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Lost Holidays
Chapter Six
written by destinyawakened
Sunday, December 28 – Three Days After Christmas
Bruce had insisted on his penthouse for their meeting, but that meant Alfred would be around, and Gordon didn't want the meddling old man to stick his nose into their personal business. So, Gordon in turn demanded they have their talk on a level field, just them, at his apartment. Bruce had agreed, even though he was reluctant and obviously unsure. Maybe if Gordon could catch him off guard, in unfamiliar surroundings, he could get the answers he desperately wanted from the younger man. That was the plan, anyway. He wasn't sure how it was actually going to play out, but he was preparing himself for the worst. It was all going to depend on exactly what random mood Bruce decided he was going to be in.
A knock at the door brought Gordon out of his comatose state. He turned off the television at which he had been blankly staring at on his way over to the door, pulling his emotions together, trying to steady his thoughts. He opened the door, and Bruce stood there in designer blue jeans, a fitted black t-shirt and his leather motorcycle jacket – brave, Gordon thought, since the streets were still so icy from the last snow fall. Bruce forced a smile, and Gordon moved away from the door. gesturing the younger man inside. Bruce shrugged off his jacket, tossing it over the side of Gordon's ratty old couch.
Gordon had to gather his thoughts again, distracted at the sight of Bruce in something other than a suit. The biker clothes made him even more attracted to the man; they were more proof that there were things about the playboy he was still didn't know. Bruce seemed to notice, smiling a little more genuinely, as if maybe he would use this to his advantage and weasel his way out of the talk. Gordon hardened his gaze on the other man, shaking his head.
“Jim,” Bruce said softly, stepping closer to Gordon. “Would it help if I apologized?”
“Why would you –” Gordon started, but Bruce put a hand up, silently asking him to stop.
“I'm sorry. For snapping at you the other day. I had a lot on my mind. But it's not an excuse. You didn't deserve that.” He had a very apologetic smile on his face, and Gordon nodded his acceptance. He was more than a little confused; he thought for sure he'd be the one having to apologize for his own jealous behavior. Sometimes Bruce Wayne was very surprising.
The billionaire gave him a small smile, nodding a little, looking down at his feet, then back to Gordon, “Are you still upset about Selina?”
Gordon rolled his eyes. “No, no. I let the worst of me take control. I know you didn't mean anything by it.”
Bruce slid his arms around Gordon's waist, drawing closer, “You're pretty cute when you're jealous.”
“I think it's in your best interest to retract that statement,” Gordon narrowed his eyes on Bruce, trying to keep his face as serious as possible.
“Is that an order, Commissioner?” Bruce asked, a clearly flirtatious smile on his face. Gordon shook his head, not answering the younger man at first; obviously he was thinking. Bruce dropped his arms from around him, taking one of Gordon's hands in his hand instead. “Something else bothering you?”
Gordon took a moment; he needed to think out the exact words for what he wanted to ask – to say. He'd had the thoughts formed in his mind for a while, and now he had Bruce in one place, to himself, for longer than an hours time. He could do this; he could finally find out exactly what Bruce Wayne was feeling. He squeezed Bruce's hand, leaning up against the back of the couch, pulling Bruce towards him. Gordon took a deep breath; he wasn't the sentimental or emotional type usually, and he knew Bruce wasn't either, which was why they rarely talked about it, but it had to be said, it had to be done. Gordon needed to know, needed to hear it.
“Bruce, you've been distant the last month or so, and its been hard to know exactly where this relationship stands right now. Where I fit in.” Gordon brought his free hand up to the side of Bruce's head, combing a few stray hairs behind his ear. Bruce's eyes softened, the lines where his jaw was usually clenched gave way to a more relaxed expression, and Gordon was almost happy for it.
“I had no idea you felt that way. I don't want you to feel that way, not about us, anyway.” He paused, placing a small kiss on Gordon lips, and bringing both hands up to the older man's head, cradling his face. “There is no one else I'd rather be with than you. You've become a part of who I am, Jim. A part of what I always wanted to be. If I didn't have you I don't think there would be a point even trying anymore.” He kissed Gordon again, their lips lingering together, as if the next words Bruce wanted to say would be the last.
