Perfect Timing 14/? FRM (bad language is bad)/FRAO for the whole thing
Bruce glanced up when the door opened. Trent stepped through, then closed the door carefully behind him before walking over to his desk, sitting down and opening one of his books. He started reading, jotting some notes on a tablet. Bruce waited for him to say something, to acknowledge Bruce in some way or at least to indicate that he knew he wasn't alone. A few minutes passed before Bruce scowled.
"What crawled up your ass and died?" Bruce turned his chair so that he was facing Trent.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Trent didn't as much as glance at Bruce. "I'm sitting here trying to get my Latin homework done. Let me guess," he glanced over at Bruce, a bit of a sneer on his face. "You got it done hours ago and in like ten minutes. What with being perfect and all that."
"The fuck is wrong with you. Yeah, I got it done but only because I don't wait until the last possible second. Unlike other people in this room." Bruce spun back around. "But hey, whatever, be a jerk and see if I help when you get stuck. Which you will."
"Fuck. You." Trent hurled back. There was nothing but the sound of their pens moving over paper for several minutes. Bruce could feel his neck and shoulders starting to ache from how stiff he was holding himself. But he would be damned if he was the one who broke first. He didn't do anything, he was the one sitting there trying to get ahead on his lit paper when Trent came back acting all weird. He wasn't the one who started it and he wasn't the one who was going to end it. If Trent wanted to be an ass, hey, fine. Bruce was more than happy to let him.
Trent started muttering under his breath and Bruce steadfastly ignored it. No. He wasn't interested and he didn't care and it didn't mean anything that he was clenching his pen so tightly that his fingers were starting to cramp.
"Look. Can you," Trent sighed heavily. "I can't get this part."
"What I'm supposed to help you now? Oh, right, I'm perfect and that's what perfect people do. I get it. Sorry, but I'm not perfect so you'll have to figure it out yourself." Bruce battled down the surge of guilt for sounding like such an ass. He was in the right here, he was. And Trent needed to learn this stuff on his own, not just rely on Bruce to help him out. He wasn't being a jerk, he was helping. Tough love and all of that.
"Bruce." There was a long pause and Bruce steadfastly kept his back to Trent. "C'mon. Please." The last word was said so quietly that Bruce wasn't sure he'd really heard it at first. "Bruce."
Bruce pushed back from the desk, then walked over, leaning over Trent's back. He rested a hand on Trent's shoulder to keep his balance, maybe squeezing a little bit too but that didn't mean anything. "You messed up your conjugations again. Also, tempus is time, not tide." Bruce squinted. "Is that part in French?" He leaned a bit closer, trying to decipher Trent's handwriting. "Seriously, what the hell, Trent, this is a huge mess." He grabbed the pages and then pulled back, sitting down on the end of Trent's bed. "Are you drunk or something? Did you have a stroke?" He waved a page at Trent. "This part isn't even in any human language and you know Dr. Darby will flip out if you hand in something with equations in the margin again."
"You know damn well that those equations were helpful. He's mad because I provided scientific proof that learning Latin is utterly useless to real life in any way." Trent scowled at Bruce. "You know I suck at this."
"You don't suck at this, you don't care about this so you don't give a shit if you get it right." Bruce leaned over the side of the bed, stretching to grab a pen. "I'll mark it up but I am not doing this for you." He started marking up the page, snorting a little. "Maybe I should circle what you got right. That would take less time."
"Oh bite me." Trent sounded tired. "I'll do your calculus."
"I rock at calculus and you know it." Bruce looked up at him. "What's wrong with you tonight?"
Trent spun a pen around his fingers. "Nothing."
"Yeah, that was the most convincing thing I've ever heard. Better sign up for play tryouts, you're a natural." Bruce set the papers down, leaning in towards Trent a bit. "C'mon, tell me."
Trent stared at him for a moment and Bruce stared back. Trent finally looked away and muttered something too quietly for Bruce to hear.
"What? I don't have, like, bat hearing, try saying it so humans can hear." Bruce nudged Trent with his foot. "Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me."
