The Aged Ingenue (21/25)
Chapter 21: the ubiquitous candlelit dinner
‘A church?’
Bruce winced at the bafflement in Jim Gordon’s voice as he strode ahead. ‘Its no longer in use, so we’re not in danger of running into anyone.’
They were standing before a staid, grey-bricked Mansard with dirty tinted windows that must once been magnificent; now caked with impenetrable grime - a silent sentinel of the better times that the neighborhood once enjoyed.
Jim hesitated under the ancient arched doors. ‘Is it structurally sound?’
‘Guess there's only one way to find out.’
Bruce paced his steps slowly; forcing Jim to follow him deeper into the interiors by walking ahead and giving him enough time to adjust to the gloomy environment and overcome his natural prejudices, but not enough time for him to consider running away. It was, he thought dryly, not unlike trying to acquaint a very skittish deer to a clearing.
When he was satisfied that he'd lured his prey far enough along, he grabbed Jim’s hand with a predatory grin.
‘Close your eyes.’
‘I feel like a girl,’ Jim complained.
‘It might help if you try not to compartmentalize so much,’ Bruce suggested as he darted forward and stole a kiss that Jim wouldn’t have the time to react to, then admired his handiwork in the answering blush that inexplicably reminded him of mimosas - sensitive and responsive and oh goddon’t gothereBruce. Because that way lies madness. Yes. Madness.
He led Jim through the rows of broken isles, across the stage, and up a narrow cast-iron staircase which circled onto a narrow balustrade that must have once held a pipe organ during Gotham City’s grander, more affluent epochs.
‘Is this absolutely necessary?’ the Commissioner groused gingerly as he clutched at the slender railings and flailed on each rusty, protesting step.
‘Trust me. You’ll like the view.’ Because he certainly did.
‘I’d like to not break an ankle. Are you sure this thing can take our weight?’
Bruce silently begun to wonder himself; two grown men on creaking, two hundred year old ornamental staircase was cause for a fair bit of apprehension, even if one of them had not been blindfolded.
‘I promise you that the risk of certain death is worth it,’ he drawled with false bravado. ‘Here we are.’
‘Hmph. At least you didn’t bring me to some ubiquitous-‘Jim opened his eyes.
Opps.
‘-candlelight dinner,’ the Commissioner sighed.
Bruce considered the silver candlesticks gleamed against a black tablecloth. Perhaps the Dionysian centerpiece had been an unnecessary touch. ‘You could count your blessings. At least I waited some time before springing one on you?’
Perhaps Jim might have squeaked in reply; Bruce wasn’t sure, his mind was busy formulating Plan B just in case the night went pear shaped. ‘We can go somewhere else, if you prefer. Though of course, you’ll have to brave the staircase again.’
‘I’m not sure I’m ready just yet to repeat that on an empty stomach,’ Jim’s lips twitched. ‘Shall we?’
Bruce nodded tersely, not sure if he trusted himself to speak, and pulled out a chair.
‘Gimme that.’
And the chair was snatched from Bruce before he could blink.
‘I swear that I wasn’t going to pull it out for you,’ the younger man protested. Although he was about to do exactly that. Apparently he had a lot more to learn about the whole business of dating a man than he realized.
‘Of course you weren’t,’ the Commissioner murmured with a perfectly straight face. ‘Not that I don’t appreciate the effort, but I’m not. You know. A girl.’
Bruce sat down because he badly needed to, splayed his fingers on the table and said in the most earnest voice he could summon; ‘Jim Gordon, I find you to be… Absolutely. Most vehemently. Incontrovertibly. Not remotely girl-like at all.’
Steel grey eyes narrowed at him.
‘Please don’t go. I went through so much trouble to get the coasters and the cutler to match.’
To his relief Jim finally pulled out a chair and sank reluctantly down, although he still looked like he was forcing himself not to run screaming away.
‘Never do this again.’
‘I promise to never do this again.’
*
It didn’t turn out too badly. They had a scallop Carpaccio starter, which he liked, followed by lamb shank, which he knew Jim wouldn’t be too uncomfortable with. He’d kept topping Jim’s glass with Chateaus, and his own with a champagne bottle filled with ginger ale.
After that, he had been pleasantly surprised when Jim had suggested exploring the premise. They had wandered the hall, voices automatically falling into a mummer in the magical, gloaming night. Bruce breathed it all in; the subtle, slightly spicy scent of cologne on Jim, the light glinting off his metallic spectacles, the surprisingly fashionable V-necked knit that Jim filled out remarkably well. He wanted to remember everything.
