was finally broken by Betty, her voice unsteady but firm. "I'm sorry…"
Bruce blinked, clearly taken off guard. "You're sorry? What are you sorry for? You don't have anything to apologize for."
Betty let out a tired sigh, rubbing one of her eyes before forcing herself to meet his gaze. "No, I do. I was the one who insisted on helping, on going undercover as a spy for my dad. We almost fought because of it, remember? I wanted so badly to prove that I could be useful, that I wasn't just some damsel waiting for the strongest guy I know to come save her. I wanted to show you I could be worthy of you. But instead, it backfired. Because I pushed so hard, I exposed myself to danger, and that's how I got mind-controlled. Which led to your capture. I caused all of this, Bruce. I messed up. And I'm sorry." Her voice cracked toward the end, her expression tight with shame.
Bruce shook his head slowly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips as though her words were both painful and absurd. "Okay, hold up. Let's backtrack a little because there are so many things wrong with what you just said."
He moved to sit beside her on the edge of the bed, his weight dipping the mattress slightly. Without hesitation, he reached for her hand, covering it with his much larger one. His voice softened, steady and reassuring. "First of all, I'm not someone you need to be worthy of. If anything, it's the other way around. You're an incredible woman, Betty. You're what pushes me to be better, to try harder, so that I can be the one who's worthy of you."
Betty's breath hitched slightly, her eyes glistening.
"And second," Bruce continued, squeezing her hand, "I never once thought of you as some helpless damsel. You've stood up to your own father—for me—more times than I can count. You've been brave when anyone else would have folded. You're not at fault here. None of this was on you. Things spiraled out of control, way beyond what either of us could predict."
He leaned forward then, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. When he pulled back, his expression carried nothing but warmth and guilt. "So no, you don't get to apologize. If anything, I should be the one saying sorry. I should've noticed when something was wrong, when you weren't acting like yourself. I should've protected you better. And because I didn't… I failed you. I'm sorry."
Their foreheads rested gently against one another, the closeness easing the tension that had been lingering between them. Betty let out a shaky breath, her lips curling into a warm, tender smile that softened her features. "I suppose," she whispered, her voice carrying both affection and vulnerability, "we both have something to apologize for."
Bruce's eyes softened as he studied her expression, the corners of his mouth lifting into the faintest smile. "Maybe," he admitted quietly, though his tone carried the kind of stubborn gentleness only he could manage. "But I still believe you have nothing to apologize for." His voice lowered, rich and reassuring.
Betty's gaze lingered on him, her eyes glistening with unspoken emotion. "Bruce…" she breathed, her tone quieter now, almost fragile.
They didn't need to say anything more. Slowly, instinctively, they closed the small space between them, their lips meeting in a kiss that was neither rushed nor hesitant. It was steady, filled with all the unspoken love, pain, and longing that had been building since this ordeal began. In that moment, every mistake, every fear, every regret melted away, leaving only the raw truth of their feelings for each other.
A few feet away, Peter and Harry lingered, trying and failing to avert their eyes. Peter wrinkled his nose, grimacing exaggeratedly as he lifted a finger to his mouth and pretended to gag. The childish gesture pulled a quiet laugh out of Harry, who shook his head in amusement.
"You're such a hypocrite," Harry teased, nudging Peter in the ribs with his elbow. "Like you're not ten times worse. Some of the stuff you share? Honestly concerning."
Peter smirked unable to deny it. He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he muttered, "Hahaha, true…" His grin widened as he gave Harry a playful shove on the shoulder. "Alright, let's give them some space. We'll check in on the others while Romeo and Juliet over here catch up."
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