Pairing: Gordon/Batman, eventually.
Rating: PG for now, will go higher in later parts.
Unfortunately, Gordon was quite right about the champagne. And there was no open bar where he could get the bartender to bring him some single malt; only waiters passing silently with trays full of that dry crap.
Still, a drink was a drink, and if he ever had a good reason this was the night. After three glasses the small talk wasn't even as annoying as usual. He still intended to excuse himself as soon as possible, of course, but somehow he didn't have the usual desire to take out his gun and put himself out of the misery that usually accompanied putting on a tux.
Well, except for the one instance of his wedding, of course. And that was a thought he didn't want to have, really, not now. He reached towards a tray being carried past him and picked up a glass, downing half of it in an instant.
He turned, already rolling his eyes. "Good evening to you, too, Mr Wayne," he said, raising his glass slightly. "You didn't mention you'd be attending, tonight," he said with a small smile, and his grin was returned magnified by about a hundred times.
"Must have slipped my mind, I get so many of these invitations," Bruce shrugged. "I've just decided yesterday; something someone said," he added, and Gordon felt a faint flush creeping up his neck. He might have to lay off the champagne.
He was about to say something to change the topic when a man Gordon vaguely remembered having something to do with city's transport appeared next to Wayne, calling his attention. Bruce didn't seem too pleased by the interruption, the polite smile on his face a little too forced, but Gordon just nodded.
"Excuse me. Mr Wayne, it's been a pleasure to see you again," he said politely, and made his retreat, not looking back. Maybe he did enjoy Wayne's company, surprising as it was, but he was not going to be pulled into yet another conversation on stock markets or Italian cars. Not tonight.
He got as far as the garage, tugging irritably at his bow tie, when he heard steps behind him. "Jim."
He turned, exhaling softly and forcing a smile. "Bruce," he nodded. He briefly amused himself with the thought that recently he had become as laconic as Batman tended to be.
Wayne stopped a few feet away from Gordon, and ran his hand through his hair as if unsure of what to say next. He was supposed to be much better at that playboy persona he insisted on putting up for some unfathomable reason. "You're not leaving yet?" he finally asked, and Gordon laughed at that: because frankly, of all the things to say, this?
Bruce was rolling his eyes at himself, his smile crooked, and Jim had probably had too much of champagne and this entire day had been beyond strange... he moved forward before he could stop himself and actually think of what he was doing.
It wasn't slow and hesitant, like the first kisses he knew were. It would surprise Jim if he was actually thinking, and not losing himself the moment Bruce responded, mouth parting, his hand finding it's way to Jim's chest, fingers tightening on the lapel of his jacket.
When they pulled away, breathing almost identically harsh, Bruce sighed. "How much did you actually have to drink?"
"Does it matter?" Jim asked, trying to speak over the sound of his own heartbeat.
"Tonight, yes. Because you're going to second guess yourself like hell tomorrow," Bruce said sadly, moving away further. Gordon looked away, not wanting to voice agreement to what he already knew was true.
Bruce smiled, and reached to tug off Jim's bow tie. "You look better without it anyway," he offered, pocketing it and nodding decidedly. "I'll see you around, Commissioner," he added, stepping back and turning to walk away.