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Lost Holidays
Chapter Fourteen
written by destinyawakened
Thursday, February 19 – Bruce's Birthday
Monday evening Barbara and the children went back home, leaving Gordon alone in the Manor with Alfred. Their conversation was far from boring, and Gordon even learned the answers to a few questions about Bruce that he had never bothered to ask the billionaire – such as his birthday. Alfred said Bruce was ignoring it this year, hadn't even mentioned it, which was unusual, as he was quite set on having a huge birthday party, part of the usual cover-up for his facade. This year he didn't seem to want to play into it, and it was sure to raise a couple eyebrows from not only the media, but from his so-called “friends” as well. But if Bruce didn't want a party, Gordon wasn't going to complain. It was now a matter of doing something for the younger man that he might actually appreciate.
That was three days ago, and Gordon still hadn't thought of what to do for Bruce. It would be a surprise, yes, because Bruce had never actually told him that it was his birthday. Maybe he could get by with just bringing a pizza to his place; after all Gordon didn't have the money to go all out. And a present? What did you buy a spoiled rich kid? You don't, he thought to himself. Bruce wasn't into gifts. He never asked for anything, never hinted at wanting something; anything he wanted he could buy for himself. So pizza it was, unless something came up, which Gordon hoped it didn't.
The last two nights had been filled with more burglaries from the Catwoman; she was getting bolder, stealing not just from homes, but from office buildings, factories, and, as of last night, doctor's offices and pharmacies. Gordon had gone back over the burglary incidents from the past month and a half; nearly seventy-five percent of the them had been the homes of doctors, pharmacists, even a couple of facilitators at Arkham. He had begun to wish they had paid a little more attention to the “small time” burglaries instead of dismissing them as something unimportant. It was hard to think they could have caught this woman months ago, had her behind bars and out of the way; for all Gordon knew, what had happened to him could have been avoided. Or at least made less extreme.
Gordon rubbed the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger, squeezing his eyes shut; so much had happened in less than a week, changing the way the Holiday case was headed towards something much more sinister. With Thomas Elliot now caught up in the middle of it, somehow everything was made that much worse; two mad men and a crazy cat-lady loose on the streets was not easy to keep quiet, and somehow the media kept getting tipped off about each murder and crime that was committed, linking the cases together. The mayor was not pleased with the amount of attention the Holiday case was receiving, and even less pleased with the fact that the burglaries were being connected to it. Gordon wasn't sure how the press was getting their information, but he had some ideas, one of them being that someone at MCU was compromising their confidentiality information.
There was a tap at his door; he lifted his head, straightening his glasses. “Come in,” he called, staring again at the paperwork in front of him, untouched for at least ten minutes now, as he was too dazed, too lost in thought to concentrate on it.
“You wanted to see me?” It was Selina, standing hands on her hips in front of his desk. He looked up again, closing the folder in front of him. He gestured for her to take a seat. She kept her eyes on him, sliding into the chair.
“Yes. I had a few questions about Valentine's Day,” he said, returning the same intense glare that she was giving him. She didn't answer him, only nodded once for him to go on. “I was curious, how did you come across the Starlight Royal Hotel as a lead?” He expected her to flinch, to move, to watch her built-up, emotionless wall crumble, but he was surprised to see that she didn't even falter.
“Anonymous phone call. I know people on the street, Commissioner. If they find something out they let me know. I know you think it's unethical to work this way, but I think it helps in the long run.” She had folded her arms over her chest, crossed one leg over the other, eyes narrowed, her barriers up, defensive. Gordon might not have been able to break her steel wall, but he sure as hell was digging around the edges where she didn't want him.
“Who you talk to is none of my business, detective, but I suggest you start figuring out who is and who isn't trust-worthy amoung these 'sources' of yours.” He moved forward in his chair, elbows planted firmly on the desk in front of him, hands clasped together, glaring at her over the top of his glasses. He didn't need to see her clearly to see the fire burning behind her eyes. Her face was calm, however, despite the story her glare told.
“Yes, commissioner.” She set her lips in a thin line. “Anything else?” Gordon watched as a piece of her wall crumbled – a very small piece, to be sure, but it was something. He wasn't stupid, he wasn't even naïve; he knew she was somehow involved. Whether she was being paid off by Holiday or Hush, he didn't know, and for all he knew she was the Catwoman, but he had no proof. Very carefully, he was going to break her down and figure it out. He knew it would take some time, but with Bruce's help, he was sure he could reveal the truth sooner rather than later.
