Pairing: Jim/Bruce, eventually.
Word count: 1742
It had been a rather spectacularly bad idea, Bruce had realized three seconds after starting the conversation with Jim. He blamed it on surprise; leading a double life apparently wasn’t that easy, and he all but forgot that Jim was supposed to be at the party, with a date no less.
Who turned out to be Detective Montoya, much to Bruce’s relief. And he hadn’t realized how much did the idea of Jim taking a date to the party bother him until the feeling was gone.
He shouldn’t have started the conversation, earning himself the suspicious glances from Gordon, who was never easily fooled. He could have bought the persona amidst the chaos after a car accident, or once or twice at a party, but not staring Bruce right in the face and trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
This would be a very good thing to find out, Bruce had to admit, and got him right back to the topic of the things he shouldn’t have done. Like sleeping with Jim Gordon.
In itself, it wasn’t a bad thing, quite the opposite. But as the Batman, in the darkness, speaking with a voice that wasn’t really his own, it felt like a fraud and like a lie, and not something he wanted for quite a while now, even thought it had been just that.
But then there was that other feeling, the pleasure at the complete trust Jim had shown, nothing held back, no questions asked. It might have been a bad idea in many regards, but Bruce couldn’t quite bring himself to regretting it.
And of course, he wasn’t going to kid himself and think it was a one time thing. Bruce Wayne could have one night stands, and he had, mostly because it was going to get highly suspicious very fast, if he dated a new woman every week and didn’t sleep with any of them. But there were things Bruce Wayne did, and there were things Bruce wanted, and they rarely were the same.
The party passed without surprises, if one ignored his pathetic attempt at a conversation with Jim, and he was damn right ignoring it. He had sneaked out earlier, coincidentally at the same time three pretty girls were leaving, it was enough to suggest his direction, and enough to allow him to go down into the cave and change. There were things to look into, before he was heading to Jim’s apartment, and he was, no kidding himself about that either.
“I was wondering if you’d show up,” Jim said, voice low and relaxed as he leaned against the railing on his balcony. It almost seemed like the last few hours hadn’t passed, as they stood side by side in silence for a moment, but this time it was Bruce searching Jim’s face for clues, and the cowl getting in the way.
“I had things I needed to look into,” he said, and Jim nodded, still looking at the city below.
“Philadelphia was different,” Jim said, a non sequitur if Bruce had ever heard one. “You’d think big cities would feel the same at night, but the rhythm was different. Always seemed a little off,” he added, a note of regret colouring his voice, causing Bruce to take a step closer without even thinking about it. “What things?” Jim asked then, matter-of-fact again, and Bruce shrugged.
“Your leak. Some suspicious items had been for sale for a while, but it never seemed serious enough to…”
“To warrant your attention,” Jim nodded. “Someone from the CSU?”
“I’d suggest getting a warrant to search Corrigan’s house,” Bruce said and hesitated. He had said everything he needed to, but he wasn’t sure how exactly would they be getting from the professional to the more personal moment, it seemed like mixing the two was a bad idea, but at the same time it was rather inevitable.
“Where does one really go to buy stolen evidence?” Jim asked wonderingly, stepping out of the balcony, shaking his head as he reached to take off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly.
Jim snorted, and waited for Bruce to follow him inside, and apparently he didn’t have that many problems with getting from the professional to the personal quite easily as Bruce had, because few seconds later, Jim’s eyes were closed, his face inches away from Bruce’s, fingers skimming across the fastenings of the cowl.
Bruce slowly covered Jim’s hand with his own, and guided his fingers to the lock, showing him where to press to remove the cowl safely. Jim’s breath hitched, a sharp intake as his hands found Bruce’s skin, fingertips running down his exposed neck, feeling for the rapidly speeding up pulse, thumb sliding just across his jaw.
“You know how to take it off now,” Bruce said, not even trying for the growl, but his voice came out strangled anyway, low and rough. “You can…” he started, and didn’t get to finish, Jim’s mouth on his, tongue sliding across his lips.
