Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1057830.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      No_Archive_Warnings_Apply, Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M, F/F
  Fandom:
      Batman_-_All_Media_Types
  Relationship:
      Bruce_Wayne/Jack_Napier, Harleen_Quinzel/Pamela_Isley, Dick_Grayson/Jason
      Todd, Jack_Napier/Edward_Nigma, Harleen_Quinzel/Jack_Napier, Bruce_Wayne/
      Talia_al_Ghul
  Character:
      Bruce_Wayne, Jack_Napier, Harleen_Quinzel, Alfred_Pennyworth, Dick
      Grayson, Jason_Todd, Pamela_Isley, Edward_Nigma, Oswald_Chesterfield
      Cobblepot, Talia_al_Ghul, Tim_Drake, Damian_Wayne, Jonathan_Crane
  Additional Tags:
      AU_-_No_capes, Self_Harm, sexual_violence/abuse/rape, Mutilation
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-11-25 Completed: 2013-12-19 Chapters: 17/17 Words: 57727
****** Is it Just Me ******
by TimmyJaybird
Summary
     Bruce, heart broken and alone, finds himself in one of Gotham's small
     bars, trying to drown his sorrow. But when he is befriended by a
     young artist, and crashes at his apartment for the night, his entire
     world is turned upside down.
Notes
     Inspired by many repetitions of Hinder's "Is It Just Me".
***** Chapter 1 *****
Bruce drummed his fingers on the bar as he eyed the untouched shot of whiskey
in front of him. He considered leaving it as is- of calling Alfred and getting
a ride home. But then her face flashed in his memory and he was angry all over
again- reaching for it and letting the liquid burn his throat, the clink of the
glass on the bar an all too familiar sound.
He watched idly as someone walked up to the bar and leaned over it, speaking to
the bar tender, who nodded and turned to mix a few drinks. The man- at least
Bruce thought it was a man, he was pretty skinny, it was hard to tell- thanked
the bar tender when he handed him a tall glass, laughing, before looking over
and for- just a second- meeting Bruce’s eyes.
The gaze held for a minute, before Bruce looked away. The man’s smile flattened
a little, before he turned back to the bar tender.
A moment later, another shot appeared before Bruce. He looked at the bar
tender, who jerked his head back to the man, who had sat down and was sipping
at his drink. He smiled and gave Bruce a little half wave, and for a moment,
the world stopped. Bruce could ignore him, which seemed ideal considering how
he felt towarsd the world at that very moment- or he could raise the glass, and
maybe, just maybe he’d come over for a moment.
Bruce didn’t know why- would never know why- but he grabbed the shot and raised
it up, giving the man a bit of a smile before he downed it. He got a smile in
return, and a flicker of the eyes to the empty bar stool next to Bruce. Bruce
smiled- and somehow understanding the man grabbed his drink and walked over,
settling on the stool next to him.
“Thanks,” Bruce said, downing half the shot and setting it on the bar. The man
smiled.
“No problem. You looked like you needed it.” Bruce watched as he took another
sip of his drink. He had a pretty face- though he had some nasty scars lining
his cheeks. It should have made him hideous, Bruce was sure, but something
about that puckered skin seemed to fit him.
“Yeah,” Bruce said, finishing it off and setting it on the bar.
“Rough night?”
“Rough couple of years,” Bruce said, and the man gave him a sympathy head
shake.
“Someone leave you?”
“That obvious?” The guy grinned and laughed- a sing-song sort of sound that
Bruce found oddly warm.
“Oh yeah,” he said, setting his drink down and leaning against the bar- his
hair, shocks of green curls playing against his cheeks and neck, dusting his
shoulders. “You look like someone ripped your heart out and ran it over with a
semi, cupcake.”
Bruce laughed at that, a real laugh. One he hadn’t had in a while. The man
grinned and took another drink, crossing his legs, his purple high top bumping
against the bar every so often as his foot moved. Bruce took a moment too long
to examine the slender leg that led up to the rest of his body from that foot,
clad in faded skinny jeans with the knees worn out. Bruce looked away quickly
when he felt the green eyes on him, but if the man thought anything on that
lingering gaze, he never said so.
They ordered another round of shots, the man setting aside his empty glass and
joining Bruce, who was growing fuzzier and fuzzier.
“What’s your name?” Bruce asked as he set his empty shot glass down, his vision
wavering and spinning for a second before it corrected itself. The man smiled
as he set his own shot down and reached up to toy with his curls.
“Jack,” he said, smiling somewhat coyly. Bruce stared at that green curl,
before he reached out and threaded some through his fingers. Jack’s smile
turned more genuine and his lashes began to close- thick blonde, a hint to what
hid under that green hair dye. His hair was oddly soft, and Bruce smiled at the
pleased expression the man gave.
“I’m Bruce,” he said, pulling back before he got carried away- though he was
sure touching him was getting carried away.
“Well Bruce,” Jack said, taking up the fresh shot the bar tender had set down,
“here’s to forgetting about broken hearts.”
Bruce raised his shot with a smile and down it.
“I should call my ride,” he said as the bar crowd thickened. He wasn’t
interested in the claustrophobia the crowds would bring with them. He also knew
he was in no shape to drive his car.
“Why don’t you come back to my place?” Jack asked. “It’s just down the block.
It’ll be faster. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. We could order a
pizza or something. Or Chinese.”
Bruce wasn’t sure what took over him in that moment- what he saw. Maybe it was
the twinkle in those green eyes, or the small quirk in those lips, the way it
pulled the scar tissue along his cheeks- maybe it was the memory of how oddly
soft his hair was. But he smiled at him, and said one single word.
“Sure.”
The walk was rather nice- it was a warm spring in Gotham, May fresh and
blossoming. Bruce had his hands in his pockets as he walked just behind Jack,
watched the way his green t-shirt bunched and stretched along his lithe body.
They turned into one of the old apartment complexes and began up the stairs.
“The elevator never works,” he had said with a shrug, and so they began up the
stairs. Three flights and one creaky hallway later, they stood outside a door
as Jack fumbled with his keys. Bruce had pulled his cell phone out and was
looking at it as Jack stepped inside.
“One rule,” he said, jarring Bruce back to reality. “Put that thing away and
don’t look at it until you leave. It’ll make you miss whoever she is- and the
point of getting out is to forget.”
Bruce hesitated, then shoved his phone in his pocket and stepped inside. Jack
locked the door behind him and Bruce looked around. The kitchen was to his
left, and if he walked straight he could see the little living room. The walls,
an ugly off white color that was probably prevalent through out the entire
complex, were covered with various pieces of art- photography, sketches, paint,
matted and framed quotes. He stared as Jack walked past him into the little
kitchen and chucked his keys on the counter, opening the fridge and rummaging
around.
“Sorry if it seems a bit cluttered,” he said as Bruce slipped his shoes off and
walked towards the living room. There was an old, faded dark floral couch, and
a TV set up opposite it against the wall. In front of the window, a huge esile
was set up, half painted, with a little table littered with brushes and paint.
Bruce looked at the partially formed lines and splotches of color, then looked
at the work on the walls- similar, even when attempting different styles.
“Are you an artist?” he asked, just as Jack walked out, holding two open
bottles of beer. He handed one to Bruce and took a swig, shrugging one of his
shoulders.
“I just recreate what I see- what I feel,” he offered, “but yeah, I guess I am.
It pays the bills and all. Though sometimes not by much.” He walked over to the
couch and sat down, pulling his own phone from his pocket. “Do you care what’s
on the pizza?”
“Not really,” Bruce admitted, realizing as he downed a long gulp of the beer
that he was starving. He let his eyes roam along the walls- a lot of figures
and portraits, thick inky lines and bleeding colors, young folks- younger than
Bruce.
He was studying one, a blonde girl with red leaking down from below one eye-
black against the other, and a framed, matted quote beneath it,
”Madness is the emergency exit.”
“It’ll be like twenty minutes,” Jack said, and Bruce looked over at him. Jack
smiled, looked at the work Bruce was studying, and then took a swig from his
beer.
“That’s actually from a series,” he said, “Most of it is in storage right now-
the originals, anyway. I sold prints of it. I just liked her portrait so much.”
“A girlfriend or something?” Bruce asked as he walked over and sat next to him
on the couch. Jack laughed and set his beer on the floor.
“She’d get a kick outta hearing you say that. Nah, just a good friend. Student
over at Gotham University, working on her Ph.D actually. Smart little thing-
great model, too. Wore a Harlequin suit like no other.”
He grinned, and Bruce got the feeling there was more to it than that- but he
didn’t ask. After all, despite the alcohol coursing through him, he knew it
wasn’t his place.
Jack stretched out, gently resting his legs on Bruce’s lap and arching his
back, the bones cracking. Bruce rolled his eyes, feeling so familiar with him
already, and set his own beer on the floor, leaning his head back and closing
his eyes. Jack was warm against him- he liked it, really. Just warm enough, and
idly, he stroked along his jean covered calf, feeling lean muscle against his
fingers beneath the fabric. Jack shifted a bit, watched, smiled playfully.
Bruce opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, hand tracing up past Jack’s
knee, to mid thigh, before back down. He darted his eyes over to Jack and
watched as the hand trailed up again, just a bit higher- and Jack’s eyes stared
back, steady and green and intense and they made Bruce’ stomach knot up tight.
He didn’t know what took over him in that moment- he’d never be able to explain
it, really- but he shifted and leaned over, reaching out and sinking his hand
into Jack’s hair, pulling him up close. Bruce felt his breath ghost against his
lips for a moment, and then Jack closed the little gap, kissing him and
reaching up to wrap his arms around his neck.
Bruce pressed him down into the couch, stretching out so they were chest to
chest and their legs could tangle together. Jack arched against him as he
nudged Bruce’s lips with the tip of his tongue- lips that gave way quickly and
released an eager tongue to meet Jack’s. Jack clawed at Bruce’s shirt, clung to
it as his hips pressed up into Bruce and he felt the friction and the heat and
the hardness that pressed against his own groin.
Jack tasted like alcohol- a strong mix from the shots he took, that Long Island
Ice Tea he’s started with, and now the beer. He made Bruce drunk, made his head
spin and his breath catch like he didn’t know a stranger could, and Bruce was
tracing one hand down along his side, pushing the hem of his shirt up to rest
against his warm, soft skin. Jack mewled into his mouth and Bruce smiled,
pushing his hips down and pinning him and forgetting any reserves he might have
had suddenly, or that this was a stranger, a man, and those fingers curled
around the hem of his jeans-
And then there was a knock at the door, followed by a voice- loud enough to
jolt both of them. The kiss broke, Bruce leaned up, and they stared at each
other, blinking for a moment and lost, before they were shifting and Jack was
getting up quickly and Bruce was sitting and reaching for his beer and chugging
down the rest of it because what the hell was he doing?
Jack came back a moment later, carrying a pizza box. He set it down on the
floor and settled on the couch, folding up his legs and tapping his beer bottle
against one knee, sucking on his lower lip. Those green eyes had a bit of a
hazy look- the kind that tightened that knot in Bruce’s gut and reminded him of
that hard heat he’d felt against his own groin.
Jack had reached for the remote he had one a little table next to the couch,
and flipped the TV on, rummaging through the channels and settling on some dark
scene that had to belong to a lower budget horror film. When he opened the
pizza box, Bruce raised an eyebrow and forget the awkwardness he was feeling.
“Is that spinach?” he asked, and Jack grinned sheepishly, handing him a slice.
They ate half the pizza, had a few more beers, and before Bruce realized it, it
was nearing two AM, they were on bad horror movie number three, and Jack had
sprawled out on him again, this time resting against his chest, one of Bruce’s
arms around him loosely, fingers stroking along his wrist.
It felt real, normal, and Bruce wasn’t sure he remembered the last time
something had. Calm, he felt at home with this strange scarred boy and his odd-
albeit delicious- taste in pizza, with his warm skin and lithe body. He didn’t
feel weird with him curled up against him.
When Jack yawned and turned, pressing his face into Bruce’s chest, something
grew fuzzy, tightened under those muscles, and Bruce reached his hand up form
his wrists to play with the ends of his hair.
“Ready to crash?” Jack asked, as if it had already been decided that Bruce
wans’t leaving. He saw nothing wrong with this conclusion.
“Yeah,” Bruce admitted. Jack nestled into him for another moment, before he
pried himself away and flicked the TV off. The room was cast into darkness
suddenly, and Bruce waited as Jack moved about, gathering up the pizza box and
taking it to his kitchen to pop in the fridge, dropping off the latest empty
beer bottles by his fridge.
Then he walked back into the dark and took Bruce’s hand, guiding him up and
through a door that had been originally closed. What little light had peeked in
from the cracked curtain in the living room was lacking in Jack’s bedroom, and
it was pitch black. The green haired boy stumbled about a bit, before turning
on a dim lamp next to the bed.
“It’s more comfy than the couch,” he said, “and it’s big enough for two.
Besides, I don’t take up much room.”
Maybe if Bruce had been sober, maybe if he hadn’t already tasted Jack’s mouth
once, he would have had warning bells going off in his head. As it stood,
however, he was more than content with the idea of curling up with Jack under a
thick blanket and sleeping the drinks off.
Bruce smiled at him and Jack grinned back.
“Want me to try and find you something to wear?” he asked as he popped the
button on his jeans- an oddly alluring motion, despite how small it was. “I’m
just gonna be in my underwear, so I’m not freaked out if you say no.”
Bruce wondered if he would have admitted that if he hadn’t been drunk.
Regardless, Bruce smiled and declined, deciding he’d like to be curled up with
skin on skin. Jack smiled back, seemed to like that idea too.
Bruce walked around the bed and took his shirt off, tossing it to the floor. He
did give Jack a bit of privacy and turned away as he undressed- though he swore
he felt those green eyes flicker to him every now and then. When he heard the
mattress move he turned- in nothing but his black boxer-briefs, and climbed in
as well. Jack was quick to hit the light, and the room was flooded in a cool
darkness.
Bruce settled down on his back, took a breath, waited it out, and then felt
Jack shift, move closer, run his fingers along his arm. Bruce smiled- though it
would never be seen- and lifted his arm, letting Jack slip in against him and
rest against his chest.
“Best damn pillow ever,” Jack muttered against the muscle and soft skin,
kissing it gently. “You must work out a lot.”
“Not all that much,” Bruce admitted, and Jack just shrugged and slipped a leg
over his. He closed his eyes as Jack stroked his side, arm draped over him,
those fingers on his waist tracing incoherent patterns.
He could have drifted just like that. The booze had made him sleepy- hell, that
fact that it was two AM had made him sleepy- his sorrow had exhausted him, and
Jack was so utterly inviting he couldn’t resist to calmness that swept over
him.
He was so close to sleep he could feel it, when he realized Jack’s fingers were
slowly making their way down his side, until they had reached the hem of his
underwear. He cracked his eyes open as the pads of his fingers traced along the
fabric, the slightest hint of dark hair that poked out to trail up towards his
navel.
Bruce felt Jack exhale against him- was he nervous?- and gave a gentle press of
his body up against those finger tips. Maybe in the morning he could think
about why, but the yearn for sleep in Bruce’s bones subsided for the moment and
a yearn for something else began to rise.
Jack took a breath and let his hand delve down, over Bruce’s cock to palm it
through his underwear. The soft touches had left him half hard, and he pushed
against Jack’s palm as he continued to harden, closing his eyes against the
darkness and exhaling roughly.
When Jack stroked him through the fabric, Bruce couldn’t keep his hips from
gyrating with them. He wanted to feel that hand, those nimble fingers and warm
skin- wanted to feel how Jack wanted to touch him.
Jack moved- as if sensing Bruce’s thoughts- and pulled his underwear down below
his cock, wrapping his hand around the thick member and stroking. Bruce tipped
his head back completely, exhaling, groaning, as Jack’s palm and fingers
slicked with precum. He could feel Jack shifting around, but for the moment
didn’t care as that hand tortured him-
Until it was suddenly replaced by a warm, wet mouth, and Bruce cried out as he
was engulfed. Jack’s hands were on his hips, not holding him down but steadying
his thrusts, and Bruce reached down to clutch one of those hands in his own, so
close already.
Jack squeezed his hand as Bruce gasped that he was close, and swallowed him
deeper- a silent it’s okay, and Bruce lost himself, spent down Jack’s tight
throat with a cry and a final thrust up into that warm wet mouth. Jack
swallowed and clutched Bruce’s hand the whole time- sucked until Bruce had
calmed down was was soft against his lips.
Bruce barely registered Jack pulling his underwear back up, or him shifting in
the bed- but he felt him curl up against his chest again, sighing somewhat- as
if he was the one satisfied now- and realized Jack still held his hand, fingers
entwined now.
He squeezed that hand and felt Jack’s lips curl into a smile against his skin.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Bruce felt the sun more than he saw it through his eyelids. It was pressing in
through the thin curtains in Jack’s room- curtains that had been thick enough
to keep out the streetlights, but against an early May Gotham sun, they were
like sheets of paper.
He rolled over, onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow, and thought
of muttering to Alfred to close the windows- he wasn’t in the mood, not with
the day he’d had. But then he felt the bed shift a little next to him, felt a
set of fingers reach out and dance delicately along his spine- smelled a sweet
scent on the pillowcase that wasn’t his cologne, or her perfume.
He opened his eyes and Jack smiled at him, his curls a tussled mess, eyes hazy
from sleep but warm, inviting. Bruce smiled because there was no other option
when staring at that scarred face.
“Morning sleepy head,” Jack said, taking his hand back and sitting up,
stretching his arms, the bones of his shoulders cracking. Bruce watched his
nearly naked frame- felt his cheeks tinge pink. God, they were both in their
underwear? How’d they get to that point?
“What time is it?” Bruce asked as he rolled over and sat up, raked his hands
through his dark to smooth it down.
“Like eleven,” Jack said with a shrug, slipping from the bed and walking over
to his dresser. Bruce watched, eyes raking down his spine and staring at his
ass in the tight purple fabric of his own boxer briefs- before he realized what
he was doing and turned his head towards the curtained window.
There were other easels in here- one had a half drawn sketch, the other a
nearly finished piece of a redheaded man in a green suit, question marks in his
rather enticing eyes.
Bruce got up and walked over, looking at the work, and didn’t hear Jack walked
up behind him. The green haired boy waited a moment before reaching a hand out
and touching Bruce’s arm. Bruce looked at him, and Jack was smiling.
“Do you wanna see my work?” he asked.
“Maybe some other time,” Bruce admitted. The morning was nearly gone- he needed
to get home, get himself cleaned up. God he had things to do, what the hell
happened?
If Jack was put off by the remark, he didn’t show it. He just smiled, batted
those blonde eyelashes, and turned to leave the bedroom. Bruce watched him
leave- now in a pair of low hung gray sweatpants and no shirt, before he
gathered up his own clothes and put them on.
Once Bruce was dressed he walked out of the bedroom, found the living room
empty, but could hear Jack rummaging around close by. He walked over to the
kitchen, found him by an open cupboard, popping open little orange containers
and collecting pills in one of his hands. Bruce leaned against the doorway
frame and watched as Jack set three on the counter and reached for another
bottle.
“I won’t bite,” Jack said without looking back, “that it, unless you want me
to.”
He turned and winked as he pulled down the last bottle, popping it open and
fishing a pill out. He set it on the counter and put the bottle away as Bruce
walked over, looking at the pills as Jack grabbed a glass and ran some tap
water in it.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his chest suddenly tight and his heart beating faster
at the sight of all that medication. His mind didn’t jump to the idea that
maybe Jack was a druggie and this was just his morning fix- for a moment he
thought maybe he was plagued with cancer or something and his heart broke and
he didn’t know why.
“Huh? Oh, yeah,” he said, gathering up the pills in one hand. “I’m not dying or
anything.” He popped them into his mouth, took a swallow of water, and Bruce
watched that pale throat work the pills down. Jack took another drink, then set
the glass down. “Anti-psychotics and all. No cancer, just a screw loose if I
don’t take my meds.” He smiled, and Bruce didn’t feel the least bit alarmed.
“You don’t seem crazy to me.”
He laughed, grinning like a silly fool. “Ah, good! My meds are working then!”
He leaned his hip against the counter. “Really though, I swear I’m not that
crazy. I’ve got some sensory issues is all, and without some meds, I just can’t
deal with everything I take in in a normal way.”
Jack hoisted himself up onto the counter and sat, scooting closer to Bruce, who
idly ran his hands along his thigh- and when he caught himself, he was too
embarrassed to stop, because he didn’t want Jack to realize Bruce didn’t seem
to have control around him.
“Do you just feel to much?” Bruce asked, confused, and Jack leaned his head
back against the cupboards, closing his eyes.
“More than that, sugar.” Bruce’s cheeks tinged. A pet name now? He should get
out while he could still see the door. “I can see the breath you breathe, the
colors laced in it, the way they lace uo your skull and into your eyes. I can
hear the song in your fingers-“ he reached down, took Bruce’s hand and placed
it against his belly- Bruce’s fingers brushing a scar. “When you touch me. I
can feel you down to the marrow in my bones.”
Bruce was silent- didn’t know what to say- and just stroked that scar slowly.
Jack looked down at him, eyelids heavy, and Bruce leaned closer, as if there
was a thread between their lips pulling him in, until he was so close he could
feel Jack’s breath-
Suddenly, his phone was vibrating in his pocket- so much so it was audible.
Bruce froze, and part of him cursed, but he leaned back, pulling it out and
looking at the name flashing on the screen,
Alfred.
“I’ve got to go,” he said, catching the sadness in his own voice.
“It’s okay,” Jack said, slipping off the counter. “We’ve all got lives.
Billionaires especially.” Bruce’s head jerked away from his phone, and Jack
just grinned. “What? Didn’t think I recognized your face and name? I just
didn’t want to say anything- thought it might be nice for you to leave that
behind for a night.”
Bruce smiled. It had been.
Jack turned and reached for a pad of paper on the counter and a pen, scribbling
something on it, before tearing it off and turned to Bruce, handing it to him.
“Call me sometime?” His smile seemed tentative- and Bruce realized he the guy
might be afraid that Bruce wouldn’t.
“Of course,” Bruce said, smiling and taking Jack’s hand, squeezing it. Why did
that made his chest tight? Why was something stirring in him that he couldn’t
quite put his finger on?
They walked to the door as Bruce stuffed the paper in his pocket. Jack opened
it and leaned against it as Bruce stood in the doorway, on the threshold of
leaving something sweet and oddly calm behind- this apartment, this boy, the
whole idea of leaving everything else in his life on the curb and sealing
himself away in here oddly tempting.
Bruce reached out, played with a few of Jack’s green curls- he’d never liked
those crazy hair colors people used, but this fit Jack so perfectly, it was
beautiful.
Beautiful.
He sank his fingers into that hair and tugged Jack closer, kissed his lips
gently. He restrained the urge to open his mouth and explore him, because he
couldn’t explain that- but the kiss seemed normal. Why couldn’t he kiss a
friend?
Because people usually do that.
Jack reached up and gripped onto his wrist, whimpered against Bruce’s lips
softly, and then Bruce was leaving, pulling himself away or he’d never leave.
He called Alfred once he’d gotten out of the complex, and didn’t offer any
explanation, just gave him the bar’s address and walked down the street to
wait. The air was warm and sweet, and he felt oddly light, the heaviness of his
heart ache gone. He didn’t need it, didn’t need her- he was Bruce Wayne, and
he’s be just fine.
Alfred was there in record time, and Bruce settled into the front passenger
seat instead of the back, smiling as Alfred began driving.
“I was most worried, sir,” Alfred said, “I came in this morning and you were
gone. I called Kenneth and he said he didn’t pick you up last night. I feared
the worst, Master Bruce.”
“Talia left again,” Bruce said, and Alfred sighed.
“Ah, well, that explains it, sir. I noticed she had come around less
frequently, as of late. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not,” Bruce said, smiling, and Alfred raised an eyebrow.
“Well, that’s a first then, sir. May I ask how you came to not be sorry?”
“I met this guy,” Bruce said, “last night, at the bar. And I can’t explain it,
Alfred but- but he made me forget her. He was...colorful, to say the least.”
Alfred said nothing, just continued to drive as Bruce gazed out the window and
thought of Jack’s smile and the sweetness of his hair.
Bruce forced himself to go to the office the next day. He knew he had work to
do- a company to run- and it would keep his mind off things. He’d called Talia
twice the night before, but she had ignored his calls and he’d left voice
mails, just wanting to talk. Wanting to know if everything was at least okay.
He was proud that he didn’t sound as broken as he had felt earlier- but without
Jack there to hold his hand and smile at him, he felt like he was falling again
a bit.
He’d thought of calling Jack while he sat in the office, but realized his
number was floating around Bruce’s desk in his bedroom, back at the penthouse.
He’d never entered it into his phone. Instead, he settled into reading over
proposals, and even attending one of the late running board meetings, leaving
the office around seven that night, hoping the exhaustion would keep him from
missing her too much.
Instead, it had just left him starving. He considered stopping somewhere to
eat- he didn’t feel like making dinner himself, and he had insisted that Alfred
be done working well before he was home, he was worried that the man wasn’t
getting enough rest and time to himself- but instead drove his car down
familiar streets and walked into a small, dimly lit bar far enough from his
part of town that he wouldn’t be recognized-
Except by dancing green eyes.
A quick scan of the room didn’t reveal Jack, and Bruce sat down at the bar and
asked for a scotch, thinking he’d have a drink or two, and if Jack appeared
he’d spend some time with him. If not he’d go home and try to call Talia half a
dozen times.
A few sips into his drink though, he felt a hand run up along his back and
squeeze his shoulder as a slim body settled down next to him on the stool.
“Hey there sugar,” Jack said, grinning, and Bruce smiled back.
“Hey stranger. I hoped you’d show up.”
“Well, this is my favorite bar,” Jack admitted, “though I had no intention of
leaving my apartment tonight. I was painting though, when suddenly this voice
inside me said I needed a drink, that if I didn’t get my ass down here I’d
regret it. Guess that voice was right.” They laughed and Jack stole Bruce’s
scotch, taking a small sip before handing it back, and when Bruce finished it
off, he made sure his lips touched the same spot Jack’s had.
“I’m starving,” Bruce said, “I’ve been at my office all day. Wanna grab a bite
with me?”
Jack grinned and reached out, tracing Bruce’s hand- giving him chills.
“Brucie, I’d love to.”
Bruce drove them back towards the center of Gotham, Jack watching the world
rush by out the overly tinted window, fingers running along the plush seats.
They left the car parked off one street and took to the warm night on foot,
Bruce still in his slacks and jacket- Jack in another pair of faded and worn
skinny jeans and those purple high-tops. They looked like two different worlds.
“You sure you’re okay with sushi?” Bruce asked as they entered the restaurant.
Jack grinned.
“I’ve put weirder things in my mouth.”
Bruce’s cheeks tinged as the hostess greeted him warmly by name and led them
back. He could feel Jack’s mouth and he didn’t know why. He was missing
something.
They settled down, and Jack left it up to Bruce what they ate. The lights were
low and the room was a bit chilly- Bruce could see the flesh along Jack’s V-
neck turning to goosebumps.
“What were you painting?” Bruce asked, and Jack grinned.
“A new piece,” he said, “I’ve been inspired- which is good, considering I’ve
been worried my work is getting a bit stale. It’s going to be a series, with a
spoken word and visual word piece as well. But that tends to be my thing. Why
assault your senses with one media, when you can use many?”
Bruce said nothing and sipped at the water the waiter had given them. He
remembered what Jack said about his senses, and he imagined Jack near orgasm
with his senses on high overload- God why did he imagine that?
“I know what you’re thinking,” Jack said, tapping his fingers on the table.
“And don’t worry, sex doesn’t kill me. But it is intense.” He grinned, and
Bruce’s cheeks tinged again. Jack had the uncanny ability to make him blush, it
seemed.
Why do I need to know that? Why do I want to know that? Bruce ignored it as
their food was brought over, and he concentrated instead on eating- which
turned into watching Jack’s oddly perfect lips move, and his throat work as he
swallowed.
Conversations died, except every time Jack failed at lifting the Sushi with his
chop sticks, at which Bruce would laugh and tease him, and after a few times it
was Jack’s turn to blush, and he lifted the little morsel with his fingers and
popped it into his mouth- taking a moment to lick a small dab of Wasabi sauce
from one finger tip. That pink tongue gave Bruce’s blood a racing fire that
made him shift in his seat.
When they were done, they headed back out to the streets, now lively as
nightlifers headed to and from restaurants, shops, clubs and shows.
“Interested in another few drinks?” Jack asked, and Bruce laughed.
“I have to be at the office in the morning,” he said, and Jack pouted.
“Babe, you own the company, I think you can be out a little late.” Bruce rolled
his eyes, but realized he liked the pet names, in the pit of his belly.
“Sorry, but there are meetings, I need to be there.” Jack kept his pout and
leaned against the wall of a building, folding his arms. “But if you’re
interested, I’d love to meet for a drink after.”
This time it was Jack’s turn to decline. “I can’t sugar. I’ve got an exhibit
going live Saturday afternoon, I’ll be spending all of tomorrow finishing the
set-up.” He reached out and took Bruce’s hand, pulling him close so Bruce had
to press his forearm to the wall to steady himself. “Why don’t you come see
it?” He asked, lifting Bruce’s hand and kissing a fingertip. “I promise it
won’t be that boring. Even if yous just stop by.”
Art had never been Bruce’s thing- he could admire classical pieces with the
other rich snobs, but only when it was required. Jack’s eyes were pleading
though- and Bruce realized this meant something to him.
“Sure,” he said, smiling. “I’d like that.”
Bruce drove Jack back to his apartment, and made a note in his phone of the
address and time for Saturday. Jack took his time taking his seat belt off,
hesitating. Bruce watched him suck on his lower lip, before he was leaning over
the seats, reaching for Bruce. One hand gripped his shoulder, while the other
gripped the headrest of his seat as he pressed their lips together.
Bruce felt him quivering, and reached out, rested a hand on his waist and let
those lips move against his. He should have gently pushed him off, should have
told Jack they were just friends, he wasn’t interested in men- but he found his
mouth responding, his lips moving lazily with Jacks, and realized he didn’t
want to deny him.
“Thanks for dinner,” Jack said, nearly out of breath as he leaned back. Bruce
just smiled. “I’ll see you Saturday.” A nod, and then Jack was untangling
himself and out of the car, sprinting into the building because he was afraid
Bruce would change his mind, and he couldn’t bare to hear that.
Bruce drove home with the taste of Jack’s mouth in his, and the image of him
sucking on his lower lip like an unsure portrait of desire.
Jack thought of Bruce Thursday as he worked. He tried not to miss him, tried to
remind himself he’d see him that weekend, tried to tell himself he wasn’t a
high school girl and it was silly to get so excited about someone who was
still, in many respects, a stranger. But his heart beat like a hummingbird in
his chest, and everything reminded him of those dark eyes.
That night, he got a text from Bruce. He’d been afraid Bruce had thrown his
number away, and he nearly squealed- was thankful in that moment he didn’t have
a roommate and that he hadn’t been in public. It was a simple message, an
apology that he had been so busy that day, and a good-night wish.
Jack tumbled down into his bed with his phone, pressed his face into the pillow
Bruce had used and smelled his cologne. Then he wished Bruce a good night,
added a heart, and closed his eyes to remember how it felt to be pressed into
Bruce’s warm chest as he slept.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“I’m telling you, Harley,” Jack said, the next day as he lifted a large framed
canvas and guided it onto a hook, “the man is gorgeous.”
The blonde rolled her eyes as she watched him hang the work, and when he
stepped back she walked over and straightened it.
“You say that about all of them,” she said, and Jack frowned.
“Make me out to be a whore, thanks doll. I mean it, I like Bruce. There’s
something...about him.”
“You’ve spent all of two nights with this guy,” she said, picking up a smaller
piece and hanging. Jack hung one right next to it, a few stray curls coming
loose from the lazy ponytail he had resting against his neck. “I don’t think
you can say much about how you feel, yet.”
“Remember how I felt with Eddie?”
Harley stopped, eyeing Jack from the corner of her eye. “Yeah,” was all she
said. He never brings Eddie up- not in this context. The break up was too hard
on him.
“Well, these butterflies are stronger. Tenfold, easily.” Jack stepped back,
fixing one of the sleeves on his purple plaid shirt as it tried to unroll from
his elbow. “I got them when I first saw him. And when we kissed? Oh lord, there
was a fucking Sharknado in my gut.”
Harley would have laughed at the horrid movie reference, but she was staring at
him. “Wait, you kissed the guy? I never pictured Wayne as being into dudes.”
“Eh, we were drunk.” Jack shrugged a shoulder. “The first time, anyway. He
kissed me in the morning when he left- and he let me kiss him the other night.
He never tried to stop me.”
Harley contemplated this as she walked around the large room, the walls filled
with work- a large string of it involving her.
“I’m shocked you pulled out the Harlequin series again,” she said, trying to
change the subject while she internally pondered this sudden shift in life
events for her best friend. “I figured you were sick of it.”
“Never sick of you, pumpkin,” he said, winking at her. “Besides, it hasn’t been
seen since what, that one exhibit I had seven or eight months ago? It’s still a
crowd favorite- maybe we’ll sell a few prints of it.”
“You could make a fortune on the originals,” Harley pointed out, “if you’d just
part with them.”
Jack shook his head. He didn’t like to part with much of his work at all-
though he had, over the years, as the original pieces always sold better than
the prints, and at much higher costs. As it stood, he used the attic of his
apartment building as storage- paying a rather high monthly rent on that to
keep the work he didn’t hang in his apartment in there.
Maybe someday he would, but as it stood he liked it too much. It was how he
expressed the things no one understood- the world he soaked in that no one even
saw. Besides, he wanted to gift one of the larger pieces in the set to Harley-
he was just waiting for the right occasion.
“I’m painting him, you know,” Jack said, walking over to Harley and putting an
arm around her shoulders- giving her a gentle squeeze. She reached up, covered
his hand with her own and sighed.
“Does he know?” Jack shook his head. “Oh Puddin’, what are you getting yourself
into?”
Bruce was sitting on his couch, looking over some papers he’d brought home from
the office, when the elevator opened to the main floor of the Penthouse, and he
heard a young, rather eager voice greeting Alfred and asking, “Where the hell
Bruce was now?”
“He’s in the parlor, sir,” Alfred replied, and the young man clapped him on the
shoulder, thanked him, and walked in, tossing his dark hair out of his eyes.
“Bruce, how the hell are you?” Bruce set the papers down and stood up,
grinning.
“Dick, what brings you here?” He hugged the man, patting him on the back. “And
I’ve been better.”
“Trying to figure out where you’ve been. Haven’t heard from you recently- heard
a nasty rumor down the grape vine though.” Bruce didn’t say anything, and Dick
frowned. “Shit, she really left again?” He nodded, and the two sat down on the
couch. “Well, good for you, you’re better without Talia. I say this every time,
man. It’s really better for you.”
“I’ve been telling myself that,” Bruce admitted. Dick smiled. His grey eyes
were sparkling.
“We’ll just have to go out. I’m sure all the ladies in Gotham will nearly wet
their panties knowing you’re a bachelor... again.” Bruce laughed, but shook his
head.
“Thanks Dick but... I’m not really interested.” Dick leaned forward, arms
resting on his legs, and eyed Bruce- before a big grin took over his face.
“Bruce, I’ll be damned... you’ve already met someone, haven’t you? I can see it
in your eyes?” Bruce flushed a bit and shook his head, just as Alfred walked
out with a tray of coffee.