Gordon didn't expect the words Bruce said next to be exactly what he needed, or even what they might have both actually been feeling, but he knew it'd be enough until they were both ready. He felt his pulse quicken, knowing in a few short seconds he might be able to breathe easy again, stop worrying so much, start giving of himself completely, with-out concern. He needed this reassurance.
Bruce let out a slow breath, caressing Gordon's face softly with his fingertips, lips brushing against his as he spoke. “I need you, Jim. Now more than ever.”
------
Bruce insisted on dinner, suggesting a fancy, expensive new restaurant up town. Gordon refused. One, neither of them were dressed for such a place, and two it was Gordon's turn to take him somewhere a little less snobbish, a place where the meals actually filled someone up rather than leaving them hungry for the rest of the night (he imagined those place worked out great for super models, but Gordon was far from that). Bruce agreed, but not without a bit of sarcastic complaining.
“Should we take your car, too?” Bruce asked as he grabbed his jacket off the back of the couch. Gordon glared at him knowingly, and the younger man laughed. “Again?”
Gordon ignored him. “This place isn't too far, we can walk there.”
“Walk? I have my bike and an extra helmet, we could just --”
“Afraid of a little exercise, Bruce?” Gordon interrupted, pushing the billionaire out the front door, as he grabbed his coat off the hook on the wall.
“No,” Bruce said, a sly grin spreading across his lips. “But if you wanted to do that, we could have just stayed here and ordered in.” Gordon stared at him; Bruce's blunt flirting was adorable, but he'd never admit it to him, afraid that the day he said so, Bruce would stop it all together.
“Let's go.” He pushed on the playboy's shoulder to move him towards the stairwell, picking up the pace so that Bruce knew he wasn't backing down on the walk.. They reached a street of slushed snow, and Bruce groaned, looking down at his expensive tennis shoes. Gordon just laughed.
“One of these days you'll start buying for practicality and not for looks,” Gordon predicted, walking down the last step and heading to the right, Bruce trailed behind him, but was catching up. Gordon felt his arm graze the younger man's, desperately wanting to reach out, take his hand, and have that Sunday afternoon walk so many couples talked about enjoying. Maybe someday, when people were a little more open. Maybe. He glanced at Bruce, who was already looking at him as if he had been thinking and feeling the same exact thing. Gordon sighed; he was about to open his mouth to say something when his phone let out a little tune, something he picked randomly when he got it. He took it out of his pocket, glancing at the screen: MCU.
He pressed the accept key. “Gordon.”
“It's Selina. I thought I should call and let you know of a few leads I have on the 'holiday' case.” She paused, waiting to see if Gordon wanted her to continue, but when he didn't speak she went on. “Been doing some poking around the square where they set off the fireworks on New Year's Eve. Couple shop owners said a man's been coming around asking questions about the most popular place to sit for the count-down. Just a lead, might not be anything, but if the killer is trying to avoid crowds but keep the relevance to the holiday obvious, it might just be the person we're looking for.”
“Did you happen to get a description of the man?” Gordon asked.
“No. I asked, but they couldn't remember. I'll keep asking around. I just wanted to give you a heads-up; keep you informed,” Selina said, sounding a little annoyed.
“I appreciate it, Detective. While you're tracking down a description, see if you can compile a list of discreet places in the square.”
“You got it.” She hung up. Gordon wasn't too sure what to think about the situation now. It sounded a little too good to be true, that someone who had been very quiet with the murders up until now would get a little sloppy and start scouting out places. It didn't work with everything they already knew about the murderer. But leads were leads, and he'd take what he could get right now; everything helped. He hoped they worked it out in three days, before another murder took place.
“Still unsure of her?” Bruce asked.
“A little.” He didn't care to try and explain his feelings on the subject, and it most certainly had nothing to do with Bruce's encounter with her, though that hadn't really helped the matter.
“I can still do that extensive background check, if you want.” Bruce said. “But it means you'll have to let me do what I do best.”
“You mean charm women into believing you actually might care about them?” Gordon asked, sarcasm thick in his voice.
“Jim...”