“Where were you Friday evening?” he asked, his eyes never leaving hers. She smiled a little, innocently if he could call it that.
“I was out with Bruce Wayne. We had a Valentine's date.” She said it smoothly, confidence returning to her voice, as if the lie were the best thing she'd come up with. Obviously it hadn't been made clear that Bruce had been the one to rescue Gordon from the hotel, or else she would have chosen her answer a little more wisely. Gordon returned her smile; he was genuinely unamused that she would make up such a thing, but at least he knew she hadn't figured out Bruce's secret identity yet.
“I see. Thank you for your time, detective. You can be on your way.” He open his folder, picking up a pen. Selina seemed to get the hint, standing from the chair, and walking out the door, closing it behind her. It was definitely time to crack down on her; with lies like that, Gordon was more than done playing games.
He put the pen back down and closed up the folder again, standing. He checked his watch. It was a little before noon, so Stephens should still be around. He opened the door, slipping out into the hall. The second floor was always pretty quiet. He started around the corner, taking the stairs to the first floor. He didn't have to look far, Stephens was walking right past him as he touched down on the last step. The other man turned with a nod in Gordon's direction.
“Wait,” Gordon said, quickening his steps, grabbing hold of Stephens' arm. “We need to talk. Now.” Stephen raised an eyebrow at him, curious.
“What's going on?” he asked suspiciously.
Gordon shook his head. “Not here.” He lead Stephens to the meeting room down the hall, ushering him inside. Gordon closed the door and locked it. He looked at Stephens, sternly. “We have an issue with Detective Kyle.”
Stephens laughed. “What, she hitting on your boyfriend or something?” Gordon glared at him, arms crossed firmly over his chest, not even cracking a smile or a frown. He was far from amused. Stephens caught on, rubbing at the back of his neck, sheepishly. “Heh, sorry. What's the issue?”
“She's been lying to us. She just lied to me about where she was Friday evening. Said she was with Bruce, and we both know that isn't true.” Gordon paused, checking Stephens' reaction, which was a little stunned, but not so much to indicate that he hadn't suspected as much himself. “She's involved with the Holiday case somehow.”
“What do you want to do about her?”
“Watch her. She is not to leave your sight while on duty. If she tries to pawn herself off somewhere without you, you tell her no or insist on going with her,” Gordon explained. He knew sooner or later she'd catch on that they knew, or at least suspected, but that was the general idea. He wanted her to become so uncomfortable that she fumbled, letting her guard down just enough so that he could kick a few bricks away.
“Alright. We can't watch her all the time, there's just no way; even with Batman following her around, he can't be around her during the day too.” Stephens sounded just a little skeptical of the plan. Gordon shook his head.
“I'm sure it will be more than enough for us to keep track of her at work. Just need to catch her slipping up once to prove something.”
------
Gordon finished most of the paperwork that was on his desk by the end of the day, though there was some left to finish by tomorrow, since he knew he didn't have time. He had called Bruce earlier and asked him to meet him at his apartment at six. Bruce had started to ask if they could meet at the penthouse instead, but Gordon was able to convince him that it would be worth his while to do as he said, since they always went to the penthouse; why not change things up a little?
On his way home, Gordon had stopped by the hardware store down the street from his apartment, having thought of the perfect gift for Bruce. He only hoped the gift went over as well as it did in his head. It was a meaningful gift, and hopefully Bruce would see that, not just looking at the physical part of what it was. Once Gordon left the hardware store, he dropped by the pizza place on the corner he'd been meaning to try for weeks now, never finding the time when he was actually home to order anything. He knew Bruce liked Hawaiian pizza, so he ordered half that and half pepperoni, as Gordon was not a fan of pineapple.
When he finally reached his apartment it was ten minutes to six. He had just enough time to check his mail, get upstairs, and hopefully take a quick shower. He juggled the pizza around in his hands, unlocked his mail slot, placed his keys in his mouth so he could grab the mail, and shut it. He stumbled up the stairs, attempting to keep a hold of the mail he had placed under his arm, while simultaneously trying to find his house key. He put the key into the lock, pushing the door open, quickly making his way to the table to put the pizza down and then back tracking to pick up the pieces of mail that had fallen out from under his arm when he had opened the door.