“No...well, yes...sort of. It’s complicated, Dick. It’s not what you think at
all.” Bruce nodded his thanks to Alfred, who had the hint of a smile on his
face- knowing exactly who Bruce meant, who flustered him so. Truth be told, he
had never been fond of Talia, she tore Bruce up too much. The giddiness Bruce
had been trying to hide when he spoke and thought of Jack made Alfred happy. “I
met this guy at a bar the other night.”
Dick stopped sipping his coffee and stared. “Woah, woah, woah, guy? Damn Bruce,
I’ve been telling you for years you ought to give us a shot. Guys are just-“
“I said it’s not what you think.” Bruce sighed. “We’re not... not together, or
anything. He’s just... something about him. It calms me, he’s peaceful. It’s
like someone put hot coals inside me when I’m with him.”
Dick chuckled. “Yeah, not what I think at all, sure Bruce. Dream boy have a
man?”
“Jack,” Bruce said, “And really, it’s not. I mean...I don’t think. I kissed him
a few times, but-“
Dick laughed. “Dude, you don’t just kiss a guy and say it’s nothing-“
“But it was just a kiss.”
“You sure? ‘Cause your blush says otherwise.” Bruce reached up and touched his
cheek- hot and flushed. He frowned. He didn’t know why he got so flustered
thinking of Jack- of kissing him, touching him-
He remembered being entangled with him on the couch, his fingers tracing along
the hem of his jeans. He remembered their hips grinding, how he was hard and he
didn’t know why, how Jack was too, and he hadn’t remembered that before, not
until now.
“Yes... No... I think. I was drunk,” Bruce admitted, and Dick laughed even
more.
“God Bruce, you probably had an ass full of cock and don’t even remember-“
“Dick!”
“That too!” Dick was laughing and Bruce wanted to punch him. He settled for a
gentle hit to the arm, and Dick calmed down slowly. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry
Bruce. So you met this guy, and suddenly you don’t care about Talia?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “Well, when I’m with him. I haven’t seen him in a few
days, so she’s creeping back into my thoughts. But I’m going to see him
tomorrow- he’s an artist and he’s got a show or exhibit or something.”
Suddenly, Bruce smiled. “Why don’t you come with me? That way you can meet him-
then you’ll understand.”
Dick- who was more interested in art than Bruce- smiled. “Okay, on the
condition that I can bring Jason. The man needs some culture.”
“Deal.” The two smiled, and Bruce felt a little lighter.
Bruce met Dick downtown Saturday evening, as the sun was setting and the street
lights were coming on. Jack hadn’t said it was anything fancy, and Bruce
couldn’t imagine it being so, considering they were in the club district of the
city- so he’d opted for jeans and a light, soft black sweater of a grey button
down. Dick had stuck to a blue and black striped sweater, and waved to him from
where he stood, waiting.
“It’s just down the block, I think,” Bruce said, looking at the address on his
phone.
“Second to last building.” Bruce looked up, met a pair of startling blue eyes,
and Jason’s smug grin.
“How do you know?”
“Been in this part of town plenty of times,” he said, flicking his cigarette
and then taking a drag. “Didn’t expect to see you in this part, though,
Brucieee.” He winked, and Bruce rolled his eyes. He knew Dick was crazy about
Jason, but sometimes he wanted nothing more than to slap the younger man.
They headed down the street, stopped at the second to last building, just as
Jason had said, and saw a rather large amount of people streaming in. Bruce
stopped- he hadn’t expected to see any sort of real crowd. Dick watched, then
looked at the windows to the building- which was a permanent pop-culture and
contemporary art exhibit, and his mouth fell open as he read the flyers.
“Bruce, your Jack...is he Jack Napier?”
Bruce shrugged a shoulder and looked at the flyers. “He never told me his last
name, actually. But he’s the only artist listed, so it must be-“
“Bruce, you’re an idiot!” He turned to Dick, who was shaking his head. “God,
you had me thinking we were going to basically some high school art show. Jack
Napier is the most popular young contemporary artist in Gotham! His work is
just..extraordinary!”
Bruce stared. Dick couldn’t really mean his Jack? He hadn’t had the
personality, the vanity, for that.
“He’s not lying,” Jason said, tossing down his cigarette and stomping it out.
“His work is insanely popular. Most people I know have at least one print of
his work somewhere. A few people are lucky enough to have originals- but not
many. He likes to keep those.”
Jack does have his work in storage, he said.
“Bruce, you remember that fire back two years ago, that burned down those old
warehouses?” Bruce nodded. “You know the series of prints I have of it in my
living room?” Another nod. “Yeah, those are Jack’s. He happened by the area
when it happened, had his camera, and stayed taking shots all night. He put
them into a thirty image series, from start to finish- though most people
shorten it to just six, since not a lot of us have the room for all those. He
was even in the paper for staying there all night- he donated most of the money
he made to the victims that lived in the one apartment building on that street
that partially burnt as well.”
Bruce stared. He did remember that, but he never...he never thought this Jack
could be the same one!
“Jesus, only you would pick someone like Jack as your first gay experience,”
Dick said. “C’mon, we should get inside while we still can.”
The three headed inside, cramming on the elevator with others to head up to the
third floor, where Jack’s work was out. When the elevator opened they were
greeted by a small waiting area that had been decorated with a few black and
white photographs he’d taken, and the doorway to the main, large room, which
had a few other side rooms filled with art as well.
They stepped into the room, just as people we gathering towards one corner, and
followed the crowd.
“I can’t thank everyone enough for coming out tonight,” Jack was saying,
smiling at all the faces he could see. His green curls were pulled into a loose
ponytail over one shoulder, and he’d lined his eyes in a smokey black that gave
him a rather androgynous look. His black shirt was hanging off one pale shirt-
black and flowing, and if Bruce had thought about it, he’d surely note cut for
women.
“First, let’s all give a round of thanks to my good friend, Oswald!” The room
applauded, and Oswald Cobblepot walked out, large and well dressed with a thin,
glittering woman hanging onto one arm. “He’s always the first to offer up a
floor to me when I want a show. I owe you some work, my friend. Maybe of your
new lovely lady friend, if she sticks around long enough.”
Everyone laughed, including Oswald, who didn’t deny how quickly he went through
arm candy. His money allowed for that.
“We’ll set a date,” he promised. “And it’s always my pleasure Jack, your work
brings life into this place. I’ve been a fan since you first came onto the
scene.”
Jack smiled and tipped his head, before addressing the crowd again. “And, as
always, I’d like to thank the most beautiful woman in my life- my darling
Harley. Harley, come here doll.” He reached a hand out and she sauntered over,
her thick blonde curls bouncing as she let him wrap it around her and squeeze.
“I wouldn’t be here without her love and support. She’s the best friend and
model I could ask for.” The room applauded- rather loudly, Bruce noted- before
Jack spoke again. “And for all of you curious, we have set out the Harlequin
series, which of course stars this lovely woman.”
There was more applause, before Jack cleared his throat to finish.
“And finally, before I let you all break open Oswald’s expensive champagne and
hopefully not find my work too dull-“ there were laughs, “I’d like to announce
that I am working on a new series of pieces, that hopefully I will be able to
have in an exhibit sometime this coming fall, if all goes according to plan.
When it’s finished and Oswald and I have set a date, we will be sure to let the
city know.”
There was more applause, before the crowd broke. Bruce watched them go, eyes on
Jack, who had been taken aside by a young couple who were very eagerly talking
to him.
“Don’t wait,” Dick said, nudging Bruce forward, “If you don’t hurry, you’ll
never get his attention. Everyone always clamors for time with Jack at these
things.”
Bruce took a deep breath, then pressed through the room, slipping his hands in
his pockets to try and look casual. He was glad that Jack, despite the rather
glorified shirt, still had on skinny jeans- these ones were an inky blue with a
thick black tuxedo stripe up the side of each leg- and his signature purple
hightops.
“Jack,” he said, as he neared, and Jack turned. He stared for a moment, before
his face broke into a huge grin. He turned to the couple and thanks them for
coming, before excusing himself and rushing over to Bruce.
“Bruce!” he said, wrapping his arms around him in a sudden hug that Bruce
didn’t even have time to return. “I’m so glad you came!” He smiled up at him,
and Bruce felt his chest tighten, would have blushed if he hadn’t fought it
down, knowing Dick and Jason were nearing.
“Thanks for inviting me,” he said, “I had...I had no idea, Jack, that you were
a big deal. You didn’t make your work seem so... popular.”
He shrugged a shoulder gently. “I don’t play myself up,” he said, “I’m not
interested in that. Just in making my work and letting others enjoy it.” He
cocked his head a little when Dick and Jason came up to Bruce, who glanced at
them.
“Oh, Jack, this is Dick, a childhood friend, and his boyfriend, Jason.”
“Hi,” Jack said, smiling and offering a small wave of his pale hand.
“It’s an honor to meet you,” Dick said, reaching out and shaking said hand.
“I’ve got some of your work in my home.”
“Really? Which pieces?” Jack asked, face lighting up.
“Everything Burns- the abridged edition. It’s hanging right in my parlor where
everyone can see it. It’s about the only thing anyone ever comments on.”
“I’m so glad you’re enjoying it,” Jack said, “Especially if you’re a friend of
Bruce’s. Let me know if there’s another piece you like, I’ve got prints of most
of my work, if you’d like a new conversation starter.”
Dick beamed, and Bruce knew he’d never hear the end of this.
“Puddin’, are you going to just leave me in the dark?” Harley walked over,
hands on her rounded hips, her heels clicking against the floor. Jack smiled
and wrapped an arm around her.
“I’m sorry. Guys, this is Harleen Quinzel, my main model and long time friend.”
He gave her a squeeze. “Harley, this is Jason, Dick, and Bruce, who I was
mentioning earlier.”
She eyed the first two quickly, then took Bruce’s hand and shook it, staring at
him intently. “Nice to meet you, Bruce,” she said, “Jack has said many good
things about you.”
Bruce smiled- he could hear the venom in her voice, and for a moment he thought
he was meeting Jack’s mother.
Jack had to excuse himself to mingle with other guests, but promised he’d
return soon. Dick, eager to have a look at the works on display, took Jaosn by
the arm and guided him away, leaving Bruce to walk the room with Harley.
“It’s good that you came,” she said, stopping at a piece Jack had sketched and
colored in running, watery paint of a woman slowly transforming into a bird.
“Jack would have been heart broken if you hadn’t. You were all he talked about
yesterday when we were setting up.”
“Really?” Bruce asked, looking at her, but she only shot him a glance.
“Really. He’s taken quite a liking to you. Honestly, I haven’t seen him like
this in quite some time- not since his ex, anyway. So let me ask you something,
Bruce.” This time she did turn to him. “What’s all this to you?”
Bruce stared at her for a moment. “All...this?”
“Yeah, you and Jack. What is it? He keeps saying that you’re just friends...
but I can hear it in his voice, he’s got hopes- even if he won’t voice them.
He’s smitten- and if you’re going to break his heart, do it now before he’s in
too deep.”
Bruce stared at her for a moment, before he closed his eyes, trying to think of
words, anything to say-
But he felt Jack’s hand in his instead, felt the cool darkness surrounding them
and those fingers trailing down his body, touching places hot and hard and
wanting-
And he felt that mouth and he opened his eyes and he remembered.
And he needed to find Jack. That very second.
“Excuse me,” Bruce said, dodging Harley’s question and briskly walking away in
search of the artist. Harley watched him go, arms folded- undecided on how she
felt about the famous Bruce Wayne.
Bruce found Jack as he was walking back into the main room- grabbed him by the
arm and turned him gently.
“We need to talk,” Bruce said in a hushed voice.
“Okay-“
“Not here. Is there somewhere we can go, for a minute or two?” Jack nodded,
guiding Bruce towards the elevators. They got on one and he hit the “4” button.
The elevator shot up, just for a moment, before it opened and Jack led him out
into a carpeted hallway.
“Top floor is just for storage and stuff,” Jack said, “No one should be up
here. What’s up, sugar?” They had walked away from the elevator, and Jack
leaned against one richly wall papered wall- color and textured framing him
unlike the harsh white of the lower levels, meant to not detract from the art.
Bruce took a deep breath. “Jack... I... we... what happened between us?” Jack
stared, and Bruce tried to clarify, while still dodging the subject. “The other
night- when we were drunk.”
Jack’s cheeks tinged pink, and Bruce had his answer before the man even spoke.
“Fuck,” Jack muttered, slumping a bit. “Shit Bruce...I wasn’t sure if you
remembered or not... and I... I didn’t wanna bring it up. I’m sorry, we were
drunk and I was so out of line.” He bit his lower lip, brought color to it. “I
swear, I’m not going to tell anyone. I bet you’re pissed.”
Bruce probably should have said yes, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t sure what he was.
On the one hand, the memories were glorious now that they had returned- and on
the other, he had butterflies standing here alone with Jack. Neither thing were
negative.
“No,” Bruce finally said. “I’m not. I’m just...confused. I’m not- I mean- I’ve
never-“
“Been with a guy?” He nodded. “Yeah, I sorta figured.” Bruce waited for a
moment, and when he didn’t speak, he asked,
“You have been?” Jack laughed, the rich sound invading Bruce’s mind and sending
it floating.
“Oh yeah,” Jack said, “I’m not really into women. At all. The only exception is
Harley- and we only ever fucked a few times, when we were bored and drunk and
horny and alone.” He shrugged a shoulder. Bruce nodded, not entirely sure what
to say, if anything. So Jack took the conversation up again. “If you want to
leave, I understand. I won’t call you or anything.”
Bruce watched those lips move, the way the light in those eyes dimmed- and
leaving was the last thing he wanted. He reached out, cupping Jack’s face in
his hands and guided him up, kissing those lips gently. Jack froze for a
second, before he melted into Bruce, reaching out to clutch at his sweater as
their mouths moved together. Bruce kept it brief, sweet, and when he pulled
back his ran his thumbs along the scars on Jack’s face- silently wondering
about them for the first time.
Jack’s eyelids were heavy at the touch, and his lips parted as he whimpered.
Bruce mentally noted he liked his scars being touched- buts topped because he
wasn’t sure what he was doing or if he was ready for that.
“I can’t promise you anything,” Bruce said, “but you do something to me, Jack.
I don’t want to go anywhere. I don’t know if this is... something more than
just friendship, but I’m not leaving. Just go slow with me, okay?”
Jack smiled at nodded. That was hope- and hope was better than nothing.
Bruce wanted to leave with Jack, but he’d be at the gallery until early in the
morning cleaning up and mingling. Bruce left with Dick and Jason well before
that, Dick asking, and eagerly listening, as Bruce recounted the upstairs
encounter. And then he squealed like a child.
“Oh Bruce! This is fantastic. You’re dating one of Gotham’s most popular
artists! Oh the sheer scandal for you- it’s delicious!”
“We’re not dating,” Bruce corrected. “We’re friends. I don’t know what this is,
but I’m going to find out. Slowly, though.”
Jason said nothing, having lit a fresh cigarette. He watched the two bicker
playfully on the subject idly, knowing he’d be hearing all about it again on
the way back to Dick’s apartment.
Chapter End Notes
     So, I needed something else to work on aside of Ground Zero, and this
     baby was born over the past two days. I've never done a capeless AU,
     so I'm pretty excited for this. Like Ground Zero, it's got the
     promise to be long. I sorta blew it out of proportion.
     I also really wanted to try and do something different with Jack. I
     see him into drug dealing and such a lot in AUs, and I wanted
     something that still went against the mainstream world, but was
     more...innocent, I guess. We ended up with multimedia contemporary
     artist. I don't even know how we got there.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Bruce woke up early the next day and settled into te parlor with a cup of
coffee and his cell phone. He wanted to call Jack- he wanted to see him. The
gallery had given them precious few moments together- and even though he said
he needed to take this slow, he knew he’d get no where if he didn’t see- or at
least talk to- the young man.
It was about nine when he called, curling up and pulling on the fabric of his
black sweatpants nervously. The phone rang for a bit, and he was afraid it was
going to go straight to voice mail, when a tired voice finally answered,
“Hello?”
“Hey,” Bruce said, and he could hear the sleepy smile on Jack’s face as he
spoke.
“Hey there sugar.”
“Did I wake you?”
“Yeah,” Jack admitted, and Bruce could hear him roll around for a second to get
comfortable, “But it’s okay, someone had to. I was at the gallery until around
two.”
“Jesus,” Bruce said, “Go back to sleep then, I can call back some other-“
“No way.” He sounded more alert now. “Not a chance babe, I’m up now.” Bruce bit
his lip, mind going to a dangerous place where Jack was up in a different
sense, and he cursed himself, because he wasn’t ready for that.
Right?
“Are you busy today? I was sort of hoping we could...hang out for a little
while.” Bruce felt like he sounded like a teenager, but it really was true. He
just wanted to spend some time with Jack.
“As a matter of fac-t,” Jack said, “I’m totally free, and would love to see
you, Bruce.”
Bruce smiled at that, felt the tightness in his chest back as he ran his
fingers along his own leg- could feel Jack’s fingers instead.
It was around eleven when Bruce left to pick Jack up. He’d showered, and spent
an agonizingly long amount of time staring in the mirror, fixing his short dark
hair and making sure he looked alright. Jeans, black t-shirt, casual gray
jacket- once it wouldn’t have mattered, but now Bruce wondered if he looked
good enough. Like he wanted to impress.
He’d barely pulled up to the curb when Jack was walking out of his apartment
complex, his hair a mess of gorgeous free curls, his signature skinny jeans and
purple high tops present. Bruce smiled when he got in the car.
“Hey,” he said, and Jack smiled back.
“Hi cupcake.” He closed the door and fixed one of the sleeves of his green
plaid button down- it was trying to unroll from his elbow, and Bruce took a
moment to look at his chest, frame by a tight v-neck under the shirt, the upper
half purple, the lower inky black. Somehow Jack always looked so casually
gorgeous.
What really caught Bruce though was the expensive looking camera hanging from
his neck. Jack saw his gaze before Bruce turned to the road and pulled into
traffic, and traced along the camera’s edge.
“I figure, if we’re going for a casual walk, it’d be good to have,” he
admitted, “you never know what you’ll see. And I’d hate to find and then lose
inspiration. It’s the worst feeling.”
Bruce just nodded. He didn’t know about that, but he didn’t mind the camera. It
made this seem a bit less awkward, if Jack had a reason to b in Gotham’s
central park. Bruce just thought it had been a nice idea- a public space so he
couldn’t find himself in any sort of situation he wasn’t ready for- not that he
thought Jack would purposely put him in one, but he wasn’t trusting his own
self conscious at this point- and it gave them no real distractions so if they
wanted to really talk, they could.
They parked the car and walked down the block to the park, crossed the street
and stepped onto the paved path that wove its way between the lush green grass
and tall trees. They could hear children laughing at the playground in the
distance, various people sitting on the benches that dotted the area.
“I haven’t been here in a while,” Jack said, brushing the curls out of his face
that the wind blew. “I forgot how pretty it was.”
“I’d think you’d be here a lot,” Bruce said, taking a deep breath of fresh
spring air as they walked at a lazy pace. “Being an artist and all.” Jack shook
his head.
“Nah. I tend to stick to more industrial topics- or people. Nature never really
did too much for me, but I dunno now. It’s rather pretty. Or maybe it’s just
‘cause I’m here with you.” He reached out and took Bruce’s hand, smiling- and
Bruce figured he should have had some retort waiting, some way to brush the
sweetness off because they were just friends and that made it seem like there
was more.
Instead he squeezed Jack’s hand, and watched him raise his camera and snap a
shot of a few of the trees.
The park itself was rather large, though most visitor didn’t go past the first
half where the playground stood. Bruce was watching some of the kids playing
idly as Jack snapped a few more photos, when suddenly he heard, “Hey Bruce,
over here!”
He turned to Jack and heard the camera click. He laughed, reaching out towards
him as it clicked again. “Stop!” he said, grabbing him by the side of his shirt
and pulling him over, one more click going off before Jack dropped it and let
it hang from his neck as he was hoisted into Bruce’s arms. He was laughing too,
and he leaned his forehead against Bruce's chest as he tried to compose
himself, closed his eyes and focused on Bruce’s heat and the way his chest
moved when he breathed.
Bruce was stroking the curve of his waist, chuckling himself. When Jack looked
up with those green eyes though, he stopped, watched those lips part as he
breathed, and remembered what they tasted like.
He wanted them again.
Jack saw it in Bruce’s eyes, tried to lean up, but Bruce turned his head
slightly and released Jack. “Hey, let’s grab some ice cream,” he said, heading
towards the cart he saw in the distance, and Jack sighed, walking along behind
him.
Despite the thwarted kiss though, Jack was happy with the ice cream cone Bruce
bought him. He licked at the chocolate as they settled down on a bench, further
down the path so the populated portions of the park were just a splotch in the
distance.
“So how long have you been doing your art?” Bruce asked in between licks of
vanilla. He felt like a kid sitting here, but it was nice. He liked that calm,
warmness Jack caused in him- despite that he thought he should be nervous, it
was hard to actually feel it.
“Since I was about sixteen,” Jack said. “I started doing minor stuff then,
mostly just sketches and scribblings. When I moved out at seventeen, I crashed
with Harley and she told me I should get serious. By the time I was twenty I
had a small collection, and I was featured in a few local shows. Nothing like
Oswald’s place, though. But five years later, here I am. It just sort of blew
up once my work got out there.”
“You lived with Harley?” Bruce asked, and Jack nodded.
“Yeah. She was there for me when I needed her- opened up her home to me and
everything. I’d probably be dead if it weren’t for her.” If there was more to
the story, Jack didn’t offer it. Bruce wanted to ask, but something about those
eyes, the way they seemed so focused on the remains of Jack’s ice cream cone
and not on him or the world around him, told Bruce not to push it. Not today.
Maybe it has something to do with those scars.
They finished their ice cream and just sat there together, listening to the
wind and the birds and in the very faint distance the sounds of kids and
people. Bruce watched the dots move in the distance, while Jack peered through
his lens, examining the world with different eyes. He turned on the bench, then
began to scramble up onto his knees, the sound of the shutter on the camera
working furiously making Bruce look behind him as well.
“What?” he asked, and Jack pointed at a set of Cardinals sitting in a tree
together.
“The red,” he said, “it’s glorious against everything else.” He shifted a bit,
before without any warning he climbed over Bruce, straddling him and leaning
past him to get a different angle. Bruce made a sound, but instead of pushing
Jack off steadied him by the waist as he leaned further.
“God, don’t knock us both over,” Bruce said, and Jack settled back down,
laughing.
“Sorry, I just want to make sure I’ve got shots of them. That red... I could
use it, I know I could.” He smiled, looking at Bruce, and he stroked the
artist’s waist, moving his hand down to his hip. Jack carefully let his camera
hang at his neck, running his hands over Bruce’s chest- mumbling something
about liking this new seat, and Bruce just smiled.
When he kissed Bruce, he wasn’t prepared. Jack was fast- it came out of no
where- one moment Bruce was staring at those pretty eyes, and the next that
mouth was assaulting his and he was dizzy and gripping onto Jack’s hip to
steady himself. Jack wrapped his arms around Bruce’s neck and pressed his
pelvis into him, closed the gap as much as he could around the obstacle his
camera created.
Bruce wrapped both arms around him as he tipped his head back and opened his
mouth. Jack tasted like chocolate, his mouth cold where Bruce remembered it was
warm- yet he could be back on the man’s couch, pressing into him and delving
into that warmth, letting it spread through his body.
Jack kissed Bruce like no one had. He lacked a rhythm sometimes, he just moved
and reacted and Bruce loved the unpredictability. He opened him up like Talia
never could, like no woman ever had. He made Bruce feel vulnerable, but it
didn’t matter because it was Jack and he was too infatuated with Bruce to ever
let anyone see the weakness. It was for him, only.
“Bruce,” he whispered against his lips, his tongue tracing the lower one
gently. “Tell me to stop.”
“What?” Bruce whispered, before he closed the gap and kissed Jack, not wanting
to lose the connection. His sanity was gone, and he didn’t care that they were
in public- that Jack was a man and Bruce swore he hadn’t been interested- he
just wanted that mouth that was warming up, the feeling of his belly being in
knots, his chest tight yet fluttery. He wanted it all.
“Tell me to stop,” Jack whispered between kisses, sinking his hands into
Bruce’s hair as one of Bruce’s hands glided down his spine, cupped his ass and
Jack moaned and Bruce felt it jolt through him like electricity. “Or I won’t
stop. I’ll never stop.”
I’ll never stop.
Bruce didn’t want him to stop, and the realization made him shake. He clung to
Jack tighter, kissed him harder, until Jack was shaking too, about to burst
with everything he was taking in.
“S-stop,” Bruce whimpered against that mouth, not because he wanted to, but
because he had to. This wasn’t the place- this wasn’t taking it slow. He didn’t
want to dive in, only to realize he couldn’t swim and leave Jack treading water
alone.
Jack pulled back the moment Bruce spoke, his cheeks flushed, and looked away.
Bruce slipped his hands higher, until one reached up and stroked some of Jack’s
hair.
“This isn’t a good place,” he said, offering him the sweetest smile he could-
because those green eyes looked so sad.
“Yeah,” Jack admitted, but Bruce still felt something in his chest crack.
Jack found it hard to sleep that night. He tossed and turned in his bed, clung
to his pillow but Bruce’s scent was faded, tangled his legs in his blanket but
it wasn’t enough. He wanted that solid body next to him again, wanted Bruce’s
heat and presence and overall perfection to lull him into sleep.
Instead, he got up, took a look at the clock, which read midnight, and walked
over to one of his easels, set up by the window. He pulled one curtain open so
streetlight flooded in and picked up his brush, sucking on his lower lip as he
set to work lining that perfect jawline in black- those lips he could still
feel, tinting them the perfect fleshy pink.
Bruce settled back into his chair at the bar, sipping on his scotch, smiling as
Dick talked. He was going on about the latest act for his modern circus, and
Bruce was somewhat amused- though his mind had been elsewhere the whole day.
He’d wanted to see Jack, but a day at the office limited his time, and he’d
promised to grab a drink or two with Dick. So here he sat, wondering what the
man was up to. He’d sent him a few texts, but he hadn’t gotten a response back
yet.
“You should come see a show, Bruce,” Dick was saying as he finished his drink.
“The circus will be in town for a few nights of the tour.” When he didn’t
respond, Dick gave him a sly smile. “Why don’t you bring Jack? You know, I bet
he’d like it. It’s right up his ally- I mean, we;re Cirque du Soleil, just
better.”
Bruce tapped his fingers, thought on it.
“Friday night,” Dick said, and Bruce gave him a soft smile.
“I’ll ask him.”
Jack sat under the hot midday sun the next day, sipping at his raspberry
lemonade as Harley picked at her sandwich. “You’re not even into that sort of
science,” he was saying, leaning back, pushing his sunglasses up higher. It was
too bright for him- he hadn’t left his apartment since he returned Sunday
afternoon. He’d been so enthralled by his work, he actually forgot to eat.
Harley had let herself in- with the key he’d given her when he first moved in-
and had nearly had a fit. While she supported his art, she wasn’t interested in
him becoming a hermit or going malnourished.
“Well, I mean, it might be interesting-“
“But really, you want to go because it’s Dr. Isley.” Harley shrugged a
shoulder, and Jack grinned. He knew the doctor Harley had brought up when they
sat down to lunch- he’d seen her before at other talks she gave that Harley had
dragged him to. She was into plants- far from the science of the mind Harley
studied. But then again, this wasn’t about the topic of the speech-
It was about Harley’s little crush, which Jack found positively adorable.
“Oh, fine,” he said, “I’ll go with you tomorrow afternoon. But only because I
love you, pumpkin.” He winked, and she giggled.
“Oh Puddin’, I love you too.” And when she smiled Jack knew it was true- she
was a mirror of him, and she loved him because she loved herself, and that was
alright. He loved her just the same.
When he got back to his apartment and checked his phone, he saw he had a missed
call from Bruce. He’d texted Jack a few times, but Jack had been so engrossed
he hadn’t responded. The mix of heart ache at Bruce’s slight rejection, coupled
with the hope that it was just bad placement had left him wanting to create. He
couldn’t deny that urge.
Still, he felt bad about not responding. And now he’d even called. Jack could
just call him back, but he felt like he needed to do more.
So he headed back out the door and caught the bus heading for inner Gotham.
Wayne Enterprises was not a hard building to find. In fact, it stood out so
much so that it was nearly painful. Jack stared up at it for a moment, tried to
picture it in the dark Gotham his head was creating, and saw broken windows and
rusted metal and a man with a mask peering down in shame at the city.
He shook his head and walked inside. The air conditioner hit him full on and he
shivered, shoving his hands in his pockets. Now, he just had to figure out
where Bruce was.
He walked casually towards the elevator- standing out among everyone and their
suits, but no one was looking at him. Jack was invisible- but he wasn’t unused
to that. He reached out and ran his finger along a small directory- but it
didn’t list names, only general titles grouping multiple people together.
Nowhere did it say “The man who owns you all,” so he was stuck shifting from
foot to foot, lost.
When a teenage stepped up and hit the up arrow on the elevator, he turned and
smiled.
“Hey, do you know which floor Bruce Wayne is on?” The boy looked at him, all
wide amber eyes and short dark hair. He had a cute face.
“He’s on the eleventh floor,” he said, shifting the papers he was holding in
his arms. “But you can’t see him without an appointment. You can’t see anyone
without an appointment- especially him.”
Jack clicked his tongue and pushed his curls back. “I’m a friend,” he started,
and felt the boy’s eyes running along his cheeks, along his scars. He pushed
the curls back into his face to hide them.
“Wait...are you Jack Napier?” Jack raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “Oh my god,
your work is amazing! What are you doing here? This is one of the last places
I’d expect to see you.”
“Like I said, Bruce is a ...friend,” Jack said with a smile. “So, eleventh
floor, right...”
“Tim,” the boy said, “Tim Drake. And yeah, eleventh floor. I’m heading up now,
this paperwork is for him. I’m interning here.”
“Shouldn’t you be in school?”
“My classes are all in the morning so I can do this.” The elevator finally
came, and Tim climbed on, Jack following and hitting the 11 for him. Tim nodded
his thanks. “Like I said though, you need an appointment, usually. The
secretary won’t let you through. She’s a real bitch.” He shifted again. “Are
you really Mr. Wayne’s friend?”
“On my honor,” Jack said, and Tim smiled.
“Then follow my lead, and there might be hope.”
They got off on the eleventh floor and walked through the busy halls, Jack
following Tim. When they turned into one room, Jack saw an older woman sitting
at a desk, typing away. They walked quietly, but just as they were about to
turn the corner, she looked up.
“Tim,” she said, and they froze. “Who is this?”
“This is Jack,” he said, “He’s here to see Mr. Wayne.” She ran her eyes over
Jack- over ripped skinny jeans and his faded vermilion t-shirt and open black
button down. Then she tsked. “You cannot see Mr. Wayne without an appointment.”
“He has one,” Tim said, “it’s just not in the books. He’s an artist, you see,
and Mr. Wayne asked me to track him down. Dick Grayson is a fan, and Mr. Wayne
wanted to discuss having a piece of work commissioned for Mr. Grayson.”
The woman hesitated, then waved her hand and looked back at her computer. Tim
and Jack hurried down the hall, and when they were out of ear shot Jack said,
rather awe struck,
“How did you know Dick’s a fan?”
“You hear a lot fo things when you work as an intern. Everyone forgets you
exist, or have ears. Have you met Mr. Grayson?”
“He came to my last exhibit with Bruce.” Tim nodded as they stopped at a door.
“I wish I could have gone. I’ve always wanted to see your work displayed- it’s
so amazing.” Tim sighed. “This is it. I’ve got to give him these papers, but
then I’ll leave you two alone.”
“I won’t forget this, Tim,” Jack said, smiling and ruffling his hair. Tim
blushed, then opened the door and stepped in. Bruce was sitting at his desk,
intently reading a contract.
“Just put the papers on the desk, Tim,” he said without looking up, and Tim did
as he was asked. He was almost to the door when Jack cleared his throat, and
Bruce looked up to see his smiling face.
“Hey sugar.”
Bruce smiled, and Tim crept out- sure now that Jack had been telling the truth.
Jack walked over to the desk, leaning his hip against it and tracing his
fingers along the arm of Bruce’s chair.
“I was starting to think you dropped off the Earth of something,” Bruce
admitted, setting the contract aside. “You didn’t respond to my texts, didn’t
answer my call.”
“Sorry,” Jack said, “I was really into my work yesterday. Forgot to even eat.
Harley barged into my apartment this morning and forced me to lunch, I missed
your call while we were out. I figured I should make it up to you by coming and
explaining in person. Besides,” he said, voice lowering a little, “I missed
you.”
Bruce smiled and pushed his chair out, and Jack giggled and settled onto his
lap, leaning his back against one of the arms. Bruce considered locking the
door, to make sure no one saw- even though he meant it innocently, it still
looked compromising- but he didn’t want to move Jack. He wrapped an arm around
him to steady him.
“I missed you too,” Bruce admitted, “but how the hell did you get in here?”
“Your little intern Tim helped me. He’s a fan, apparently. Quick with a good
lie, too- I like it. Good attention to detail. I’m going to get that kid
something as thanks.” Bruce chuckled, leaned forward and nuzzled into Jack’s
hair. Okay, now it was compromising. Jack smiled and played with the collar to
his shirt.
He didn’t know what to make of Bruce, really. The man was so eager and
affectionate- but there was always something holding him back. Jack tried to
make himself believe he was just getting over whatever her name was- that he
needed time.
Time was the one thing Jack had.
“I have a meeting in twenty minutes,” Bruce admitted, “otherwise, I’d ask if
you’d like to stay and get dinner with me.”
Jack giggled. “You know Brucie, you make that sound like a date.” Bruce blushed
a little, let his lips glide over Jack’s neck.
“In that case,” he said, “Come out with me Friday night. Dick invited us to see
his circus, they’ll be in Gotham. I swear it won’t be a clowns-crammed-into-a-
car type of circus.”
Jack laughed at that, ran his fingers over Bruce’s cheek.
“It’s a date,” he said and leaned in, kissing Bruce gently- and Bruce let him,
one hand sinking into his curls to steady him. A date was slow enough, Bruce
was sure.
Besides, he couldn’t content himself with drinks forever. If he didn’t try for
the next step, he’d never know if it was too much- or not enough.
Chapter End Notes
     I know I'm really taking some liberties in this with ages and such,
     and altering Dick's canon story line a bit- but eh, that's what AUs
     are for!
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Jack tried to stay attentive as Dr. Isley addressed the crowded lecture hall at
Gotham University, but it was hard. To begin, he had no real interest in the
subject- he was only here to keep Harley company, who was currently enthralled
by the woman’s voice, eyes taking in every slight hand movement, every flick of
her eyes. Second, his mind was so full of Bruce, it was hard to fit anything
else in there.
They had a date. A real, true date. Bruce hadn’t objected to Jack calling it
such- and that alone made Jack giddy. It was a step in the direction he wanted.
It was a chance for him to get under Bruce’s skin until neither could tell
where one ended, and the other began.
He’d told Harley about it when she picked up him, and despite her own
enthusiasm about seeing Pamela Isley speak, she had been able to take in just
how much this meant to Jack, and had given him a soft smile and a squeeze of
the hand- though something in her eyes had told him she’d have more to say
later- when she wasn’t in her own love sick high.
