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crack_van2010-02-13 12:07 pm
sandystarr88.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2010-02-13 12:07 pm
Entry tags:
Suits and Suitors by ragdoll987 (NC-17)
Fandom: DC UNIVERSE: BATMAN NOLANVERSE
Pairing: Jim/Bruce
Length: ~24,000
Author on LJ: [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com]
Author Website: Fanfic List
Why this must be read:
This is the sequel to [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com]'s To Serve and Protect (which I have already rec'd over here) but it's not really necessary to read that piece in order to enjoy this one. Jim and Batman are an established couple as this story opens, but Gordon is still left in the dark when it comes to knowing the identity of his mysterious partner; that's where the fun begins, as Bruce takes it upon himself to get to know Jim as "Bruce Wayne, Playboy Billionaire" to the complete bafflement of the good Commissioner.
“Commissioner Gordon!”
Gordon was a good cop; he noticed things, people. So he couldn’t credit how two completely different beings had the ability to startle him so thoroughly. But whatever the reason, he nearly jumped out of his skin, and barely kept himself from delivering what would have been a blistering (and ill-thought-out) response to the most influential man in Gotham. It had something to do with the shadows, Gordon thought. Batman lived in them and Wayne was so shallow he barely had the substance for one. It was an uncharitable thought, but he found he really wasn’t in the mood to be charitable.
He turned, after getting his expression under control, to meet the dazzling, airy smile of Gotham’s prince, immaculately pressed and manicured. His tie clip very probably cost more than Gordon’s whole outfit. Maybe two or three whole outfits.
“Mr. Wayne,” Gordon greeted, inwardly cursing fate and God and any other higher power that might be listening. Of all people to run into; Wayne was very high on his list of people to avoid, right after everyone on the city council and most of the inmates of Arkham.
“If you’re heading to the council meeting, I’m afraid you were on the right floor already,” Wayne offered helpfully, smile never wavering. Gordon returned it weakly.
“Coming from it,” he corrected, well aware session had just started. The mayor would be expecting him, but Gordon was fully prepared to claim injury, bank robbery, or homicide, whichever came first. And he wasn’t above shooting someone to provide the alibi.
“I didn’t think council concluded until noon,” Wayne commented, looking puzzled. Gordon couldn’t believe his luck. It was just impossible that a man could be unaware of a madman tearing around the city blowing buildings up and yet understand the fine details of the on-going political process of Gotham. How the theory managed to make its way into Wayne’s head, Gordon didn’t know, but frankly, it irritated him.
“No, it just finished.”
Wayne blinked, one eyebrow rising in a gesture that clearly said, oh, really? but merely stated, “ah.” Gordon got the distinct impression he was being laughed at. He belatedly pressed the button for 'lobby' and felt the floor lurch gently as the elevator began to drop, too slowly for his peace of mind.
“And you?” He asked, desperate to shift the topic of discussion as he attempted to urge the red numbers along faster with hitherto undiscovered powers of telekinesis. “Where are you going?”
“Oh, I had several unpaid parking tickets gathering dust in my glove box, I thought I’d make it a day trip.” Another sighting of the empty playboy smile, and Gordon wavered in his attempts at psychic intervention.
“Several?”
“Hundred.”
“Oh.”
A few moments passed in uncomfortable silence (uncomfortable for Gordon anyway, who knew what Wayne was thinking). Several topics of discussion zipped through his head like ping pong balls – broken any sound barriers lately, how’s your new $500, 000 car treating you, the Joker crashed anymore of your parties? – but each seemed fraught with the actual possibility of a conversation. Gordon wasn’t certain he knew enough about expensive food, cars, clothes or women to justify actually talking to someone like Wayne about them. Which pretty much ruled out small talk.
“So, Commissioner, I hear the Batman is fast becoming a favorite in the crime fighting circles of Gotham again.”
Gordon couldn't believe that the flighty billionaire had decided today, of all miserable days, to develop interests outside his own fortune. "Started watching the news recently, Mr. Wayne?" He sniped, then could have bitten his tongue off. Was he trying to make an enemy of this man? Was he really that annoyed? He had to admit his respect for Bruce Wayne was at a low threshold - though it hadn't always been so - but that was really no excuse for rudeness.