As a tactic, it wasn’t a bad one and it certainly succeeded in shutting him up for a long moment, Jim’s hands learning how to unlock and dispose of other parts of the suit. Jim had already taken off his tie and jacket before Bruce arrived, but there was still a shirt to be dealt with, and pants, discarded somewhere on their slow way to the bedroom.
It was even darker there, the window hidden by the thick curtain, and Jim opened his eyes, his gaze unfocused and dazed, clearly not able to make out Bruce’s features, which was probably the point here, but it still didn’t make Bruce feel good about it.
“Jim, I need to,” he started, pulling away for a moment, trying to calm his breathing down, his lips swollen and his hands itching to reach out again.
“No, you don’t,” Jim said, shaking his head slowly, stepping back to sit on the bed, sighing as he prepared himself for the conversation, the mood shifting to something much more serious. “You don’t need to tell me. I don’t need to know, either, and for all too many reasons it’s better if I don’t,” he added sadly, running his hand through his already messed up hair.
“You don’t want to know,” Bruce guessed, something cold setting in his stomach. He knew the reasons why, the ongoing search for the Batman, the eventuality of lying in court, all good reasons, but maybe Jim was just protecting himself from disappointment, and finding out that it was Bruce Wayne… it could be somewhat disappointing.
Jim looked up, his brow furrowing for a second, then he slowly shook his head, eyes fixed on Bruce’s face, even though he probably didn’t see much in the room’s darkness. Bruce, however, was used to the shadows, and could read the emotions on Jim’s face, or rather, he would be able to if they weren’t so damn confusing.
“I have no idea,” Jim said finally, shrugging. “For a long while, I tried very hard not to guess, not look for the clues about you. Now… I might want to know, at some point. But I don’t need to know. The question is, I suppose, do you want me to know.”
Bruce was going to answer in affirmative, the yes already forming on his lips, but he hesitated, thinking of the last two years, when Jim was gone, and the last two weeks, since he returned. Everything was happening so fast it all but made his head spin, and maybe there was a deeper reason in his desire to tell Jim everything, to tie them together much more closely. Maybe he was just looking for something to connect them, just in case.
‘If I asked you, would you tell me?’ Jim had asked, but the actual question never followed, the answer to that one was enough. And maybe the knowledge that Jim didn’t care for this answer enough to ask was somehow enough for Bruce. Maybe the trust inherent in this was more than enough of a connection.
“I might want to, at some point,” he said, and Jim nodded, smiling.
“I think that’s enough,” he said, somehow echoing Bruce’s thoughts, and then reached out, the smile softening. “Is that enough of the seriousness, do you think? Because it’s been a very long day.”
“It’s enough,” Bruce agreed, to both, and moved forward, leaning over Jim, his knee between Jim’s legs, spreading them lightly. He captured Jim’s lips in a slow kiss, at the same time reaching down to cup his cock through the soft cotton of his boxers.
“Oh, God,” Jim groaned, back arching as he shifted closer, pushing himself into Bruce’s hand, his head thrown back leaving the throat trustingly exposed. Bruce run his tongue down its inviting line, teeth grazing across Jim’s collarbone as he moved lower, sinking to his knees.
Jim reached out again, fingers tangling in Bruce’s hair, Bruce’s hands tightening on Jim’s hips. The fingernails would leave mark, but that was a good thing, something tangible and real to come out of the night of half shadows.
Jim’s whole body was almost a perfect arch now, the hand not clutching at Bruce’s hair was tangled up in the sheets, when Bruce ran his tongue over the tip of Jim’s cock.
“Oh,” Jim groaned, and Bruce was pretty sure that what would follow would be his name, if it wasn’t one of the things left unsaid. “God,” was what Jim said instead, and for a moment, it worked as if there was no hesitation.
Moments later, when Jim pulled him up and kissed him hungrily, he thought how easy it would be to reach out and turn on the night light. His fingers itched to do so, but to reach out would mean to lose the contact of Jim’s skin, and it was proving too difficult.
And maybe the thing about trust wasn’t just being able to share the secret, but also being able to keep it to yourself.