After the speech, they filed out of the large lecture hall and stepped outside
into the rather warm sun, Harley smiling in a way Jack rarely saw.
“So maybe you should ask her to get coffee or something,” Jack said. Harley
shook her head.
“No, oh no. She’s such a busy woman, she wouldn’t have time! And what would we
talk about? I couldn’t keep a conversation about plants going with her- you
know that’s not my field at all.”
“You could listen,” Jack offered, but Harley only shook her head.
“No, there’s just no chance-“
“Excuse me.” Harley stopped and the two turned- met a pair of green eyes and
smiling, thick red lips. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I wanted to introduce
myself.” She held her dainty hand out, nails a shade of red that reminded Jack
of the Cardinal. “I’m Pamela Isley- I’ve seen you at my talks before.”
Harley stared at the hand offered to her a moment, before she took it and
shook- her body trembling slightly.
“Oh Dr. Isley! It’s...it’s-“
“A pleasure to meet you,” Jack offered from behind Harley. Pamela smiled.
“Oh please, call me Pam.”
“Pam,” Harley whispered, and Jack moved up next to her, shaking Pam’s hand as
well.
“It’s nice to meet you. Harley is quite a fan, I don’t think she’s missed a
lecture you’ve offered here all year.” Pam smiled at Harley, even though Jack
was speaking.
“I thought I had seen you at every talk. So attentive, it’s very refreshing.
Are you part of the botany studies here at the University?”
“Oh, no,” Harley admitted, “I’m in the Psychology department, actually. Ph.D
candidate. But you talk so passionately about your work, I find I keep coming
back. It’s nice to see someone so interested and invested in what they do.”
Pam smiled and tossed her red hair. “Well thank you, Harley. You know, I could
use someone to bounce some ideas off of regarding some pheromones and their
psychological effects. What are the chances you’d want to get coffee with me
someday and have a chat?”
Jack thought he was going to have to reach out and grab Harley to keep her from
shooting up into the air. She grinned like a fool.
“Oh, I’d love to!” she exclaimed, and Pam’s smile broadened as she pulled out
her cell phone and asked for Harley’s number.
Jack felt nearly high as he paced his apartment Friday evening, waiting for
Bruce to come get him. He hadn’t been sure how to dress- he knew it wasn’t some
fancy occasion, but he still wasn’t sure if his jeans would be too... casual.
In the end he’d gone with a dark pair of skinny jeans regardless because he
really didn’t own anything that wasn ‘t casual- that was just who he was.
He tugged on his purple and green striped jacket, took one last peek at his
hair, before he headed out to wait outside. The sun had just set, so even
though it was dark it was still warm, and Jack watched the lights flicker
around the street, was greeted by a couple walking by who had been at his last
exhibit, even waved at one of his neighbors as she headed out for a night
shift.
When a car pulled up along the curb, Jack took a deep breath and steadied
himself. The back passenger door opened and Bruce stepped out, smiling at him,
and Jack walked over, trying to keep from shaking. Bruce reached for him and
pulled him into a hug that Jack melted into, pressing to his chest and smelling
his cologne and wanting to drown in it.
Bruce held the door for him and then crawled in next to him. When the door shut
the car began moving, the privacy screen lowered and a pair of gray, all seeing
eyes glancing back at the two through the mirror.
“Jack,” Bruce said, “this is Alfred.” He gestured towards the driver.
“He...basically raised me, so I guess this is the equivalent of meeting my
parents?”
“Oh, we’re getting serious then,” Jack said, and Alfred smiled, stifling a
laugh. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Alfred said, “and the pleasure is all mine.” He
gave Bruce a glance, before continuing, “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time for
conversation some other night. How about a little privacy?”
“Thanks, Alfred.” Alfred nodded and hit a button, and the privacy screen went
up- leaving Bruce and Jack blissfully alone.
Jack contemplated taking advantage of it with a few flirty caresses, but Bruce
was faster. He reached for Jack and pulled him nearly onto his lap, lips
crashing into his exquisitely. Jack groaned- caught off guard- and reached for
Bruce’s shirt to clutch it. Bruce’s hand was tracing his back, gripping his ass
and making Jack fidget.
“Tease,” he breathed out against his lips, and Bruce laughed.
“What can I say? You bring with deviant out in me.” He grinned, and Jack
settled against his chest while Bruce stroked his hair for the remainder of the
ride.
The show was in the flashier part of Gotham- the expensive part- and Jack felt
out of place as they climbed out of the car and walked towards the forum. They
were allowed in right away, the usher smiling and greeting Bruce very joyously-
Jack going unnoticed, but he didn’t expect to be seen by strangers.
The carpets were plush under Jack’s high tops, and Bruce let him clutch his
hand as they walked towards their seating area- one of the center balconies,
reserved for Dick and any of his guests, since he owned the circus.
“Bruce!” Dick said when they entered. He was sitting in his chair with a glass
of champagne, talking to Jason when they had entered. Jason gave them a nod,
and Jack offered the sullen young man a small wave. Jason smiled at that-
Neither of them really belonged in this world.
“Good of you to come,” Dick said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “And Jack!
It’s a pleasure- come, sit down. Would you like a drink? I hope you’re going to
like the show- I really think it’s right in your field of interest.”
Jack wasn’t sure for a moment if Dick would ever stop to breathe- but he smiled
because this was Bruce’s very best friend, and he was a fan of Jack’s work- and
he’d been nothing but nice. He was pretty- he had a soft face, that feathery
hair- and it helped, too- Jack could admit.
“I’m looking forward to it,” Jack said with a smile, and Bruce squeezed his
shoulder and took Dick by the shoulder, leading him away to discuss something.
The moment they were gone, Jack slumped into a chair with a sigh, and Json
snickered.
“Hard work being arm candy, isn’t it.” He poured a rather full glass of
champagne and handed it to Jack. “Sorry it’s nothing harder. They like to keep
things ‘classy’ in this place.” Jack smiled and took a sip, the bubbles
tickling his nose. “The show will start soon, and I promise, Dick won’t talk
non-stop through it. He’s really excited for all of us to see the new acts.”
“I never saw the originals,” Jack admitted. “I couldn’t afford it.”
“A popular artist like you, I’d think you could.” Jack shrugged a shoulder and
sipped the champagne again.
“I don’t charge a lot for my work. I want everyone to enjoy it, which means
print prices stay low. And I rarely sell my originals. That way I can put them
on display whenever I want, and everyone can enjoy the originals.”
“How noble of you.” Jason leaned forward, examining Jack’s face, eyes tracing
those scars along his cheeks. “You’re probably too sweet for a rich boy like
Bruce.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you seem like a decent human being.” He ran a hand through his dark
hair, and Jack watched the little blonde bits in the front fall back against
his forehead. “And probably too good for someone like Bruce Wayne.”
“Bruce is a nice guy,” Jack said, frowning. Shouldn’t Jason say good things
about Bruce, if he was dating his best friend?
“Most of the time,” Jason admitted, “But no always. I’m not saying he’s some
cruel asshole- but he’s got a brooding problem. This thing with Talia, they go
on and off for years, and you know what? He never learns. Maybe you’ll finally
knock some sense into him.” He took a long gulp on his champagne, wishing it
was something stronger, darker. “For my sake alone, I hope so. I’m sick to
death of hearing Dick talk about how Bruce needs to get over the bitch.”
Jack didn’t respond, just sat there listening. He’d never actually heard her
name before- though he knew who Jason meant. Talia.
“I’m not trying to get you to back off on Bruce or anything,” Jason continued,
“Just... warning you, I guess. We’re similar, you and I. We don’t have money.
I’ve worked my ass off most of my life in order to get by- it wasn’t until Dick
and I got really serious that life got easy. And if he got sick of me? I’d be
up shit creek, kid.” He drained the remaining champagne from the glass. “And I
know you work hard to keep yourself afloat. We’re in a different world from
Dick and Bruce- they don’t quite get it. I can’t just fault them for it, they
grew up with privilage- but it’ll always be there.”
Jack watched a few of the bubbles in his champagne pop. He didn’t fault Jason
for what he was saying- it was true. He was in a different world from Bruce-
but he didn’t mind. So far the differences hadn’t gotten in the way.
Dick and Bruce were walking back then, and Jason contented himself with another
glass of champagne and Dick leaning over to giggle something into his ear and
nuzzle his neck affectionately. There was something in his baby blue eyes- Jack
saw it- a moment of doubt, and he wondered if Jason lived with doubt day in and
day out that Dick would keep him forever.
Jason had been right when he said Dick wouldn’t speak through out the entire
show. The moment the lights dimmed he didn’t say a word, and kept his mouth
shut until there was an intermission. Even then, he seemed to be contemplating
silence over how the audience was reacting to his latest creation.
Jason had turned to offer Jack another glass of champagne- which he accepted-
when Bruce pulled his cell phone from his pocket, and slipped out from their
seats. Jack was sipping at the alcohol when he turned back and saw Bruce
leaving. He looked back at Jason, who shrugged a shoulder.
The phone rang twice before she picked up, offering out a smooth, “Bruce.”
“You called me three times,” he said, “Is everything okay with-“
“Oh, fine.” She sounded too calm, too smooth for his liking. “I’m coming back
to Gotham. I thought you should know.”
He swallowed. No. No, no, no.
“Oh,” was all he said, and he heard her scuff.
“I thought you’d be a bit more excited, darling. I’ll call you when I’m in
town- we can get a drink, talk. I know you’ve been dying to talk.”
“Listen, I-“
“Bruce?”
Bruce turned around in the empty hallway, saw Jack standing a few feet away,
fingers playing with the long sleeves of his purple pullover sweater. Bruce
swallowed, and heard against his ear,
“I’ll see you soon, Bruce.” And then the line went dead. He slipped the phone
quickly into his pocket as Jack walked over.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” No. But Bruce wouldn’t mention her- she was fickle, she was probably
lying. He wouldn’t worry Jack- just focus on him, and Talia would disappear.
Bruce needed the distraction. He reached out and got Jack by the wrist, pulling
him over and kissing him swiftly. Jack melted into it, reached up and wrapped
an arm around Bruce’s neck as his mouth was open and Bruce tasted the champagne
on his tongue.
Jack was spun around in one fluid motion and pressed to the wall. He gasped,
felt Bruce bite his lower lip, before he was wrapping his arms lower on his
waist and hoisting him up. Jack give a small surprised cry, back pressed to the
wall, and wrapped his legs around Bruce’s waist for support.
“B-Bruce,” he whimpered, lips on his neck and Bruce’s teeth in his skin. He
groaned and dug his hips into Bruce- suddenly hard and blushing and shocked and
what had gotten into Bruce?
“No one’s going to see,” Bruce whispered, as if that was what might be worrying
Jack. Far from it- Jack was more concerned as to what brought this on. He
didn’t want to think about it, but it was hard not to- not when Bruce was so
guarded, when the most Jack got was a kiss, and now he was pinned against the
wall and the sound in Bruce’s voice shook him to his core and made him feel
like Bruce was prying open his entire body.
He kissed Bruce’s mouth and tried to push his thoughts down- wanted to just
enjoy it. He wanted Bruce- he’d wanted him since he had a taste, but he never
pushed it. It was enough to have his company, to get those stray strings of
kisses that rushed his blood. But he had other needs, and they were growing
harder and harder to ignore when he thought of the man-
He was almost ashamed at how often he was left with his hand sticky and guilty
thoughts of how he’d just used Bruce for his own satisfaction. But the man was
utterly divine and Jack couldn’t resist. He was a drug, and Jack was hooked- an
addict for life, now.
He’d have Bruce for life, somehow.
He was clawing at Bruce’s back as their tongues danced, Bruce groaning here and
there into his mouth. If they had been listening they would hear the applause,
see the dimming lights, and know that the show was beginning again. But there
was just the two of them, and no other world.
Bruce stroked along one of Jack’s scars and Jack quaked.
“I need you,” he whimpered, then and there he didn’t care- and it was so
tempting for Bruce, but he heard Dick’s voice in the distance calling, and the
two were pulled back to reality.
They parted, gasping for breath, and Bruce was quick to let Jack down, who
untangled himself clumsily and had to lean against the wall for support. Bruce
took a step back, straightened his hair, and turned to smile just in time as
his friend appeared in the hallway.
“Coming Dick,” he called, and began walking towards him. Jack reached out and
clutched at the wall with one hand, shaking, not sure what had just happened.
He didn’t move until Bruce was gone, and he had closed his eyes to try and
compose himself and remind his legs how to move.
When the show was over and they were leaving, the night was dark and heavy, and
had an odd chill to the air. Jack shivered and tried to walk close to Bruce as
they stepped outside, he and Dick talking about some of Gotham’s socialites who
had shown up for the show.
“What did you think of the show, Jack? Dick asked as they stopped by the curb,
and Jack smiled.
“It was lovely, Dick. Thanks so much for inviting me.” And it was true- though
Jack had been able to focus on the first half more than the second. By the
smirk on Jason’s face, the man seemed to sense something was up. Or maybe he
was just enjoying staring at Jack- he wans’t sure. Jack didn’t know how that
heated blue gaze made him feel.
“We’ll get together again,” Bruce said as Alfred pulled up, and waved his hand
at the man to keep him from getting out of the car to get the doors. The two
couples exchanged their good-byes and Bruce and Jack climbed into the back
seat, greeting Alfred and entertaining his questions on the show as they drove
through Gotham’s night traffic.
Jack stayed rather quiet on the drive back to his apartment, speaking to thank
Alfred very politely for driving him, and following Bruce inside as they walked
up to his apartment.
Jack stuck his key in the door, then hesitated, worried his lower lip for a
second, and turned.
“Do you wanna come in?” he asked. “You could stay the night. I mean, tomorrow
is Saturday and all-“
“Maybe another night,” Bruce said, and his eyes looked distracted. Jack sighed-
not entirely sure what was happening.
“Then thanks for taking me out,” Jack offered, twisting the knob and opening
the door behind him. He leaned up and kissed Bruce’s cheek, who smiled at him-
god his smile got Jack right in the chest- and whispered a sweet good-night.
Jack closed the door, locked it, and waited until he heard Bruce walking away
before he closed his eyes and lost it, body shaking. Something had happened
that night, and he wasn’t sure what. Had Bruce realized he wasn’t as interested
in Jack as he thought he was? Had he changed his mind and realized that he just
couldn’t find an attraction to Jack?
Had Jack messed up?
He was furious to know he was crying, tears tickling his scars, and he wiped
them on the back of his sweater and stalked towards his bedroom. He had
intended to paint that night if he couldn’t get Bruce to stay- but in that
moment, he wanted to take a lighter to his work, and he was ashamed of that.
He didn’t want to be near himself.
Chapter End Notes
     I know in canon we'd never see Joker and Jason having any sort of
     connection- but they just seemed to work in this AU :)
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to turn around, Master Bruce? I can come get
you in the morning.”
“No Alfred- please, just take me home.”
Aside of that, there was no conversation between the two on the way back to the
Penthouse. In fact, Alfred did not speak again until they were in the elevator,
on their way up.
“Master Bruce, Jack seems like a nice fellow. It would do you good to spend
some time with him. I do think you should have stayed.”
“She called, Alfred.” The door opened and they stepped off, and Alfred’s face
dropped. “Said she’s coming back to Gotham.”
“So this is about Miss Talia.”
“Of course,” Bruce said, raking a hand through his hair. “It’s always about
her. Goddamn always. I was okay, Alfred. I was accepting that she was gone and
I didn’t need her, and now she calls and wants to see me and what the hell do I
do?”
“It’s simple, sir,” Alfred said, “you say no.” He crossed his arms, watching
Bruce as he looked away. “There is no law in this universe, sir, that says you
must obey Miss Talia.”
“But what about-“
“We will get him back, sir. Don’t worry.” Bruce sighed. “But that is not why
you’re willing, and you know that. Let her go, Bruce. I do believe, sir, you’ve
found something better.”
Bruce sighed as Alfred walked away, needing a very stiff drink.
Jack woke up to the sound of his cell phone ringing. He groaned and reached
blindly for it, pulling it to his ear and mumbling a hello, his face still
pressed into the pillow.
“Are you still sleeping?” He didn’t say anything at the cheery voice. “Jackie,
it’s like noon. Were you out late?”
“No Harley,” he mumbled, and he could tell she was frowning.
“You never sleep this late, unless something is wrong.” A moment of silence.
“Have you gotten out of bed at all?” More silence. “Jack. Jack, go take your
pills.”
Jack sighed and hoisted himself up, dragging himself out of bed and trudging to
the kitchen. Harley listened as he rummaged around, ran the tap, and swallowed
all his pills.
“Good now?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said, “They’re all down. Sorry Harley, I’m just really tired. Maybe
I’m a bit sick.” She sighed.
“I’m not going to pry, but only because I’m on my way out and I don’t have time
right now. But I’ll be calling you later. I’ve got a lunch date with Pam.”
“Date?” Jack gave a soft smile at that, his voice perking up.
“Well, okay, we didn’t call it a date. Just a get together, to talk...”
“Maybe you’ll break your dry spell, Harley,” he said with a sarcastic laugh,
and she huffed.
“You’re an ass. Get some rest, I’ll call you later Puddin’.”
“Ay ay, Captain Pumpkin.”
Harley sighed and stuffed her phone away, hoping into her car and driving to
the little cafe where she was supposed to meet Pam. She walked in and around to
their outdoor tables, saw her sipping on an iced tea and reading something on
her phone. Harley took a deep breath, wiped her hands on her jeans- her palms
were beginning to sweat- and walked over, smiling and sitting down. Pamela
looked up and returned her smile.
“Hello Harley,” she said, tucking her phone away, “thanks for meeting me.”
“Thanks for the invite,” Harley said, as a waiter came over and took her order
for a pink lemonade. She sipped at it as Pamela and her began their academic
talk- Pam asking questions she had no answer to involving psychology, and
scribbling down Harley’s answers- who in turn asked why she would need each
answer, giving Pamela a chance to delve into her plants.
The conversaton slowly turned away from such scholarly matters, though, turning
to “how long have you been studying at Gotham University?” “What are your
future plans?”, and, finally, “How’s the love life?”
Harley blushed and Pam just laughed. “Sorry, too personal?”
“N-no,” Harley admitted, drumming her fingers on the table once, twice. “No,
it’s not. And it’s dead. Been dead for a while. Haven’t dated anyone serious in
God knows how long.”
“What about that guy you were with?”
“Jack? He’s just a friend. Not quite a brother- I’d be lying if I said we never
slept together, honestly- but he’s not a lover, but more than a friend. Jack’s
just complicated.”
“Sounds like it. So why no relationship? You two are obviously close.”
“Jack’s not into women,” Harley said, “at least, not usually. I was a bit of an
exception- and we were drunk and lonely and he was just in a really bad place
at the time. I think I was someone he could trust, and he didn’t have that
before. But there’s nothing romantic there. I won’t lie, I hoped for a while,
and I think he hoped too- but we couldn’t force it. We’re just the best of
friends. I don’t know what I’d do without him.” Harley blushed then. “Oh God!
I’m sorry, I’m sure you didn’t want to hear all that.”
Pamela laughed. “Oh, don’t blush hun. How can I get to know you if you don’t
tell me things?” She reached out and laid her hand over Harley’s, and Harley
blushed more, staring at those elegant fingers, the long red nails, and when
she looked up Pamela was giving her a soft, warm gaze that made her smile and
her chest tighten until her heart simply burst.
Harley hadn’t wanted to ever leave that table, but Pamela had a meeting that
evening, so after a few hours of blissful conversation, she was walking back to
her car. She pulled her phone out and called Jack, waiting as the phone rang
three times before he picked up.
“What’s up Pumpkin?” He sounded better.
“Only my spirits, Puddin’. You decent? I’d like to come over.”
“I suppose I can put pants on for you.” They laughed, and she felt more
relieved.
She knocked on Jack’s door twice, then unlocked it herself and walked in,
stuffing her key back in her purse and walked towards the living room. Jack was
standing in front of an array of easels, painting.
“Hey sweetheart,” he said without looking, and for a moment Harley felt a
twinge in her chest- like this was something that could be.
“Hey Puddin’,” She set her purse down and walked closer, looking at the
painting he was working on. “Is that...Bruce?”
Jack nodded.
“What’s the mask?”
“He’s turning into a Bat,” Jack offered, “he’s a Bat-Man. I thought it suited
him- he is so mysterious and has that dark-and-handsome look.”
“You come up with some weird stuff, Jack.” She turned to the other piece- a set
of green eyes staring at her with question marks in them, and frowned.
“Jack...are you really going to finish this one? I thought, after-“
“It’s art. I’m going to finish it.” He set his brush down. Harely didn’t say
anything, just walked over to the couch and sat down.
“So, how’s Bruce anyway? How’d the date go?”
“Alright,” Jack offered, moving one of the easels closer to the wall. “It went
alright. I haven’t heard from him since- but you know, he’s busy and all.” He
looked away,a dn Harley frowned, she could hear the sadness.
“What happened?” A sigh, and then Jack settled on the couch next to her and
told her about it- from Jason’s banter to Bruce pinning him to the wall- to
breaking down at the door when Bruce left. She was frowning by the time he was
done, running her finger tips along his arm.
“I didn’t need to break down,” Jack said with a shrug. “I mean, I ought to be
happy- that kiss, Harley- there was desire there. He wanted me. That’s a step
in the right direction. I just...God, even if we hadn’t done anything, I would
have liked if it he’d stayed.”
“I don’t know how I feel about Bruce, Jackie,” Harley said, “but I know, no
matter what, you’re enthralled. So just be careful, you’re already too
invested. And Jack.”
“Yeah?”
“If you ever even almost miss your meds again, I’ll kick your ass all over
Gotham.”
He smiled and leaned into Harley’s embrace- feeling safe. Feeling at home.
Monday morning found Jack walking into a crisp, warm room, greeted by a serious
but smiling face and a tip of the head.
“Jack, have a seat.”
He let his small knapsack fall to the ground and settled onto the leather couch
of the shrink’s office, kicking his feet up onto it and watching those eyes
watch him from behind their glasses.
“How have you been?”
“Alright,” Jack admitted. “Couldn’t that be the whole session, Dr. Crane?”
Johnathan Crane laughed at that, scribbling something on his notepad.
“I suppose Jack. Are you in a hurry?”
“I was planning to surprise someone after this.”
“Oh, and who? Harley?”
“No,” Jack admitted. “My...my friend. My sort of boyfriend. I don’t really know
what he is.”
And Jack proceeded to explain the past week he’d had with Bruce, and Dr. Crane
listened and wrote. And when the hour was up, he reminded Jack to call him if
there was ever a problem- if he needed more then his twice monthly sessions he
would fit him in.
He remembered how Jack had broken after his last relationship, and he didn’t
want to see the boy in a state like that ever again.
Jack took the bus to the center of Gotham after his session, to Wayne
Enterprises. It was almost one o’clock, and for all he knew Bruce might be out
eating lunch, but he wanted to see him.
He’d gotten a couple texts that weekend. He’d asked Bruce if he could see him
Sunday night, but Bruce had said no. He’d asked if he could call, but Bruce
said he wasn’t feeling well and was turning in early. And Jack wasn’t sure
where that left them, if any of that was truth.
Stepping off the bus he noticed a familiar jean clad teenager messing with his
hair outside the building, and walked over smiling.
“Well hey there stranger,” he said to Tim, who jumped at the voice, then
smiled.
“Mr. Napier-“
“Seriously kid, just Jack.” He smiled and reached out, straightening Tim’s tie-
and the teen blushed a cute shade of pink. Adorable kid.
“Are you here to see Mr. Wayne?”
“Gonna try to,” Jack said, and Tim reached out and took his hand.
“I’ll get you in.”
Sure enough, Tim was good on his word. He knew the Secretary’s pattern, and at
1:15 she always got up to get a fresh cup of coffee. In that moment they
sprinted down the hallway to Bruce’s office- both giggling, feeling like
devious children.
Jack decided he liked Tim. Well, really liked him. He’d liked him before, but
now he wondered what it’d be like to actually spend time with the kid. He gave
him his number and told him call him sometime, or text him- he’d show Tim his
work if he wanted, or they could catch a movie. Something.
Jack needed more friends. He had fans, and general acquaintances, business like
friends- and Harley. Harley was really his one friend.
Jack didn’t knock, he just walked in- which had Bruce’s head jerking up from
his desk. His eyes widened as Jack closed the door behind him, smiling.
“Hey cupcake,” he said, walking over and leaning his hip on the desk. “I missed
you. Hope you don’t mind me just dropping in.”
“How did you-“
“My little secret.” He winked. “Are you too busy to see me later?”
“Jack...”
“We don’t even have to go out. Come to my place, we can have a few beers, I’ll
order a pizza again. You can crash there, or you can go home after, it’s up to
you. Just the two of us, alone for a little bit.” He smiled at Bruce, and he
sighed.
“I’ve got a lot of paper work to do,” Bruce said, standing up and closing the
gap between him and Jack, sinking his hand into his curls. “So it might be a
little later. But I think I can fit you in.”
Jack smiled as Bruce leaned down and kissed him gently- sure now that it was
okay, and that there was no reason to worry.
Jack stopped and did some grocery shopping before Bruce came over that night.
Just minor things- eggs, bread, more beer. He didn’t keep a lot in his
apartment, but he thought if Bruce just might stay, they’d want to eat
something in the morning aside of cold pizza.
He put most of his easels away- the man with the questioning eyes, his works
involving Bruce that he wasn’t ready to share with the man yet. He left out a
piece he was working on about a dragon-style Cardinal, and was working on the
indigo sky around the bird that night when there was a knock on his door. He
set his brush down, smoothed his curls, took a deep breath, and walked over to
the door, opening it and giving Bruce a dazzling, heart stopping smile.
“Hi sugar.”
Bruce smiled and walked in, kissing Jack on the cheek and holding up a plastic
bag.
“I know you said pizza, but I thought Chinese might be a nice change.” Jack’s
smile grew and he locked the door.
Jack wasn’t sure if Bruce had gone home- or if he had had Alfred bring him
something at the office- but he had a small bag with his own clothing, and
seemed thankful for the excuse to shed his suit and put on sweatpants and a t-
shirt. Jack followed suit, and the two settled on the couch with a case of
beer, the Chinese food, and a Stephen King movie marathon on Sci-Fi.
Jack had draped a plush blanket over their laps as the night had fallen and the
temperature dropped slightly, and he was sitting against Bruce as he used a
fork to eat his noodles. Bruce had laughed at first- but one try with those
chop sticks and he was begging Jack to just use the fork.
Bruce didn’t care about what was on the TV- truth be told, it wasn’t like he
watched it much anyway- but he liked Jack’s warmth right next to him- the way
his toes would dig into Bruce’s legs as he shifted around in his folded
position-, the sweet smell that clung to him just softly.
He needed this. He needed a night away from the world, a night where he was a
normal guy that wasn’t running a company and keeping up a face among Gotham
socialites. He needed this boy to remind him he was alive, he was choosing his
paths and could choose him and didn’t have to go with her.
Jack set his empty carton aside and finished off his beer, grabbing another and
tilting his head back to take a long drink. Bruce watched his throat moved-
pale and smooth and soft- and shifted around, glad for the blanket so Jack
couldn’t see that sitting next to him so casually was arousing him. He wasn’t
sure what it was about Jack’s apartment, but it made him feel like he was part
of the boy, inside him, poking around, and that made him hard.
He liked thinking he was being let in.
He wrapped his arm around Jack’s shoulder, pulling him close and took a drink
himself. Jack sighed and sank into him, smiling.
“I like this,” he said, and Bruce smiled.
“Me too.”
They let the silence fall then, content to just bask in each other’s company.
“So, Bruce,” Jack was saying as he walked into the kitchen to grab the second
case of beer. “I have a question.”
“What is it?” Bruce called, this time actually watching the movie. He’d gotten
pulled in, and was starting to think maybe he had a thing for horror and
suspense. Maybe Jack was turning him on to a lot of things.
“I don’t wanna over step a boundary or anything.” Jack gulped, walked out with
the case and set it down, holding his open beer bottle. “But...what are we?”
“What do you mean? We’re human, at least I think.” Jack rolled his eyes and
crawled back onto the couch, smacking Bruce on the arm.
“Smart ass.” Jack curled up under his arm, fingers tracing along his chest. “I
mean...are we serious, Bruce? I know you need to take this slow- but I just
wanna know. Are we at least on the track to something serious- or am I getting
my hopes up?”
Bruce felt his chest squeeze, and he looked down at Jack. For a moment he
wanted to say he didn’t know- didn’t know what this was or what it would
become- if it could become anything. For a moment he wanted to tell Jack not to
get his hopes up, that it wasn’t possible-
But he saw those green eyes and those pink lips and felt his warmth and Bruce
was choking, his heart thudding like a scared deer in his chest. He wrapped
both arms around Jack, pulling him close, and kissed the top of his head.
The boy was somewhere inside him, somewhere deep, and Bruce wasn’t sure how. Or
why. All he knew was he liked the jittery stomach he got around him. Liked the
warmth and his smell and how he kissed and tasted and melted right into him.
“We’re serious,” he finally said, “I just get cold feet now and then. I don’t
know if I’ve ever felt like this before, Jack.”
Jack’s cheeks tinged pink and he nearly dropped his beer, trying to set it on
the floor, so he could maneuver around and face Bruce, still engulfed in his
arms.
“Then...are we...are you-“
“Dating?” Bruce laughed- it was cute, it was like Jack was in high school and
wanted to “make it official”. “Sure, Jack, we are. We did go on that date.”
“Double date- unless Dick and Jason were our chaperons.”
“They did a pretty shit job if they were.” The two laughed, but Bruce worried
about Jack shifting around too much. That kiss they had shared- it had been
fueled by all the wrong reasons, but Talia’s call and Bruce’s need to escape-
but it had been hot and he couldn’t deny that. He didn’t want Jack to realize
how excited he was getting- he was trying to be serious.
“So...you’re my boyfriend, then?” Bruce saw the last bit of doubt in Jack’s
eyes, and smiled at him, stroking his hair.
“Yeah Jack, I’m your boyfriend.”
Chapter End Notes
     Happy Thanksgiving everyone! :)
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
To say that Jack’s heart was beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings was an
understatement.
To say that his chest tightened like a vice was an understatement.
To say he remembered how to breathe was ignorant.
The room was spinning and he was clinging to Bruce and the word boyfriend was
rolling through his brain over and over and over again. Bruce was pulling him
closer and kissing his forehead, and Jack felt fireworks inside his skull.
“Remember to breathe, Jack,” Bruce teased lightly. “I’m not aiming to kill
you.”
“You might anyway,” Jack admitted. And then he kissed Bruce. It was soft,
tender, slow and lazy and it had something behind it- some warmth, some relief,
something Bruce didn’t want to put a name to because it would mean admitting it
was there.
He held Jack, cradled him, until Jack was moving to try and get a better angle
on his mouth- getting on his knees and slipping one between Bruce’s thighs
before he could stop him. Bruce’s hard-on dug right into Jack’s thigh and he
moaned and kissed Jack deeper, despite the embarrassment that ran through him.
Jack’s eyes opened, and he pulled back, looking at Bruce shocked for a moment-
Before he got a sly grin.
He shifted his thigh a bit- the friction made Bruce moan- and he leaned down,
tracing the shell of his ear with his tongue.
“Do you want something, Brucie?” Had he been anyone else, Jack would have just
touched him- his body would have told him enough. But this was Bruce and he
didn’t want to scare him off by going too fast- maybe he’d rather just jerk off
and be done with it.
Bruce hesitated for a moment- he knew what he wanted, but was he ready for it?
He remembered Jack’s knowing hand and sweet mouth, remembered that feeling of
heat engulfing him, and his belly went tight in knots.
“Yeah,” Bruce finally breathed, and Jack’s eyes went wide, before his lids grew
heavy and he watched through blonde eyelashes with a smirk.
“Relax,” he murmured, reaching down and running his hand along Bruce’s chest
and abdomen, down to the hem of his sweatpants. He leaned in and kissed Bruce’s
neck- soft and light and calm and warm and just what Bruce needed to quiet his
nerves. He was murmuring something against his skin, but Bruce couldn’t
understand him- just liked the sweet sound of his calm, low voice.
His finger tips pushed past the hem of Bruce’s sweatpants, teased the skin at
the waist of his underwear- the slight trail of dark hair that led below. Bruce
closed his eyes and tipped his head back, trying to remember to breath. He
ached all over, all of the pain tracing back to his aching sex, and it was
slightly terrifying. He’d never wanted so badly.
“If you ever want me to stop,” Jack whispered in Bruce’s ear, hands busy below
pulling on his clothing now, and a draft of air raced down and wrapped around
Bruce’s cock. “Just tell me.”
Bruce nodded, and when Jack’s hand closed around him he gasped, pushing into
that hand before Jack had the chance to move himself. Jack’s lips twitched into
a smile, his eyes hungry as they watched Bruce’s face contort in the attempt to
restrain the pleasure.
“Let go,” he whispered, stroking him surely, slowly, grip tight and just right.
Bruce tried to, but something in him clung to his control, and Jack saw it in
those nearly black eyes.
He gave Bruce a few more strokes, before he released him and slipped from his
lap, down to the floor. He leaned in, pulling the blankets from Bruce’s lap so
in the dim light streaming in from the streetlights he could see him- hard and
standing for him and Jack licked his lips, hungry.
He kissed the underside of Bruce’s cock gently, felt him shudder, before he
dragged his tongue out along the underside to the base, then back up, so he
could kiss the head. Jack stared up as he opened his mouth and let the head
slide in past his darkening lips, and Bruce stared down, pupils blown. Jack
swallowed him more, didn’t break the eye contact as he took as much of him in
as he could- which, had Bruce any mental capacity left, he’d realize was the
majority of his sex and rather impressive- and wrapped his hand around the base
to go along with his motions.
Jack closed his eyes for just a moment- wanted to try to keep form trembling
too much, to fight the urge to reach down and stroke himself in time- before he
opened them, half lidded, and stared up again.
His eyes, Bruce would later realize, were what did it for him. So green and
fiery and lustful, ready to devour him whole and suck the marrow from his very
bones. Jack was going to end him, take his essence and blend it in with his
magnificent blood and Bruce just didn’t care.
Bruce opened his mouth and groaned. “J-Jack,” he stammered, “Move-“
Jack didn’t- except to swallow him again. And Bruce tried to stop, tried to
hold it off because he didn’t want Jack swallowing that but he just couldn’t.
Not with those eyes.
His hips bucked and he cried out, head dropping back as his muscles spasmed and
his orgasm ripped through him- his belly to his balls a mess of heat and joy
that seeped all the way to his toes.
Jack took it all, let his throat work to swallow every drop Bruce gave him-
tongue tingling with the salty bitterness. His cock jumped and throbbed in his
pants at the taste, he wanted more.
He leaned back and let Bruce’s cock leave his mouth with a low pop. The air was
cold and Bruce shivered, Jack acting fast to tuck him away as he licked his
lips and Bruce looked down at him, cheeks flushed.
Jack smiled and stood up, leaning over him, close to his lips, and then
deciding against it at the last moment, and leaving a soft kiss on his cheek.
Then he turned to walk away, and Bruce was confused.
“What are you doing?” he asked, as Jack stepped into the bathroom, hand on the
door.