Something less than vacant, something startling, surfaced on that ruggedly handsome face, but it was gone too quickly for Gordon to identify.
"No, I was trying to figure out the new entertainment system in my penthouse and caught the story accidentally," Wayne said cheerfully. Gordon restrained the urge to roll his eyes.
"Well perhaps you should catch the eleven o'clock run tonight, I'm sure it'll be their top story." There was nothing else more interesting to Gotham at the moment than the reputation of its dark knight.
"I really haven't got the time or attention for it, I'm afraid. Money can buy you anything but time, it seems!" Wayne looked exceedingly clever; Gordon wondered waspishly how long it had taken him to come up with that little gem of wit.
"Perhaps you could pay someone else to take the time then," he suggested.
"Are you volunteering?"
"Ah," he backpedaled frantically. "I'm afraid my duties would keep me from giving it my full attention." The elevator doors whooshed open then, thank goodness, and before he had to force himself to politeness once more, Gordon threw the billionaire a curt nod and exited hastily.
And found himself followed.
"Well, Commissioner," Wayne called to his rapidly retreating back, "I can see you're off to fulfill those duties, but I'd really like to hear more about this Bat character (only someone like Wayne could reduce the Batman to a 'Bat character'). What do you say, my penthouse, tonight, seven o'clock?"
The words took a moment to register. A long moment, in which Wayne quickly caught up to him and then passed him. "What?"
"Alfred has been dying to try out his new pasta creation on someone; I'm sure you'll love it. Should I have the Limo pick you up or would you prefer the Rolls?"
"I- what? The Rolls?"
"Excellent! Seven then, looking forward to it; dress casually."
"What... wait! Hold on-"
But the door to Wayne's new ($500, 000, sound-breaking) Aston Martin shut solidly in his face, leaving him gaping and sputtering on the curb. The engine purred to life and within seconds the man had merged easily into traffic, taking off in a streak of midnight blue; he managed to cut off two SUV's in the process, but neither of them had the nerve to honk at the 'Wayne' license plate. In spite of himself, Gordon was impressed. Then, confused; very confused.
What, exactly, had just happened?
Suits and Suitors
Pairing: Jim/Bruce
Length: ~24,000
Author on LJ: [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com]
Author Website: Fanfic List
Why this must be read:
This is the sequel to [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com]'s To Serve and Protect (which I have already rec'd over here) but it's not really necessary to read that piece in order to enjoy this one. Jim and Batman are an established couple as this story opens, but Gordon is still left in the dark when it comes to knowing the identity of his mysterious partner; that's where the fun begins, as Bruce takes it upon himself to get to know Jim as "Bruce Wayne, Playboy Billionaire" to the complete bafflement of the good Commissioner.
“Commissioner Gordon!”
Gordon was a good cop; he noticed things, people. So he couldn’t credit how two completely different beings had the ability to startle him so thoroughly. But whatever the reason, he nearly jumped out of his skin, and barely kept himself from delivering what would have been a blistering (and ill-thought-out) response to the most influential man in Gotham. It had something to do with the shadows, Gordon thought. Batman lived in them and Wayne was so shallow he barely had the substance for one. It was an uncharitable thought, but he found he really wasn’t in the mood to be charitable.
He turned, after getting his expression under control, to meet the dazzling, airy smile of Gotham’s prince, immaculately pressed and manicured. His tie clip very probably cost more than Gordon’s whole outfit. Maybe two or three whole outfits.
“Mr. Wayne,” Gordon greeted, inwardly cursing fate and God and any other higher power that might be listening. Of all people to run into; Wayne was very high on his list of people to avoid, right after everyone on the city council and most of the inmates of Arkham.
“If you’re heading to the council meeting, I’m afraid you were on the right floor already,” Wayne offered helpfully, smile never wavering. Gordon returned it weakly.
“Coming from it,” he corrected, well aware session had just started. The mayor would be expecting him, but Gordon was fully prepared to claim injury, bank robbery, or homicide, whichever came first. And he wasn’t above shooting someone to provide the alibi.
