Pairing: Gordon/Batman, eventually.
Rating: PG for now, will go higher in later parts.
A/N: Yes, second chapter today, don't get too used to this, it won't last. I have a cold, and this always fuels my writing :)
Thank you for all reading and commenting, each piece of feedback brightens my day.
prologue part one part two part three
When Gordon woke up, Batman was, predictably, gone. He had even gone to the lengths of cleaning up the supplies from the coffee table and placing them back in the first aid kit. It felt really surreal, the Batman cleaning at his house. Not one of the things he had expected to take place during this week. Or ever.
By the time he got to the office, the entire night felt just as surreal; as if it happened to someone else, or as if he dreamt it.
But the reports arriving at his desk from the previous night begged to differ, detailing the proceedings, the details, and most importantly, the cost of the entire operation. He sighed, wondering if this was what he was going to be dealing with now: and if so, was it too late to return the whole promotion thing to the shop? Probably. Damn it.
He made a large pot of coffee to get him through the day and started on the forms and reports, one piece at a time.
By the time he had made enough progress to actually see his desk again under the papers, his phone rang, and he spent a frantic thirty seconds looking for it. "Gordon."
"It seems you made quite an impression yesterday, Jim," the Mayor said pleasantly, and Gordon cringed. Which part was he referring to, and how much trouble was he in already?
"I'm having lunch today with one of my most generous benefactors, and your presence has been requested," the Mayor continued, and Gordon pushed his glasses up his nose in frustration. Just wonderful, exactly what had been missing in his life. It couldn't possibly get worse. "If you could join us in an hour at the Ritz?" Oh. It could.
He assured the Mayor he'd be there with all the enthusiasm of someone on a death row, and disconnected. The day was shaping up to be worse than the previous night, and that was an achievement.
A little less than an hour later, he was led to the Mayor's table at the Ritz by a concierge whose tie probably cost more than Gordon's entire suit, and wishing for a major shoot out downtown. He would take an armed robbery. Or a plain old murder, if it was close enough that he could claim being in the neighbourhood.
"Ah, Gordon," the Mayor said, rising and extending his hand to greet him. "You know Mr Wayne, don't you?"
Jim nodded, and shook Wayne's hand as well as the man smiled widely. "We've met," he said curtly, and then remembered to add, "How do you do, Mr Wayne?"
"Bruce. Please," Wayne smiled even wider. Should be physically impossible, in Gordon's honest opinion.
As they sat down, the Mayor's cellphone beeped, and he excused himself, making a quick conversation before looking at them with dismay. "I'm dreadfully sorry, Mr Wayne, Gordon, but it seems that duty calls." He didn't explain anything else, not that Gordon needed the explanation. He had a sneaking suspicion that he had been set up, but whatever for, he had no idea.
Bruce watched the Mayor walk away, then turned back to Gordon. "Well that's unfortunate. But let's not let it spoil the lunch; why don't we order?" Jim hesitated, wondering whether the price of a lunch in the Ritz actually exceeded his weekly income or just came close to it, when Bruce added, "The least I can do after dragging you here is treat you to lunch."
Gordon glanced up, surprised. In his experience, Bruce Wayne wasn't really all that perceptive. And that was putting it mildly. "Thank you," he nodded, and leant back in his chair a little. "And, if I may ask, why did you drag me here?"
"Well, I was watching TV yesterday," Bruce announced, and Gordon held back an eyeroll. Patience. Patience was an important virtue.
"That's astounding," he said, and got a look he couldn't quite decipher, but could have been amusement. Strange.
"Isn't it?" Bruce agreed. "And there was some crime show on, don't ask me what it was," he paused as a waiter approached and placed an order without looking at the menu. The waiter turned to Gordon expectantly.
"Same," Gordon said quickly. He didn't trust the menus anyway: nothing that came with that much gold font could be trusted. "And?" he prompted Wayne, who smiled again.
"And I thought they had really fantastic equipment. All those 3D pictures of dead brains? Amazing." Something about the tone intrigued Gordon. It was almost too flighty, too clueless. "And then I thought I remembered you talking about the new CSI lab at the party," he continued, launching into what was shaping up to be a generous donation from Wayne Enterprises to the Gotham PD. For some reason.
"All of that from watching late night tv?" Gordon asked after about three minutes of one of the strangest conversations he ever had, and that included the ones with both Batman and the Joker. "Tell me, Mr Wayne, what happens when you watch Baywatch?"
Bruce made a dismissive gesture with his hand, shifting in his chair with a tense grimace. Probably didn't like Baywatch, Gordon thought. "Please, Baywatch was cancelled years ago," he offered with a smile that again sent Gordon's mind wandering.
The trouble with Bruce Wayne was, he thought later as the man was getting into another one of the flashy cars made for greater speed that could ever be reached in a city limits, the trouble with him was that you couldn't actually tell if he was having the greatest joke at your expense, or if he was actually that shallow.
Then Bruce turned to look at him, and the smile was different again, softer. The trouble with Bruce Wayne, Gordon thought, shifting uncomfortably, was something else too.