He glanced at his watch – seven minutes. He was sure Bruce would be on time, too. He threw the mail on the table. He'd have to sort through it later on. He kicked off his shoes in the hall way, faintly hearing Barbara's words in the back of his mind, scolding him every time he used to do that in their home, mainly because she would trip over them. He didn't care, not now anyway. He pulled his socks off, wading them up and throwing them into his room as he passed by. By the time he reached the bathroom he had completely stripped down. He had five minutes; hopefully Bruce wasn't early.
Gordon made it quick; a thorough scrub, a quick hair wash, and that was it. He hopped out, wishing he had more time to shave, but it was just Bruce; would he really care if Gordon was a little scruffy around the collar? Probably not. He wrapped a towel around his waist, about to dry off completely, when he heard the door bell ring. Right on time. He scrambled out of the bathroom, down the hall and to door, opening it to see a rather surprised-looking Bruce give him the once over. Gordon grabbed his arm with his free hand and pulled him inside.
“I'm not sure what the occasion is –” Bruce started to say, a smooth suaveness to his voice, the tone he often used when he wanted to make it clear that he was feeling flirtatious.
“Shut the door,” Gordon said, cutting the other man off. He headed back down the hall towards his bedroom to finish getting dressed. “Make yourself comfortable.” He thought he heard Bruce mumble something along the lines of “Don't I always?” but wasn't sure. He dressed quickly, still tucking in his white undershirt as he walked back out into the living room, where Bruce was sitting on the back of his couch, staring at the few pictures Gordon had hung there of his kids.
Bruce slid stood his feet, shaking his head. He reached out and un-tucked Gordon's shirt; “You look more comfortable this way,” he said, running a hand down Gordon's chest to smooth away the wrinkles. Gordon caught the younger man's hand, digging around in his pocket with his other hand. He turned Bruce's hand palm up and gently placed a single key in it. Bruce stared down at his hand, then at Gordon and then back at his hand again. He looked as though he wasn't quite sure what to say, his mouth was twisted up in what could have been a curious grin.
“So help me, Gordon, this had better not be the key to your heart,” Bruce said. Sarcasm was thick in his voice, and a big grin spread across his face. Gordon was sure he knew what it was, but he was just playing it up to make the older man feel embarrassed for being sentimental.
Gordon closed Bruce's fist around the key. “It's a key to my apartment. Don't make me take it back.” He watched Bruce take the key and add it to his keyring, which didn't have many keys on it at all. He hoped that the key made the impact he wanted it to, that Bruce understood it meant he trusted him fully now, even after the tracking device incident, which he had decided to let go. Bruce was gazing at him, eyes soft and warm, a sincere smile pulling on his lips; oh he definitely understood.
“Happy birthday,” Gordon said. He threw it in there as an afterthought to the rest of the conversation. Bruce laughed, shaking his head.
“I should have known Alfred wouldn't keep his mouth shut.”
Gordon shrugged. “You don't know that Alfred told me. Maybe I looked it up.”
Bruce squinted at him suspiciously. “You wouldn't do that.”
“Wouldn't I?” Gordon retorted. Bruce shook his head, leaning towards Gordon until their lips met just briefly, for a gentle kiss.
“Thank you,” Bruce said softly, his voice low with just the hint of a growl behind it. Gordon shivered; that voice always made him weak in the knees, putty in Bruce's hands. Bruce placed his hands on either side of Gordon's neck, rubbing soft circles with his thumbs on his jaw. He kissed Gordon hungrily, lips smashing together, tongues rolling into each others' mouths in desperation. Gordon pulled Bruce in until there was no distance between them, until they were clinging to each other like plastic wrap, neither letting up, waiting for the other to stop or to start something different, but neither wanting anything different; they both wanted this moment.
Bruce moved his mouth away, kissing a trail down Gordon's jawline, nibbling gently. He breathed a sigh, sliding his hands down Gordon's chest, letting his fingers linger just at the waistband of his pants, caressing the skin on his stomach gently, returning his lips to Gordon's, pushing him up against the wall in the hallway, grinding their hips together. Gordon groaned, trying to slip out from under him, but Bruce put an arm up to keep him from moving.
“You're mine, tonight,” Bruce growled, pulling away from Gordon, gazing into his eyes lustfully. Gordon reached a hand into his pocket, keeping his eyes on Bruce's to keep him from watching his hands. He leaned into Bruce one more time, kissing him roughly, and while the playboy was distracted for that split second, he grabbed his wrists, pulling his lips away from the billionaire's, spinning him around until both wrists were behind his back and firmly cuffed.
“No. Tonight, you're mine.”
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