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Reconciled Moments
Chapter Five
written by destinyawakened
Bruce had left around midnight and returned not more than two hours later. Gordon assumed it was a slow night on the town. Since Holiday had been caught there was very little criminal activity, aside from the occasional break-in, robbery or car-jacking. Life in Gotham was finally starting to look up. Gordon hoped it stayed that way; it would make his job a lot easier not to mention reducing the need for Batman. Not that it would stop Bruce from going out every night.
Gordon watched as Batman effortlessly slid through the window and closed it behind him. Gordon heard the snapping of clips as Bruce took the mask off and tossed it carelessly to the floor. He pulled the the gloves off next, the sound of leather separating from sweaty skin and then the soft thunk of the Kevlar hitting the carpeted floor. He took two long strides to the bed and knelt down in front of Gordon. The older man felt Bruce wrap his arms tightly around his waist, head against Gordon's stomach.
“Bruce...” Gordon whispered as he ran a hand through the younger man's sweaty locks, thumb caressing his ear with each stroke. Bruce often built up his barriers, even around Gordon, and rarely let his guard down for anyone; but this was the most vulnerable Gordon had seen Bruce in a long time, if not ever. The Kevlar armor was pressing uncomfortably into Gordon's thighs, so he began to undo the hidden clasps he knew so well by now. Bruce pulled back and helped Gordon remove the pieces, tossing them to the corner of the room.
Gordon wasn't much of a cuddler, and the only time he had ever done it had been with his ex-wife (because she insisted) and his children (but that was different). But he looked into Bruce's eyes and saw that the man needed – like anyone else – the security and comfort of the one person in the whole world he could trust completely. Gordon scooted over on the bed and laid himself propped up against the headboard. He held his hand out to Bruce and pulled the younger man onto the bed next to him. He wrapped an arm around Bruce's shoulders and dragged him in close, feeling the warmth of Bruce's half-naked body curled up into his side, head on Gordon's chest. Bruce snaked an arm around Gordon's waist and hid his hand under the older man's back, trying to get just a little closer.
What had brought on this sudden urge for Bruce, Gordon didn't know, but he found he didn't mind. Their relationship had been heading down the path of being more serious for a few weeks now. Gordon wasn't afraid to admit that he was becoming more attached to Bruce than ever before, and he was sure Bruce felt the same. The billionaire often called when he didn't need to, showed up unexpectedly at all hours, texted Gordon with random “I miss yous”s, and was generally more affectionate than he had ever been. Gordon closed his eyes as he ran his fingers up and down Bruce's muscular arm, feeling the scars that never healed quite right against the contrast of how soft his skin actually was. The sense of being so close to someone else – so connected on another level – relaxed him.
In the moment, in his room, the only sound was their regular breathing and the thumping of his own heart as he attempted to listen for Bruce's. He held Bruce in the dark, where no one could see – would never see – Bruce's vulnerability. Gordon was the only person who ever saw the billionaire for who he truly was. And though he would hate to admit it, he had Thomas Elliot to thank for that. Elliot unwittingly brought them together even in their worst moment, when it felt like everything would break between them. They had survived, and with that Gordon was sure that the saying “everything happens for a reason” was as true now as it ever was.
Bruce's breathing slowed and his hold on Gordon loosened. Gordon slid down a little but held onto Bruce just as tightly, this time with both arms around the younger man and fell asleep, too.
-----
Gordon woke to the soft touch of lips against his ear, then his neck and his jaw. He opened his eyes to find the semi-blurry face of Bruce gazing down at him. Gordon reached for his glasses, and Bruce handed them to him. He put them on his face, now able to see the gleaming eyes of the man Gordon knew he had somehow fallen in love with despite the trials they had been through. He let out a soft sigh and wished he didn't have to go to work.
But today was meeting day with Mayor Garcia. Gordon was determined to get the man to agree to let Bruce back on the team, if only to save Gordon's own sanity – having to keep things from the one person he should have been able to tell anything to was taking it toll.
“No time,” Gordon mumbled as he pushed Bruce back so he could roll out of the bed. “Early meeting with Garcia. I'm sure I'm already going to be late. What time is it?”
Bruce folded his legs under himself, watching Gordon as he frantically searched for a clean dress shirt from the closet. “It's only seven.”