"God, you're such a two year old. Fine." Trent took a breath and then said in a rush. "I talked to my mom tonight."
Bruce blinked. "I thought you said that you weren't going to be able to talk to them for another couple of weeks. They're back from Brazil?"
"Paraguay. Yeah. Apparently they got back early and had to come back to Gotham for something so she called." Trent's voice was brittle. "They've been in town for three days or something like that."
"And they didn't come to see you?" Bruce regretted saying it as soon as the words left his mouth. He regretted it more when he saw the hurt on Trent's face. "Sorry."
"No, it's a fair question. I asked her that myself and she said that they were really busy and couldn't make the time but she was going to have the stuff they got me couriered over tomorrow." Trent stood up and started to pace. "They're off to, fuck, I don't even care. But guess who gets to stay in the dorms for Christmas. Again." Trent started walking faster and Bruce watched him, head moving in time to Trent's movements.
"Come home with me." Bruce said. "It'll be great, we've got, hell, a wing if you want it, you'd be over all the time anyway. It'll be easier if you stay over so this is better."
"Oh, yeah, it's so much better that I crash at your place because my own fucking parents do not give enough of a shit about their son to see him for Christmas, yeah, that's better." Trent stopped walking, hands curled into fists at his side. "I don't know why they even bothered to have me. It's not like they care."
"They care." Bruce replied. Trent stared at him. "Yeah, okay, I'll admit that could have sounded more persuasive."
Trent flopped on the bed and Bruce scooted over to give him some room. "I asked my mom once, did I ever tell you that?" Bruce shook his head. "Yeah. Do you know what she said?" Bruce shook his head again. "Darling, what a silly question, of course we wanted you, you're such a blessing." Trent's impression of his mother's voice was scarily accurate, right down to the false note of cheerfulness that always set Bruce's teeth on edge. "Yeah. Such a blessing they shipped me off here the first chance they got."
Bruce picked at the blanket, trying to come up with something to say. "I'm glad you're here. I mean, I'd probably be stuck rooming with Paul or Steve or somebody with smelly feet. Smellier. Someone has to have smellier feet than you. Maybe." That got him a tiny smile and Bruce felt a surge of pride. He poked Trent in the side. "It's not that bad."
"That from the kid who sees his parents at least once a week, talks to his mom every day and who gets care packages from his freaking butler like twice a month." Trent poked him back. "You're so freaking spoiled, Master Bruce Wayne, Prince of Gotham."
"Oh fuck you!" Bruce smacked at Trent's arm. "That fucking reporter was a jackass."
Trent smirked at him. "Aw, does little Brucey Wucey not like being on the cover of a magazine for doing, oh wait, you didn't do anything you were just born. Poor baby."
Bruce grabbed a pillow, slamming it over Trent's face. "They told Mom it was going to be about the school and the scholarship thing and the new lab and stuff!"
Trent struggled to push Bruce off and Bruce pressed down harder. Trent finally managed to flip them over, grabbing the pillow and slamming it down over Bruce's face. "Yeah, the Wayne Foundation scholarships for the school that six generations of Waynes attended and the new Wayne Lab in the Wayne Wing. Yeah, who didn't see which way that story was going to go?"
Bruce managed to get an arm free and held up his hand, flipping off Trent. Trent started laughing hard and Bruce took the opportunity squirm out from under him. "I liked it better when I was still taller than you." He panted hard for a minute, then kicked Trent. "Mom's still really pissed about it."
"God, what's she going to do?" Trent shuddered a little. "I'm scarred from life from her yelling at us about the tree."
"That was so not fair, it's not like we meant for it to catch on fire." Bruce said. "I asked Alfred what she was going to do and he said something about accessories before the fact and plausible deniability and I decided I really really didn't want to know."
"Good choice." Trent leaned into Bruce. "Do you really think I can stay with you for Christmas?"
Bruce snorted. "I think I'll be staying here with you if Mom finds out I didn't have you come over. I kind of like my life to not suck and Mom being mad at me? That makes my life suck. Kind of," he paused trying to think of the right word.
"All of it?" Trent offered and Bruce nodded.