“Alright, alright. Fine.”
“I promise to tone it down. I won't use any measures that aren't necessary.” Bruce said playfully. Gordon rolled his eyes at him, but he trusted Bruce was telling the truth. He stopped at a small diner on the corner. Bruce kept walking, and Gordon pulled his arm back towards the entrance.
“This is it.” Gordon announced, opening the door and ushering Bruce inside. Bruce made a mock disgusted face. “It's not as bad as it looks.” Everything was well-worn in the diner, right down to the cushions on the booth seats. The lady at the counter motioned for them to take a seat wherever they wanted. Gordon walked to the back of the diner to a more private booth, shrugging off his coat and placing it beside him. Bruce slid in across from him.
“What'll you have?” the woman from the counter asked, a pad of paper and a pen in her hand. She was smiling brightly at Bruce, and Gordon wanted to groan his opinion of the many women who couldn't seem to keep their eyes off Bruce.
“Coffee,” Bruce blurted out, glaring over at Gordon as he sat back against the booth, resting his elbow on the back of it.
“Same. Pancakes, too,” Gordon said.
“What about you, sugar? Anything to eat?” the woman asked Bruce, who was now smiling at her flirtatiously. She turned a shade of crimson Gordon was sure didn't exist in the rainbow.
“No, thank you.” He gave her a wink as she walked away from the table,a bright smile plastered across her face.
Gordon laughed in disbelief. “You just can't control yourself can you?”
“What?” Bruce looked at him innocently, a grin slipping onto his face.
Gordon shook his head, sighing. The waitress returned with their coffees, giving Bruce a little giggle when he took the cup from her, accidentally touching her hand. Gordon couldn't help but roll his eyes again, and Bruce laughed at him once the girl left.
“You know I'll make it up to you,” Bruce said smoothly, sipping on his coffee. Gordon didn't say anything; he just watched the younger man. He was reliving their moment just a few hours before, when the words spilled from Bruce lips like lava, heating him from the inside out. There was still something amiss, but he couldn't really place it. Bruce looked over at him, as if reading his mind.
“Since we are on the subject of being truthful and trusting each other, I should probably tell you something, because I know sooner or later you're going to go snooping around and find out anyway. I'd rather you hear it from me.” Bruce set his coffee down. He leaned over the table, and Gordon leaned towards him, figuring the other man didn't want anyone to hear him. “I've been forced to see a psychiatrist.”
Gordon furrowed his eyebrows, “Why?”
“It's part of the agreement with Garcia and the judge.” He stared more intently at Gordon. “It was that or be admitted to Arkham for an indefinite amount of time. I opted for the 'twice a week' plan.”
“What are they treating you for?”
Bruce laughed, a little nervously. “That's the funny part: Dissociative Identity Disorder.”
Gordon didn't find it funny. In fact, he was a little embarrassed for Bruce. “They obviously haven't really listened to you if they think that's a true diagnosis.”
Bruce shrugged. “It doesn't matter. They want to think something is wrong with me. Better this than something else.”
“What made them think you have DID?”
“My parents' murder,” Bruce said quietly. It was a topic Gordon never brought up, having been there with Bruce after the incident happened; he didn't feel he needed to know more than he knew from the reports. Gordon could believe that, Arkham would throw that in there for good measure, as a reason; it was a good reason, and probably the most believable. Bruce was right. It was better that than something they thought he might need to be locked up for. It could have been something much worse.
“They haven't put you on medication, have they?” Gordon asked, though he was sure he knew the answer already; it made everything more clear, especially the reasons for the younger man's moodiness, especially if he didn't need the medication at all, which Gordon suspected he didn't.
“Well...” Bruce started. That was all Gordon needed to know.
“You don't have to take them, Bruce. You can just throw them out.”
Bruce shook his head. “Arkham is a little smarter than that, Jim. They administer everything through shots or intravenously. I don't have much of a choice.”
Gordon felt a rage start to grow in his chest. He knew Bruce would fight it if he could, but it would risk getting him thrown into Arkham permanently, and that was something they were both working hard to avoid. Unfortunately, they both had more important matters in Gotham to attend to and just three days to do it.
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