Jim gave him a wry smile when he finally drummed up the courage to place an arm oh-so-casually around his shoulders.
‘Isn’t there some sort of law against seducing somebody in a church?’
‘So who’d disapprove of two people having a good time together?’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ the older man gestured at one of the stained glass window. ‘For instance, they look disapproving,’
‘Yeah well, unsolicited voyeurs don’t get to claim the moral high ground.’
‘Neither do trespassers.’
‘That would be them, since I happen to own the land they stand on,’ Bruce said. ‘And you don’t get to sidle out of this with chatter, Jim. Come here.’
He pulled Jim in with the crook of his arm and kissed him, moving his lips firmly but languidly across a mouth that tasted of red wine and cigarettes. His hands skimmed over hard shoulders, traced biceps and forearms, molded themselves to a waist and flat stomach that caused tremors into his own.
After a good minute, he finally felt Jim responding with a muffled sound, mouth widening beneath a coaxing tongue, and suppressed the hungry sound that threatened to erupt from his own throat.
Tonight, it took three hours. Perhaps one day it might take an hour. Perhaps one day, it would be the first thing they did before anything else.
He does not, of course tell Jim Gordon any of this. He knows better. Bruce Wayne had never had the luxury of telling the people he loved very many things.
Perhaps it was just as well he’s had all this years to practice.
‘From here,’ the older man cleared his throat when he finally pulled apart; ‘w-with all the stained glass it looks a bit like a castle.’
‘I have a theory… that that’s how the world’s first comic books started,’ Bruce murmured as he wrapped his arms around Jim from behind. They both looked at the passing car lights briefly illuminate the faces of the saints, and Bruce traced the a jawline with the back of his hand. ‘There was a man who wandered into a castle once, seeking shelter from the storm. Unbeknownst to him, the castle was inhabited by a beast, who, though of demonic countenance and ferocious disposition was actually a prince-‘
Jim gave a muffled laugh. ‘I can’t believe you’re telling me a fairy tale.’
‘I’ll have you know that ever word is true.’
‘You do realize that I have a daughter who just turned six.’
‘In that case, perhaps we should skip straight to the happy ending.’
He didn’t know what it was he said, but expression on the other man’s face instantly shuttered.
‘Jim?’
‘I’m not sure I’m ready for this.’ Jim waved the air before him vaguely.
‘Religion’s not for everybody-’ then at Jim’s serious expression, expelled a long breath. ‘Jim, you know I’d never do anything to hurt you-‘
‘Stop. I told you, I’m not a girl.’
‘Yes, well. Sorry.’
Jim shook his head, a surreal (dismayed) look on his face. ‘Am I… the only one who hasn’t done this before?’
‘I. No,’ Bruce faltered, then confessed. ‘I’ve never had this sort of feelings before.’
‘Ah. Ah.’
A moment passed when they both seemed to be holding their breaths, waiting for the other to proceed.
‘I’ve always been the one… standing behind,’ Jim paused, clearly looking for a way to rephrase himself. ‘And I think- I think it’s a little late in the day to try to teach an old dog a new trick. The odds are just not very good of him… taking to it.’
What could he say when he knew he silently agreed in his heart of hearts? It was always going to be a relationship based on secrecy and lies. He had exhausted too much of himself spinning his web, and somewhere along the line Bruce Wayne had fallen into darkness; but it was a darkness he could not, would not, give up. Not even for Jim Gordon. It was all he had.
And he could never reveal who Batman was. The knowledge would tear the Jim Gordon apart.
As if reading his thoughts, Jim spoke up. ‘I’ve never been unfamiliar with shadows. I’m a cop.’ He said it with some satisfaction; as if it was a word he didn’t get to use much anymore. ‘You might say I have an affinity. But you-’ His gaze, though as honest and direct as it always was, remained opaque to Bruce. ‘You’re shady in a way I’ve never seen before. And I’ve seen a lot of shades.’
‘I’m not… easy, Jim’ Bruce faltered. How did they come to this so fast? ‘But I’m not evil. I have… some hobbies that might not make sense, but the tabloids… that’s not who I am.’
‘There’s no need to belabor the obvious.’ Jim said, sounding almost disappointed. ‘Bruce, I’m sorry but I’m going to need something more from you, if you want-‘ he broke off with an ironic look on his face - clearly the oman had also not anticipated the advance nature of their conversation, and all its ramifications.
How had they come to this so fast?
*