“Just brushing my teeth,” he said with a smile and a wink, before he shut the
door. The moment it was closed he leaned against it, shaking. One of his hands
delved down his sweatpants and wrapped around his cock, squeezing but not
stroking, and he bit back a gasp. Nearly stumbling to the sink, he turned the
water on to give him some background noise, and eased the hem of his sweatpants
down- as he had decided against underwear- and stroked once, sighing and
closing his eyes as he imagined Bruce’s hand in place of his, those lips on his
neck, the other gripping the flesh of his ass.
He bit his lip and moved his hand furiously, so far gone already that in one,
two, three strokes he was whimpering and coming into his hand, his body
convulsing so much he thought his knees might buckle.
It took him a moment to catch his breath, to compose himself, before he washed
his shaking hands and brushed his teeth, cheeks tinged.
When Jack reappeared from the bathroom, Bruce had pulled the blanket up higher
and looked considerably relaxed- even tired. Jack smiled at him and leaned
down, kissing his lips gently now- tasting minty.
“Wanna curl up for the night?” he asked, and Bruce nodded. Jack turned the TV
off and gathered up the remaining beer, stowing it in the fridge while Bruce
took the blanket and headed into his bedroom. Jack followed and watched as
Bruce removed his sweatpants and crawled into bed in just his underwear, and
bit his lips, blood growing hot again.
This man would be the death of him.
If Bruce was bothered by his lack of clothing, he was too tired to show or
realize it. He curled up and Jack crawled in next to him, wrapping his arms
around him and tangling their legs together.
“You didn’t have to,” Bruce mumbled, and Jack chuckled.
“Oh Brucie, I wouldn’t have even tried if I didn’t want to.”
“I mean... I said you could stop.” Jack tapped his fingers on Bruce’s back,
confused for a moment- before he burst out laughing.
“Oh please sugar, I’ve got no qualms with swallowing.” Bruce blushed despite
his fatigue and Jack laughed, showering his face in quick, soft kisses. Bruce
wrapped his arms around him to still him and nuzzled into his hair, breathing
in the sweet scent that only Jack had and drifting off into one of the most
blissful sleeps he’d ever had.
Bruce woke up to the sound of his cell phone vibrating next to the bed. He’d
placed it on the night stand when he’d first changed the night before, and he
reached for it blinded to shut it up. The clock read eight A.M., and the
vibrations were from the alarm he had set. He’d decided to just go into the
office late that day- not that it mattered, truthfully he could show up
whenever he wanted, but he liked to keep a ritualistic like schedule and take
part in the running of his company.
He sat up and scrolled through his message. Dick had texted him a number of
times- Bruce had admitted to him he was going to be with Jack that evening, and
the message train went from asking if Bruce was there, to snide remarks about
what they could be doing- to a blowjob joke that rang far too true to Bruce and
made him blush- to the simple acknowledgement that Bruce was staying the night
and that Dick would finally shut up.
Sometimes Bruce wondered where he found his friends.
“-Time is it?” Jack mumbled as he rolled over and squinted at Bruce. Bruce set
his phone down.
“Eight. I’ve gotta get up and get ready to head to the office.”
“’Kay,” Jack mumbled, nuzzling into Bruce’s pillow as he stood up. It smelled
like his cologne again. Bruce leaned down and kissed his temple, before
disappearing off towards the bathroom for a quick shower.
When Bruce returned Jack was in the same exact position, breathing calmly-
asleep again. Bruce threw on a fresh set of underwear and slacks, then sat down
on the bed drying his hair and just watching Jack. He looked so calm and
peaceful- which was funny, as Bruce knew the boy was filled with just boundless
energy.
He reached out and stroked along his shoulder and side, and Jack stirred again.
This time when his eyes opened, they were clearer.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I musta fallen asleep. I’m not a morning person.”
“I can tell,” Bruce said with a laugh and Jack sat up, stretching. When he
relaxed he looked back at Bruce- admiring the fact that he was lacking his
shirt still.
“Mmm, who did I please to get you shirtless in my bed?” He asked, suddenly a
little too clear, and Bruce was blushing.
“Jack-“
“Wanna lay back down for me baby?” Jack patted the bed. “If you’re gonna be
stuck in the office all day, I can at least send you off with a little pick-me-
up.”
Bruce blushed- and he wasn’t sure what part of him took over- but he tossed his
towel aside and lay down, looking at Jack with defiant eyes that just dared
him, and Jack was diving for his zipper and swallowing him down, ravenous.
When Bruce left, he was already late, but he was buzzing in a way that wouldn’t
leave him for a good few hours. The last thing he remembered was Jack’s kiss at
the door- the way his lips were salty, his tongue was bitter, and that small
gasp Jack gave him when he slipped his tongue into his mouth and tasted himself
and didn’t care because it was Jack’s tongue and lips that he wanted, needed
and craved and hated to leave behind.
Jack showered after Bruce left- indulged in another fantasy of him- took his
pills, and settled down to wake up with some bad TV when his phone was ringing.
“’Sup Harley?” he asked, seeing her name on his screen.
“Come to lunch,” she said, “a little early maybe? I’ve got a meeting with a
professor this afternoon, but I need my Jackie fix.”
Jack laughed, in high spirits. “Eleven okay?”
“Perfect, Puddin’.”
Jack loved lunches with Harley. If he had it his way, they’d have lunch
together every day. Breakfast was just too early for them, and by dinner they
had their own lives going on- but lunch, it was the perfect break, when they
could take a deep breath and just talk for a minute.
“I’m having lunch with Pam again tomorrow,” Harley said excitedly over his
sandwich. “She called me last night.”
“You might have a shot, Harley,” Jack said with a grin. “Just lay on some of
that charm you’ve got.” She giggled. “So, Bruce stayed the night last night.”
Harley froze, teeth half sunk into her sandwich, and stared. Forced to take her
bite, chew, and swallow, she cursed her desire to not choke, until she could
finally speak. “What? He was even over?” Jack nodded.
“And guess what?”
“Oh lordy me, what Jackie?”
“We’re dating.” He grinned. “Called me his boyfriend and everything.
It’s...it’s kinda serious, Harley. It’s actually something now.” Harley stared
at him, unable to speak, and Jack took her silence as a coax to continue.
“I...I even blew him, Harl.”
“You did what?” She asked, eyes wide, and Jack shrugged a shoulder.
“It wasn’t the first time. I did when we were drunk.” She stared, her face a
bit pale.
“Jack... you don’t...”
“I know,” he admitted, reaching up to trace one of his scars, his chest
tightening. “I know I don’t usually. Not until I’ve let them in...but I just...
I dunno. I couldn’t help it with him. Besides, I got enough practice with Eddie
that it lost most of it’s traumatic affect.”
Harley frowned, stirring her lemonade with her straw. Jack seemed happy, in
fact, he seemed more than happy- but that worried her, too. She knew Jack, and
she knew he was invested now. His break-up with Eddie had left him so
devastated he had spiraled out of control, and she was terrified of it
happening again.
Bruce would just have to never, ever break his heart.
Bruce left the office late that night- nearly nine o’clock. He intended to
drive himself home, take another shower, and curl up in bed with a phone call
to Jack. He wanted to hear his voice, his little pet names and the excitement
from Bruce just calling him. It was nice to have someone so excited about your
existence.
“Bruce.”
He stopped when he heard his named, turned and met the blue stare. Harley had
her arms folded, only relaxing a little as she walked over to him.
“Harley,” he said after a moment, remembering her name, and she gave him a
guarded smile.
“Do you have a minute? I’d like to grab a drink with you.” Something in her
eyes told Bruce more than her lips did- and despite his exhaustion, he nodded
because this was Jack’s best friend and he knew somewhere inside he needed her
approval.
They took a seat inside one of the high end bars and ordered a drink, the dark
which was usually soothing to Bruce in bars unnerving, because he swore her
eyes glowed, so alive.
“So Jack says you two are serious now,” Harley said, sipping at her drink.
Bruce nodded, leaving his scotch untouched. “Must be weird for you. First gay
relationship?”
“It is,” Bruce admitted, fighting the urge to fidget.
“Wonder how that will go over with the tabloids.”
“We’re not public yet,” Bruce said, frowning. “Our close friends and family
know, but that’s about it. Besides, I keep my life very private. The tabloids
get what I want them to- that’s about it.”
“Would you be unhappy if they featured you and Jack?” Bruce stared at her,
waiting for her to continue. “Or would you rather hide him?”
“What’s this all about?” Bruce asked, visibly annoyed now. “I’ve had a long
day, and all I’d really like to do right now is head home, curl up, and call my
boyfriend and hear his voice. So get to the point, Harley.”
Harley tapped her nails on the table- the sound oddly unnerving. “My point is,
Bruce, that Jack is invested in you. Very invested. I told you once before to
get out if you weren’t serious- well, now you’re in. That kid has been through
hell and back twice at least in his life, and he can’t handle much more. So,
darling Bruce, my point is- if you break him, I will break you.”
She sipped her drink, and to passers-by she would have looked simply sweet and
beautiful, but Bruce saw the venom- the hatred.
“I don’t intend to break him,” Bruce said, sighing. While part of him wanted to
just get up and leave at that point, he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave
Harley on a sour note. “This is new to me, so cut me a little slack. I’m trying
to move away from a woman who has done nothing but tear me apart for years. I’m
trying something new- and frankly, I’m a bit scared.” Bruce swallowed. This, he
didn’t like to admit. “I don’t know how long it will take me to get truly
comfortable- but I want to. I care about Jack.”
“Do you love him?” She asked it pointedly, staring him in his dark eyes, and
Bruce swallowed the lump in his throat.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t know what I feel. But I know I care about
him- I like his presence, his voice, and days in the office are getting harder
because I just can’t handle that many hours without him.”
He waited for Harley’s rebuttal- for her disapproval, her speech. It never
came. Instead, she sipped her drink, nodded her head, and the corners of her
lips just twitched up in a small smile.
When Bruce finally got home, showered, and curled up in bed, it was after
eleven. He wasn’t sure how Jack spent his time aside of his art- if he had a
schedule he kept, but he called him despite the late hour, and only had to wait
two rings.
“Hey sugar,” Jack purred. “I was hoping I’d hear from you. Long day?”
“Oh very,” Bruce said. “But I don’t want to talk about it. Are you working?”
“Painting, yeah,” Jack said, shifting his phone a bit.
“Tell me about it,” Bruce said with a sleepy smile, and Jack spoke softly into
his ear as the brush moved across the page, until Bruce was lulled by the sweet
voice.
Chapter End Notes
     Hey everyone! I apologize for the slowing of updates- very busy week
     at work. Another week or two and that will slow down though, and my
     semester will be over, so I'll have plenty of time for updates! I
     hope to get another chapter up within the next few days though. :
     ) Thanks for reading, as always! <3
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Jack fidgeted in the car beside Bruce, who shot his eyes to him, before looking
back at the road. He seemed ready to burst, pent up energy and affection and
nerves.
It was Friday evening, and Bruce hadn’t seen Jack except for a quick lunch date
on Wednesday. He’d left the office for an hour and met him for something light-
and had ended up with the boy pressed against him in a shaking mess of desire
as they kissed. He’d barely been able to focus the rest of the day.
Now, they were heading downtown to meet up with Dick and Jason for a few
drinks, some nightlife. Bruce was not one for clubs and dancing, but as a
young, rich man, it had been expected of him to show up at these things with
his dates from time to time. Dick, on the other hand, had a passion for the
blasting music and gyrations. Whether Jason liked it or not, Bruce wasn’t
entirely sure.
Bruce left his car with a valet and the two walked in, Jack holding onto
Bruce’s arm. He had asked when Bruce first picked him up if he needed to keep
his distance- after all, the odds that someone would recognize Bruce were at
about one hundred percent- but Bruce had said no. He didn’t want to imagine a
night just looking at Jack and missing out on that sweet contact.
Reputation be damned.
Inside, Bruce guided Jack around towards the tables, where Dick and told him
he’d be. Sure enough, Dick was sitting there nursing a drink and grinning, with
a less than enthused looking Jason sitting next to him.
“Hey hey!” Dick called as they sat down. “Nice to see you two getting out. So
Jackie, Bruce says you guys are serious now?” His smile told Jack the alcohol
was making him a little bit happy already, and Bruce- having known Dick for so
long- could tell he’d already had quite a few before the two got here.
Jack was nodding, accepting a drink that a girl dressed in vinyl shorts and a
white tank top was handing him out of nowhere. “Uh, yeah, we are-“
“You’re part of the family now!” He leaned across the table, just reaching, and
kissing Jack’s cheek. Bruce had to guide Dick back to his seat.
“Dick, how many drinks have you had already?”
“One too few,” Dick said, sipping at his and reaching a hand over to rest on
Jason’s thigh. His blue eyes rolled, but the corner of his lips quirked up in a
smile as he reached down and rested his own hand over Dick’s.
Jack was giggling around his drink, trying t move his chair closer to Bruce’s.
He hadn’t spent enough time around Bruce’s friends to really know them, but he
liked Dick being silly. It made him feel more at ease.
“C’mon,” Dick said, standing up, “I’m sick of sitting. I come here to dance
after all!” He was grabbing Jason and Bruce by their arms, pulling them up and
Jack followed quickly, not wanting to be left behind.
Dick led them through the tightly packed dance floor, stopping when he decided
it was right and grinning at the three. He wasted no time moving his hips to
the beat, laughing like he had discovered some sort of freedom, holding a hand
out towards them.
“Do you dance?” Jack asked Bruce, who shrugged a shoulder.
“When I have to. I tried to talk Dick into a quieter night, but he just
refused.” He had to nearly shout in order for Jack to hear him, who smiled and
turned to Jason.
“And you?”
“When he makes me,” Jason said, watching Dick move. Jack sighed.
“You two are too tight. You need to unwind!” And, throwing caution to the wind
and hoping it would make the two laugh and not anger them, Jack walked over to
Dick, reaching out and placing on arm lazily over his shoulder, moving his hips
closer and gyrating to the beat.
Dick grinned and Jack was ran one hand down his side, pulling him closer. “I
knew you’d be fun,” he said over the music, and Jack giggled and could feel
Bruce’s eyes on him.
“Do they look pissed?”
Dick peeked over Jack’s shoulder, saw Bruce and Jason watching them. “Nah, not
pissed. Jason sorta looked amused.”
“Bruce?”
“As possessive as he can be, I think he knows I’m not about to fuck his
boyfriend on the dance floor.” Dick laughed, then perked his eyebrows up when
the other two began to move towards them. “Incoming, doll.”
Before Jack could move, he felt a hand tracing his spine- felt another arm wrap
around him and turn him around. Bruce pulled him closer, chest to chest,
chuckling and running his fingers through those green curls as they moved.
Jack smiled, relieved, and felt Dick behind him suddenly- pressed against him
in the most exciting way, rocking his hips rather obscenely with Jack.
Sandwiched between the two, Jack was rather happy, and grinned like a fool as
he fell into the music- knowing he was more excited than he should be, but
Bruce was just so hot and he couldn’t deny to himself he’d like to get the
chance to be sandwiched between him and Dick in a more private setting. Bruce
had hot friends, after all.
Jack wasn’t sure how much of this his senses could take- the feel of their
breath on him, their eyes, the way their hands touched him here and there and
everywhere, the press of their hips. He was hard and he knew Bruce knew it- and
Dick was hard against him and he liked it and felt bad and amazing at the same
time.
He was almost relieved when he felt Dick pulled away from him, and Bruce shoved
forward a bit. The relief turned to shock though, when Jason barged in and
grabbed him, pulling them flush together and letting one hand trail down his
spine to grab his ass. Jack yelped, jerked, but pressed into him and Jason
chuckled.
“Give ‘em a show,” he murmured into Jack’s ear, lips ghosting his cheek, before
he turned him and ran his hands along his side, up over his abdomen, and Jack
complied because he liked the idea of Bruce watching him. He liked the idea of
Bruce getting hot and bothered by whatever means so long as he was involved.
Jack was sure he was creating a new category of sick, and that Harley was going
to be doing a combination of laughing her ass off, scolding him, and cheering,
when she heard all this.
Jack let himself be passed around between the three until his legs ached and
his lungs burned. Sometimes he wasn’t sure whose lips teased his neck or ear-
and when they were finally slowing down he was buzzing so hard he wondered if
he should have brought some meds. This was sensory overload times ten.
“I need a drink,” Dick said, and Bruce was laughing in agreement.
“Pfft, I need a cigarette. I’ll be back in a few,” Jason said, waving his hand,
and Jack called that he’d be back, following him outside. The moment they burst
into the cold night, Jack leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, the
music and bass still humming inside his skull. “You okay, kid?”
“Just a lot to take in,” Jack said. “Sensory issues.”
“Oh, yeah. Bruce mentioned that once to Dick. Dick relayed it to me. You’d
think he’d realize I don’t need a report of everything that is said to him in
one day.” He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a deep drag. “You gonna
be okay?”
“Yeah, if the blood ever returns to my brain.” The two laughed.
“Pretty hot being sandwiched between them, isn’t it?”
“Would you know?” Jason grinned and took another drag.
“Get a few drinks into Bruce and he’s never minded dancing with Dick and I.
Usually without his lady friends being around- we tried that one time and the
chick just wasn’t any fun. She loved being the center of attention, but the
moment Bruce shifted his attention to one of us, she flipped. You stayed cool
at least, kid.”
Jack shrugged a shoulder, finger combing his curls.
“Kinda hard to get too jealous when I have your boyfriend grinding into my
ass.” He grinned at Jason, who laughed.
“Dick’s a bit of a whore, sorry.”
“Not complaining. You scored with him, he’d pretty hot. But then again, you’re
not bad yourself. Does Bruce just hang out with beautiful people?”
“Oh no, the rich old snobs are hideous. He’s just exposing you to the pretty
ones.” Jason took one last drag, then flicked his cigarette away. “Get enough
air?”
Jack nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Good.”
Before Jack could move, he felt Jason pinning him to the wall, well muscled but
lean body keeping him from moving. His mouth descended and tasted like smoke
and booze, but his tongue was warm and despite Jack’s shock his body was
burning so badly that he accepted it and clutched at him. The kiss was deep but
quick, a rapid shove of Jason’s tongue into his mouth to tangle with and taste
his, and then he was pulling back, chuckling.
He walked inside and left Jack there for a second trying to process what the
hell was going on.
“Where’s Jack?” Bruce asked as Jason walked over and picked up the drink Dick
had ordered for him. As if in answer, Jack was hurrying to catch up, and Bruce
caught him before he could sit down, pulling him down onto his lap and nuzzling
his hair. Jack was shaking and tried to hard to hide it.
“Drink up,” Dick said, “I want a few more dances before we head out.”
“Driving,” Bruce said, “take a shot for me.”
Dick grinned and obliged him, and it seemed all three men were watching his
throat as it worked to swallow the liquid. Jack blushed, trying to avert his
eyes, suddenly feeling like this was all too much, like he wasn’t sure if he
should be indulging or controlling himself or what.
When he was dragged back to the dance floor and pressed so sweetly against
Bruce, watching as Jason finally gave in and moved his body with Dick’s, he
wasn’t sure he’d actually survive the night.
He was still a little buzzed from the alcohol when they all climbed into
Bruce’s car- but mostly his body was just alive with so many feelings, his
heart pounding wildly in his chest. Jason and Dick crawled into the back of
Bruce’s car for a ride home, and Bruce seemed to transform back to the reserved
Bruce that Jack knew.
Jack leaned his head against the cold window and closed his eyes for a moment,
trying to focus on his breathing and not the ache between his legs, but it was
hard with Dick giggling in the back of the car and Jason’s hushed voice.
“Hey,” Bruce said, not looking back, “keep it in your pants, Dick, until you
get home.”
“You’re no fu-oooh.” He cut off and Jason was chuckling and Bruce gripped the
steering wheel.
“Jason-“
“Hey, I’m not doing anything his eyes aren’t telling me to do.”
“Like fucking teenagers,” Bruce said, rolling his eyes, and Jack lifted his
head and looked at him. He shot a glance back, saw Jason tugging on Bruce’s
jeans, and quickly turned back around. He was pretty sure that no matter how
much they had passed him around on the dance floor, he wasn’t meant to see any
of that.
“Dick, I swear,” Bruce was saying as they stopped at a red light and he looked
back, “If you don’t tell Jason to stop, they only thing that’ll be fucking you
is my damn fist.”
Jack laughed at that- cackled, actually, and Jason joined him. Dick’s face
turned bright red, but he muttered something about how Bruce would enjoy it,
and Jason only laughed harder.
“Oh god,” he said, wiping his eyes. “If you two ever fuck it would be the
funniest shit ever.”
“It’d be half hot and half threatening,” Jack said, before he giggled, “eh,
make that all hot.”
“Jack!” Bruce said, looking at him, and the boy grinned.
“I’m just playin’ baby,” he said, reaching over and daring to run his hand over
Bruce’s thigh. Having Dick and Jason there gave him a little courage.
Once Dick and Jason had been left at Dick’s expensive 15th floor apartment,
though, that courage began to die. Jack retracted back to himself as Bruce
drove, expecting to be heading back home to his empty bed. He was pondering on
the idea of convincing Bruce to stay the night, when his thoughts were
interrupted.
“So, I was thinking,” Bruce said, not taking his eyes off the road, “Maybe
you’d want to come over? Stay the night at my place. I’ve missed you, I don’t
really want to just take you home.”
Jack felt his tongue turn to lead in his mouth, and all he could do was nod
foolishly and watch Bruce smile ever-so-slightly.
When Jack followed Bruce into the elevator to ride up to the penthouse, he was
in awe. He’d never come from money or really been around it- sure, his art
could make him some, but he’d rather have it be enjoyed by the masses- and the
fact that Bruce had an elevator in his house gave him this odd rush.
The doors closed and Bruce turned to him, giving him a dark smile, and Jack
felt his back pressed into the tiny metal hand railing as Bruce sank his hands
into his hair and kissed him feverishly. Jack’s head spun and he felt his knees
buckling. He clung to Bruce for dear life as his mouth was opened, tasted the
faintness of alcohol and Bruce’s sweet lips, and he groaned and Bruce just dove
deeper.
He only pulled away when the elevator stopped, stepped back one step and turned
when the doors open. He took Jack’s hand and led him off, Jack stumbling a
little and trying to remember to breathe.
They’d barely gotten off the elevator when footsteps echoed and Alfred came
into view. “Welcome home, sir,” he said, and when he saw Jack he smiled. “Hello
Jack.”
“Hi Alfred,” Jack said, offering a small wave and a blush, and Bruce was
smiling.
“Go get some sleep Alfred,” Bruce said, “I said you didn’t need to wait until I
got home.”
“Just making sure all is well, sir,” he said, walking past them to the
elevator. “If you need anything, I’ll be in my own room.”
The moment those doors closed Bruce was pulling Jack to him and tangling his
hands in his hair again, kissing him. Jack whimpered and shook, loving it but
being so overwhelmed he felt like he might burst.
“Baby,” he mewled, pulling back just a little. “I...I need a minute. Tonight
was...was so much, I don’t know if I can process anything right now.” He
blushed. “I probably should have asked you to stop at my place so I can grab my
meds.”
Bruce smiled, but his eyes looked a little concerned. He kissed Jack’s
forehead. “What can I do to help?”
“Mind if I shower?” Jack asked. “Always calms me down. Besides- I feel a little
gross. There’s sweat drying in places that just are not flattering.”
Bruce laughed at that, wrapping an arm around Jack’s shoulders and guiding him
around the penthouse towards his bedroom- and the adjoining bathroom.
Jack closed his eyes and let the steaming water run over his face and hair. He
needed this. The heat was a bit much, but it blocked out everything else he was
feeling, let him get a hold of himself. He thought each breath out, and when he
thought he was calm enough, he chanced feelings by lathering shampoo into his
hair. Enough to ease him into other textures, feelings, smells.
Part of him had wanted Bruce to stay in the bathroom and watch him undress, but
he had left him alone and retired to his own room to wait for him. It might
have been for the better though- Jack was painfully hard then, and still was.
Calming himself down from his near hyper-sensory meltdown hadn’t calmed his
arousal. Bruce’s body still linged against his skin, and Dick’s and Jason’s,
and Bruce’s lips on the elevator, the way he pinned him.
Jack sighed. Bruce hadn’t shown an interest in touching Jack, in doing anything
more than kissing him- but those lips told a story his mind didn’t want to
tell. And Jack couldn’t help but wonder if now was the time to break him just a
bit.
Bruce heard him calling softly, and got up from his bed where he lay. He was in
nothing but a pair of sweatpants and had been ready to surprise Jack when he
came out, hoping to tangle with him in the bed a bit- to waht end, he wasn’t
entirely sure.
Bruce knocked once on the door, and Jack was calling for him to come in for
just a second. Bruce could still hear the water running, and wondered what he
was up to. He opened the door and was met by steam, and Jack pulling the shower
curtain back. The steam seemed to radiate off him, the water still hitting him
and running down him in hot little streams. Bruce stared for a moment, eyes
trying to take everything in and his mind unable to keep up, and Jack was
smiling his coy little smile.
“Come join me,” he said, biting his lower lip, and Bruce was walking towards
him and reaching for him, pulling his wet chest against his and kissing him
deeply. Jack wound his arms around him, pulling him closer and pushed back with
force- trying to control the kiss. One of his hands trailed down Bruce’s side
and grabbed the hem of his sweatpants, pushing them down. “Please sugar,” he
whispered against Bruce’s lips. “You teased me so bad tonight. Come play a
little.”
Bruce groaned, and Jack smirked. He had him. He leaned back, and Bruce barely
breathed before he was pushing his clothing off and stepping in, pressing to
Jack so their very fibers entangled. Jack gasped when his sex brushed Bruce’s,
losing his control for a moment as Bruce explored his wet body eagerly, hands
reaching for his hips. Jack planted his lips to Bruce’s neck and kissed and
nibbled, one hand reaching up to tease one of his nipples as a hand grabbed his
ass and made Jack shake.
“Careful,” he breathed, “Or I’ll be asking you to fuck me, and not just touch
me.” The moment the words left his lips Jack blushed. He hadn’t meant to
actually say that. He wanted to push Bruce, but he didn’t want to push too
hard, didn’t want to drive him away.
To Jack’s surprise though, Bruce gasped and reached between them, wrapping a
hand around Jack and stroking him, staring so intently into him that Jack
shook. Bruce had never touched another man, and all he could think to do was
stroke Jack the way he’s touch himself, his thumb swirling over the head and
the sensitive nerves right below it where he joined the shaft. From the moan
that escaped Jack, he was pretty sure he was right.
“Bru-uce,” he whimpered, the sound being torn from his throat, as he tipped his
head back and let the hot water drench him. Bruce gripped him tighter, his
heart thudding in his chest. Jack, in that moment, was possibly the most
beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
When he threw himself forward, closer, he reached down and gripped Bruce’s
cock, stroking him to the same rhythm Bruce was using. Bruce gasped, and Jack’s
chest was rising and falling rapidly, so close.
“-With me,” he was muttering, “come with me.” Bruce gasped, realized how hard
he’d been the whole time only as Jack’s hand slid along him perfectly, as that
mouth pressed to the sensitive spot on his neck, just below his ear. “Come with
me.”
Bruce cried out, gripped Jack tighter, who echoed his cry. They shook as their
orgasms ripped through them, as they crumbled and then Jack’s mouth was on
Bruce’s, sucking the breath from his lungs, the marrow from his bones, the very
sanity from his brain.
He clutched him close and let it all go, because he didn’t need to be sane to
be around this boy.
Chapter End Notes
     I wanted so badly for there to just be a crazy foursome, if you
     couldn't tell. But that just didn't work with Bruce's character... :(
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Notes
     Trigger Warning: Self harm.
Jack rolled over onto his back, sighing as the warm air settled on his naked
chest. Next to him, he could hear soft breathing, and slowly he opened his eyes
to a dark ceiling that wasn’t his.
He looked next to him, saw Bruce sleeping soundly, and smiled. His body tingled
remember Bruce’s hand, the press of him, the way they had tumbled to the bed
and touched and kissed and just explored. He might not have gotten Bruce in
every way, but he’d take what he could get. It was a big step.
He got out of bed, completely naked, and walked over to the heavily curtained
window. He peaked outside, met a graying sky that promised later rain, and the
bustling city.
“Come back to bed.”
He turned at the mumble, saw Bruce was watching him with those nearly black
eyes. He smiled and walked back, crept under the cover and into his waiting
arms. Sighing happily as he nestled into Bruce’s warmth, he traced his
shoulders.
“It’s late baby,” he said, knowing he had to be right. “I need to get back to
my apartment.”
Bruce frowned. “Why so soon?” he asked, and Jack giggled.
“Why, my other boyfriend is waiting for me.”
Bruce leaned back, staring at him, eyes so serious, and Jack just laughed. “Oh
doll, I was playing. There’s no one else- you know that. I just need my meds is
all. I really should have had you just swing by last night before we came
here.”
Bruce sighed, nestling into his hair again. Yeah, they could wait another five
minutes for that.
“You know, last night,” Jack was saying as they drove down the street, the
window down so his curls were wiping around, “When I went outside to get some
air, Jason kissed me.”
He said it very matter-of-factly- because that’s how, looking back, he felt
about it. It had happened, and he’d been on such an aroused high that he’d gone
with it for a moment. But his heart hadn’t been in it. It just was there, a
little spot in time he thought Bruce should know about.
“Jason’s an odd one.”
“Are you mad?”
“Not in the slightest. Like I said, he’s odd. I don’t see you running off to
him anytime soon.” Jack laughed and reached over, taking one of Bruce’s hands
and tangling their fingers together. He wouldn’t be running off to anyone.
Bruce offered to stay, but Jack laughed and said he’d call him later. If Bruce
stayed, he wouldn’t get any painting done at all, and he’d rumor that Oswald
wanted to host a new show. He needed to have some new work.
He headed up the stairs, humming quietly to himself, feeling better than he had
in a very long time. He reached the third floor and began down the hallway, on
auto pilot, so engrossed in the joy in his veins he didn’t notice the figure
leaning against his door until those dark green eyes were staring into his and
he was only a few feet away.
Jack froze and a smile crossed the man’s handsome face. No.
No, not now.
“Jackie baby,” he said, reaching a hand out and wrapping it around his wrist to
pull him closer, “How ya been, doll?”
Jack swallowed, the world suddenly crashing down around him.
Ed followed him inside his apartment without an invitation. He’d never needed
one. “So how ya been babe?” he asked again, looking around the apartment that
hadn’t changed much in the year since he’d left Jack.
“Fine,” was all Jack could muster as he made a bee line for his kitchen,
shaking hands reaching for his pills. This wasn’t happening.
This couldn’t be happening. Not now, not when it was so perfect.
“Kinda late for your pills,” Ed said as he watched Jack take them dry, so
desperate to get them in his body. He prayed Ed would disappear when they hit
his belly- that he was hallucinating, that as wall. “You been out all night?”
“Yeah,” Jack said, turning to him- frustrated because he was still there with
those deep forest eyes and that cocky smile and that red hair that was so soft.
“I was, so I’m pretty tired. Why don’t you get out.”
“Ooooh Jackie baby, who lit a fire under your ass?” He walked closer, pinning
Jack to the counter in a fluid motion and reaching behind him, grabbing his
ass. “Used to be only I could do that.”
“Eddie,” Jack said- less forceful now, more pleading. “Please, just leave.”
“Tell me you missed me.”
“I didn’t.” It was a lie- Jack knew it, Ed knew it. Jack had missed him so
badly at one point he’d gone off his meds and ended up in the hospital for two
days. He’d needed therapy every day for a month just to get back to
functioning-
Edward had been everything to him, the only person he let inside aside of
Harley. The man he’d fallen for, he’d given himself to willingly and trusted
and loved and needed and then he left because Jack was too much and he wanted
some room to play.
Seeing him was like seeing a ghost, and Jack wanted to pluck his eyes out so he
never had to see him again.
“You’re a liar.” He leaned closer. “You missed me. You missed me so bad.” He
closed the gap, kissed Jack, who froze up, struck by the familarirty of his
lips, the taste of cigarettes and mint on his tongue. He froze, and then he
reached between them and pushed on his chest, trying to get away. Ed reached up
then, stroking one of Jack’s scars, and that was it.
Jack shoved him harder, and Edward stumbled back. Glaring, Jack made a fist and
let it connect with Ed’s jaw, making him stumble again.
“I said get out,” Jack said, panting. “I said get the fuck out, and don’t come
back. I don’t want to see you, Eddie. I don’t even want to know you exist
anymore.”
Ed rubbed his jaw, chuckling. “You really grew a pair, babe,” he said, “Almost
makes me sad. I liked the little Jackie who rolled over and begged me for it.”
“Get out before I throw you out in pieces.”
“Whatever,” Ed said, walking towards the door. “But just remember babe, I’m
back in Gotham now, if you ever change your mind.”
The door shut and Jack slumped against the counter, shaking as a silent sob
ripped through him. Just when everything was perfect.
Harley was sitting at lunch with Pamela when her phone began to ring. She
apologized and looked at it, saw Jack’s number, and shrugged a shoulder. It
couldn’t be anything too important.
“Oh go on, answer it,” Pam said with a sweet smile, and Harley unlocked her
phone and lifted it to her ear.
“Hey Jackie.”
“He’s back.” Jack sounded broken, she could hear his voice trembling.
“Jack, who’s back?”
“He was here. God, Harley, he was here. He was real and I could feel him and he
was in my apartment.”
“Jack, you’re not making sense-“
“It was perfect, Harley. It was all perfect and then he came here with those
eyes and kissed me and what the hell am I doing with myself. He’s tearing me
apart again.”
Harley’s face dropped, pupils dilating just a bit. She knew then, she knew who
was back in Gotham. The one man who had broken Jack so thoroughly she thought
she’d never get him back.
“I’m coming over,” she said. “You lock your door, and do not let anyone but me
in. Jackie, it’s okay, I swear. I’ll be there soon- don’t do anything stupid.”
She hung up and looked at Pam. “I’m so sorry Pam, I have to run. Jack...he
needs me.”
“It’s okay,” Pam said, standing up with Harley and taking her hand. “We’ll just
get a rain check on this.” She smiled and leaned in, kissing Harley’s cheek so
her skin tingled in such a way it never had.
When Harley got to Jack’s and knocked on the door, she could hear him undoing
every lock he had. He pulled her in and locked the door again, his eyes looking
wild.
“Jack,” she said, concerned. “Oh Puddin’, it’s okay. He’s gone. Ed can’t do
shit to you baby.”
“I thought he was gone from Gotham for good,” Jack said, “when he...he...he
left me, that’s what he said. God Harley, I’m not ready to face him.”
“Jack,” she said, placing her hands on his shoulders and looking into his
frantic green eyes. “Jackie, I need to know something. Think on this, okay? Do
you still love Ed?”
Jack didn’t say anything, just stared at her, let his mind flow back to his ex-
boyfriend’s hands on him, his mouth, those butterflies he got around him-
The feeling of never knowing when he was coming home, who he was with. Seeing
those men and women he’d run into with lust in their eyes. Catching him with
them. The feeling of not being enough.
He was shaking when he said quietly, “No. No, I don’t.”
Harley breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. That’s good. Then it doesn’t matter
that he’s here. You’ve got Bruce- he cares about you, Jack. I hope I don’t
regret saying this- but I think he’s good for you. How about we call him, and
maybe you can spend a little time with him? I bet that will make everything
seem better.”