Gordon groaned. He had to be there at eight. “I'm not going to be able to make Babs anything for breakfast. Would you mind – ” He stopped himself as he was about to suggest that Bruce make breakfast, but the idea of that was highly unlikely and possibly dangerous. Bruce in the kitchen with a stove and food – it was an unlikely match-up.
“I'll take her to breakfast and then maybe I'll show her the library since she seemed so interested.” Bruce slid off the bed and helped Gordon pull on his shirt, fastening the buttons for him, being extra sure to touch any exposed skin with his fingers before locking it away under the cotton fabric.
“That's very generous of you, Bruce. You don't really have to go through all that...” but before Gordon could finish his sentence Bruce was pushing Gordon up against the wall, pushing his hips into the commissioner's. Bruce brushed his lips softly against Gordon's.
“Maybe I want to,” Bruce whispered, kissing at Gordon's lips with each word. “Maybe I'm trying to get on her uncle's good side. I hear he rewards those who do favors for him.” Bruce brushed his fingertips down the length of Gordon's penis through the fabric of his boxer shorts. Gordon found himself thrusting his hips into Bruce's grip, but the billionaire refused to take a firmer hold.
Gordon wasn't sure how much more he could take; they had been teasing each other and talking about sex for days now and he was about to break if he didn't actually release the tension. He wished harder – quite literally – that he didn't have that meeting. He pushed at Bruce's shoulder and the younger man pulled back, licking his lips. He didn't look apologetic; he didn't look as if he regretted it at all. If anything he looked satisfied to have driven Gordon almost to the point of cracking.
“I think you have her uncle confused with someone else,” Gordon said, purposely breaking the sexual mood. He didn't need this right now. Bruce narrowed his eyes at him and shook his head.
“No,” the billionaire said simply, “I don't think I do.” He grabbed the back of Gordon's neck and pulled him into a kiss, forcing his tongue past the commissioner's lips. He let the moment linger there and Gordon thought for sure he wouldn't ever breathe again. And when the moment passed and Bruce was wistfully gazing into Gordon's eyes, he smoothed out his tone.“Soon enough.” Gordon didn't need to know what Bruce was thinking; he already knew, and it involved them and a bed, to say the least.
------
The mayor's office was unusually still. The only sound was Gordon's own breathing as he waited for Garcia. Gordon had worried about being late, when he in fact he arrived on time, only to have the mayor be behind schedule. The irony of it was not settling well with Gordon, when he knew he could have been at home with Bruce and Babs if he'd known Garcia would be this late. Forty-five minutes was pushing it and if he didn't show in the next fifteen, Gordon was leaving.
Of course, it was just his luck that the door opened with a slightly annoyed Mayor Garcia trailing behind it. Gordon stood to shake the man's hand and then sat back down when gestured to do so. Garcia took a seat at his desk, staring at Gordon.
“I'm sorry to be so late, Jim. Having a few issues at home. I'm sure you understand.” Garcia gave one of those smiles that Gordon hated; it was the publicity smile, fake and awkward. For the mayor to suggest that Gordon would know anything about martial problems was probably an understatement, but he didn't need it thrown in his face either. Gordon was quite happy in his life now and had since gotten over the nasty divorce.
So he chose to ignore the comment. “I want to talk about Bruce Wayne.” Blunt, to the point, and deserving of the grimace Gordon received from the man sitting just in front of him. “I know you're worried that he's not in the right mindset to help around MCU anymore. I understand and so does Bruce. But, it's been three months and with this new case from Bludhaven, we could really use his expertise.” It sounded a little desperate, Gordon knew. Especially with the case concerning his own family. But Garcia had softened his gaze and smirked.
“You don't need to convince me, Jim. Consider it done.” Garcia looked pensive, almost at ease with the idea. Gordon couldn't help but wonder if Garcia had already made his decision before their meeting even took place.
“Well, great. Bruce will be very excited.” Was excited even the right word? Bruce liked being Batman, but he doubted it was something he got excited over. Too late now.
“And about that case from Bludhaven,” Garcia leaned forward on his desk and gave Gordon one of those concerned looks Gordon usually only got from Alfred. “I'm really sorry, Jim.” Apparently news traveled faster around City Hall than it did at Gotham High.
Gordon was tired of being reminded of it. He had felt that he could just move past it and go on with life. He had built up his defenses and kept himself sturdy. He took a deep breath through his nose and let it out through his mouth. There, better. Calm. Numb, again. Perfect.
