written by destinyawakened
Sundays were Gordon's only days to himself, and sometimes, depending on criminal activity, he didn't even get those. When he was still married he would have spent them with his family, taking the time, or attempting, to let his wife know he still loved her and cared for her; to try to convince her, and himself, that Gotham was not the first priority in his life. Barbara was never convinced; she knew him too well. A month after his promotion to commissioner she left him, took the kids and fled the city. How could he blame her? Nothing in Gotham was safe, and if she and the kids had stayed, another Harvey Dent incident could have happened all over again. No, Jim Gordon knew his family was better off without Gotham and without him.
Now, his Sundays were spent alone, either cleaning his rarely-used apartment, working from home, or just sitting in the dark thinking about work. Gordon had no friends, no one outside work to call when he was lonely (usually because they were working when he was off). This particular Sunday afternoon, Gordon walked the cemetery paths alone, hands in his pockets, head tipped down, watching the path slide by him with each step he took. Only a year ago the Joker terrorized the city and ruined the soul of one very noble man by destroying everything he loved: Rachel Dawes and Justice.
Gordon stopped on the path, turning his head to the plot of land where Rachel was buried, not surprised to see dozens of flowers and candles covering her grave in her memory. In front of the grave was a man, on his knees, head bent, hands resting at his sides. Gordon could hardly identify the figure from behind, and approached him slowly. He reached out his right hand to touch the man’s shoulder, expecting to startle him a bit, but was surprised when the man did not even flinch.
“Ms. Dawes was a friend of yours?” Gordon asked, his voice low and soothing. Usually he just kept to himself and would have let the man be, but Gordon felt a nagging voice in the back of head, urging him to at least try to comfort the man, the best he knew how (which wasn't saying much).
He moved his hand away from the other man's shoulder when he did not respond right away. “She was quite an assistant DA.” Gordon was aware he sounded uncaring, mechanical, forced; but being emotional with another man was hardly his area of expertise.
“Yes,” was the only response Gordon received. Slowly, the man pushed up to sit on his knees then carefully got to his feet. Jim watched as the man turned around to face him, surprised to see the young, handsome features of Bruce Wayne staring back him, his eyes hollow, tired -- a sure sign of sleep deprivation.
Gordon had nearly forgotten that Wayne and Dawes had been long-time childhood friends, and, of course, everyone presumed that Bruce Wayne was without real feeling unless it dealt with parties, money, and supermodels. Jim felt a little ashamed for believing it, especially now he saw that Wayne was having a harder time handling grief than anyone gave him credit for.
Wayne only stared at him, eyes blazing with emotion, his lips a thin line, his jaw set to show no other sentiment. His hair was cleanly cut and styled back, face shaved, suit pressed, and Gordon could not help but feel a twinge of attraction to the playboy. Even in sorrow, Bruce Wayne had a charisma about him that dragged you into his stare and wrapped your soul around his fingers. Gordon reached out a hand to touch the other man's shoulder again, but Wayne caught his hand with his own and pulled Gordon towards him.
Gordon stumbled over his feet, nearly falling into the man, catching his balance with his free hand on Wayne's shoulder. He jerked his hand away from him, heat flushing his cheeks. Gordon attempted to pull his other hand away, but Wayne pulled him closer, sliding a muscular arm around Gordon's back, and he tensed as he was drawn in closer.
“I, uh...Mr. Wayne...” Gordon started. His nose was less than an inch away from the other man's, and he could smell sweet mint on his breath and the subtle scent of musk from his aftershave. It would have been soothing, if Gordon had not been a little uneasy.
Wayne let go of Gordon's hand, placing a finger over his lips and shaking his head. Wayne's eyes bore into him, dug around his soul and pulled him in closer. Gordon was unaware he was even moving in towards the other man until their lips met, only softly at first. Gordon felt rigid in his skin, wanting to scream and pull away, but his flesh was melting into Wayne's embrace. The man placed a hand on Gordon's neck, kneading soft circles into his tense muscles, allowing him to relax more, falling against Wayne in an attempt to keep stable.
Needy teeth nipped at Gordon's bottom lip, and he obliged, parting his lips and allowing a slithering, wanting tongue into his mouth. He pushed back against the warmth with his own advances, tipping his head to the side for better access to the younger man's open mouth. Gordon felt around, tasting Wayne, cherishing the soft lips against his own, grunting when the other man pulled away.
Gordon opened his eyes to find Wayne staring at him, into him. Gordon tried to catch his breath, but didn't break the gaze, searching for an answer to the actions of Gotham’s Prince. Instead, Gordon was caught completely off guard by the intensity of Wayne's stare; it felt as if he was being stripped naked, raped, and left vulnerable in an empty alley. Why did that stare remind him of someone else's? And most importantly, why was he enjoying this intimacy with another man?
Gordon turned his eyes away from Wayne; what was he thinking allowing this to happen? He barely knew the boy. Gordon felt ashamed. How could he suddenly feel so attracted to a man he never talked to, and maybe saw once in a while at parties? Wayne brought a hand to Gordon's face and brought his gaze back to his, but said nothing. Gordon noticed there was something fierce and needy in the man's eyes, but didn't anticipate his next move.