“I didn’t think council concluded until noon,” Wayne commented, looking puzzled. Gordon couldn’t believe his luck. It was just impossible that a man could be unaware of a madman tearing around the city blowing buildings up and yet understand the fine details of the on-going political process of Gotham. How the theory managed to make its way into Wayne’s head, Gordon didn’t know, but frankly, it irritated him.
“No, it just finished.”
Wayne blinked, one eyebrow rising in a gesture that clearly said, oh, really? but merely stated, “ah.” Gordon got the distinct impression he was being laughed at. He belatedly pressed the button for 'lobby' and felt the floor lurch gently as the elevator began to drop, too slowly for his peace of mind.
“And you?” He asked, desperate to shift the topic of discussion as he attempted to urge the red numbers along faster with hitherto undiscovered powers of telekinesis. “Where are you going?”
“Oh, I had several unpaid parking tickets gathering dust in my glove box, I thought I’d make it a day trip.” Another sighting of the empty playboy smile, and Gordon wavered in his attempts at psychic intervention.
“Several?”
“Hundred.”
“Oh.”
A few moments passed in uncomfortable silence (uncomfortable for Gordon anyway, who knew what Wayne was thinking). Several topics of discussion zipped through his head like ping pong balls – broken any sound barriers lately, how’s your new $500, 000 car treating you, the Joker crashed anymore of your parties? – but each seemed fraught with the actual possibility of a conversation. Gordon wasn’t certain he knew enough about expensive food, cars, clothes or women to justify actually talking to someone like Wayne about them. Which pretty much ruled out small talk.
“So, Commissioner, I hear the Batman is fast becoming a favorite in the crime fighting circles of Gotham again.”
Gordon couldn't believe that the flighty billionaire had decided today, of all miserable days, to develop interests outside his own fortune. "Started watching the news recently, Mr. Wayne?" He sniped, then could have bitten his tongue off. Was he trying to make an enemy of this man? Was he really that annoyed? He had to admit his respect for Bruce Wayne was at a low threshold - though it hadn't always been so - but that was really no excuse for rudeness.
Something less than vacant, something startling, surfaced on that ruggedly handsome face, but it was gone too quickly for Gordon to identify.
"No, I was trying to figure out the new entertainment system in my penthouse and caught the story accidentally," Wayne said cheerfully. Gordon restrained the urge to roll his eyes.
"Well perhaps you should catch the eleven o'clock run tonight, I'm sure it'll be their top story." There was nothing else more interesting to Gotham at the moment than the reputation of its dark knight.
"I really haven't got the time or attention for it, I'm afraid. Money can buy you anything but time, it seems!" Wayne looked exceedingly clever; Gordon wondered waspishly how long it had taken him to come up with that little gem of wit.
"Perhaps you could pay someone else to take the time then," he suggested.
"Are you volunteering?"
"Ah," he backpedaled frantically. "I'm afraid my duties would keep me from giving it my full attention." The elevator doors whooshed open then, thank goodness, and before he had to force himself to politeness once more, Gordon threw the billionaire a curt nod and exited hastily.
And found himself followed.
"Well, Commissioner," Wayne called to his rapidly retreating back, "I can see you're off to fulfill those duties, but I'd really like to hear more about this Bat character (only someone like Wayne could reduce the Batman to a 'Bat character'). What do you say, my penthouse, tonight, seven o'clock?"
The words took a moment to register. A long moment, in which Wayne quickly caught up to him and then passed him. "What?"
"Alfred has been dying to try out his new pasta creation on someone; I'm sure you'll love it. Should I have the Limo pick you up or would you prefer the Rolls?"
"I- what? The Rolls?"
"Excellent! Seven then, looking forward to it; dress casually."
"What... wait! Hold on-"
But the door to Wayne's new ($500, 000, sound-breaking) Aston Martin shut solidly in his face, leaving him gaping and sputtering on the curb. The engine purred to life and within seconds the man had merged easily into traffic, taking off in a streak of midnight blue; he managed to cut off two SUV's in the process, but neither of them had the nerve to honk at the 'Wayne' license plate. In spite of himself, Gordon was impressed. Then, confused; very confused.
What, exactly, had just happened?
Suits and Suitors