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Lost Holidays
Chapter Four
written by destinyawakened
Thursday, December 25 -Christmas Day, Evening
The street lamps had flickered on almost two hours ago, leaving Gordon to realize it had to be well past eight in the evening now. He had meant to go home, but the paper work for the recent murder case had piled up on his desk at MCU, and he didn't feel much like adding it to the pile of other paperwork still needing to be finished. He had called his children who had left Wayne Manor just half an hour after he did, thanking them for coming for Christmas. Barbara, of course, gave him an ear-full about his duties as a father being more important than his duties as commissioner – the usual. She also mentioned, vaguely, the relationship status between him and Bruce, and that she would talk to him more about it later, when the kids weren't around. That was one phone call he was hoping to ignore. He was curious now as to what exactly Bruce had said to her.
Gordon held his head in his hands, elbows on his desk, rubbing at his eyes with his fingers. Now there was the matter of this new transfer from New York that he had somehow failed to be informed of: Selina Kyle. He wasn't sure what to think of her yet, but apparently the mayor, of all people, had approved her transfer. Gordon peered over at his pile of paperwork, sure now that the memo was most likely lingering in the stack. He shook his head; he'd look through her file later. He knew enough from meeting her at the crime scene earlier to get a pretty good first impression; but then again, when had his first impressions been good ones? He'd have Bruce look into her, see if something curious showed up. He didn't need another corrupt cop running around Gotham.
A slight breeze blew past him. He flicked his eyes to the window that was now open. He was usually so good about sensing when Batman had sneaked into his office. A pair of gloved hands weighed suddenly heavy on his shoulder, thumbs rubbing into the back of his neck in a slow massage. He straightened, leaning back against the desk chair, into Batman's strong, kneading hands. He let out a deep, tired sigh. Batman stopped, the soft sound of skin coming unstuck from leather near his ear, and then the thud of the Kevlar gloves hitting the desk to his right. This time Bruce's hands came down on Gordon's shoulder, reaching around his neck, undoing the knot in his tie, loosening the buttons all the way down his shirt.
“You didn't come back. I had a Christmas gift for you,” Bruce whispered hoarsely into his ear.
Gordon felt his breath hitch as Bruce's hands played down his chest, the once-every-few buttons skin-to-skin contact toying with his hormones. He felt Bruce lean down to his shoulders, pulling his shirt away, breathing softly against his skin. He felt a slight pull at the side of his pants, followed by a small clank. Bruce pulled Gordon's hands behind his back, behind the chair, encircling his wrists with the cool metal. Gordon pulled on the cuffs, instinctively at first, and started to protest, when Bruce twirled him around in the chair to face him. He was wearing the Batsuit, minus the gloves, standing over him dauntingly. Bruce reached down and removed Gordon's glasses, placing a wet kiss on his lips as Gordon again tried to object. Handcuffs were after all his device to control; it wasn't fair of Bruce to use them against him. The game was far from fair now, and secretly Gordon contemplated ways to level the field again.
“Bruce,” Gordon said coolly as the younger man reached above his head, unfastening clips, and removing the cowl. He shook out his brown hair, placing the cowl on the desk and kneeling down in front of Gordon. He looked up at Gordon, eyes darker than usual from the hue of the black makeup around the hollow of his eyes. Bruce slowly crawled up the commissioners body.
“Are you really going to fight me over this?” the vigilante asked in a gruff, rapturous growl. Gordon had never been the one on the receiving end of his own handcuffs, and had so far liked not having to be. But Bruce had the look of lust plastered on his face, a small devilish smile dancing across his lips; Gordon found himself shaking his head. Oh, he was definitely making calculations for payback. Bruce Wayne was not living this down.
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Gordon slipped his tie back on, leaving it hanging around his neck, shirt half buttoned, pants still hanging over the chair; he'd get to them in a second. Bruce was perched on the side of his desk, watching him, wearing only his boxers now. Gordon looked around the room at the pieces of Kevlar-enforced armor scattered in various places. In the end, after Bruce unlocked the cuffs, Gordon had turned the tables quickly, and had his ravenous revenge on the playboy (even though getting the Batsuit off by himself was not as easy as Bruce always made it look).
There would usually have been worry that someone could walk in on them, but it was Christmas evening, and no one was around the offices. Gordon reached for his pants, noticing Bruce was watching his every move but keeping extremely silent. He pulled his pants on, zipped the fly, and started to tuck his shirt in, Bruce's eyes watching his every move intently.
“Tell me about the murder,” Bruce said, voice level. Gordon, who had been concentrated on putting himself back together, let his eyes flicker up to Bruce's. The other man was looking at him very contenedtly, hands in his lap, no real emotion showing on his face besides placidity.
“A drowning. Well, a forced drowning. Someone obviously did it to her.”
“Her?” Bruce asked. Gordon was surprised he hadn't heard on the news yet; then again, Bruce wasn't always one for a lot of television.
“Assistant DA, Laurel Messing,” Gordon replied. He waited for Bruce to say something, but the younger man just sat there, blank eyes staring at Gordon. “There was also a Christmas tree ornament left on the scene. Detective Kyle thinks this murder and the one from Thanksgiving are connected.”
Bruce's eyes lit up, a bit of confusion apparent on his face; “Detective Kyle?”