Wayne slammed him back against a tree, pushing his chest into Gordon's, stooping his head and licking a trail up the older man's neck, biting at the skin just below his jaw. Gordon closed his eyes, whisper soft kisses touching his ear. A low growl rumbled through the man pressed against him, a noise that was very familiar to him; but in his mind set, he could not place it; he was just too overwhelmed with heat and desire. What thoughts he did have were to get away; he was far from attracted to men, right? But just the thought of Bruce Wayne was sending shock-waves through him, an inkling of need coursing through his blood, telling him that everything he was feeling was natural and perfectly normal. Normal...
“Oh, Jim...” Wayne muttered into his ear, pulling away to look at him. Gordon gazed back at him, puzzled. He had never been on first name terms with this man, but then again they had never been on intimate, kissing terms either. It was strange to hear his name spill from Wayne's mouth; it made him mentally shiver, body trembling against the younger man.
Wayne moved his right hand to Gordon's face, caressing his cheek with affection, soft and careful. “There is something you should probably know,” Wayne started, his voice still low; tender, but strong.
Gordon finally broke the gaze, his instincts kicking in, and slipped out from underneath Wayne. He brushed himself off, and held his hands out in front of him. “I don't really need to know, Mr. Wayne.” Of course, he was assuming that Wayne was about to tell him he was gay, but from the look on his face, Gordon knew that was not the case at all. Wayne gave him a small frown, a little disheartening to see, and Gordon sighed, feeling like an asshole.
He walked back towards the man, hands on his hips, took a deep breath and waited for Wayne to speak. But instead of words, Gordon found his mouth surrounded again by Wayne's lips, a forceful tongue intruding, slipping against his teeth. When Wayne pulled away again, Gordon was in too much shock to say anything. He stood there, eyes a little blurred, glasses askew, trying to find words in the mush his brain had become.
Behind Wayne the sun was sitting low in the sky, beams of light surrounding him, such that Gordon saw only the silhouette of the man, and Gordon could have sworn Wayne looked like someone he knew. No, reminded him of someone he knew, especially now that he was gaping at him, not saying a word. Wayne leaned his head in closer to him, his head now blocking the sun that had caused Gordon to squint. He could see Wayne's face again, beautiful and young, and Gordon felt an overwhelming urge to touch his cheek, to show his own rising affection; but his common sense was chiding him in the back of his mind, and he kept his hands at his sides.
Wayne didn't seem to notice Gordon's inner struggles; he seemed bent on getting as close to him as possible, his lips now centimeters away from Gordon's ear, “Just as Gotham will always need you, Jim, I will always need you.”
It was not a voice Gordon expected to hear from Wayne, it was a low deep growl, and one that Gordon knew all too well from the past few years working with Batman; but this was not Batman, this was Bruce Wayne. And what was Wayne talking about? He rarely spoke to the man...but then why did his words rip into him and claw at his soul? Gordon felt a sense of understanding, but he was still unaware as to what his mind was attempting to piece together.
Wayne took Gordon's face into his strong, callused hands, bringing him out of his thoughts. He brought his gaze back to Wayne's, watching the unsaid mix of turmoil and lust play out behind his hazel eyes. Gordon shivered; his heart ached suddenly, his chest heaved and his mind felt numb with fear. Fear? He was not afraid of Batman, and he was not afraid of Bruce Wayne... but he was afraid of Batman being Bruce Wayne... the last intimate details finally connecting together, the puzzle suddenly complete and the picture very clear. Everything, Gordon realized, made sense now.
“Wait,” Gordon started, but Wayne held his shoulders in his strong hands and kissed his face softly, a gesture that suggested love and respect, and Gordon felt himself falter, unguarded. Why was it he had never known he had these feelings before? But the answer was simple, and everything he wanted was suddenly in one person, rather than two. “Bruce...”
Wayne shook his head and kissed his lips softly, whispering against them, “Don't speak.” And he kissed Gordon again: hard, strong, powerful, and understanding.
When Wayne finally let Gordon breathe again, the sun had started to set over city, and the younger man looked out to the lights brightening up Gotham, waiting for the night to reign.
Gordon watched Wayne carefully, not sure what to expect anymore, but he said nothing and neither did Wayne. He began to wonder, after the events that had just taken place, exactly what would come of his friendship with Batman and how the impending relationship with Bruce Wayne would open up. Gordon would be the first to admit being skeptical, but a feeling deep in his gut told him that everything he had just embarked on was right.
Wayne looked at him, apparently aware of Gordon's inner conflict. He expected the younger man to say something, to tell him it was all over and in the morning they would go back to being common friends. But Wayne said nothing; he just watched the sun drift further down behind the skyscrapers, nodding politely to a passing couple out on a walk of their own, hands intertwined.
A hand took hold of Gordon's, lacing their fingers together, and pulling him just a little closer to the other man. He took a glance at Wayne through the side of his glasses, watching the eyes of a man who had seen more in his short life than many would see even if they lived to be one hundred years old. Wayne turned his face to look at him, and smiled smugly, bringing down his barriers just a little. Gordon felt a twinge of endearment pierce his heart and squeezed his hand. How he got here today, and why, he would never know. He did know that everything would be different now, and he hoped, for God's sake, it was for the better.
Gordon looked out over the city, still holding Wayne's hand tightly. A wave of contentment washed over him. He was briefly reminded of Barbara and how they would watch the children in their sleep. Except, now he was with Bruce Wayne -- Batman -- and their child was Gotham City herself, and she was just waking up.