“I crashed with him last night,” Jack said, and by the way his cheeks tinged
pink, Harley didn’t need to ask if anything had happened. “He wanted me to stay
with him today, but I...I needed my meds and I need to get some work done,
rent’s due soon and I need to scrap some cash together-“
“Jack, stop,” Harley said. “Baby, just stop. Your art isn’t going anywhere.
You’ve got plenty of time before you’ve got a show. Go see your boyfriend.”
“But-“
“We’ll talk about rent after. If you sell one of your pieces, you’d have it
easily. I know you hate the idea, but it might be time, Puddin’. That doesn’t
mean no one can ever enjoy it again, except the person who buys it.”
Jack swallowed, slumping down. “Yeah...yeah, okay. Let me call him, see what’s
up.”
Harley smiled, nodding her head as Jack walked off and she closed her eyes for
a moment. Crisis narrowly avoided.
When Jack called Bruce though, he was at the office, about to walk into a
sudden board meeting. He’d figured since Jack had needed the time, he could
attend.
“I can pick you up after,” Bruce said, unaware of Jack’s sad, pleading eyes.
“How’s that?”
“Yeah...yeah, that’ll work,” he said, as he heard voices talking to Bruce in
the background, and wondered if Bruce even really realized what he was saying.
“I’ll see you later.”
The line went dead, and Jack slumped down onto his bed. He took a moment to
compose himself, then walked out to the living room, saw Harley going through
the little journal they kept detailing his works- she was trying to find a few
he could part with easily, he knew, and it made his stomach sick, even if it
had to be done.
His art was the one good thing he could do with his life, and beyond wanting
everyone to always be able to enjoy the original, he didn’t want them ripped
from his fingertips. It was something to cling to, it always hurt to sell
pieces.
“Bruce is going to pick me up later,” Jack said. “Why don’t you call Pam and
see if you can grab drinks tonight? I feel really bad about your date getting
messed up because of me.”
“Don’t worry your pretty head about it,” Harley said, flipping through the
pages. “I can make it up later with her. I’ll stay with you until Bruce gets
here.”
“I should really get some work done though,” Jack said, “And I don’t know if I
can paint with you watching. Not today, anyway.”
Harley looked up at him, sighed, and closed the book. She stood up and place
her hand on his shoulder.
“Jack...I can stay. You know I can always stay.” He smiled, reaching up to hold
her hand.
“I know Harley, I know. But you have a life, you can’t let your world revolve
around me.” Harley cringed a bit- because it was true, but she didn’t want to
admit it. Maybe a part of her still longed for Jack in a way she couldn’t have
him- a way sometimes he wished was possible, because life would just have been
easier. So much easier.
She nodded and leaned in, giving him a peck on the lips- unable to make herself
steer to his cheeks. He let her, squeezed her hand, but that was it. Harley
pulled away a moment later, heading to the door.
“Call me,” she said, “for anything. I’ll get here in ten seconds flat.”
Jack gave her a sad smile as she opened the door and walked out.
Bruce had been walking into the conference room when Jack had called, and had
been so wrapped up in everything that was being said around him, it had barely
registered he needed to be anywhere. The meeting ran most of the day, and when
he was finally leaving, it was getting dark. Exhausted, Bruce, who had driven
himself today, was heading for his car when a familiar, smooth voice called out
his name.
“Bruce, darling.” He froze, turned around and saw her deep brown hair, only a
few shades lighter than his, framing her elegant face, and those dark, dark
eyes.
“Talia,” he said, a breath that had escaped him that happened to grace her
name. She smiled and walked over to him, until she stood only a step away.
“I said I was coming back.” She reached out, ran her hand down his chest,
stopped to stroking his tie with her thumb. “We need to talk, darling. Can we
go somewhere private? I’m staying just a few blocks away in the hotel, why
don’t we go there?”
Sirens were blasting in Bruce’s head. This, this was the worst idea possible.
He needed to stay in the open with her. Grab some coffee and sit and talk, if
that was she what she wanted. But he knew Talia, and “talking” never meant
talking.
But he was opening the door for her and helping her into his car, because that
was what he did. Bruce Wayne always caved to Talia, she was so deep inside him
now there were no other options.
Jack tapped his fingers on the arm of his couch. It was late now, too late.
Bruce still wasn’t there, and he hadn’t even heard from him. He was looking at
his phone, debating, needing to call him, but wanting to not. He could do this.
Deep breaths, he could work through everything on his own.
Ed’s fingers on his scars felt like fire, a hot knife, like his face was being
cut open again and he could feel the blood rushing from the wounds, could feel
the sting as skin parted and was shoved open wide-
Jack grabbed his phone and frantically called Bruce. He couldn’t do this alone.
Talia was sitting on the bed when Bruce’s phone started buzzing. She picked it
up, but didn’t recognize the name “Jack”. Frowning, she lifted it to her ear.
“Hello?”
“Uhm-“ Jack said, caught off guard. “I, Uh, I’m looking for Bruce-“
“Sorry sweetheart,” she said, looking down at her nails. “He’s going to be
occupied for the night. Try him again in the morning. But not early.”
She ended the call before Jack could say anything else, and set the phone back
on the nightstand. Bruce walked back in a moment later, having shed his jacket
and loosened his tie.
“Sit down,” she said, gesturing to the bed, and Bruce stood rigid.
“No thanks.” She frowned, then reclined back.
“Honey, this isn’t the way to greet me when I’ve been away-“
“You weren’t away Talia,” he said, his voice sounding a bit bitter, “you left.
There’s a difference. I think you keep forgetting that.” She frowned, folding
her arms.
“You make me regret coming back.”
“Good. Stop doing it.” Talia froze, staring at Bruce, who was glaring at her.
“I can’t do this anymore. We’re off and on more times than I can count. We’re
done, Talia. We’re just done.”
“We’re never done, Bruce-“
“We are now. You’ve moved on countless times, just do it again. I finally did.”
She stared, arms slowly unfolding, and moved to the edge of the bed.
“You...what?”
“I found someone,” Bruce said, “And he’s amazing. A little odd, yeah, but
amazing. And he makes me feel...feel more than you ever did, Talia.”
“He?!” She stood up then. “Oh Bruce, you don’t mean to tell me you’re gay or
something. Maybe that’s why this never worked. Don’t tell me it’s Dick.”
Bruce laughed at that, an honest laugh. “It’s not,” he offered with a faintly
fond smile. “Swear it. And I’m not gay- he’s just...he’s right, Talia. And I
won’t throw that away.”
She closed the gap, reached out and placed her hand on his chest. Part of her
wanted to slap him, because Bruce Wayne had always been her’s, regardless if
they were together or not- but part of her was a bit relieved. Part of her knew
she needed to leave for good, but she just couldn’t.
“For what it’s worth,” Bruce said, reaching up and squeezing her hand, “it
wasn’t all bad.”
“No,” she said, smiling a sad sort of smile. “No, it wans’t darling. There was
good. There was a lot of good at times. I wouldn’t trade him for the world.”
“Neither would I,” Bruce admitted. “But I need to leave now, Talia. It’s better
that way.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat, but nodded. Bruce gathered uo his jacket
and phone and walked to the door, stepping out. He turned to say good-bye, and
leaned down, kissing her cheek.
“Good-bye, Talia,” he whispered, and she whispered it back, before closing the
door on a part of Bruce’s life he was ready to leave behind.
He made his way to his car, and once inside, looked at the time. Nearing
midnight. Frowning, he pulled out his phone to call Jack- only realizing now he
had said something about seeing him tonight when he was going to the meeting.
The call went straight to voice mail- strange, but Bruce assumed he had gone to
bed, and sighed, waiting for the beep.
“Hey Jack, I guess you’re sleeping. I’m sorry, my meeting went way later than I
thought, and then some stuff came up. I guess I’ll just head home. Call me
tomorrow? I’ll make up for this.”
Bruce hung up, set his phone down, and drove home with thoughts of some sleep
and a dreamless night- one where Talia didn’t need to haunt him.
Jack didn’t know the female that spoke to him- never got much of a chance to
ask as she hung up before he could say much. But his mind said one name, Talia,
and he couldn’t shake it. The mythical woman who held Bruce’s heart in a vice-
and she had answered, he was busy, he was with her.
Jack stared at his phone, and then chucked it across the room. It thudded onto
the carpet, and he reached up, tugging at his curls and curling up into a ball
on the couch, shaking. Bruce is with her, Bruce is with her, Bruceiswithher. It
was a mantra, over and over and over again in his head, and he couldn’t shake
it. Better, better than him. Why else would Bruce go off back to her?
Jack stood up and paced the room, shaking still. He’d done something, Oh god
what had he done- what did he do to drive Bruce back? Did he say something? Did
he not?
Was Bruce just sick of staring at his ugly face?
He walked into the bathroom, flipping on the light and staring into the mirror
at his face. He traced one long scar with an index finger, before he growled
animal-like and primal at himself and reached back, smashing his fist into the
mirror. The glass shattered and drove into his knuckles and he howled and
reeled back, watching the blood well up around the shards. He plucked them out,
stumbling form the bathroom and leaving blood drops in the carpet. It trickled
down his hand and looked so pretty that he stopped at his easels. Emerald eyes
with questions marks stared back- Eddie, immortalized in paint, and he dragged
his fingers down it, leaving blood streaks behind.
“Pluck your eyes out,” he muttered, smearing the blood over Eddie’s eyes. Eddie
who had healed him so much, who had been loved by him so deeply- who had thrown
it all away because he didn’t want to be tied down to someone so crazy, so
dedicated to his work- didn’t want to be tied down to one mouth and one ass.
He fell down to his knees, hanging his head and closing his eyes. His scars
burned, his face felt like fire, and he was smearing the blood on his lips and
along them, into a big red smile before he knew what he was doing. Hide it all
behind a smile and forget, forget all that had done, all the bleeding and the
tears and the death of himself. Forget it all and be reborn into something that
didn’t care.
“Bruce,” he whimpered- God, he had fallen hard. He had loved him the moment he
saw him in the bar- a perfect god of dark hair and black eyes and dazzling
smiles. He’d loved him, that’s what it was and he wouldn’t deny it now- loved
and lost and wanted and was denied and rejected.
He tore the canvas with Eddie’s bloodied picture down and threw it, standing up
and heading to the kitchen. He ripped open the cupboard and took out his
prescriptions, opening them and dumping the pills down the sink. He dind’t want
to be sane in the world anymore- he was sick and tired of being used, of being
fucked without anyone asking hey, is it good for you?
When they were all gone he went to his room and sat on the bed, pulling his
knees up to his chest and clinging to them as he rocked and sobbed. Something
inside him called her name, Harley, but his phone was gone and he couldn’t hold
onto that sane voice long enough. The break had been so long coming- building
up since Eddie first left, building from the last minor break where he’d
threshed so badly he’d hit his head and been in the hospital for two days,
where he had wanted to die because he couldn’t imagine a world without him, and
swore he’d never let that happen again.
And here he was, with the same problem once again. Bruce had found something
better, and Jack was left ugly and alone. Always.
His mind stopped. He tranced, didn’t move for a few hours, until his clock read
four AM and he suddenly sparked back to life. His hand stung and hurt to move,
so he flexed it extra, hissed at the pain because it reminded him he was real.
He left his bed and walked back to the living room, grabbing a blank canvas and
a brush and walking to the bathroom. The remains of the mirror clung to the
wall, and a grinning face stared back at him- finding all this funny, big and
red and happy.
Jack plucked one of the pieces of glass off the wall and dragged it along his
arm. His skin opened up and he didn’t even feel it, and as the blood welled up
he swiped his brush through it, dragging it along the canvas and smiling
smiling smiling.
***** Chapter 10 *****
Chapter Notes
     Trigger warnings: Sexual violence/abuse/rape, mutilation, underage.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Sunday evening, and Harley was sitting on her couch flipping through television
channels. She knew she had work to be doing- but really, she didn’t feel like
it. She’d had a great lunch with Pam, and had plans to meet her tomorrow night
for drinks.
Harley was sure she’d do it then- she’d tell her she was so pretty and touch
her hand. And when she blushed or laughed, she’d lean in, and plant just one
kiss on her. Just one. She wasn’t sure if she was crazy- but she had been
getting the vibe from Pamela that it’d be welcome. Maybe she had caught Jack’s
crazy.
Jack. She hadn’t heard from him. He was with Bruce last night, so she hadn’t
expected to- probably getting his brains fucked out- but she had expected
something that day. She’d been so wrapped up in Pam she had forgotten.
She clicked his picture in her contacts, but her call went straight to voice
mail. Weird. She hung up, waited a moment, tried again. Same thing.
Jack never did that, unless he was in the midst of a stroke of genius. Even on
dates, it’d ring a few times. Unless he and Bruce were marathon-sexing it up,
there was no way he’d ignore her calls or leave his phone off.
She tried one last time, and when he didn’t pick up, she decided she’d head
over to his apartment. It was a short drive, and if he wasn’t there no big
deal. If he was, she could yell at him.
Twenty minutes later and she was there. She knocked on the door, but there was
no answer. Shaking her head, she figured he must still be with Bruce- but then
she heard it. A soft rustle, something squeaking, like his mattress. Very
faint- in fact, she’d later wonder how she even heard it out in the hallway.
Worried now, what is Eddie had gotten in and was waiting for Jack? He wasn’t
that crazy- he hadn’t been the best influence on Jack, though, she knew. He’d
helped him heal in a sense, helped him move on from the trauma of his
childhood, but he’d only encouraged self destructive tendencies- and had plenty
of his own.
Pulling out her key, she unlocked the door and stepped inside, dropping her key
the moment the door was open and she could see the living room.
Eddie’s ruined portrait lay on the floor, smeared with something dark, and
despite there being no lights and the curtains being drawn, she could see
streaks in the carpet. She took a few steps in and realized it was dry, a dark
rust and oh god it was blood.
She stopped in the doorway and looked over at the bathroom. She could see the
broken mirror, the sink pink with blood- still fresh looking, and the splatters
of it all over the bathroom tiles.
She heard the squeak of the mattress and turned, heading straight for the
bedroom, her steps quickening with each breath. She threw the door open and
stared into the near dark, her hand flying up to cover her mouth.
Jack was sitting on the bed, shirt torn off, fingers red and sticky, tracing a
large grinning face onto his chest. His face was freshly painted in a bloody
grin, and Harley couldn’t tell where he was bleeding from at this point.
She rushed over, reaching for him, grabbing the hand that was painting his
chest. “Jack!” she cried, and when he looked up with his green eyes, there
wasn’t a trace of him there.
Harley tapped her foot every few moments when she’d stop pacing, before she
began again. She wasn’t allowed back where they were stitching Jack up, and
instead stood in the hospital waiting room, unable to sit still. She looked at
her phone every few minutes to check the time, trying to remember when they
took Jack back.
She heard the footsteps before she saw him. But when Bruce came into view she
waited until he was closer, until he was opening his mouth to ask why she had
asked him to rush over, and then her fist was connecting with that handsome jaw
and making him stumble back.
Shocked, Bruce reached up to cradle it, and Harley readied another.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t beat you into oblivion,” she hissed, and if the busy
nurses noticed, they didn’t care. Bruce stared at her, confused, and shoved her
arm away.
“What the hell,” he said, standing up. “You call me over here in a panic and
don’t explain anything, and then attack me.”
“He was supposed to be with you!”
Confused, Bruce opened his mouth- and then it clicked. Jack. “What’s happened
to Jack?” His voice broke at his name, and Harley narrowed her eyes.
“He broke the fuck down,” she said, “and I wanna know why. Why wasn’t he with
you?”
“I...I...” Bruce hesitated, before he pulled his phone out and checked his
calls. Sure enough, Jack had called him when he had been with Talia- and it had
been picked up. She’d spoken to him.
“Bruce.” It was stern, and he looked up, dark eyes defeated.
“She came back, and I swear Harley, I was just talking to her and telling her
we were through. I wasn’t in the room...she, she must have answered his call.
Fuck, I don’t know what she said-“
“Doesn’t matter,” Harley said, “You were with someone else, and Jack got that.
That’s all he needed. If he dies, I swear to god Bruce, I will fucking kill
you. I will tear you piece by fucking piece apart-“
“What do you mean die?” Bruce asked, face going pale, and Harley couldn’t keep
the anger in her eyes.
“He was bleeding out everywhere Bruce. He...he’s a mess.” Slumping down into a
chair, Harley explained the state she had found him in- the way he had painted
himself, the stains in the carpet, the broken mirror- and the creepy self
portrait he had done in blood and black ink, where his scars were opening up
into a big red grin.
Bruce sat down next to her, shaking.
“They didn’t tell me shit when they took him back,” Harley said, pressing her
forehead into her palm. “They just took him away and wouldn’t tell me anything.
God, I should have known this was coming. They changed his meds after the last
breakdown and it just isn’t enough. I should have seen that this was going to
happen-“
“Don’t blame yourself,” Bruce said.
“No, you’re right,” she said, straightening up. “I’ll blame you. And fucking
Eddie for coming back.”
“Who?”
“Jack’s ex,” she said. “The ex that came at the time when he needed to heal the
most, and left him a broken mess because Eddie can’t keep it in his pants. Jack
was so devastated, it took forever to get him back to the point he’s at. But
they changed his meds, and I don’t think it’s ever been enough. The stress gets
to him so badly.”
Bruce didn’t say anything for a moment. He wanted to speak, but he didn’t know
what to say. Before he could, a Doctor was walking toward them, and Harley was
jumping to their feet.
“Miss Quinzel?” he asked, and she nodded. “Your friend is patched up. He lost a
lot of blood- I’m impressed he was conscious. He’s sedated right now, but he
should make a full recovery. I’ve gone ahead and called his personal
psychiatrist, Dr. Crane. We’re going to want to consult with him on what is
going to be the safest move for Jack from here.”
Harley nodded. “Can...can I see him?”
The man hesitated, then nodded. “For a few minutes,” he said, “We don’t want to
put stress on him. You two can have a few minutes- then go home. I’ll have
someone call you in the morning.”
Harley nodded and the doctor turned to lead them down the hall. Bruce followed
before he was invited- but for all her anger, Harley didn’t stop him.
The doctor left them in the open doorway to Jack’s room, heading off to another
patient no doubt, and the two stood there, looking in. The room was dark, and
Jack lay on the sheets, hair fanned out, eyes closed. The machine he was hooked
up to was beeping, a steady, annoying sound that reminded them he was still
alive- but there had been a chance he hadn’t been.
Harley walked in, Bruce behind, and stepped up to the bed. She reached out and
took his hand, stroking his soft skin.
“Oh Puddin’,” she whispered, and looked away. No, she wouldn’t cry. She’d
bawled when he broke the first time- she’d bawled so much for Jack because
someone had to cry for him.
Bruce reached out and covered their hand with his, squeezing.
“Jack,” he whispered. “Oh god, I’m sorry Jack. It’s...it wasn’t...she...” His
voice broke, and Bruce gave up, hanging his head. Harley leaned against him,
the anger gone- and the two stood watching over the one love that connected
them.
“He’s a fighter,” Harley whispered as they walked out of the hospital. The
night was dark, rather cold, and the world seemed empty around them. She
plopped down on a bench, exhausted, and Bruce sat next to her. “All his life he
has been. God, he just needs a break. Someone else to fight for him for once.”
“Harley-“
“Save it for him, Bruce,” she said, reaching over and patting his knee. “I’m
sorry I punched you. I’m not happy you ended up with whatever her name is
instead of taking Jack, but...but you’re here, and you care. And Jack will
understand when he wakes up.” She looked down. “But Bruce...you need to know,
Jack he...he’s gonna need help. He’s going to need a lot of help. He never got
all that he needed, and I just hope it’s not too late.”
She looked over at him, her eyes sad. “You need to know about him, Bruce. You
need to know what created that beautiful disaster.”
And when Harley spoke, Bruce listened. He listened and pictured Jack at the age
of thirteen, beautiful and blonde and unscarred and just wanting some sort of
love. His parents didn’t care- mom was a prescription drug addict, dad an
alcoholic with at least two girlfriends at the time. Neither had time for the
kid they had never meant to have, but couldn’t afford to abort. Neither cared
what he did or didn’t do.
Jack just wanted someone to care. So when a highschooler was paying attention
to him on his walks home, living in the same part of town, Jack was smitten by
him. Old enough to want, young enough to not truly know, Jack began to worship
the ground this guy walked on.
So, when he asked Jack to sneak out one night to see him, Jack obeyed. He
climbed out of his window while mom lay passed out and dad jerked it to some
nasty VHS porn, and snuck out to the old bridge with the graffiti, thinking
he’d get something he didn’t quite know he wanted.
And yeah, the guy was there waiting- and he kissed Jack, still naive, still
sweet- and he ran his hands over him and when he got too handsy too fast and
Jack tried to push him away, he changed. He growled and shoved him to the
ground, called out and that was when the other two appeared, friends of his,
and the grabbed Jack and hoisted him up to his knees, holding him steady while
the guy unzipped his jeans.
Jack shook because he was scared and he didn’t know what to do- but he didn’t
want to scream because what would people think anyway but when a hand went
behind his head and shoved his face into the guy’s crotch, he opened his mouth
and let a broken sound escape. When the guy’s erection filled the gap and cut
off the cry, Jack choked and couldn’t move because his mouth was tiny and he
was so little and he was sobbing.
“Shut up,” the guy had growled, sneering down at him, “you wanted this, whaddya
think would happen?” But when Jack just couldn’t handle him, he pulled out and
crouched down. “Hold ‘em,” he said to his two buddies, and they held Jack
tight. He reached out and gripped his chin, pinched his cheeks, jerked his head
this way and that and examined in. “Just too small,” he said with a tsk and
reached into his pocket, pulling out a slim, sleek object that Jack couldn’t
make out in the dark. But he recognized the sound of a switch blade opening,
and tried to thrash. One of the guys kicked him in the side, knocked the wind
out of him, and his lower jaw was grasped and his mouth pulled open.
“Gonna have to fix that, Jackie boy,” the guy said, slipping the blade in his
mouth. “Smile big for me.” And then he slashed, and Jack felt skin part like
silk and open into fire. He gave a loud, muffled cry, and the other cheek was
slashed as well. Then his mouth was forced open beyond its natural capacity,
and that cock shoved back inside to mix with blood and saliva and the death of
a child.
All three took him, until the fire in his cheeks was a dull ache and the blood
and soaked down his neck and the collar of his t-shirt. He vomited after the
first, and it stung like acid and they beat him for it, so broken now he
couldn’t fight back.
When they were done they left him like that, and he lay in the dirt bleeding
and crying, until he knew if he didn’t pick himself up he would die. He should
have died, that was what he thought most nights after, after he’d gone home and
his parents had seen him as a mess and had had no other option but to drag him
to the hospital- how he felt when people laughed that he was raped because he
was a boy and he must have wanted it, and they wouldn;t soil the names of good
kids for the likes of him.
How he felt when he looked in the mirror everyday and saw the monster they had
created, saw the scars that he felt told the whole world his life story- whore,
broken, worthless. The death of a child.
When Harley finally stopped, she was crying. She cried because she could see
it, even if she didn’t enter Jack’s life until years later- until he was
fifteen, and then when she was leaving the town when he was seventeen he had
gone with her, because she couldn’t leave him there. Gotham was the new start
he needed, the way to get away from the past, to make a new story for his
scars.
Instead, it seemed to only repeat tragedy.
“No one ever paid for what happened to him,” Harley said, “No one ever bled and
cried like he did. No one died like he did. The boy deserves someone’s blood
for his. He deserves to get some fucking peace. I just want him to get peace,
Bruce. That’s all. If I had it my way, this mess would have never happened and
Jack would be mine, but I know that can’t happen. I need someone who can take
care of him Bruce. I need someone who can show him that he deserves to live,
even twelve years later. He never got the therapy he needed. When he finally
started seeing Dr. Crane, so long had gone by and he needed help with his
sensory issues. I need help, Bruce.”
Bruce reached over and took Harley’s hand, squeezing it. Jack came with more
baggage than he could have imagined- yet, somehow, he didn’t seem to care. All
he knew was the boy he’d grown so fond of was laying in a hospital bed, and he
was just wanted to hold him and tell him...tell him...
What?
That I love him.
“I’ll heal him,” Bruce said, “no matter how long it takes. Jack won’t hurt
again. I’ll get him all the therapy he needs, the meds. Fuck, I’ll give him the
damn city if it helps.”
“Just give him you,” Harley said, and Bruce smiled at her.
“I already did that.”
Harley got a call the next morning. She was in her car and calling Bruce before
she knew what time it was, and somehow he got to the hospital steps after her.
She wondered if he had slept in his car on the street or something.
“He’s awake,” the doctor told them, “and fairly coherent too.” Harley and Bruce
nodded and walked in, found Jack sitting in his bed tracing the hospital
bracelet secure around his wrist. He looked up and paled when he saw them, and
Harley spoke before he could.
“Jackie, let us explain,” she said, “Let Bruce explain Puddin’.”
Jack turned to him, eyes placid and cool, medicated but still there, and Bruce
felt his throat close up. He swallowed.
“Jack...I...Talia came back,” he admitted, “I was with her when you called. I
had to tell her we were done. She answered when I wasn’t in the room I’m
assuming, before I could. I told her I’d found someone- and I didn’t need her
now. I wouldn’t need her again.” He took a step closer. “Please Jack, I wasn’t
with her because I didn’t want you. I was with her because I do want you. More
than ever, than anything.”
He reached out for Jack’s hand, took it. It was cold, small, and he closed both
of his around it, felt the fingers flex.
“Harley...Harley told me things, Jack. She told me everything. And I...I want
to help. I want to be here for you. You’re beautiful, Jack. God.” He lost his
breath, saw those eyes lit up a bit. “God Jack, I love you.”
Jack choked on a sob then, and was reaching for Bruce. Bruce pulled him into
his arms, holding him tight and burying his face in his hair, squeezing to make
sure he was really there. Jack dug his fingers into his shoulders and sobbed
about how he was stupid and sorry and he needed help- he knew that.
“We’ll get you help,” Bruce whispered, “And Harley and I will help you too.
We’ll get through this, Jackie. We’ll get through all of it.”
He leaned back enough to find Jack’s mouth- to kiss him and delve into him, try
to suck all the pain out of his bones and take it inside him. Bruce would
swallow all of it if he could, just to make Jack smile.
Chapter End Notes
     Well, those are 2 heavy hitting chapters. I didn't want to post 9
     without 10, so I apologize for the tiny wait. Also, if anyone was
     unable to read due to the content, let me know, I can fill you in
     without all immense detail.
     This is not the end, either. I've got at least a few more chapters
     planned.
     I also really wanted a tragic, sick story behind Jack's scars. And
     now I feel a little bad.
***** Chapter 11 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Harley was on her hands and knees in Jack’s apartment, spreading carpet cleaner
into one of the stains. Next to her, Jack was doing the same. He’d spent three
days in the hospital, before both his attending doctor and Dr. Crane had agreed
he could be released- but only into supervised care for the time being. They
wanted someone near Jack at all times, until Dr. Crane saw fit- which, he had
assured Harley, he didn’t think would be too long. He’d start Jack on three
times weekly therapy with him, new meds, and he thought within a week or two,
Jack would be back to normal.
He had high hopes for him, despite his lapses. He had high hopes because, he
claimed, none of these breakdowns had been attempts on his own life. Harley
felt somewhat relieved, but she knew she’d feel better when they were sure the
new meds were working.
Jack seemed almost himself as he helped her clean up the disaster he had left
behind. He smiled and they talked and he laughed- but the bandages on his arms
were constant reminders of the stitches he’d needed, of the harm he had done.
“If this ever happens again,” he was saying, “please convince me to go crazy on
tile. Fucking carpet.”
Harley laughed at that, reaching over the shove him lovingly. She stood up and
went into the bathroom with her broom, sweeping up the remaining glass on the
floor. A knock sounded on the door while Harley was working, and Jack got up
and walked over to it, opening the door.
The emerald eyes and cocky smile that waited for him made his heart stop.
“Babe-“
“Fucking no,” Jack said, about to close the door in Ed’s face, but he grabbed
it to keep it open.
“Jackie c’mon, you’ve been gone for days, where the hell-“ He stopped when he
noticed all the bandages on Jack’s arms, the mess in the apartment behind him.
Whatever words he had died in his throat, and he just stared at Jack.
“I was in the hospital,” Jack admitted. “And you’re not helping my recovery at
all. Get out. Go away. Don’t come see me again, Eddie. We’re done. We’ve been
done. I’m not bending over for you anymore. Find another fuck toy, you gave
this one up when you left the last time.”
He felt sure of his words- calmer than he had. Maybe he’d gotten it all out,
maybe the new meds were working, maybe it was both. Either way, he felt in
control.
“Jack-“
“Eddie, listen.” He stepped into the hallway, felt the open, dusty air. “We’re
not going to patch this up. I’m past being your friend. I’m past being your
anything. You tore me apart, twice now. You need to leave, you need to forget I
exist just like I’m trying to forget you exist.”
Eddie opened his mouth, then closed it again. His eyes had darkened a shade it
seemed- did he look remorseful? Jack almost thought he did.
“We just weren’t right,” Eddie said with a shrug of his shoulder, and Jack
nodded.
“I needed too much, you needed too many.” Eddie gave him a soft smile.
“You still have the best ass in this city, babe.”
Jack laughed at that- laughed because it was okay, because he needed this. He
needed to face Eddie and let him go, forever.
“Hopefully my boyfriend would agree with you on that.”
“Maybe I should have a talk with him. Give him some pointers.” Jack rolled his
eyes.
“He won’t need them when we get to that point.” Eddie chuckled.
“Taking it slow-“
“None of your business.” Jack wasn’t sharp when he said it, but firm. He didn’t
want to delve into he and Bruce’s sex life- he didn’t want to take this
conversation much further. What needed to be said had been said, it was done.
Eddie realized too, and gave him a nod of the head, a “It was fun babe,” and he
was walking away, and Jack felt something lift from his body.
He didn’t tell Harley about it, he kept it his little secret, but he did tell
Dr. Crane the next day at therapy. He felt alive telling him about Eddie, about
how he had finally closed that door. Crane asked how cleaning up the apartment
felt- he had specifically told Harley Jack had to have a hand in it- and Jack
said it sucked. It reminded him of the mess he was.
And how was Bruce?
Picking him up that afternoon for a nice night in with some friends. Bruce
would watch over him so Harley could have her life back for a night.
And Bruce was on the dot. He had driven himself over to Jack’s, gave him a
sweet kiss when he opened the door, and it felt like everything was falling
back into place.
The penthouse was warm and inviting, and Jack was pleased to see they had
company. Dick and Jason were already settled on one couch, bickering playfully
about something- but grew quiet when Jack walked in.
“Hey kid,” Jason said, “heard you got yourself into some trouble.”
Jack shrugged a shoulder and settled down on the opposite couch. “Nothing a
little TLC won’t fix.”
Jason nodded but didn’t smile- Jack felt there was something left there, but he
turned instead to Bruce who was settling in with him, wrapping a firm arm
around him to pull him in for an embrace. Dick had gotten first call on the
choice of movie, and it was some romantic comedy that Jack didn’t recognize. He
didn’t sray too far from horror movies- the worse the better- but he was
content to focus on Bruce’s arms around him and the small kisses he’d pepper on
his neck from time to time. Jack wiggled around in his lap and dared to let his
hands grip his thighs and tease him a bit, which would get him a low growl from
Bruce and then a chuckle.
The movie was only half hour when Jason was untangling from Dick. “I need a
cigarette,” he was saying, but he stared at Jack the whole time.
“Want some company?” Jack asked, “I uh, I promised Harley I’d call her and let
her know I’m okay. I should do that before it gets too late.”
If Bruce questioned his reasoning, he didn’t show it, and let Jack free of his
arms to follow Jason to the elevator and down.
Jack expected Jason to say something on the ride down. Some sort of
explanation. But he was quiet. He tapped his cigarette packet, freed one, and
held it between his lips while he waited. When he stepped off, he barely waited
for Jack, who had to hurry after him.
He watched Jason light it, take a long drag, and exhale.
“Dick told me all of it,” he finally said, watching Jack through the smoke.
“Bruce told him. Didn’t want to breach your privacy, but Bruce was fucked up
after what you did. Worried as hell about you, kid. He needed someone to talk
to. And what Dick hears, I hear.” He took another long drag.
“Are you mad?” Jack asked, a little nervous, and Jason eyed him.
“Mad? At you? No. No kid, not you. I’m mad it came to this, because frankly I
like you. I knew Talia, I knew all the brainless things Bruce fucked in-
between. And I hated them. But you, I like. Maybe it’s because you’re like me.
Maybe it’s because you don’t fit in with them, but whatever the fuck it is, I
like you. I was worried to.” He took one last drag and tossed the cigarette
away, reaching for Jack and pulling him closer. For a moment Jack flashed back
to the taste of cigarette and mint and had to admit it was enticing- if Bruce
wasn’t some dark form of his knight in shining armor, he’d be praying that
Jason closed the gap and kissed him, made him whimper against the smooth walls
of the building.
Instead Jason just looked at him, and Jack gave him a little smile.
“If you ever need something,” he said, “anything, you let me know. Bruce is a
good guy. Dick’s a good guy. But you and I- we know what it’s like to fight to
survive. They don’t. And they’ll try to understand, but part of them never
will. I’ll listen Jack. Just don’t...don’t pull shit like that again.”
Jack’s smile broadened, and Jason tussled his curls.
“I swear I won’t,” he whispered, and for a moment wondered what Jason had gone
through himself to be such a kindred spirit.
He did text Harley on the elevator ride back up to the penthouse that
everything was fine, so when Bruce asked how she was and he said fine, he
didn’t feel like he was lying.
Alfred popped in at some point during the evening, much to Bruce’s dismay- who
reminded him he had told Alfred to take the night off, please, he needed some
time away from Bruce- but Alfred had laughed.
“Just here to check on your friend,” he said, staring right at Jack. “Good to
see you well, sir.”
Jack smiled at him, and felt Bruce’s arms squeeze him tighter.
When Dick and Jason finally left that night, it was technically no longer
night, but early morning. Jack curled up in bed with Bruce and drifted off in
his arms, content. No alarm woke them, and when they did finally get around to
moving- as Jack was as Bruce lovingly put it, “a cuddle fiend in the morning”-
they showered, to Jack’s sadness separately- and made their way leisurely down
to Bruce’s car.
He needed to stop by his office really quickly, then he was going to take Jack
out for brunch. He promised him it wouldn’t take long- but Jack didn’t mind
either way. In the car he fiddled with the sleeves of his green plaid button
down, left open over an old horror movie t-shirt, trying to make sure it hid
the bandages they had just changed before they left.
Once at the office, Jack expected Bruce to leave him on his own for a bit, but
he just took Jack’s hand and led him to the elevator, even putting his arm
around him in it- despite them not being alone. While everyone greeted Bruce,
they eyed him and Jack with wide, confused stares. Jack held his head high and
couldn’t care less- he would parade Bruce around if he had the chance.
Bruce greeted the secretary, who gave a sharp, cranky hello, and stared at Jack
with a frown. He considered flipping her off, but decided against it and
instead clung to Bruce’s hand harder.
Once in Bruce’s office, Jack looked around a bit while he gathered up the
papers he was bringing home. Jack was about to take one of the books off the
shelf when there was a knock at the door, and a head popped in.
“Mr. Wayne, there’s a meeting starting in five minutes and the director sent me
to ask you if you’d be able to attend.” Tim glanced away from Bruce and saw
Jack. He walked in and smiled, and Jack gave him a little wave.
“Tell him I won’t be in the office today or tomorrow,” Bruce said, “I’m taking
a few days off.”