“Detective Selina Kyle. A transfer I apparently either forgot was coming, or wasn't told about.”
“Can you trust her?” Bruce asked.
Gordon smiled a little, “How can I possibly trust someone who makes a great first impression?” He was of course subtly hinting at his and Bruce's first encounter two years prior, in his office with a stapler; he hadn't had a very good impression of the masked man at first, but his first impression was always wrong. He was hoping that this time it was right.
“Did you want me to do a deeper investigation of her?” Bruce asked, sliding off the desk, standing in front of Gordon, their noses almost touching. Gordon breathed, barely, Bruce's strong hands moving to his shoulders, pulling him in closer to the billionaire. Gordon brought a hand up to Bruce's cheek, rubbing gently at the black streaks of paint.
“Let me read over her file first. See what I can get out of her before we go prodding anything further,” Gordon said. He placed a kiss on Bruce's lips softly, gently moving his hand up to Bruce's head, fingering various tufts of hair.
Bruce squeezed his shoulders, moaning softly against his mouth and then pulling away. “You're the boss,” he said lowly, licking at his lips as if savoring the taste of the other man that was still there. Gordon watched him; the gesture made him ache to repeat their actions of no more than ten minute earlier. If he didn't have paper work to finish, he was sure he could persuade Bruce into a rematch. Bruce smirked at him as if reading his thoughts. “Later. I don't want to spoil you.,” he chirped playfully.
Gordon pulled away from the younger man completely, picking up a couple of the Kevlar pieces and handing them to Bruce.“Don't you have patrolling to do?”
Friday, December 26 – Day After Christmas
Selina Kyle checked out clean. Nothing in her background check indicated she had ever run into trouble, let alone been arrested, and definitely nothing that would show connections to the mob (not that there would have been, with her being from New York). Gordon thought he might have Bruce do a more extensive check on her anyway, just to be sure. He knew the mayor was just trying to help, but they could never be too safe, not since the incident with Harvey Dent.
The meeting room was dark; Gordon had turned the lights off in an attempt to rid himself of the head-ache that was sure to turn into a migraine. He had finally gone home around eleven the night before, stumbled through the door at one AM, asleep by two and up again at six. His car had broken down on the way home, so he had to have it towed and then kindly ask the driver for a ride home. He was going to walk to work, but a fresh layer of snow had fallen over the city in the four hours he was a sleep. Thank God for Stephens, though now he was sure Bruce was going to find out about his car breaking down again. He was never going to hear the end of it.
“Commissioner?”
Gordon raised his head from the paperwork in front of him. Selina Kyle stood in the door way hand about to touch the light switch; “Don't turn that on, please. Come in, Detective Kyle.”
The woman's hand slipped away from the switch as she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. He gestured for her to sit. “I have some thoughts on the two murder cases. I was wondering if I could go over them with you.”
Gordon rubbed his forehead, hoping to rub the headache away, “You're supposed to bring all your concerns to Lt. Stephens first. He reports any and all findings directly to me.”
“I'm aware of that. The mayor told me you two and Batman have a 'Three Musketeers' group going, and you don't let anyone in on the big cases. Not directly.” She leaned in closer to him, whispering, “News flash, Commissioner: there ended up being a fourth Musketeer.”
Gordon stared at Selina in a bit of shock; he hadn't expected such an attitude from her. He wasn't sure he knew what to say to her, but obviously he had to tell her it wasn't going to happen, and she could just transfer back to New York right now if that was her plan.
“Wait, before you tell me no, you should be aware the mayor has already asked that I join the team,” Selina said, as if reading Gordon's thoughts, but he was sure his feelings of annoyance over this little fact were written on his face.
“I'll have to talk to the mayor about this myself, Detective.” And to Batman, he thought. There was no way Bruce was going to allow someone new to know his secret, let alone a new transfer from New York with a background too clean to be true.
“You'll be wasting your time,” Selina stated. Gordon already had his cell phone out, a text to Bruce first, then a phone call to the mayor's office; he was sure he'd get the mayor's voice mail, but to his surprise, he was let right through.
And sure enough, Selina was right; it was a waste of time. The same information she had given him was relayed to him from the mayor as well. Except the mayor did mention not telling her about Bruce's identity, but instead putting her on the night shift to work more closely with them. Gordon had a bad feeling, but what real choice did he have?
“Welcome to the team, Detective Kyle.” Gordon offered her his hand as he clicked his phone shut. She just smirked at him knowingly, reveling her in triumph. Now more than ever Gordon needed Bruce to do the even more extensive background check (no matter how illegal it was). “Your shift starts at eleven PM.”
Gordon had expected a protest from the woman, or even a look of surprise, but he found himself disappointed when she smiled brightly. “Perfect,” she cooed. “I assume I'll be meeting with Batman then?”
“We'll see,” was all Gordon could think to answer with. He was sure Batman would be out tonight; he was out nearly every night. Selina's smile faded a little as she walked out of the room without another word. Gordon could tell they were not going to have an easy partnership. When was anything easy in Gotham City? Never, he thought.
Gordon felt his phone vibrate –a text from Bruce saying he was on his way over. Gordon checked his watch. It was only ten in the morning, Bruce was barely up by nine most days; what was he doing up so early? He looked down at the rest of his paperwork, thinking he might be able to get a few pages done before Bruce arrived, which would most likely be in five minutes or less, maybe.
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