“I'd rather not discuss it.” Gordon kept his tone neutral and steady, dipping his head just slightly with a small gesture of his hands to indict he wanted to drop the subject. He was sure that once the funeral had taken place he'd be able to look back on it without grimacing and with out an ounce remorse for the way things had turned out. But right now, if he did think about it, he knew he'd lose it and everything would crash down around him.
Garcia nodded. “Of course.”
------
Bruce sat, one elbow on the table, head cradled in his hand while the other stirred his coffee aimlessly. Babs was still going over the menu, making little “mmm” noises at all the different foods she wanted, not able to decide. Bruce thought it was sort of quirky and it reminded him a bit of Jim, if Jim were a girl. He was watching her facial expressions, checking for the moment she might break down again. It was a common occurance for the first few days, if not weeks, after something so tragic. But Babs surprised him in her willingness to move on and be happy. She was adapting well to her new life and Bruce saw a lot of hope in her eyes when she looked up at him from over her menu.
“I think I know what I'm going to have.” She placed the menu down on the table and folded it back up. “What are you going to have?”
Bruce shrugged. “Not really that hungry.” He gave her a mischievous grin. “Plus, Alfred would kill me if he found out I ate greasy diner food.” So it was a fib – just a little one. Alfred could have cared less what Bruce put into his stomach, when in fact it was Bruce who cared. He hated the way greasy food made him feel sluggish – it was bad enough to feel that way wearing the Batsuit. But how was he supposed to tell that to a his boyfriend's sixteen-year-old niece who was already looking up to him far more than expected?
Babs giggled. Maybe she knew Bruce was full of it. Maybe she really was smarter than he and Jim were giving her credit for. Bruce knew she could be trouble with a capital T when it came to keeping his secret identity from her. He would have to keep things a little tighter than usual when he was over at Jim's place, or when Babs and Jim were at the Manor.
The waitress was standing beside their table now, pen on her pad. “What'll ya have?”
“French toast, please.” Babs handed her menu over to the woman. Bruce pushed his over to the side of the table for the waitress.
“More coffee and orange juice.” He might regret it later – the acidity would kill him. “Please,” he added when he saw the look on Babs' face. The waitress left, and Babs rolled her eyes at him. “What?”
She shook her head and sipped on the hot chocolate she had ordered. “Are you going to be keeping me company every day this summer?” Bruce nearly spit out his coffee, covering his mouth quickly with a napkin.
“No, no. Trust me, I have other responsibilities. I'm sure Jim will have something set up for you soon for you. I don't think he expects you to stay cooped up in that apartment all summer. The bus system isn't bad, I could get your a pass, if it's okay with Jim.” Bruce leaned back in the booth and thew his arm over the back of it. He watched Babs' face for some sign of what she wanted, what she might be asking for.
“That would be nice.” She had a thoughtful look on her face and then looked at Bruce with a mischievous grin. “I think once everything is taken care of Uncle Jim needs to take a vacation. And there's this show coming into town that would be really neat to go see. But the tickets have been sold out for a while.” Ah, so this was part of what Babs had been looking up last night when she wouldn't let anyone see. Bruce let out an amused sigh.
“What show?” Because he was Bruce Wayne and Bruce Wayne could pull strings. He rarely used said strings for himself, and he'd be more than happy to get Babs what she wanted. He felt like the uncle every kid wanted to go visit because he bought them candy for dinner. Bruce found he kind of liked that feeling.
“The Flying Graysons.”
Bruce had heard of it; in fact he knew that it was one of the best-known acts in the United States. He had never particularly wanted to go see it, but the experience might well be worth it. And Babs seemed genuinely excited for it. Damn him and his vulnerable heart.
“Alright. I'll see what I can do about getting the tickets. You get to work on buttering your uncle up for when I suggest he take some time off work. He's never going to do it if we don't wear him down. I suggest using that pouty face you're so good at.”
Babs raised an eyebrow at him, trying to hide the giggle that slipped past her lips. “And what about you? How will you try to convince him to take a vacation?”
Bruce put down his coffee and looked at her pointedly. “Well, first I'm going to take him to dinner. Then when you go to bed I'm –” But Babs had put her hand in the air for him to stop. She was giggling harder now, face red from blushing.
“Don't. Just don't finish that sentence, Bruce. I'm sorry I asked.”
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