“Yes sir,” Tim said, nodding, and Jack walked over.
“And if he gives you any trouble, let us know so Brucie can kick his ass.” He
winked, and Tim openly laughed, before covering his mouth quickly and looking
at Bruce- his eyes nervous. Bruce just smiled at him.
“I certainly will. Now Jack, let him get back to his work.” Jack smiled at Tim,
who smiled back and slipped out.
Two days uninterrupted with Bruce felt like heaven. Despite it’s overly
innocent qualities, he enjoyed just having some time to spend with him, and
he’d rather bed down with him any night then sleep alone. He was sad to see it
end when Bruce dropped him off for therapy, but he knew he still had things to
do- a company to run.
“So Jack,” Dr. Crane was saying as Jack settled down. “Tell me, how are
things?”
“Good,” Jack said. “I just spent a few days with Bruce. I’m getting my stitches
out tomorrow. And I’ll get the chance to do some work tonight.”
“Will Harley be with you?”
“Later, yeah,” Jack said. “I’ll have a few hours alone. With everyone having
their cell phones on a loud enough ring to wake the dead, I’m sure.
Disapprove?”
“No,” Dr. Crane said, “No, I don’t. I told Harley, and I’ve had it noted in
your files, I don’t see you as a threat. Not to anyone, only yourself- and that
isn’t as great as people seem to think. I don’t think you were trying to kill
yourself, though some people would argue. You were trying to get something out.
I’ve got high hopes and a lot of faith in your new medications, and your
stricter therapy schedule. But everyone needs a few hours to themselves. I hope
you enjoy it.”
Jack smiled. He would, he assured him.
He painted those few hours. He worked on pieces that had been sitting around
for longer than he dared to admit- new pieces too, including more of Bruce with
his cape and Bat-like mask. And the picture of Eddie he had smeared his blood
all over- he dumped it into his trash can. It was finished, and it needed no
other audience but himself.
When Harley got there that night, Jack was on the couch, on the phone with
Oswald. Harley locked the door behind her and walked over, dropping her purse
on the floor and giving Jack a half wave as he spoke.
“I’m serious Oswald, almost all of them. You get first dibs before I decide to
open the market. I’ll keep selling prints of course, and I’ll keep a few pieces
to put out in your exhibits and such, but it’s finally time. Yeah, yeah,
that’ll work. Stop by over the weekend, you can go through them with me and
we’ll work something out.” He nodded. “Uh-huh, yeah, I look forward to it. See
you then.”
He hung up as Harley sat down, staring at him.
“Jack...were you-“
“I’m selling them,” he said, setting his phone aside. “Oswald will be over this
weekend for first picks. He wants some for his gallery, and some for his
personal collection. Then I’ll open it up to the public. I’ve got a few pieces
I intend to keep, but you were right. You’re always right- it’s time to let
them go.”
Harley smiled and took Jack’s hand, squeezing it.
He went alone to get his stitches removed the next day. Harley had gone to a
lecture, and Bruce was locked in a meeting. He didn’t mind, thought it would
have been nice to have someone to give him reassuring looks when the nurse
glared at him as she removed them. Still, he walked out of the hospital after,
feeling relieved. He’d get some new scars, but he had those all over, a few
more wouldn’t hurt.
The weather was nice, and Jack considered a walk, but wanted to hit his
apartment first and do a little more cleaning. He needed to put more cleaner on
the carpet, and try to figure out what he wanted to do about a new mirror. He
began the walk up his apartment stairs, only to reach his hallway and see a
round, harsh woman waiting at his door.
“Oh, hi,” he said, giving his landlady a small wave. “What’s up?”
“Your rent,” she said, matter-of-factly, and Jack frowned.
“Yeah, next week.”
“Considering the destruction I’ve heard you caused, I’d say this week. Plus
extra for the damages to the carpet.”
Jack stared, his mind racing to try to think of all the cash he had. It was
minimal- he’d been so wrapped up in Bruce he hadn’t focused on selling prints,
and then with this whole breakdown, it had slipped completely from his mind.
“Give me a few days,” Jack said, “and I’ll get the rent. And let me know how
much extra for the damages- I’ll get that after.”
“Now or never, Jack.”
“I don’t have it now,” he admitted, folding his arms. “I’m flat ass broke,
frankly. But with a few days I can get some prints sold, and I’ve got something
lined up this weekend that will bring in enough rent for a few months,
probably. Or more-“
“I don’t trust your plans, Jack,” she said, frowning, her brow creasing
unflatteringly. “You’re too unstable. I should have known when I let you move
in, the first time you were late with rent, but I’ve been letting it slide. I
even let it go after that first breakdown you had. But no more. You’re a
fucking hazard, and I won’t stand for it anymore. Rent by tomorrow morning, or
pack your things, and clear out of the apartment and your shit from my attic.”
She stormed past him, and Jack hesitated a moment, before sneaking into his
apartment and closing the door behind him with a sigh.
He reached up and rubbed his temples, groaning. This was the last thing he
needed. He had to think, and think fast. He couldn’t ask Harley to front him
the money- she was a student and had her own slew of financial issues, besides,
he’d feel terrible. She’d helped him so much over the years with everything, he
needed to stop needing her so much.
His only option was to sell his work, but it wouldn’t happen over night. If he
could get Oswald to come over and pick something out, but he wasn’t even
available until the weekend. He literally had nothing.
Jack walked into the kitchen and drummed his fingers on the counter. He was out
of options, except...
Bruce.
Jack shook his head. No, no way. He wouldn’t ask Bruce to do something like
that- it’d be like using him. There was just no way.
Jack took a deep breath, and told himself it was okay. He had his rent paid
until the end of the month, she couldn’t kick him out. He’d just have to tell
her in the morning he didn’t have it, and look for a new place. Oswald would
definitely be buying come the weekend, and that would give him plenty to pay up
front for rent somewhere else. Plus there would be other buyers.
Jack decided that walk sounded like a splendid idea now.
He didn’t have a plan, and started by heading up the sidewalk and made his way
through the city, hands in his pockets, taking everything in. He had his camera
around his neck just in case, and as the sky was beginning to darken- a little
early, Jack noted, and that it smelled of rain- he reached central park.
Smiling, he walked through, the park quiet and cool compared to the busy
afternoon he had spent here with Bruce what felt like a lifetime ago.
He settled down on that same bench and ran his fingers over his camera idly,
staring off at the trees and wondering if they remembered him- as stupid as
that sounded. Did they remember the boy in love who had been here early, who
had kissed a man whose lips tasted like vanilla ice cream and wondered what he
had done to get so lucky.
“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this, kid.”
Jack’s head jerked up, and familiar baby blue eyes stared at him as a line of
cigarette smoke lifted into the air. Jason walked over and sat down next to
Jack, plucking the cigarette from his lips.
“All alone?” Jack nodded. “I thought you had to be have a babysitter.” His eyes
were laughing at that, so Jack didn’t take offense.
“I deserve a little time to myself,” he admitted, “besides, my friend Harley
had a lecture today, and Bruce had meetings. I’m sure one of them will be
calling any second to figure out who gets to babysit me tonight.” He shrugged a
shoulder. “But the doc says he thinks I’m pretty fine on my own.”
Jason just nodded and flicked his cigarette butt away, pulling out a fresh one
and lighting it. He took a drag, then held it out to Jack, a smirk on his lips.
Jack eyed him for a second, before he took it and took a long drag, exhaling in
one smooth motion and handing it back. If Jason was waiting for him to choke,
he would be disappointed.
“Didn’t picture you a smoker.”
“I’ve done a lot of shit in my day,” Jack admitted, “and with the day I’m
having, I needed that.”
“Care to share?”
Jack shrugged a shoulder. “Not really. Getting kicked out of my apartment
because my landlady is crazy. She always has been, really, and always treated
me like shit, but for the most part I never see her. I’ve had my rough patches
with my art though, and I’ve been late on rent before, so I took it because she
let me slide. But my latest breakdown was too much, and now I’ve gotta scout
for a new place to live, seeing as I can’t get her rent by tomorrow. Until I
sell some art, I’m flat broke.”
Jack was rather impressed with how calm he sounded, how calm he actually was.
Jason listened, dragged on the cigarette, and said without much hesitation,
“Why don’t you just crash with Bruce?”
Jack laughed. “Yeah, he wants his crazy-ass boyfriend who he’s been dating for
what, two weeks now, if we count the whole courtship as dating, to suddenly
move in. I think that’s over stepping some boundaries, as much as I’d enjoy
it.”
Jason frowned, then tossed the cigarette.
“So stay with Dick and I for a little while, until you find a new place. He
won’t care- hell, he’ll probably sit there and watch you paint for hours. The
man is still a huge fan.”
Jack stared at him, then reached over and took his hand- bigger than Jack’s,
rougher- and squeezed it.
“You’re too sweet,” he said, “but I’ll be fine. Really.” Jason sighed, and Jack
squeezed his hand again. “So, gonna ever let me in as to why you care so
goddamn much about me? You barely know me, after all.”
Jason took Jack’s hand and lifted it, examining it.
“I got kicked out when I was fifteen,” he said, “lived on the street for a
year, until I made enough cash under the table at odd jobs to afford a shitty
apartment with a few other guys. I lived like that most of my life, really. Too
many roommates, everyone’s high, and I worked shit jobs that barely paid enough
to feed anyone. I’d still be like that if I hadn’t met Dick. I don’t know what
he saw in me- I still don’t know what he sees in me, but he used to follow me
around until I caved and would go on dates with him. Before I knew it, he was
packing my shit and making me move in with him, giving me jobs to do for his
circus- stupid, pointless job titles that basically meant I listened to his
ideas and fucked his brains out and got paid for it. He gave me a whole new
life- but I never forgot all the years before.”
Jack knew there was more, much more behind those baby blues, but he didn’t ask.
Just let Jason examine his hand, before he released it.
“Dick likes you- that was one of the reasons I ever bothered to care. If Dick
cares, I do. I put up with Bruce because Dick loves him. I put up with
Christmas music from October through January because it makes Dick smile. I go
dancing with him because it makes him feel hot and wanted.” He stopped for a
moment, long enough for Jack to feel his thoughts in the air- feel the
intensity in him for Dick.
“You’d go to hell for him, wouldn’t you?”
“I’d die for him,” Jason said, as if it didn’t meant a thing. “People like to
say I’m just using him, that I’m just there for his money. But I’m really just
not interested in acting love sick in public. I love Dick, more than I’ll ever
be able to admit.”
Jack watched Jason for a moment, before he stood up and turned to face him. He
leaned down, wrapped his arms around Jason, and hugged him. Jason sat there a
moment, before his arms wrapped around Jack and he held him tight.
Jack didn’t doubt what he saw in Jason’s eyes- it was awe. It was what he saw
in his own eyes in the mirror, when he thought of Bruce.
When he crawled into his bed that night, after a call to Harley and a call to
Bruce to let them knew he was okay, he settled in for his first night alone.
Before drifting off, he scrolled through the images on his camera, stopping at
the very last image, of Jason on the bench with cigarette smoke drifting up
towards his eyes.
He smiled, drifting off with the gears of his mind turning.
Chapter End Notes
     Tying up loose ends so I can create more!
***** Chapter 12 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
When Jack woke the next day, he showered, dressed, and went straight down to
his landlady. With a rather calm smile on his face, he told her he’d be moving,
so not to expect next month’s rent. He did, however, request that she write
something up for him so he could pay for the damages he had caused to the
apartment- even if they had been cleaned up.
Then he called Harley and went out to lunch, acting as if not a thing had
happened.
When the end of the week rolled around, and he was toying with his hair to make
sure he looked presentable for Oswald, he still hadn’t uttered a word to her or
Bruce. In fact, beyond him and his landlady, only Jason knew- and if he spoke,
Bruce didn’t hint at it.
Oswald knew where Jack’s apartment was- he’d been over a handful of times in
the past, always on some sort of business. When there was a knock on his door,
Jack knew it had to be him, and was greeted by his large, smiling face.
“Jack my boy,” he said, “good to see you!”
“Nice to see you too,” Jack said, stepping out and closing his door. “C’mon
this way.”
“Right to business Jackie, that’s my boy. You know how valuable my time is.
Always liked that.” Jack unlocked the door that led to the attic, and they
climbed the narrow stairs. Up top, the light that lit the room filtered in
through one smudged window, and Jack apologized that the light bulb was busted.
“No worried, I know your work from memory,” Oswald said, staring at the almost
endless rows of canvases and frames paper. “So what’s off limits, Jack?”
“Nothing,” Jack said, “it’s all up. Though, I’d prefer to put the Harlequin
series in your gallery than sell it- I think you’d make more money that way.”
“Oh my boy,” Oswald said, lifting up a small canvas, “You know me so well.”
Jack walked Oswald from his apartment, carrying the pieces for him to his car.
He loaded it for him, shook his hand, and Oswald handed him a check for the
pieces he was taking. He wanted more, he said, but quite frankly his car only
held so much, and Jack had laughed and said to just call him when he was ready
to look again.
And he’d get the Harlequin series over to his gallery soon.
“Remember boy,” Oswald said, opening his car door, “that young artist expo is
coming up. Will you have some new pieces to showcase? Wouldn’t be a show
without you.”
“Of course,” Jack said, “I’ll have some. Just let me know how much space I
get.”
Oswald laughed. “You’re Jack Napier. You get the whole city if you want it.
Now, you take care of yourself. No more silly stunts, we can’t afford to lose
you.”
Jack waved as he climbed in and drove off, then left straight for the bank. His
meager checking account was thankful for Oswald’s generous addition, but he
still had to find an apartment before his rent ran out, which would be the next
big task. This time, he’d find somewhere he actually wanted to live- within
reason, of course.
He wasn’t back in his apartment more than a few minutes before his phone was
ringing. He saw Bruce’s name and smiled, unlocking it and saying in a purr,
“Hey there sugar.”
Bruce chuckled. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, nothing,” Jack said, flopping down on his couch. “Missing you. When can I
see you?” It had been a good two days since Jack had actually seen Bruce- and
while he understood, it was still depressing.
“How about now? Can I come over, I want to talk to you about something?”
“Am I in trouble?” Jack asked, half teasing, and when Bruce laughed his nerves
eased.
“No, no, not at all. So, can I?”
“You’d better,” Jack said with a grin.
When Bruce showed up shortly after, Jack greeted him with his arms around his
neck and a sweet kiss- the kind that made Bruce’s toes tingle and required that
he wrap an arm around Jack’s waist to tether him to the Earth. Jack
disentangled himself after a few moments to lead Bruce to the couch, and draped
himself on him, assaulting him again with his soft lips and for a moment, Bruce
could forget why he’d come over.
“Jack,” he said between kisses, “Can.” Kiss. “We.” Kiss. “Talk?” Kiss.
Jack leaned back, playing with the ends of Bruce’s hair against his neck.
“Alright,” he said, although he wanted to lay Bruce on the couch and kiss his
clothes away. “Talk to me, sugar.”
Bruce ran his hand along the curve of Jack’s hip. “A business associate of mine
is having a bit of a get together next weekend,” he said, “I was just wondering
if you’d want to come with me?”
Jack raised one delicate blonde eyebrow. “You mean in public?”
“Well, yeah, it would be public.”
“But uh, Brucie baby...are you sure? I mean, we’ve been pretty private so far-
am I going as some crazy friend you just picked up?”
“No, “ Bruce said with a smile, “No, you’d be going as my boyfriend.” He
clutched Jack a bit tighter. “Please come with me, Jack.”
“Well, when you ask like that,” he said, leaning in and pressing his forehead
to Bruce’s, “How can I say no?” Bruce smiled and kissed him quickly.
“Great! Then we’ll need to go out and get you fitted for a tux.”
“A...a what? Woah baby, what sort of get together is this again?”
“The kind with champagne that costs more than a car,” Bruce said, and Jack
paled a little. What am I getting myself into?
Jack thought maybe there would be a chance for it all to sink in, but Bruce had
ushered him to his car, taken him down to the rich part of Gotham’s prime
shopping district, and had an older woman with a thick accent measuring him as
he stood on a silly little platform.
“Babe, are you sure,” Jack was saying, as she grabbed his arm and lifted it up,
measuring. She yanked his long sleeve up to see exactly where his wrist was,
and he blushed when his bandages became visible.
“Absolutely,” Bruce was saying, typing something on his phone. Jack sighed,
hanging his head, until the woman snapped at him to stand up straight.
Jack heard Bruce discussing the bill for a custom tuxedo- and one on such short
notice- with the woman, and thought part of him died at the price. He’d said so
to Bruce when they were back in the car, but Bruce just laughed it off and said
not to worry, he didn’t mind at all.
Jack looked down at his hands in that moment, realizing Bruce couldn’t fathom
what a big deal it was to him, because it never had been to him, nor would it
be.
Harley was laughing, whole-heartedly- the kind that sank down into her gut and
made her insides nearly hurt with joy. Pamela was laughing with her, elegant
fingers wrapped around her glass at the bar, long red nails clinking against it
as she laughed.
“You’re too much,” she said, wiping a stray tear from one of her green eyes.
“Oh Harl, how did I ever have any fun without you?”
“I dunno, do plants tell good jokes?” she asked with a cheesy grin, and Pamela
giggled.
“Sadly no. They’re not great company- better than most people, but they don’t
quite compare to you sweetheart.”
“Aw red, you flatter me.” Harley blushed a little, felt her heart racing, and
took a drink from her glass because she needed to do something while Pam was
staring at her. Something in her eyes was intense, and it made Harley shake a
little. She’d wanted this for so long, but now her mind was fuzzy with an
overdose on the woman, and she didn’t know if she was reading the signs right
or if it was all just wishful thinking.
“Do you need to check on your friend?” Pam asked as she signaled for another
round of drinks, and Harley shook her head.
“Jack? No, he’s fine. He’s with his boyfriend tonight, Bruce will call me if
there’s an issue.”
“To think, big bad Bruce Wayne is gay,” Pamela said, sipping her fresh drink,
and Harley blushed a little.
“Not so loud, I don’t want anyone to hear,” she said, a little nervous. “Bruce
and Jack aren’t...well, they’re not that public yet. It’s happening, but
slowly. And I don’t think he’s gay at all- Jack is just what he needs. Why put
so many labels on things? Jack always said that. Always hated labels.”
Pamela was quiet, gave a nod, and Harley sighed.
“I’m sorry. We were having such fun and I go off-“
“Oh Harley,” Pam said, “Hush girl. Drink more, laugh more, worry less. You do
enough of that.”
Harley smiled and tried to take her advice to heart.
When they left the little bar, it was one in the morning and they clung to each
other as they stumbled and laughed. Harley’s world was swimming in a delicious
sea, and Pamela’s hands on her as they balanced felt sweet.
“My place is up the street,” Harley said, “way quicker than a cab, if you wanna
crash there?”
“Yes please,” Pam said, brushing her hair from her eyes and trying to
straighten up, to appear sober. She still had to lock her arm in with Harley’s,
to form a chain as they made their way down the street to Harley’s apartment.
Lucky for them, the elevator worked here, unlike Jack’s dingy little apartment
building, and they rode it to the fifth floor, walked down the nicely kept
hall, and Harley took a few tries to get her key into the lock. Pam had to
cover her mouth with her hand to stifle her laughter, and Harley was cursing
her out lovingly, until the door opened and she nearly danced.
She pulled the redhead inside and locked the door, leading her down the
hallway- past the old portrait Jack had done of her when he first moved in with
her- past the photos of the two of them over the years she’d put into a collage
of frames, and into her room.
Pamela broke away and flopped down on the bed, kicking her heels off with a
sigh and letting the world settle down. Harley let her hair out of her loose
pigtails and stretched, before she sat on the bed next to Pam.
“God I’m gonna hate myself in the morning,” she said.
“Prone to hangovers?”
“I just don’t drink this much a lot,” Harley admitted, the world swimming just
a bit still. Pamela rolled onto her side and reached over, dancing her fingers
along Harley’s jean clad thigh.
“Maybe you need to live more,” Pamela said, and Harley sighed.
“I lived once. Didn’t end that well.” She looked away, at her nightstand- the
framed photo of her so many years ago, a young Jack with his hair still blonde,
smiling and holding her and they had been laughing when his camera had gone
off. She’d lived so hard when he was with her- in this apartment, this place
she’d lived in since she came to Gotham and studied at the University. So many
memories were buried here, seeped up from the carpet and into her sheets and
pillows at night and flooded her mind with the things that could have been.
“Couldn’t have been that bad,” Pamela said, “you’re still here. How about you
give it another shot?”
Harley looked down, watched as Pam sat up and reached out, took her smooth face
in her hands and stroked her skin with her fingertips. Harley quivered-
partially because she had wanted this so badly and partially because it meant
letting go. She hadn’t been with anyone seriously in years- she hadn’t loved
aside of Jack, and she let it consume her at times. She tried to hide it- but
he saw it, she knew- because she saw how sorry he was in those beautiful green
eyes that he couldn’t help her- couldn’t pay her back all the love she had
given him, as he’d say.
Pam was so close now- Harley could feel her breath on her lips, but she knew
she wouldn’t come closer. Harley had to do it- Harley had to take what she so
badly wanted.
She closed the gap and touched her lips to Pamela’s, felt their sweet softness
as Pam kissed her back, one of her hands leaving Harley’s cheek to wrap around
her waist. Harley clung to her blouse, worked two buttons open without even
realizing it, felt Pam’s tongue trace her lips, and she opened them, let her
in.
Pamela sucked it all from her, the ancient desire and the repressed need, the
want to hold him and keep him and Harley felt lighter, clung to her as they
tumbled down to the mattress as Pamela crawled over her, one hand working
quickly to unzip her jeans, to slide within and stroke her nether lips through
her panties. Harley let out a shaky moan, Pam’s lips trailing down her neck, to
the neckline of her t-shirt. Her other hand pushed the shirt up over Harley’s
breasts, and she kissed down the center of her body, along her navel, until she
reached the hem of her panties as her jeans began to sink off her hips.
“Live,” Pam whispered against her skin as she gripped all the fabric and pulled
them down Harley’s legs, tossing it all behind her and returning to her place
between her thighs. She kissed up one, until Harley felt her breath on her sex,
and her tongue was tracing along her slit, making her quiver and whimper and
toss her head back as she delved inside and sucked the need from her veins.
When Harley woke up the next morning, the light streaming in through her open
curtains hurt her eyes- but otherwise her head felt fine. She stretched and
looked next to her, saw Pam sleeping soundly- naked, the blanket pooled down
around her waist. Harley grabbed it and pulled it up, placing a small kiss to
the woman’s shoulder, before she sat up, swung her legs over the side of the
bed. Her toes sank into her plush carpet pleasantly, and she wiggled them.
She felt light, happy, alive. She stood up and stretched, the morning air warm
against her naked body. She walked to her window and stroked the edge of the
curtain, peeking out at the world below. It had to be late morning, ten or
eleven, by the way the world was buzzing below. She smiled and pulled the
curtain shut, found her underwear and t-shirt on the ground and threw them on,
and walked out of her room.
She found her cellphone in her kitchen across the apartment, and had no idea
how it ever got there. She grabbed it as she turned the coffee pot on, and
opened it to a text from Jack from earlier in the morning.
Call me when you get the chance.
Her heart fluttered for a second- oh God what was wrong- but she reminded
herself it was Jack, not Bruce. If something had happened Bruce would have
called her- a dozen times, at least.
She called Jack, and the phone rang a few times before he picked up.
“This is late for you,” Jack said, and Harley sighed.
“Well good morning to you too, Puddin’. What’s goin’ on?” She reached into one
of her cupboards one handed and grabbed two mugs by the handles, bringing them
down.
“Bruce is taking me to this...get together...thing,” Jack said as he flopped
down onto the couch in Bruce’s penthouse. Bruce had run out quickly, leaving
him alone except for Alfred, who could be heard off in the kitchen. “Next
weekend. It’s big Harley, someone he knows in the business or whatever. Like,
he’s getting me a fucking tux and everything.”
“You? A tux?” She laughed. “He does know you haven’t worn anything but jeans
your like, whole life, right?”
“Serious for a second, Pumpkin. I’m freaking the fuck out. He’s...he’s making
us public. I’m going as his boyfriend, not some crazy kid he met and seems to
enjoy hanging out.”
Harley froze with her refrigerator door open. “Seriously?”
“Yeah,” Jack said, smiling, the butterflies in his stomach swarming. “He...he’s
gotta be really serious about me then, right?”
“Definitely.” Harley pulled the creamer out and left it on the counter. “I
mean... he’s got a reputation, Jack. And this city’s socialites aren’t really
accepting people- he shows up with a guy and the whole thing is kaput.” She
leaned her hip against the counter. “Does it make you happy, Jack?”
“Yeah, I guess,” he said, twirling some of his curls. “I mean, of course it
does. This guy...God Harley, I’ve never felt like this before. It’s crazy. But
there’s just...there’s a huge difference between us, you know? Where we came
from and all.”
“So what?” Harley shifted her weight to her other hip. “Who cares Jack? Build a
bridge, use a ferry, hell, swing over the gap with a vine, I don’t care. But
don’t let that stop you. Bruce is pretty crazy about you, and you’re obviously
insane over him. You fuck it up and I’m beating your ass.”
Jack laughed. “Okay, okay, sorry mom.”
“Accepted,” Harley said, looking up as she heard her mattress moving, the
sounds of soft footsteps. “Now, Mommy has a ladyfriend over, so if you’ll
excuse me.”
Jack gasped. “What? Harley, what? Don’t you dare hang up-“
Harley ended the call and set her phone down, just as Pam walked out. Harley
stared, her breath rushing out- she was still naked, her red hair in rich messy
curls around her, her eyes sleepy but sparkling.
“I...I made...”
“Coffee,” Pam said with a smile. “I could smell it. Why don’t you come back to
bed while it finishes?”
Harley hesitated just a heartbeat, then walked over, following Pam back to her
bedroom. As they crawled into bed, she glanced at the picture of her and Jack
on her nightstand. Her smile in the photo- pure and free, natural- had been
displaced onto her face, felt as if it didn’t quite belong-
But when Pam kissed her again, she pressed it so deep into her skin that Harley
couldn’t question if it truly belonged or not.
Chapter End Notes
     Someday, I will just write an Ivy/Harley fic. One of these days...
     Also, noticing this is becoming almost as much Harley's story as it
     is Jack's.
***** Chapter 13 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
It was Wednesday when Jack got two, very important calls.
One was from Oswald. He needed to meet with him, to discuss both a permanent
addition of Jack’s work to his gallery, and that Gotham’s young artist exhibit
had been scheduled for the following weekend- he wanted to discuss what Jack
would have on display.
The other was from Bruce. His tuxedo was ready, and he wanted him to come over
and make sure it fit perfectly.
Jack wasn’t sure which gave him more anxiety, but he was pretty sure the tux
did.
So, he killed two birds with one stone. He scheduled a late lunch with Oswald,
and then told Bruce he’d stop by the office later that afternoon or early
evening, and go home with home. And through all of it, he was still looking at
apartments. He’d gone and had a look at one, but the owner hadn’t “liked the
look of him” and had declined the offer to rent. He was back at square one,
with only about two weeks left on his lease.
The place Oswald had picked for lunch was thankfully towards inner Gotham, by
Wayne Enterprises, and it was just a hop, skip, and a jump to Bruce. Jack
settled down at the cafe with Oswald, who was nursing a strong, steaming cup of
coffee and the newspaper.
“Ah, Jackie boy,” he said, “Good to see you could meet with me so fast. Let’s
talk business. I want Harlequin for my gallery. All of it.”
Jack knew it was coming- everyone loved that series. Everyone loved Harley in
that suit. He loved Harley in that suit. He’d wanted for so long to give her
one of the staring pieces, for some grand occasion, but it had never come- and
now he was thinking he should craft something more personal for her, anyway.
“Alright,” Jack said, “if the price is right, it’s yours.”
Oswald laughed. “Oh Jackie boy, you’re getting sly. I like it. You name it,
it’s yours. I’d pay your rent for a year just to have a third of it.”
Jack didn’t go that high, but the number he wrote down on his napkin and slid
across the table was enough to blow his own mind. Still, he had his hospital
bill the pay- he’d been reminded that morning when he got his mail- and that
was going to take a very huge chunk from the money Oswald had given him. He was
cursing his weak insurance the whole time- wondering why he even bothered. It
barely took anything off the bills on his meds, and wasn’t paying for all his
sessions with Dr. Crane. This money would take care of that, and still leave
some for his apartment hunting.
Oh, but there was the other bill to his current landlady. That too. And the
bill for the ambulance Harley had called, because she couldn’t drive Jack
herself in both his and her state. He’d forgotten.
He held his breath, but Oswald agreed, and he sighed in relief. Okay, okay,
that would cover that. His deposit for an apartment was just smaller.
“I can get them sometime next week,” Oswald was saying, “that’s a hefty sum
I’ll be withdrawing. The bank will need some time to transfer the funds to the
proper account.”
Jack only nodded, drummed his fingers on the table. He couldn’t argue, he’d
have to take what he could get.
“Well then, the next item- you’re going to be at the exhibit, aren’t you? If
not, I’ll have to give your space to someone else, but everyone is looking
forward to seeing you. Word’s getting around about your breakdown, and people
are worrying.”
“I’ll be there,” Jack said, “I was working on some stuff before it I need to
finish. It’ll be a preview for the collection I’m aiming to have done by this
fall. A little dark, a little sexy, very odd. You know, me.”
Oswald chuckled. “Oh yes Jack, very you. Will you be announcing that you’re
selling your pieces as well? I’m sure you’ll have buyers. You know my friends
love attending these little things, finding those new up-and-coming artists.
They just love to have things no one else in their circle has heard of.”
Jack frowned a little. He dind’t like that he- or the other young artist in
Gotham for that matter- were used so rich snobs could be hipsters. He wanted
everyone to appreciate what they did. But he couldn’t say that to Oswald
without offending- besides, of all of them, he wasn’t that bad. He seemed to
genuinely like what these kids came up with. Had he been any other person, he
would have only given Jack half of what he asked for.
“I’m sure they’ll be pleased,” Jack said without much inflection, as Oswald
went off on a few of the artist he was looking forward to seeing himself.
After he’d said good-bye the Oswald, he walked the few blocks to Wayne
Enterprises. Up the elevator, he walked right up to the secretary, who looked
at him with her old, judging eyes, but didn’t stop him as he walked past her,
to Bruce’s office. He knocked twice, didn’t wait for a response, and opened the
door.
Bruce was one the phone, but gave him a smile and motioned him over. Jack
closed the door and walked over, hopping up onto his desk and sitting there,
letting Bruce slip between his legs and rest one arm on his thighs.
“Yes, yes of course. Alright.” He rolled his eyes to Jack, who reached up and
covered his mouth as he giggled. He hooked one of his feet under the arm of
Bruce’s chair and pulled him closer, impatient. When he finally hung up Jack
was reaching for him, pulling him up into a kiss.
“I bet I could make those calls more fun,” he teased, and loved the color that
reached Bruce’s cheeks. They hadn’t been intimate since his breakdown- it was
like Bruce was worried touching Jack too much would break him-
Truth be told, Jack was more likely to break if he didn’t.
Bruce cleared his throat. “How about you hop down, and we head back to my
place? Make sure everything fits you. Alfred is expecting you for dinner,
anyway.”
Jack slipped off the desk and ran his fingers along it, looking around the
office. “He’s too sweet,” Jack said truthfully. “Good thing I barely ate when I
was with Oswald.”
“How did that go?” Bruce asked as he shoved some papers into his briefcase.
“Very well,” Jack said. “He’s got a big spot reserved for me in the city wide
exhibit next weekend. I’ll have to spend all of the week making sure my work is
prepared. I got a bit...thrown off course with things and all.”
Jack left out the bit about selling his work. He hadn’t told Bruce about that,
about the necessity for it. And ever since he had agreed to it with Harley, it
hadn’t been brought up. She was busy- she was so close to her degree, she was
trying to find placement in a better job, she was meeting with Pam every moment
she wasn’t in class or babysitting Jack. He didn’t need to lay more on her.
Bruce wrapped his arm around Jack’s shoulders as they walked out, saying
pleasant good-byes to everyone they passed by.
When they stepped off the elevator at his penthouse, Jack was assaulted by the
rich smells of Alfred’s cooking- and realized just how hungry he was. His
stomach growled, and he blushed as Bruce laughed.
“Guess I forgot to really eat today,” Jack said, and Bruce sighed.
“You take horrible care of yourself,” Bruce muttered.
“Excuse me, Master Wayne, but you’d forget as well if I did not pester.” Alfred
was standing in the hallway, smiling at them. Jack laughed and grinned. “Hello
Master Jack, good to see you.”
Jack blushed a little. “Hi Alfred.”
Bruce wanted to get him into the tux right away, but Alfred insisted they sit
and eat first. Jack wasn’t about to argue.
Dinner turned to coffee- or for Jack, some thick hot chocolate he couldn’t pass
up despite that it was may- which turned to reclining on the couch as Alfred
tried to catch Bruce up on the news he’d missed while he was at the office.
This street closed because of an accident, these stocks up, those down.
Before Bruce knew it, it was nearing ten o’clock, and Jack still hadn’t tried
the damn thing on. Alfred was retiring, and Jack was yawning already, curling
up under the small, soft blanket Alfred had draped over him rather lovingly
while Bruce watched the late night news.
“You need to try it on,” Bruce said, clicking the TV off. “C’mon, you’ve put it
off long enough.”
Jack sighed and stood up, keeping the blanket wrapped around him as he trudged
down to Bruce’s room. Bruce didn’t see the big deal with the whole situation, a
few minutes with it on to make sure he didn’t need any last minute alterations
done, and they could crawl into bed and get some sleep.
Jack took his time putting each piece on, like he wasn’t sure how to button a
shirt and tuck it in properly. Then again, Bruce figured he’d never worn a tux
before- he tried to remind himself of that when he helped Jack with his bow
tie.
“There,” Bruce said, straightening the lapels on the jacket. “Comfortable?”
“I guess,” Jack said, “Wish the pants were tighter.”
“They’re not meant to fit like your jeans,” Bruce said- though he could admit,
the whole thing would be hotter if he could see more of the shape of Jack’s
legs. The thoughts poisoned his mind with images of said legs naked, quaking as
Bruce had touched him that one time in the shower, and he had to clear his
throat and try to think of anything else, lest he risk tearing the tuxedo to
get to Jack underneath.
“Can I take it off now?”
“You’re going to have to wear it the whole night next weekend,” Bruce reminded
him. “Can you handle that?”
“Yeah, since I have to.” He took the jacket off and passed it to Bruce. “But
I’m not about to sleep in this thing, unless you want it all wrinkled.”
Bruce chuckled. “Okay, okay, you win this round. Now strip and get in my bed.”
Jack grinned like a fool and made quick work of the tux, crawling into the
large bed in his underwear and welcoming Bruce a few minutes later, when he’d
gotten everything put nicely away, nuzzling into him and sinking into his arms.
The event was Saturday night, and Friday morning, Jack had a therapy session.
It was scheduled for Saturday, but he’d called Dr. Crane and asked they have it
a day earlier- Bruce intended to keep him the whole day to make sure he looked
proper.
Dr. Crane was, of course, more than welcoming, and Jack was relieved to vent to
someone who nervous he was about this.
“I mean, it’s public and all. You know these guys will get the news all over
the city. Bruce Wayne, billionaire, former playboy, bedding down with some
broke ass artist kid.” He sighed, tugged on his curls with one hand. “I just
don’t want him to regret it if there’s backlash.”