"Hell, yes, all of it. Do you want to stay the whole time? I mean," Bruce flushed. "I'd like it if you did. It gets kind of boring when it's me and all the adults."
"So you've finally accepted you aren't thirty?" Trent placed a hand on Bruce's forehead. "Are you sick? You don't feel like you have a fever." Trent tried to sound concerned, succeeding mainly in sounding amused. "Miracles never cease it seems."
"Fuck. And. You. I don't act like I'm thirty!" Bruce shoved Trent's hand away.
"I hate to break it to you, but you kind of really do. You even like those parties and that I don't understand. It's not like Alfred's ever going to let you sneak a drink." Trent patted Bruce on the head. "No matter how hard you try."
"The parties are interesting if you know how to watch." Bruce pushed up, scooting up the bed to lean against the headboard. "For example, I know that Mayor Todd is having an affair with Mrs. Rosenbaum."
"Shut up, you cannot possibly know that." Trent sat up as well, sitting cross legged facing Bruce.
"I totally can. It's how they talk to each other, you know? Like, they lean in a little too close to each other, they're always touching each other on the arms, they smile all the time even when the subject is boring and they don't pay attention to anyone else in the room. They're totally sleeping together." Bruce sounded smug. "I know I'm right."
"You are such a voyeur." Trent sounded impressed. "Do you watch people at school like that?"
Bruce shrugged. "I guess, it's kind of habit by this point. I've always paid attention to details."
"Huh. Do you do it to me?" Trent narrowed his eyes. "You better not."
"Please, you're boring." Bruce rolled his eyes. "Not to mention you're usually talking to me. Besides, you'd tell me if you liked someone."
Trent flushed a bit. "Yeah, I guess. So, okay, you spend the time trying to figure out who's doing what with who? Like I said, pervy voyeur."
"I do not! I pay attention is all. I mean, sometimes it's stuff like who likes to eat what or who keeps going to the bathroom." Bruce shrugged. "It keeps it from getting boring."
"Why do you care who goes to the bathroom? That's weird." Trent said, looking confused.
"Well, Dad gets kind of pissed when people are doing drugs in the bathrooms." Bruce grinned. "You're so sheltered."
"Shut up! I am not!" Trent shoved at Bruce's shoulder. "And you're so worldly it hurts."
"More than you." Bruce pushed back. "Tell you what, next party I'll show you what to look for and you'll see that it's fun."
"Fine, fine, fine." Trent leaned back, grabbing the papers off the floor. "Are you sure you don't want to finish my Latin?"
"Yeah, I'm sure." Bruce replied dryly. "I'll check it for you when you're done though."
"Like I said, perfect." Trent made a kissy face at him. "You're an angel."
"Fuck you." Bruce flipped him off again and Trent laughed. "I'm going to work on my lit paper."
"That's not due until next week. Toss me my book, will you?" Trent bit down on the end of a pen. "Holy shit, I did do this part in French."
"Told you." Bruce tossed Trent his book. "Believe it or not, some of us don't like waiting until the last possible moment to do everything."
"Says the person who finished his government paper by writing the last paragraph on my back in the hall right before class." Trent grinned at him. "Don't try to bullshit me, Wayne. I know you."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Bruce settled down at his desk. "I'll call Mom tomorrow about you staying for Christmas, okay?"
"Sounds great." Trent smiled a little. "Thanks."
"Hey, no problem." Bruce smiled back. "Now get back to sucking at Latin."
"Oh fuck you, I have no room in my brain for this shit, it's too full of how much I rock at math." Trent said smugly.
"Yeah, whatever, you still suck at Latin and I still rule." Bruce yanked a book down from the shelf, flipping through to find the right page.
"Bite me." Trent muttered, frowning in concentration. Bruce watched him work for a few minutes, then turned back to his desk. He couldn't keep from smiling though. It was going to be awesome to have Trent staying over for Christmas. He hated to admit it, but he was so used to having Trent there with him that he didn't sleep well when he went home now. He'd have to figure out some way to convince his mom that Trent wouldn't need a separate room. They could share his, no problem. This was going to be the best Christmas ever.