“That’s a very grounded concern, Jack,” Crane said, “Have you talked it over
with him?”
“I’ve brought it up a little. He just keeps saying he doesn’t care what they
think, anyway. Bruce isn’t really a big fan of his fellow wealthy ladies and
lords.” He flopped his hand onto his forehead in mock drama, sighing again. “Oh
Dr. Crane, what’s a boy to do?”
He chuckled. “Good to see your sense of humor is healthy, Jack.”
Jack grinned. “I just don’t wanna lose him, ya know?”
“I know Jack. I know. Let’s look at the positives to this, shall we?”
“Okay, okay. Well, no more hiding. Bruce is already making it pretty obvious at
the office that we’re a thing. And his friends know. I mean, we went on a few
double dates of sorts. We went clubbing one night, did I tell you that?” Crane
shook his head. “No? Oh, well. That. That was hot. I mean, being sandwiched
between Bruce and Dick Grayson? Lord almighty, I needed one hell of a cold
shower after that.”
Dr. Crane laughed, and Jack grinned.
“Dick’s boyfriend kissed me, too. Jason’s his name. I can’t read that guy at
all. Like, he likes me for some reason. Relates to me, ‘cause he came form
nothing and got pulled into Dick’s world of wealth and whatnot. I like the guy,
I really do. His eyes- oh man. Baby blue and just drown-worthy.” Dr. Crane was
writing something, and Jack raised an eyebrow. “I took a picture of him when he
was talking about Dick. Those eyes tell it all. I haven’t talked to him since,
but I wanna do a piece on him. Him and those eyes.”
“Jack, does Bruce know?”
“About the kiss? Yeah. He wasn’t worried. Maybe Jason kisses all his lovers? I
don’t know, but either way he didn’t care. And I don’t think he’d care if I
wanted to do a piece on Jason. I know Dick would go mad with joy. He’s a fan-
which makes things sort of cool, I guess.” Dr. Crane nodded. “...Is it weird
that I like the idea of being sandwiched between them all? Like, maybe I’m just
so sexually deprived right now, but it’s hot. Bruce...well, I think he’d have a
laugh. I wouldn’t seriously ask though. I’d get jealous if I had to share
Bruce.”
“Are you and Bruce not intimate right now?”
“No,” Jack said with a sigh. “Only have been a few times- and never all the
way.” He winked. “Sounds like I’m in high school saying that, but it’s true.
And since I had my break down, nothing. I think Bruce thinks I’m made of glass
now, that it’ll hurt me. Truth be told, he could probably fuck some sense into
me.”
Dr. Crane gave him another laugh, but Jack kept a somewhat serious face,
because it really was true.
Jack didn’t end up at Bruce’s penthouse alone the next day. Harley came right
along, convinced she had to be there to make sure he looked presentable- and
for pictures. She wanted proof of him in something aside of jeans and his high-
tops.
As if that hadn’t been bad enough, it was Harley who picked Jack up, but Pamela
driving her car and smiling at him. He’d been forced to hide any shock and be
very polite- when inside he wanted them all to shut the hell up because he was
going to be paraded that night and he didn’t feel pretty enough for that.
Bruce greeted all of them warmly enough, as did Alfred, who was offering coffee
to the guests and buzzing about how it was nice to have people in the
Penthouse. When Bruce pointed out that Dick came by from time to time, Alfred
only repeated him, and Bruce had to laugh.
They all had lunch, and Bruce commented that Harley and Pam made a lovely
couple. Jack had wanted to say it, but was afraid he was just reading
everything too strongly, or worried that maybe Pam didn’t want it pointed out.
But the woman just smiled and thanks Bruce, Pamela leaning over to kiss
Harley’s cheek softly.
After the late lunch and a tour around the Penthouse- well, that level anyway,
Bruce didn’t show them where he hosted his own get togethers, or the many empty
levels, or his own private gym- he was ushering Jack to his room to get
dressed.
“Oh lord,” Jack said, trying to dig his heels into the carpet. “You first baby.
Show me how it’s done. I’ll be on the couch.”
He took off before anyone could grab him, and Bruce sighed.
“Would you ladies be interested in making sure at least I look presentable?” he
asked. “At this rate Jack might be showing up in his underwear.”
Pam giggled, but Harley sighed because it was quite possibly true.
Bruce didn’t take long to get dressed- he was, after all, quite used to this-
and after the girls gave him the okay, he walked out to the parlor, where he
found Jack draped on a couch, watching TV, of all things.
Bruce cleared his throat and Jack looked back, eyeing him carefully- taking his
time, really.
“Not bad,” he said, “looks good on you.”
“It looked good on you the whole thirty seconds you had it on. Now c’mon, at
this rate it’ll be morning by the time we leave.”
When Jack didn’t move Bruce walked over and reached down, hoisting him up and
nearly dragging him off the couch. Jack yelled in surprise and fell, thumping
onto the floor with a frown. Harley was rushing out the moment she heard him,
stopping and raising one blonde eyebrow.
“What the hell Jack? Spend time on the floor and we’ll have to get you to take
a second shower.”
“Third,” Jack said as he stood up. “I couldn’t sleep and showered at four in
the morning to try and calm down. And then again before you picked me up.”
“What’s up with you?” Bruce asked, eyeing Jack, and he frowned.
“What’s up with me is I’m being dragged way out of my comfort zone, Brucie
baby, and I’m terrified that when your little friends react to you being with
me, you’re going to change your mind. I’m terrified of losing you- but hey,
that’s what always terrifies me.” He scowled, brushing past Bruce. “Where’s the
damn tux, let’s just get this over with.”
Harley let Jack brush past her and into the bedroom, and walked over to Bruce.
“He’ll cheer up,” she said, reaching out and taking his arm. “He’s going to
play the perfect boyfriend tonight, swear it. He loves you too much to do
anything on purpose that might make people think otherwise.”
“He doesn’t need to be perfect,” Bruce said, his eyes a little pained. “He just
has to be Jack. That’s all I want. It’s not like I care for any of the people
he’s going to meet tonight- I just have to keep connections fresh. But what
they think of my personal life, I don’t give a shit about. I just want Jack to
have a little fun- to be part of my world.”
Harley smiled and squeezed Bruce’s arm.
“See, that’s what he needs to hear, doll.”
Jack was straightening his bow tie when there was a knock on the door. With a
sigh he responded to come in, expecting Bruce or Harley, or god the both of
them, ready to tear him a new one and fret over this and that.
Instead, the door opened and Pamela slipped inside, walking over to where Jack
stood in front of the mirror.
“Oh,” Jack said, looking at her reflection. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I figured you weren’t. Relax a little, Alfred brought them some coffee as a
distraction.” She ran one of her hands along his shoulders. “Not bad kid, you
clean up pretty well.”
“Sure,” Jack said, pulling on his green curls. “Maybe I should’ve bleached my
hair, gone back to blonde or something. Green haired freak really isn’t the
kind of arm candy Bruce Wayne ought to have.”
“Now, who are we to say what Bruce should have? He should have who he wants,
and he wants you, Jack.” Pamela reached out, twirled one of his curls. “He
didn’t ask you to try to look like some run-of-the-mill boy. He didn’t ask you
to pretend to be someone you’re not. He just wants you as you are, Jack. Stop
worrying whether or not you’re good for him or if you’re what he should have.
You’re what he does have. And he picked you for something.”
Jack sighed, and Pamela came around to fix his bow tie, which still wasn’t
quite straight.
“You’re going to turn heads,” she said, “some are going to be because people
are terribly cruel. And some are going to wish they could take you home with
them. Don’t jump to too many conclusions. I know the rich of Gotham, I get to
deal with their funding. Trust me, they like a little spark, even if they won’t
admit it. Half of them will undress you with their eyes.” She ran her hands
down his chest, fixing the buttons on his vest. “Just remember, Bruce will be
doing it the most. All night.”
Jack blushed a little. “I wish he really would.”
“So take the lead. Man up Jack.” Pam punched him lightly in the arm, which made
him laugh. “Now, I’m going out there, and I expect you to come out in a minute,
two tops. And come out confident. You look amazing- you saw how amazing Bruce
looks. Knock him dead.”
She winked, and then walked away without another word, leaving Jack to smile
and decide he definitely approved of her.
Pamela accepted the cup of coffee Alfred offered her with a smile, as Bruce
checked his watch and sighed.
“Let me just tell him we need to leave soon.” Pam sighed and reached out,
touching his arm.
“Give him a minute Bruce. He’ll be out. Trust me.” She looked at Alfred, who
had so conveniently brought the coffee out just in time for her to slip away
for a second, and gave him a small smile.
“Yeah, but we need to leave-“
Bruce stopped when his bedroom door opened and Jack walked out, pulling his
jacket so it straightened against his chest. Pamela hadn’t lied- he cleaned up
well, even if the shock of green hair stood out stark against the black. His
curls were soft and touchable, and the tux had been tailored tight enough to
give slight hints of the curves he hid beneath- Bruce had had it tailored
tighter than he would have on himself, thinking it might make Jack feel better.
“Ready?” he asked, stopping in front of them, but looking only at Bruce, giving
him a dazzling smile. Bruce nodded, dumbly, because he wasn’t sure he had a
voice in that moment, and Harley was pulling her phone out and snapping a
picture.
“Oh boys, just one picture!” she squealed, feeling like a mother when her
daughter appears in her prom dress, and Jack smiled and slid right up to Bruce,
under his arm, resting a hand on his chest and giving that smile he could pull
out of nowhere. Bruce smiled and squeezed his shoulders, but his head was
floating.
He wasn’t sure how he got down the elevator, into his car with Jack nestled
next to him and Alfred driving. Didn’t remember the trip, because he was
staring at Jack’s smile and eyes and hair and remembering those feelings that
had first sprouted in the bar, on his couch, with those fingertips and
butterfly lips. Remembering the jitters in his stomach and the way they made
him want to gather Jack up and hoard him.
Jack’s smile faltered just a bit when they reached their destination, when the
car halted and Alfred lowered, the privacy screen, giving them a soft smile.
“Enjoy yourselves,” he said, and Jack nodded as the door was opened for them.
Bruce stepped out first, fixed his jacket, and held his hand in for Jack.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Jack took his hand and stepped out, gripping
it tightly as he was guided into the mouth of the beast.
Chapter End Notes
     Jack's like a stubborn kid. I love it :D <3
***** Chapter 14 *****
They were barely off the elevator and into this new, strange penthouse, when
Bruce was being greeted by stiff, smiling faces, cheeks brightening from the
champagne. Jack clung close, saw their eyes on him, but they ignored him,
waiting for Bruce to introduce him.
“This is Jack,” he finally said to the crowd surrounding him, and rattled off a
few names that swam in Jack’s head and were lost. Jack smiled and gave a shy,
half wave, and received a few short, quick responses, before they were trying
to pull Bruce in multiple directions. Bruce took Jack’s hand so as not to lose
him, and allowed himself to be guided around the room for the many “hellos” and
“how are yous” he would have to give and receive.
No one addressed Jack directly at first, and he was fine with that. He sipped
at a glass of champagne as Bruce made a round around the room, until they were
settled into a parlor on a plush couch with two other couples- both women
blonde with overly red lips and diamonds around their necks.
“So where is Talia Brucie?” one of them asked, her voice a long, whining sound.
Bruce darted his eyes to Jack quickly.
“Talia and I have decided to go our separate ways,” he said, taking a sip of
the champagne. Jack took a sip as well, but kept himself calm. Of course people
would ask about Talia, he knew, he actually had expected it.
“What a shame,” the one blonde was saying- her hair was a short, sleek bob, her
eyes lined heavy in midnight blue. “Such a pretty thing she was.” She turned to
Jack, ran her eyes over him. “And...”
“Jack,” Jack filled in, and she smirked.
“Jack, yes, how did you and Bruce dear meet?”
“Uh, well...we just sorta ran into each other on accident,” Jack said, looking
at Bruce, who gave him a small nod, the it’s-okay-you-can-tell-them. “See,
Bruce was in my favorite bar one night, and I just sort of liked his look and
went over, and we just clicked.”
She quirked up one perfectly drawn bar. “Bruce, whatever were you doing in a
bar in that part of town?” She laughed, and Jack frowned, because he hadn’t
specified where, and she was just making assumptions about him. Granted, that
one was right, but still- Jack didn’t like it.
“I like to see all of the city,” Bruce said, reaching over and resting a hand
on Jack’s knee. “And I’m glad for it. Meeting Jack was just...amazing.”
The woman frowned, and the blonde next to her clicked her tongue as her glass
was refilled.
“Bruce, honey, how long have you been...well, you know-“
“Gay?” Jack filled in, trying not to grit his teeth. She raised her lip
momentarily.
“Yes, that. Perhaps that’s what drove poor Talia away-“
“Talia chose to leave,” Bruce said, frowning. “As for the rest, I’m not gay-“
“But you’re with a man, honey. Do you even realize? I mean, I know he looks
rather womanish, but...”
“You know, not everyone fits into pretty little labels,” Jack said, having had
about enough. “Maybe Bruce doesn’t like men, and I’m just the exception. Maybe
he’s not going to judge me by what’s between my legs and let that decide if he
can love me.”
The woman took a long sip of her champagne, her eyes a quiet sort of angry, and
her date looked over from his conversation with the young waitress, then turned
back, far more entertained by her scooping neckline.
“So what do you do, Jack?” the other blonde asked, tracing her finger around
the rim of her glass.
“I’m an artist.” The two women looked at each other, and then laughed, the
second blonde letting her thick blonde waves roll over her shoulders.
“Oh Bruce,” she said, “Just where do you find these people?”
With a frown, Jack stood up, pulling away from Bruce’s hand, and walked away
from their continued laughter. He could handle so much, could back talk some
defense, but this was too much. He took another glass of champagne and found
the elevator, riding it up until it stopped, and he was let out onto the roof
of the penthouse. Jut as he’d expected- because this guy obviously had money,
just like Bruce, it was furnished with chairs and railings along the edges, to
keep any drunken accidents from turning into catastrophes.
Jack grabbed one of the chairs and tugged it all the way to the edge- grunting
because it was heavier than he expected. He settled down into it and propped
his feet up on the railing, downing the new glass of champagne in a long
succession of swallows that left his head fuzzy. Letting his hand fall over the
side of the chair and the glass dangle between his fingertips, he looked out
over the Gotham skyline.
It was pretty at night, bright with the lights that never seemed to go out. He
couldn’t see it like this from his apartment, and even Bruce’s penthouse, he
never ventured from the floor Bruce really lived in. So much wasted space.
Jack didn’t move or say a word when he heard the door open to the roof, or
close, or the footsteps echo towards him, the sound of a chair being dragged.
It was settled next to his, and Bruce filled it, looking out at the skyline
with him.
“I’m sorry about them,” he said, “I really don’t have any excuses. To say that
I like any of these people is a lie.”
“But you bother coming because you’ve got to keep up connections?” Jack asked
without anger, and without looking. Bruce nodded.
“Yeah.”
Jack shrugged a shoulder. He got that. He had to deal with that with his art.
He’d have to deal with it more now that he was selling.
“So, those two blondes...are they fucking or something?”
Bruce nearly spit out the last of his champagne, and started laughing. “God
Jack, what? Where does this shit come from?” Jack shrugged.
“I dunno, I got that vibe. Plus, they were so passive-aggressively negative
about our sexuality, always makes me think there’s something there.” He let his
glass clink onto the ground and reached over, finding Bruce’s hand. “Hope I
didn’t over step a line back there with them.”
Bruce shook his head, squeezed Jack’s hand.
“Not at all. You were you, Jack. That’s all I want. Besides, they deserved it.”
Jack smiled, felt something warm in his belly beyond the alcohol. He stood up,
pulling Bruce with him, and leaned against the railing, pulling Bruce over so
they were chest to chest.
When he kissed Bruce, he tasted like champagne and that general saltiness that
always clung to his tongue, that coupled with Jack’s sweetness so exquisitely
Jack couldn’t imagine one taste without the other. He clutched at Bruce’s shirt
and pressed his hips against his, partially because his mind was fuzzy and his
body said it was a good idea- but mostly because he simply wanted to.
Bruce pressed back, reached up and stroked one of his scars as he tipped Jack’s
head back, delved between his lips and took his breath. Jack felt his knees
growing weak, and had to really lean against the railing, forgetting for a
moment where he was, just that Bruce was there and kissing him and feeling like
he did back on Jack’s couch, alive and breathing and humming with some sort of
stark naked desire that demanded to be set free.
“When can we go home?” Jack mumbled against Bruce’s lips, eyes nearly rolling
back as Bruce’s lips traced one scar. Bruce chuckled- made Jack’s skin vibrate.
“Not soon enough,” he said, hooking one arm around Jack’s waist. “Come back
down with me and have some more to drink.”
Jack giggled, beginning to get the feeling back in his legs. “Why, Mr. Wayne,
are you trying to get me drunk?”
“Not in the slightest,” Bruce said, taking his hand and leading him away from
the railing. “Just trying to show you a good time.”
“I’d have a better time on my knees. Or better yet, my back.” Bruce’s jaw
dropped a little and he gave Jack a look of did-you-really-just-say-that-out-
loud, and Jack was giggling and shrugging his shoulders. “Champagne makes me
honest,” Jack said, “and you’d have a far better time if I was on my knees or
back, too.”
Bruce blushed as they descended the stairs from the roof to the elevator, but
didn’t deny that it sounded far more enticing than the rest of the evening.
Bruce made a point to leave early on, despite the host and a few of his
acquaintances requests to stay later. There was only so much Bruce could take
of the whole ordeal, and he came up with the lie that he had lots to do the
following day- he was, after all, one of the only active owners of a company
here. Most of them just let someone else do the dirty work.
When he and Jack crawled into the back of the car and Alfred greeted them, Jack
was giggling and a little tipsy from all the champagne. Towards the end he’d
decided he’d have a better conversation with a glass than any of the guests.
“Pleasant evening?” Alfred asked.
“Could have gone far worse,” Bruce said, wrapping an arm around Jack’s
shoulders and holding him close. “Jack didn’t end up killing anyone, which is a
plus.”
“Were you worried?” Jack asked in a sing-song voice, giggling again.
“Not really. You’re a bit drunk, baby. Let’s get you into bed when we get
home.”
Alfred chuckled at them and raised the privacy screen, just as Jack reached up
and fiddled with the buttons of Bruce’s vest.
“I like when you get me into bed,” he said, opening the vest and laying his
hand against Bruce’s shirt. “It’s gonna take an army to get all these clothes
off though. Better start now.” He winked, and Bruce was laughing, wrapping his
arms around Jack.
“Not tonight, Jackie-“
“Well why the hell not?” Jack asked, the giggles leaving his voice. “I’m way
more than willing, we just survived that...monstrosity , and it’s been forever
Bruce. Hell, you’ve never actually fucked me.”
Bruce’s eyes widened a bit, and Jack was squirming to escape his lap, but he
held him firm. In fact, he pulled him in closer.
“Do you...want me to?” Bruce asked, and Jack rolled his eyes.
“Jeez-us, of course I do sugar. I mean, I’d fuck you senseless too, but I don’t
think you’re ready for that. I’ve always tended to be more of a bottom anyway.”
Jack was so calm, it was almost unnerving for Bruce. He loved Jack, he knew
that, even if he didn’t say it nearly enough- but there were still things he
had to get used to. It made intimacy hard- even if Jack made him hot to the
core. But he didn’t want to hurt him, and Jack had been through so much. He
didn’t think Jack was ready. He didn’t think he was ready.
Alfred retired when they reached the Penthouse, leaving Bruce and Jack to ride
up the elevator to their floor alone- to be welcomed by cool darkness. Bruce
was undoing his bow tie as they stepped off, taking a deep breath. He was
looking forward to some sleep.
Jack was much more solemn. He left his tux as was and followed Bruce into the
bedroom, fumbling for his phone to text Harley and let him know they’d returned
safe and sound- and in one piece. Bruce is stripping slowly, hanging pieces up
to be dry cleaned properly in the morning. Jack leaves him after a moment,
phone discarded on the nightstand, and Bruce lets him, focusing on disrobing
without destroying anything in the near dark. He could turn a light on but he
doesn’t feel like it- enough like sneaks in through his curtains to allow him
to see.
He’s naked from the waist up when Jack returns, leaning against the door frame
and taking a long pull from a bottle of scotch he’d grabbed. Bruce watches as
he fights down chills- knows Jack doesn’t actually like scotch- he just stills
sips from Bruce’s to let his lips touch the glass in that same place- only
likes the way it tastes on his tongue and lips. He wants to question him, but
keeps his lips firmly shut instead. He just watches, how that throat moves in
the shadows, how lean Jack is, the curve of his hips that he can see by the way
his jacket drapes.
Bruce turned and thought back to the car, to Jack on his lap and admitting that
he wanted Bruce to fuck him. He can see Jack on top of him, head thrown back
and that neck long and exposed and straining as he cries out- and Bruce had to
reach up and brush his hand through his hair, try to clear his head because
he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want that- even if it’s a new level of
sexuality he hadn’t quite come to terms with.
“Don’t drink so much,” he says, not looking back to Jack, “it can’t be healthy
with your meds. Come get some sleep.” He looked back, caught Jack taking
another drink. “You don’t even like scotch.”
“Yeah, but you do,” Jack said, walking over, “so it was all I could find. I
don’t feel like actually looking, anyway.” He set the bottle on the nightstand,
let Bruce work his jacket off and hang it up. He reached up and was clumsy with
his bow tie- not like Jack, and Bruce wondered how much he’d drunk when he
wasn’t looking.
“You’re going to have a hang over in the morning if you’re not careful.” He
batted Jack’s hands away and undid the bow tie, removing it and working on his
vest. Jack watched idly as it’s opened, and then Bruce is working on the
buttons to his shirt, opening it up to pale skin. Half way down he stops and
lets his thumb rub over a puckered line of scar tissue, and Jack’s eyelids get
heavy. “What’s it from?” he whispered, and Jack looks, as if trying to
remember.
“Nineteen, got into it with these two guys who thought I’d be easy to fuck
with. Broken glass to the chest- I busted one guy’s nuts. No breeding for him.”
Bruce rubs it again- wonders what it’d be like to see Jack’s body tense and
release with that sort of force. He doesn’t doubt it’s there somewhere.
He leaned down and traced Jack’s throat with his lips- he knew he shouldn’t,
shouldn’t provoke but he loves his throat and watching it work, and Jack
doesn’t fight him as he teases the skin and opens his shirt more, until it’s
being pushed off his shoulders with his vest.
“This?” Bruce asks, tracing a scar along his hip bone, and Jack eyes it for a
moment.
“Dad got pissed at me, chucked me into the coffee table. It broke- part of it
in me.”
Bruce grimaces and Jack steals the moment, kisses him and reaches up to sink
his hands into his hair. He’s a mix of champagne and scotch and typical-sweet-
Jack, and Bruce drinks it all down as their tongues meet and meld and melt and
drown.
This wasn’t what Bruce meant- but he can’t stop. Jack is too much, he always
is, and Bruce is pushing him onto the bed and crawling over him, nearly ripping
his shirt and vest away to let his lips and tongue and teeth tease one pale
nipple. Jack hissed, arched up, tilted his head back and Bruce can feel he’s
hard- isn’t surprised, just wonders how long Jack has been. He reaches down,
palms him through the clothing and silently screams at himself that he’s only
making it worse- but he can’t stop. Ready or not, Bruce needs him suddenly,
he’s denied it too long now.
Jack chokes on his moan as his breath catches in his throat. He’s hot and wants
his clothing gone but doesn’t have the words for that- he’s tangled in the
sleeves of his shirt and his vest and he can’t move without help- without
Bruce.
“Baby,” he gasps, and Bruce is helping him, untangling him and pulling it off
until they’re equally half naked and Bruce is unzipping his pants. He pulls
them off, even Jack’s socks, leaves him in just his underwear. Jack giggles and
feels light and rolls away, onto his stomach and looks back over his shoulder,
lifting his hips just a little to accentuate the curve of his ass. “C’mon,” he
teases, and Bruce crawls over him, kissing up along his spine. A scar near his
left shoulder blade.
“Tell me,” he whispers and kisses it.
“Thrown into barbed wire,” Jack whispered, “old building, gang site. I wanted
to take some pictures, they smashed my camera, threw me against it. Might’ve
done worse if the cops hadn’t shown up to bust ‘em for drugs.” Bruce’s tongue
drags along it and he moans. “Oh sugar, again.”
Bruce obeys, traces it before closing his lips over the scar and sucking
gently, hands running along Jack’s sides before gripping his hips. He pushes
down against Jack’s ass and he groans and pushes up and pleads from his clumsy
lips.
Bruce would have said no a half hour ago, in the car. He had, but now- now he’s
crawling off Jack and tearing his underwear off and leaving him naked and pale
and fucking glorious on his bed.
Jack looks back over his shoulder again, smirks. “You’re over dressed,” he
says, and Bruce raises his eyebrows.
“Oh, am I?”
“Yeah.” Jack rolls over slowly, lazily, props up on his elbows as his cock
rests against his abdomen and Bruce thinks there’s nothing more perfect then
him in that very moment. “Off, all of it.”
Bruce obeys as if Jack has his fingers in his brain, gets off the bed and
unzips his pants, pulling everything off and chucking it away, before crawling
back on, naked now, and trailing kisses up Jack’s left thigh. There’s a few
thin scars near his upper thigh, and Bruce nuzzles the flesh.
“Tell me.” He wants to know every scar- even though Jack has countless. Wants
to memorize them and feels like he should have started long ago- that very
first night.
“A little too kinky with my ex,” Jack says, and Bruce’s head shoots up and
stares at him. Jack shrugs a shoulder. “What can I say? He liked it rough, and
he didn’t mind spending some time right ther- ah!”
His words are lost in a gasp as Bruce traced his tongue up along the underside
of his sex, not wanting to hear about who has fucked Jack, who’s had him in
their mouth- any of it. For a moment, Bruce wanted to think he was the only
one. Wanted no one else to have this image of Jack.
Maybe the champagne had gotten to him more than he thought.
“Nnnh, Br-ruce,” Jack gasps, engulfed in his mouth now, head tipped back. “F-
uck.” He could be gone then, this could end in Bruce’s mouth if Jack isn’t
careful- but it’s hard when Bruce’s hand is cupping his balls gently, his other
squeezing his thigh as he moves his head. He’s learning- and fast- and Jack
isn’t sure how he’ll survive moments like this.
He shivered, gripped at the blankets, and begs for Bruce to pull off, to stop
so he can breathe. Begs him because he’s greedy and he wants more, and Bruce
pulls back and looks up at him, smirking.
“Who said it’d have to be done?” he whispered, before swallowing him again and
Jack just can’t handle it, it’s been too long, and he quivered as he cried out
and thrust up into Bruce’s mouth, his orgasm shaking him. Bruce swallowed, it
was easier than he would have thought, and crawled up Jack, kissed him and
reminded him of it all with every bitter hint in his mouth. Jack clung to him,
whimpered and pushed up because he was still half hard and he still wanted
Bruce inside.
And Bruce can’t deny it- in that moment, he wanted it too. Wanted it so badly
that he was hard enough to ache so painfully he cried out when Jack pushed
their pelvises together. He reached down, cupped Jack’s ass, kneaded the soft
flesh, and Jack tipped his head back.
“Baby please,” he whimpers, his voice a sweet, bubbly thrill like the champagne
taste hidden on his tongue. He untangles from Bruce, rolls over onto his
stomach again, wants Bruce like this and Bruce can’t contain himself.
“Tell me what to do,” he whispered, and Jack is reaching for the nightstand,
pulling open the drawer and and fumbling for what he knows is there. His
fingers wrap around the little bottle, and he passes it back to Bruce.
“One first,” he whispered, even if he knows it’s not enough- but it’s been so
long that Jack knew he couldn’t handle more. He waited for it, expected the
intrusion- instead, felt Bruce grip the soft flesh and part it, felt his breath
and then his tongue- hot and slick and so right and Jack cries out because this
is the last thing he expected.
Bruce isn’t as naive as he let on to be.
Jack is torn between pushing up against Bruce’s mouth, and down into the bed to
grind and get some friction, and chooses Bruce’s divine mouth, whimpering and
crying out softly as that tight ring of muscle and teased until Jack is nearly
delirious. His fingers flex in the blanket, clutch, unclutch- until finally
Bruce is pulling back and one slick finger replaces his mouth, pressing into
him.
Jack hissed softly, looked over his shoulder to watch as Bruce moved the digit
delicately. A few thrusts, and Jack gasped, “another,” body needing it, and
Bruce obeyed. He seemed so intent, as if he needed to concentrate, and Jack
lifted his hips to meet his thrusts, rolled them gently and mewled and wanted
him to relax because he was doing fine.
“You’re...not...hurting...me,” Jack breathed with each thrust, “relax.” He
rolled his neck, groaning as Bruce’s fingers made a scissor like motion, again-
and-again-and-again.
Bruce eased the third in before Jack asked, and Jack dropped his head and
groaned into the pillows, feeling almost full, realizing it had been so long,
he’d wanted Bruce so much, and when those fingers curled just the right way he
jerked up and cried out, cock jerking, hard again, into his abdomen.
Bruce smirked- still tense, but unable to hide that he liked that Jack liked
it. He was throbbing, wanted so badly to just fuck Jack senseless in that
moment, but he waited until Jack gave him the okay. Good thing for him, Jack
was nearly delirious at this point, and just as wanton as him.
“F-fuuuck, Bruce,” he gasped out, “c’monc’monc’mon, now baby.”
Bruce pulled his fingers out, shaking as he stroked himself to slicken up, and
then was pulling Jack’s hips with one hand as he scrambled to his knees,
guiding himself with the other. He pushed gently, barely pressed the tip into
Jack, and his mind began to spin and spiral. He stilled- and Jack, far too
impatient, shoved himself back until Bruce was fully inside him. Bruce gasped
and trembled and Jack gave a soft, happy cry.
For a moment, Bruce forgot exactly how to be intimate- he just knelt there
enjoying the pulsating heat around him, but when Jack pulled away and pushed
back, the sensation double and he remembered exactly what he was supposed to be
doing. He gripped Jack’s hips and held him steady as he set a slow, steady
rhythm- one Jack fell into, that hit all the right spots and made him quiver
gently.
“Not so- nnnnh, bad, is it, baby?” Jack asked, breathless, and if Bruce had had
the breath for it, he would have chuckled.
“No,” he said, punctuating the thought with an exceptionally strong, deep
thrust- one that made Jack cry out. He chuckled and ran one hand up and down
his spine, watched the way Jack twisted to help thrust back, to set a faster
pace. Bruce leaned down, buried his hand in Jack’s tangled curls and tugged,
and Jack cried out and jerked up, suddenly on his knees. Bruce’s arm locked
around his waist, held his back to his chest and continued to thrust, Jack
squirming and whimpering.
One of his hands was tracing Bruce’s arm, before it dipped lower, wrapped
around his own aching cock and began to stroke, matching each of Bruce’s
thrusts. Bruce watched, smirked, and buried his face in Jack’s neck, his own
eyes nearly rolling back in his head as he swore Jack seemed to tighten around
him. At this rate, he wouldn’t last.
Though, from the sounds Jack was making- each keening cry and broken, sobbing
moan- he didn’t think he would either. He pulled him tighter against his body,
fel the way his back could slid against his chest, each growing slick with
sweat- and Bruce thrust harder, bit at Jack’s neck and nibbled his way up to
his earlobe.
“Almost there?” he whispered, and Jack gasped, eyes snapping open.
“Been there since you first shoved your cock in me,” he admitted, pushing back
against Bruce and making his breath huff out in his ear. He shivered. Jack
smiled and began to pull away, confusing Bruce. “Just go with it,” he gasped,
and Bruce obeyed, pulling out of Jack’s body very unwillingly.
Jack turned and guided him down onto his back, before he climbed on top of him.
He reached back, gripping his cock, and slowly slid down onto it, eyes rolling
back as Bruce filled him once more. Bruce gasped, gripped at Jack’s hips so
hard he would bruise- clung to him to make sure he was real and that this was
actually happening.
Jack set the rhythm here- Jack controlled it all, and Bruce was alright with
that. He watched as Jack kept one hand back on Bruce’s thigh to keep steady,
the other working himself quickly, trying to keep up with his movements, with
Bruce’s thrusts up into him. Bruce tried to keep him steady too- held him and
traced little circles into his hips with his thumbs- watched as those wild
green curls tossed and bounced around him, as his face scrunched up a bit,
until he was screaming Bruce’s name, his pupils blown and head tilted back as
he convulsed around him. Bruce felt his muscles clench and unclench countless
times, saw his cum shoot over his knuckles, staining his abdomen.
Bruce gave in then, gritted his teeth and gave one final thrust before he cried
out too- cried out, “Jack!” and let it all flow into him. Jack rode him through
it, panting and trance-like, until Bruce couldn’t handle it and he was pulling
him off, begging him to come down.
Jack collapsed onto the bed next to him, laid on his stomach and felt Bruce
reach over and trace his fingers up his spine. He purred, reached out and
placed his hand lazily on Bruce’s chest, too green eyes meeting nearly black,
and for a moment they held that gaze-
Then Jack was giggling, grinning like a fool. “Brucie baby,” he said, “good
fucking Lord.” He traced one finger down Bruce’s chest, pushed himself up on
his other elbow, enjoyed the feeling of slick skin. “That could’ve killed me.
In the most insanely awesome way.”
Bruce chuckled, unable to not. He felt...absolutely amazing, to tell the truth.
He’d never had much of an afterglow after sex, but in this moment his entire
body was buzzing with this tingling warmth that made him just want to laugh.
“I’m sorry I waited so long to do it,” Bruce admitted, and Jack grinned.
“Told you, it’d be awesome. And I didn’t break. Although,” he looked down at
his own chest, the sweat and semen turning cold, which was beyond unpleasant.
“I could use a shower now. Fuck, we might want to change your sheets, too.”
Bruce laughed and stood up, reaching for Jack and scooping him up into his
arms. Jack gave a shriek like laugh and threw his arms around Bruce’s neck,
clinging to him.
“C’mon princess,” Bruce said, “let’s clean you up.”
“Just remember, it’s your fault I’m filthy,” Jack reminded him as Bruce carried
him into the bathroom and flipped the light on with his shoulder blade. Bruce
chuckled. He was sure he’d never forget.
***** Chapter 15 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Bruce was up, partially dressed, and pouring himself a cup of coffee when he
heard his bedroom door open, and Jack’s trudging footsteps along the hallway,
towards the kitchen.
He appeared in just his underwear, hair disheveled- and Bruce was glad he had
told Alfred to please not come up until the afternoon. He looked like a god in
that moment, his eyes oddly alive, despite the fact that he was tired- Bruce
could feel it.
“Morning sunshine,” Bruce said, sipping his coffee, and Jack gave him a smile.
“Morning there sugar. Wanna christen the new day on the counter?” He winked and
Bruce turned a bright red, Jack laughing and walking over to the mess of pill
bottles he had left on the counter when he first arrived yesterday. He was
still giggling as he sorted through them, grabbing what he needed until he had
a palm full of drugs. His laugh died, and he got a glass of water, going
through the routine of swallowing each and every one, until he had enough drugs
in his system to keep his sanity balanced.
When he was done Bruce reached out, rubbed his back affectionately, felt the
vertebrae below the soft skin.
“I hate this shit,” Jack admitted, looking at the pill bottles. “All of it. I
know I need it- and I hate that. Sometimes I just wish I was...normal.” He
looked back, and Bruce kissed his temple.
“You’d be boring. I like you crazy.” He smiled warmly, hugged Jack with one
arm, and Jack sank into it. “Well, contained crazy. Let’s leave your insanity
to your art, and that’s it.”
Jack laughed. “Speaking of, I have a lot of shit to get done this week, to get
ready for the exhibit this weekend. Hope you weren’t planning on taking me to
any more parties.”
“I wasn’t,” Bruce admitted, “but if they all end like last night, maybe I’ll
have to come up with something.”
Jack smiled and gave Bruce a chaste kiss. “I’m gonna go find pants before
Alfred sees more than he ever wanted to.”
Jack walked out, and Bruce watched him go- unashamed.
Monday brought therapy, and Jack was a little smug as he, very casually,
admitted to Dr. Crane that he and Bruce had finally had sex. Finally.
“And how did that make you feel?”
“You sound like a textbook,” Jack said, resting one bent arm under his head.
“Fucking amazing is how. Best lay ever.”
“Not physically, Jack.” The boy rolled his eyes.
“Like Bruce was really accepting me as his boyfriend, and not just some guy he
likes to hang out with. Like...like he gave part of himself to me. Closer to
him. Good, in all. Really good.” Dr. Crane nodded. “You’re being awfully boring
Doc, what’s with the textbook nonsense?”
“Well Jack,” Dr. Crane said, looking up from his notepad, “Two things. One, I
am required to give the hospital a written report on you, and I need some
serious questions and answers to give them- aside of my write-ups. And two, I’m
evaluating you, considering if it’s time to finally stop sending you to the
babysitter’s.” He smiled when Jack giggled.
“There’s my Dr. Crane,” he said, “So, what’s the diagnosis? Am I doomed to have
Harley attached to my hip, or can I finally jerk off in peace?”
Dr. Crane laughed, rolling his eyes and Jack grinned. “I think some time alone
will do you good.”
“Oh thank God. I love her, but she’s got a life she needs to live. Besides, in
all seriousness, I’ve got an exhibit I’m in this weekend, and a lot of work to
do.”
Jack hadn’t been exaggerating. He spent most of the week elbow deep in paint
and ink, finishing up a few stray pieces. When he wasn’t working, he was
apartment hunting. He was turned down from another possible complex, and was
beginning to get frustrated. He didn’t want to have to admit to Harley what was
going on, and ask to crash at her place while he tried to find a new one.
Sadly, it was beginning to look like that was going to be his only option.
Oswald stopped by his apartment Thursday. He didn’t call, and Jack answered the
door, wild curls in a knot on the right side of his neck, paint splattered all
over himself, his jeans, and his t-shirt. He froze for a moment, then forced a
smile.
“Oswald, hi! I wasn’t expecting you. C’mon in- sorry, this place is a total
mess.” Oswald followed him in, and Jack had spoken the truth. He’d begun to
pack in between painting session, and there were boxes with labels scrawled on
them all over the place- not to mention Jack’s paint and ink and brushes
everywhere.
“I always heard artist work in crazy conditions. You just proved that, Jack.”
The boy shrugged a shoulder.
“It’s work and moving, actually,” he admitted, “I have to be out by the end of
next week.” Oswald raised an eyebrow.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Where to?”
“No idea.” Jack leaned against the counter. “Been lookin’, but I haven’t found
much of anything. Most people aren’t interested in having someone like me
living under their roof.”
“Well, that explains why you’ve decided to sell, finally.”
“That, and the massive medical bills I have now,” Jack admitted, unsure why he
could open up to Oswald. He figured he’d just worked with him long enough.
“Good thing I came to deliver this then,” Oswald said, fishing inside his
jacket and pulling out a check. He handed it to Jack. “For the Harlequin
pieces. Would it be alright if I took them now? I’d like to get them set up,
and announce this weekend that they’ll be on display.”
“Yeah, that’s cool,” Jack said, tucking the check into his pocket. “I need a
break anyway. Head on down to your car, I’ll start bringing ‘em down.”
When Jack finally had the last piece securely in Oswald’s overly-expensive car,
he felt a twinge of sadness in his chest. He sighed, closed the trunk, and
forced a smile for Oswald.
“So be on location Saturday morning to set up,” he was saying, “so we’ll be
ready to go by that afternoon. It’s going to be busy-“
“I’ll be there plenty early,” Jack reassured him, “Call me if something comes
up and you need help with anything.”
“Always so helpful,” Oswald said, shaking his hand. “And always a pleasure,
Jack. Take care of yourself, and get some sleep. You just have to look your
best- part of your allure is the pretty boy behind the paint.”
Jack just gave a nod, keeping the false smile until Oswald was gone and he was
walking back up to his apartment. It hurt now, knowing Harlequin was gone.
Knowing that beautiful masterpiece he’d slaved over of Harley was no longer
his. Of course, it was right where he could see it whenever he wanted, and he
could still sell prints of it- but he liked going up to the attic and sitting
there, surrounded by his work. That had been the center piece.
He poured himself a shot of vodka once inside and took it, let it burn down his
throat. He winced, chased it down with another. He didn’t like that he was
turning to shit like this suddenly. He wondered if he should bring it with
Crane- let him know he was chasing the bad feelings with a bottle more often.
It wasn’t healthy- especially with the crazy elixir of drugs he was on.
He flopped down on the couch and stared at his phone. Her face was there, she
was a call away- and Jack should have left it alone, but he called anyway.
“Hello?” Harley’s voice was so welcoming.
“You busy?”
“Well...not really, Puddin’. What’s up?”
“Can you come over for a bit,” Jack asked, staring off at the mess of canvases
he had out. “Just for a little.”
“Sure. Are you okay?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” Jack said- thought it was a bit of a lie. Something hurt deep
down, and he didn’t know what. He was sure if he hadn’t taken his meds that
morning, he’d want to claw himself open and find it. “Just want to see you.”
“Give me an hour, I’m just finishing up this case study write up.”
“Sure thing sweetheart. See you.” Jack tossed his phone aside and closed his
eyes, pressing his palms into them and trying to focus on the stars that burst
behind his eyelids.
Harley was there exactly one hour later, ever punctual. Jack greeted her with a
smile, and she joked about the messy state he was in, asked about all the boxes
he had, but he ignored that.
“So how’s the painting-“ she cut off, eyed the bottle on his counter. “Jack,
were you drinking?”
“A little.” He shrugged.
“There’s a lot missing.”
“It’s been getting me through the week,” he admitted. “I’ll tell Crane tomorrow
at my session. I’ve been drinking way more, I’ll admit.”
“You better. It can’t be good with your meds. Plus, you never were one for
anything straight.” She grinned and he laughed as they settled on the couch.
“So what’s up honey? Just need some company? I know you’ve been working up a
storm here- Bruce has been calling me because you’re too busy to stop and
answer your phone. You could’ve called him over.”
“He’s probably busy,” Jack said, knowing the truth was because the ache in him
had nothing to do with Bruce, and everything to do with her. “I’ll call him
later though, I swear. I’m a pretty bad boyfriend to finally get him to get
clingy and then get too busy.”
“Oh hun, you’re a fine boyfriend I’m sure.” Harley ran her fingers through her
hair, and Jack watched the blonde strands move like golden silk. He reached
out, tangled his fingers in it, and she watched him, didn’t say a word-
Until he twisted her hair around his fist and pulled her closer, pressing his
mouth to hers. Harley made a startled sound that he drank down- before she was
reaching for him, tangling her arms around him, not in control but being swept
beneath the current. He pressed her into the couch and kissed her in a way he
had once before- years ago, she knew- delved inside her in a way that made her
tremble.
When he finally let her breath, his breath ghosted over her lips so perfectly,
so sweetly, that she felt her breathing escalating.
“I sold Harlequin,” he whispered, and she was brought back to reality for a
moment.
“What?”
“I sold it. Oswald picked it up today. It’s going into his gallery. I’m selling
it all, Harley- but it hurt. Something inside me hurts knowing it’s gone. It’s
like I sold you.” He sank both his hands into her hair. “I needed to see you,
to know I didn’t. I don’t know what’s going on but-“ His voice broke and he
pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m a bit of a mess now honey, and I’m sorry.”
Harley traced her hands along Jack’s shoulders, trying to wrap her mind around
anything beyond that kiss. “I’m still here,” she said, at a loss for words.
“I’m terrified you won’t be one day. I owe you so much- I just...Harley, I’m
confused now. I shouldn’t fucking hurt so much because of a damn painting.”
Harley took a deep breath, tangled her own hands in Jack’s hair. “I loved you
once, ya know that, right?” He didn’t say anything. “I loved you more than
life. I would have done anything for you. Whatever the fuck we had when you
first moved in- I wanted it to last forever. But you moved on, honey. You told
me no. And I know it was for the best. Puddin’, we need closure on all this.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “We need to let go, so we can move the
hell on.”
Jack didn’t say anything, but she saw the tears in the corners of his eyes.
Slowly, he nodded. “Don’t think I didn’t love you too,” he whispered,
“just...just don’t think I didn’t.”
“I don’t sweetheart, I don’t.”
“But we’re...we just... we’d never work...right?”
“Right,” Harley said, partially confirming it for herself. “You found someone
who completes you, Jack. You’re just relapsing because you’re moving on. Two
steps forward, one step back. You took a big step selling your work- and
Harlequin, of all of them. But you didn’t sell me. Just some paint on a
canvas.”
Jack nodded, leaning back, forcing himself to breathe. Harley watched, ran one
hand down his chest.
“Why did you sell it, Jack?” she asked when she saw him visibily coming down.
“I know we discussed selling some of your work, that it was something you
should think about doing- but I honestly didn’t expect you to jump right in
with Harlequin.”
Jack sighed, looked away for a moment, contemplated telling Harley the truth of
it all. “I needed to,” he said, “I need the money, Harley. I’ve got bills up to
my fucking eyeballs thanks to my breakdown. The money will cover most of it- at
least give me a way to start paying, so the hospital doesn’t think I’m just
going to try and not. And...and...” Jack took a deep breath, bit his lip for a
moment. “I got evicted, Harley. I’ve got ‘til my rent runs out this month,
which is next week, to move. I need money so I can pay for a new place- plus, I
owe for the damages I’ve done to this hell hole in my time here. I couldn’t
afford to hold onto them, even if I wanted to.”
Jack slumped a bit, felt Harley’s hands rubbing his arms affectionately. “Oh
Puddin’,” she whispered, “why didn’t you tell me sooner? You’re more than
welcome to come stay with me-“
“No,” Jack said, offering her a weak smile. “No Harley, I’m not. We’re talking
about moving on- you and I need to find closure for us. I need to remember that
you have a life, that you can’t drop everything for me. And you need to
remember to live your life- for you, not for me.”
Harley didn’t say anything- just took Jack’s hand, wanted to fix it all but
knew he was right- she had to let him do it himself. And he had to let her let
go.
“I love you, ya know that,” she said, and he nodded.
“I love you too, Harley. Always will.” He kissed her knuckles, smiled at her.
“So, when’s the wedding with Pam?”
She laughed, shoving him off her lap. “Whenever it is, you’ll know- you have to
be my maid of honor. Dress and all bitch.”
Jack laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed, and prayed he’d still be
laughing in the morning.
“You did a good thing, telling Harley,” Dr. Crane said, setting his coffee cup
down. “And remember, it’s better to lean on her then end up homeless, Jack. If
it comes to that- you know my number. You call me.”
Jack smiled. “Why Doc, is that an invitation?”
“It is.” Crane smiled. “You’ve been quite a patient all these years, Jack. Hate
to lose the entertainment too soon.” Jack snickered. “So, have you told Bruce?”
“No,” Jack admitted. “No, I haven’t. I feel like...like it would just seem like
I was asking for him to step in, to pay my bills and put a roof over my head-
and I don’t want that. I have to do this on my own. I don’t want Bruce to
think...to think I’m dating him for money or anything. I really care about him.
Harley wasn’t exaggerating- he completes me.”
Dr. Crane took a sip from his room temperature coffee, set his pen down. “Jack,
I’m going to give you some advice. And I’m not saying it as your therapist- I’m
saying this as a friend who has gotten to watch your life unfold for years.
Tell Bruce. He won’t jump to any of those conclusions. I’m sure he’ll offer to
help, but it won’t mean you’re with him for his money, or that you need the
help and can’t handle it all on your own. When you love someone, you help them
out. If Bruce needed anything, you’d drop whatever you were doing to get it for
him, I’m sure.” Jack nodded. “Then think about it Jack, and think on it fast.
And remember- you have my number. Don’t hesitate.”
By the time Saturday rolled around, Jack was jsut thankfully the week was over.
He’d completed every piece he wanted for the exhibit, and even though he’d been
rejected for another apartment, he’d made a huge payment on his medical bills-
nearly the entire check Oswald had cut him- so that was two of three things off
his shoulders. Still, he was sure he’d be in better spirits if he’d seen Bruce.
He hadn’t- the entire week. It had been too hectic. When he tried Thursday
night, Bruce had ended up stuck in a meeting that ran well over what he
expected, and Jack had been so exhausted he couldn’t wait up.
So, as the morning air brought him life, in the center of Gotham, along the
park, as he steadied one of his paintings, Jack was most excited about seeing
Bruce again. About seeing those chocolate eyes that bore down into him and
feeling those strong arms around his little figure. He worried his lower lip as
he stepped back, looked at his work along the wall that had been erected just
for this, looked to his left, saw other artists doing the same. They’d all
break for morning coffee, some food soon, and then finish up, get ready for the
exhibit to officially open after lunch. Oswald would be impressed that they
weren’t behind schedule, but ahead. His goal was to have everyone ready to get
going by dinner time.
Jack smiled. He liked the freeness of all this. No suits, ties, champagne. Just
art, the artists that slaved over it, and when they were ready is when people
showed up. They’d send out texts, and word of mouth would be enough. This
happened twice a year- once in spring, and once in fall- and the last fall
exhibit had never happened- nasty storms had plagued Gotham last fall, and even
when they tried to reschedule, they just couldn’t get any good weather.
After coffee- or in Jack’s case, a big glass of orange juice- he called Oswald,
told him to come down, that they were almost done, would be spreading the word
by lunch. He hurried right over, walked about inspecting the various stands and
walls covered in art, smiled when he reached Jack’s.
“Well Jack, you’ve out done yourself,” he said, eyeing the many pieces he’d
hung up. “New series?”
“It’s a little peek at what’s to come,” Jack admitted, admiring the portrait
he’d done of Bruce- all from memory- with that big, black mask, the words The
Bat Man written in bleeding ink along the space near his head. “Remember I said
I’d have something new this fall? A whole series. I’m going to tie in the
Harlequin set as well, get Harley to put the costume on for old times sake and
do a few new pieces.”
“Magnificent,” Oswald said, “why, I can’t wait! I’m going to make a few calls,
get some people down here- you know the news will be down once word starts. Put
that dazzling smile on boy- it’ll win your name some fame today.”
Word of mouth brought the city out quickly- before Jack could even text Harley
and Bruce and let them know everything was ready to go. Jack wondered around a
bit from his post, trying to peek at the work around him, but not wanting to go
too far, as people were always stopping trying to talk with the artists.
Sure enough, when Harley and Pam arrived, Jack was surrounded by a group of
college kids, taking pictures with him and his art. Harley watched from the
distance, laughing, Pam holding her hand, until Jack finally got away from them
and headed over, smoothing back his wild curls.
“Quite popular today,” Harley said, and Jack shrugged.
“You wouldn’t believe how many people have asked if I’m single. Oswald wasn’t
kidding when he said my looks do get me some attention. I just hope my art gets
some too- otherwise, this is sort of pointless.”
“Oh, I’m sure it will,” Pam said, eyeing it from a distance. “Care to let us
see?”
“Oh, sure!” Jack led them over, and the looked at the works, Pamela smiling and
pointing out any time Jack had used the local plants- at the vibrant colors.
“What’s this Jackie?” Harley asked, pointing to the portrait of Bruce. “Does
Bruce know?”
“Not yet,” Jack admitted, “but he will when he gets here. It’s a whole series.
I was hoping you’d put on your Harlequin outfit for it.” Harley laughed. “And I
was hoping Pam would be interested in getting in on the action as well- I have
some plans for her.”
Pamela smiled. “Aw, Jack, I’d be honored.”
“Hey, there he is!”
Three heads turned at the sound, were met by Dick grinning and waving. Jack
smiled and waved, saw Jason and Bruce walking behind him as Dick hurried over.
“Oh man, look at all the stuff you’ve got up!” he said, throwing an arm around
Jack’s shoulders. “You out did yourself! Where should I start?”
“This end,” Jack said, laughing lightly at the half hug, pointing to his left.
Dick headed over, and Jack took a deep breath.
“He wouldn’t shut up the whole way over,” Jason said when he and Bruce reached
the others. “So excited to see what you’ve got. I swear, you’d think he was
dating you, and not Bruce.”
Bruce chuckled. “Don’t say that- Dick will hear you and agree.” They all
laughed- and while they were Jack closed the distance and threw his arms around
Bruce- unable to wait. Bruce smiled and embraced him back, giving him a quick
kiss. “I missed you.”
“Missed you too. A ton.” Jack smiled, leaned into him. Harley gave Jack a
knowing look, then took Pam’s hand, leading her off to look at something. Jason
took the queue and headed over to Dick, leaving Bruce to hold Jack and look at
the wall of art facing him-
And what stared back at him, was himself. Same eyes, same jawline, he could
tell despite the weird cowl. “Jack...”
“I didn’t wanna tell you,” Jack said, following his gaze, “I thought...it’d be
too hard, without the visual. But it’s based on you- he’s the Bat Man. I don’t
even know why it first came to me...just that you’re dark and sexy, ya know?”
He grinned. “And sometimes mysterious.”
Bruce chuckled. “I sort of like it. Maybe it might be an improvement.” He swept
a hand through his short hair and Jack laughed.
“Didn’t know you were into dress up and roleplay, sugar.” Bruce chuckled and
kissed Jack’s cheek, allowing him to take his hand and guide him around the
rest of his work.
The afternoon went off without a hitch- much to Jack’s excitement, and he had
the chance to speak rather privately with some of Oswald’s friends who were
interested in his work. Potential buyers were a good thing, he told himself.
Especially if they were buying soon. Jack gave them his number and told them to
call him when they were ready, and at the end of the evening when everything
was torn down and he and Harley had made two trips to his apartment to drop off
all the work, the six of them agreed on dinner.
“I’m telling you Bruce, that mask thing would be an improvement,” Dick said,
making the table laugh.
“Now there’s nothing wrong with Bruce’s face,” Pamela said, taking a sip of her
wine.
“Exactly!” Bruce said, glaring playfully at Dick. “Besides, you should be nice
to the man who’s buying dinner.”
“Shit, you’re buying? Well, guess I’ll have to bring out my inner fat man.”
Everyone laughed, even Jason, who had been fairly serious, as per usual.
“How about a toast?” Harley asked. “To Jack, for putting on quite the show
today, and all his lovely work.”
“I can drink to that,” Bruce said with a grin, raising his glass, and Jack
blushed at the sound of all the glasses clinking together. Jack was just taking
a sip when his phone rang, and he set his glass down, answering it.
“Hello?” He barely got the word out before he heard screaming at the other end,
and the entire table turned to stare. It was his landlady, going on a rant
about how there was still so much of his stuff in the attic, how he needed to
get it cleared out by the end of the weekend so it could be used. Jack tried to
push himself away from the table, but it was too late- they had all heard, and
he had no choice but to stay put.
“Okay, I’ll work on it tonight,” Jack said, mentally canceling the night plans
he’d made secretly with himself for Bruce. He’d have to cram everything in his
apartment for the time being.
“And remember, you are out by Wednesday!”
Jack cringed, saw eyebrows raise, and gulped down a breath.
“Yes, Wednesday, I know.” She hung up, and Jack put his phone away, cheeks
tinging pink. He felt everyone’s eyes burning into him- the only knowing set
from Harley, who was keeping her mouth shut. Jack knew she wouldn’t forever
though- if he didn’t explain, she would.
“I got evicted after my breakdown,” he finally said, reaching for his wine. His
hand was shaking. “I’ve gotta get my art out of the attic this weekend, and by
out of my apartment on Wednesday.”
“What the hell Jack?” Bruce asked, staring at him. “Why the hell didn’t you
tell me?”
“What’s to tell? I’m just moving house.”
“Well, I can at least help you move.” Jack swallowed, and Harley broke in,
knowing he couldn’t bring himself to admit it.
“He doesn’t have another place yet,” she said, staring at Jack. “I’ve offered
him my apartment until he can find one, but he’s declined. As it stands, he’ll
be homeless in a few days if we don’t knock some sense into him.”
“I am looking for a place,” Jack said, “Just...so far, everyone has rejected
me. I’m a high risk, apparently, and no one is interested.” He shrugged one
shoulder and took a long sip of his wine.
“Jack,” Jason said, trying to catch his gaze. “Let us help you out here.”
“No, I’m fine, really,” Jack said. “I’ve been selling my work so I have less to
move and the money for a new place. I managed to make a decent payment on all
my medical bills, and I’ve got a little left over for a security deposit and
rent. I’ll be fine, I just have to find a place that’ll take me.”
“You’re selling your work?” Bruce asked, frowning. “Jack-“
“It was time anyway. I needed to- it’s part of my recovery,” he said without
elaborating, shooting Harley a look. “It’s all fine.”
“It’s not all fine,” Bruce said, “But I’m going to make it fine. We’ll finish
packing all your stuff this weekend Jack- you’re moving in with me.”
The table was quiet, and Jack just stared at Bruce.
“Can we take this outside for a minute?” Jack asked, looking across the dining
room towards the door, and Bruce stood up. The two walked away, four sets of
eyes watching until they faded from the room.
“Bruce,” Jack said when the calm night air settled on them, as Bruce turned to
face him. “I can’t-“
“Why not? I thought you’d like the idea.”
“Well...I do, but-“ Jack hesitated. “I love the idea of being that...close to
you. But I can’t let you do that. I’ve got to fend for myself here- I don’t
want...don’t want you to think I’m in this so you can pick up the pieces after
me. I’m in it just for you.”
Bruce was quiet for a moment, before he laughed. “Jack you think I’d actually
think you were with me just for the perks?” He reached over, wrapped an arm
around Jack’s waist and pulled him close. “Oh god Jack, I wouldn’t. After all
this shit, I wouldn’t. We haven’t been dating long but I know you. So put that
idea aside and move in with me.”
Jack hesitated, reached up and stroked his fingers over Bruce’s chest. “You’re
sure?”
“I’m positive,” Bruce said. “It’ll give us that time we need to get to know all
about each other.”
“Shouldn’t we do that before we jump into living together?”
“A normal couple would.” Bruce shrugged a shoulder. “We’re anything but normal,
aren’t we, baby?” Jack sucked on his lower lip, nodded. “So say yes. Let me
take one worry off your shoulders.”
Bruce leaned down, kissed the tip of Jack’s nose- made him giggle, and Jack
felt butterflies in his stomach. He grinned.
“Okay, okay,” he said, “so long as you drive such a hard bargain. But one
condition.”
“And what’s that?”
“I get the right side of the bed,” Jack said, grinning. “It’s always been my
side.”
Bruce laughed and cupped Jack’s face in his hands, leaning down and kissing
him. “It’s a deal, Jackie,” he said, before he kissed him again, and Jack was
sure he’d float away if it weren’t for Bruce holding onto him.
Chapter End Notes
     We're looking at one, possibly two more chapters before this is
     complete. Holy cow. o.o
***** Chapter 16 *****
Jack stood up and wiped the sweat from his brow, looking at the piles of boxes
that littered the large, open room. The walls were a crisp white- one wall was
simply glass, a massive window that looked out onto Gotham. It was later
afternoon, the sun was still bright and the city was ablaze below him.
Jack tightened his ponytail, trying to keep his curls from his face, and rested
his hands on his hips. This space was his a whole floor of the penthouse given
to him as a studio. He’d wanted to fight Bruce on it- but the idea was too
alluring, and Bruce had reassured him there was so much wasted space.
It was too glorious to truly pass up.
It’d need some work- getting everything set up, hanging and storing his works
he hadn’t sold, but it would be worth it. And time was something he had. Jack
took one last look, then headed towards the elevator, heading back down to the
ground to get the last of the boxes from Harley’s car.
It had felt weird to look at his apartment empty- but a good sort of weird.
Like he was closing one of the books of his life, opening up the next in the
series. That night, climbing into bed with Bruce felt so perfect that Jack
wasn’t sure it was a feeling he’d ever replicate.
When Bruce had left to go to the office the next day, Jack had set to work in
his studio. He didn’t anticipate getting any painting or sketching done, but he
spent the day setting it up the way he wanted- one of the small rooms set up
for holding his original pieces, one for prints, and one for supplies. It took
him the better part of the day, but it left him feeling accomplished when it
was done.
When he came up later that evening, Bruce was back already, standing in the
kitchen talking with Alfred. Jack could hear him form down the hall.
“Sir, it’s simply my advice that you should clue in young Jack sometime soon.”
“I know Alfred, I know, I’m going to tell him-“
“Tell me what?” Jack asked, rounding the corner smoothing out some of the
wrinkles in his t-shirt. He gave Bruce one of his dazzling smiles, and whatever
was on Bruce’s tongue was forgotten.
“Just that I missed you,” Bruce said, and Jack let it slide because he was in
no mood to chase shadows.
Jack fell into a routine with Bruce. He’d be gone during the day, and Jack
would spend that time in the studio, or meeting with potential buyers- as he
had quite the list lining up- or even with Harley, when she could be separated
from Pam (and many times when she couldn’t). It was nice, it made Jack feel
like life was somewhat normal.
He was sitting in the parlor one evening, not even a month after his move,
sketching calmly while Bruce watched the news when they heard the elevator
doors open. Jack didn’t look up- not until he heard Bruce’s breath escape him.
Then when he did peer up through thick blonde lashes, he dropped his pencil.
He knew her on sight- didn’t need to have met her before, Talia just had a way
about her. Besides, who else would have a way into Bruce’s penthouse? She had a
woman with her as well, behind her, but Jack could barely see her.
“You should have taken your key back, darling,” she said to Bruce, raising her
eyebrows. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“You called have called. Or rang up.”
“That would be simply boring.” She folded her arms, raised her delicate
eyebrows when she noticed Jack staring from the couch. “Oh Bruce, is this-“
“Talia.” Bruce’s voice was firm- an air of shut-the-hell-up, but she ignored
it.
“Defensive. Come here honey, let me have a look at you, at least.” Jack
hesitated, then set his sketch book down and stood up, walking around the
couch. He heard Bruce call his name, but ignored him- wished he had worn
something more than faded skinny jeans and a t-shirt when he watched Talia’s
eyes rove over him. “Not bad,” she finally said, “if you’re going to go for
men, at least you picked a decent looking one. His hair is rather charming, in
a rebellious sort of way.”
Jack giggled at that- felt like he shouldn’t, but this woman wasn’t entirely
unlikable. Just a part of Bruce’s past. And he was sure they had each given
their fair share of heartache during the relationship’s course.
“What do you want, Talia?” Bruce asked, stepping closer to Jack, and her cocky
smile faltered to something more natural.
“To right a wrong. Or a few,” she said. “And I’ll admit, I was curious about
this guy you had move in already. But more importantly,” she looked behind her,
motioned with her head, and her friend walked closer, “I wanted to fix a
mistake I made before it caused any damage.”
Jack didn’t see Bruce’s eyes widen- didn’t see the relief burst in them- all he
could do was watch girl step forward, a little toddler nestled in her arms,
looking around with shockingly dark eyes. Eyes Jack knew.
“It was just cruel to keep him away from you,” Talia said as Bruce walked over,
scooped the little boy from the woman’s arms. He looked at Bruce, and a big
smile crept over his face, before he snuggled into him and giggled, wiggling
around happily.
Jack watched, confused, putting the pieces together. He didn’t need anyone to
point out what was going on- didn’t need anyone to tell him those eyes on that
child belonged to Bruce, that the joy he was watching his boyfriend go through
could come from anything other than being reunited with a child. What he was
confused about is why this was the first time he was hearing about it.
Bruce turned, faced Jack, and his smile stiffened. “Jack,” he said, his voice
hesitant, wavering, “This is Damian...my son.” Jack saw the nerves in his eyes,
saw how he waited on bated breath for what Jack was going to do.
He walked over, looked at the little boy- and gave him a big, warm smile.
“Hey there handsome,” he said, and Damian giggled, reaching for Jack’s curls
and tugging on them. Jack laughed.
“We’ll work something out,” Talia was saying, standing next to Bruce, “about
custody. I’m not about to give him up, and I know you won’t either. But we’ll
think of something.”
“Yeah,” Bruce said, watching as Jack made silly faces at Damian, “yeah, we
will.”
Talia didn’t stay long, just long enough to talk briefly with Bruce, to give
Jack a few once overs, than she was gone, taking little Damian with her.
“Let me explain,” Bruce started as he and Jack settled back down onto the
couch.
“Just let me ask first,” Jack said, “where you ever going to tell me that you
had a kid?”
“I swear I was,” Bruce said, brushing a hand through his short hair.
“Seriously. I just... I wasn’t sure how to. I was afraid you’d take it poorly.”
“How? I never voiced anything against little rugrats,” Jack said, folding his
legs on the plush cushions.
“I didn’t want you to see Damian as some tie between Talia and I- I was afraid
you’d think that because we had a child together that we’d just keep drifting
back.” Bruce sighed. “We never stayed together for him. I think ity sounds
terrible that we didn’t- but every time we tried again was for us. We knew no
matter the outcome, he’d be taken care of.”
“Well, I don’t see him as some chain keeping you with her,” Jack said, rolling
his eyes, “I see him as a rather adorable squishy mini-Bruce.” Jack grinned.
“So...you’re not mad?” He shrugged a shoulder.
“No baby, I’m not mad. I really wish you had said something sooner- but I’m not
mad. I mean...we haven’t actually been together that long...we sorta just
jumped into things.” Bruce chuckled.
“Yeah, considering you live here now.” He reached for Jack, pulled him into his
arms and nuzzled into his curls. “Does he really look like me?”
“Oh lord,” Jack said, rolling his eyes, “Bruce, it’s like someone shrunk you. I
barely see Talia in him. Sure you didn’t clone yourself, you vain, egotistical
hunk?” Jack wiggled his eyebrows, and Bruce shoved him back off his lap and
onto the couch.
“You’re such a brat,” he teased, and Jack just grinned.
“But darling, I’m your brat.” Bruce chuckled and snuggled down into the couch,
arms around Jack as they stretched out.
“So what were you sketching?” Bruce asked, lips finding Jack’s neck and kissing
gently. Jack stretched back against him, purred softly.
“Just some ideas for you in that sexy suit.” Bruce chuckled.
“Are we going to start dressing up now?”
“I dunno- maybe. What should I start in? Have a thing for maids? Nurses maybe?
I always thought I made a good nurse.” The two laughed and Jack turned, craned
his neck to catch the ghost of Bruce’s lips.
“How about you just come to my bed as Jack, and I’ll strip you down and see
what;s under that pretty skin of yours.”
“Oooh, a poet now Brucie?” Jack sat up, smiling. “I like that idea a lot,
actually. But all you’re going to find is you.”
Bruce smiled, sat up as well and cupped Jack’s pale face in his hands, pulled
him closer for a kiss- this one deep, searching for something, something
twisting deep inside Bruce- and finding that same thing, twisting in Jack’s gut
and reaching for him with bleeding, needy fingers.
That thing that was love.
***** Epilogue *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Outside, the summer heat was heavy over Gotham. Inside the penthouse, on the
plush carpet of the parlor, it was pleasantly cool. Jack was giggling, his feet
waving in the air, the breeze the motion created kissing his exposed skin in
sweet little butterfly kisses, the carpet caressing his knees until the denim
of his shorts started just above. He had his camera up in front of his face,
giggling and making little noises at Damian, who was sitting on the carpet
giggling and clapping, reaching for him as Jack snapped picture after picture.
“He’s more taken with you than I would’ve thought,” Talia said, sitting on the
couch watching, a glass of lemonade in one of her hands. Jack just shrugged a
shoulder, snapped a picture as Damian tumbled down rolled onto his stomach,
trying to imitate Jack. “Maybe he can tell how much Bruce likes you.”
“Maybe it’s just my hair.” Jack looked back at her and smiled. He’d gotten to
know her over the past two months- she’d had to be in Bruce’s life, there was
no way around it, and Jack was alright with that. Even now, she was alone with
him, Bruce was still at the office, and Alfred had gone out. And Jack was
perfectly fine with that. She had never been cruel to him- and whatever anger
he held for her breaking Bruce’s heart, he’d forgotten because if it weren’t
for that, he wouldn’t have him.
“That too,” she teased, setting the glass down and getting up, walking over and
scooping Damian up, who wiggled around. “But he knows when we approve of
someone. Besides, he’s been seeing quite a lot of you now.” She tapped his
little nose and he smiled. “And he’s going to be seeing quite a lot of you.”
Jack grinned and got up, clicked through the pictures he’d taken. “I swear I
could plaster a whole floor with pictures of this kid,” he said as Talia leaned
over and they look at them.
“You know, this might sound strange, but I wish you were around when he was
smaller. We’d have so many pictures! We have barely any, really. Bruce and I
were too busy breaking up and getting back together.” She sighed. “I feel sort
of bad about that.”
“Well, he’ll have plenty of pictures from here on out.” Jack grinned and let
the camera hang down against his chest, reached out and tussled Damian’s fluffy
black hair.
“Everyone behaving themselves?” The two turned at the sound of Bruce’s voice,
smiled at him as he walked in.
“What are you doing home already?” Jack asked, walking over and kissing his
cheek.
“It’s too nice to stay holed up in the office,” Bruce said, wrapping an arm
around Jack’s shoulders to give him a quick hug, before they rejoined Talia,
and Bruce took Damian from her, lifting him into the air and spinning. Damian
giggled, and Jack lifted his camera, snapping a few more shots.
He stripped the camera from his neck and handed it to Bruce, in an exchange for
Damian, and balanced him against his hip, walking him around the parlor,
pointing at things and making silly sounds, which never failed to leave Damian
giggling. Bruce smiled as they stopped at one of Jack’s paintings Bruce had had
framed and hung up, and Damian reached out, pressing his little fingers to it
and staring up. Bruce lifted the camera and clicked, looked at the picture that
displayed, and couldn’t help but grin.
Talia was watching Jack and Damian too- smiling herself. “He has a way with
Damian,” she admitted, “You picked a good one, Bruce. Hold onto him.”
He looked at her, and she smiled at him- a real smile, one he hadn’t seen from
her in a long time. She reached over, took his hand and gave it a quick
squeeze.
“Oh, I intend to hold onto him tight,” Bruce said, looking back, watching Talia
walk over and take Damian back, as Jack stopped at the window and stared out at
a bright Gotham, the sunlight rich in his bright hair. When he turned, Bruce
saw that same light in those green eyes and that smile, as Jack stared back at
him, nothing but affection, adoration dancing on his face.
Yes, Bruce would hold on so tight he was sure he’d never let go.
Chapter End Notes
     Wow, so, it's finally finished. I'm sorta sad, this was a blast to
     work on.
     A big thank you to everyone that read, I hope you enjoyed it! :)
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!