Something In Common Part Six
Author: jsherlock
Rating: PG
Title: Something In Common
Part: 6/?
Warnings: None for now. And no Beta on this part.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that belongs to DC and Time Warner/AOL.
Summary: The morning after the previous part. Dr. Crane gets invited to a party.
“Good morning, sleepy head.” Alfred said as Jonathan entered the kitchen scuffing the floor in his socks, jeans slouched down with an old sweater pulled over the shirt he’d slept in.
Jonathan shot him an evil glare. Even a long, hot bath hadn’t eased the discomfit with which he’d woken up.
“Wrong side of the bed?” Alfred asked, rubbing his shaved chin.
“What?” Jonathan snapped, sitting down, and folding his hands on the table so Alfred could see them.
“Never mind. Master Bruce is still asleep.” Alfred put a plate with a grapefruit in front of him, along with lightly buttered toast, a choice of three jams and the same green drink he gave to Bruce.
“What the hell is this?” Jonathan blinked, rubbing his eyes. He hadn’t put his glasses, preferring everything to be slightly out-of-focus that morning. He realized the now-familiar smell of fried breakfast was absent from the sun-filled room.
“Your breakfast.” Alfred said, turning back to Bruce’s tray.
“Oh.” Jonathan poured some sugar over the grapefruit and started eating, while Alfred watched him, with a look of mild disgust. “What? It’s perfectly acceptable to put sugar on your grapefruit!”
“I can hear you crunching from over here.”
“I like sugar.”
“So I see. I’m going to take this to Master Bruce.” He left the threat of ‘don’t touch anything or your ass is back in Arkham’ unsaid. Alfred picked up the tray and left the kitchen.
Jonathan added another spoonful of sugar to his grapefruit, and crunched away as loudly as he could. He drank the green juice, which tasted like it had kiwi in it. But he didn’t like jam - it still had seeds and bits of mashed fruit in it, so he got up to look for any jelly.
“I thought those contracts made sure you weren’t allowed to touch food.” Jonathan whirled around, slamming the pantry door. Rachel Dawes stood in the side doorway, hands on hips, glaring at him.
“Miss Dawes, I can assure you, I’m only looking for some seedless jelly to spread over my toast.” He nodded in the direction of the table with his naked toast on a plate.
“Bullshit, Crane. Step away from there, or I’ll nail you for breach of contract. And this time, you’ll go to jail, not your precious asylum.”
He stepped away, and put his hands in his pockets.
“I don’t think so.” She snapped, marching forward. He took his hands out.
“Look - I haven’t done - oof!” He paused as she turned him around and pushed him against the wall and started searching him. “Really, Miss Dawes.”
“I don’t trust you further than I can throw you.”
The feeling is mutual.
“Rachel! What are you doing?” Bruce came in, dressed in jeans and a faded green, long-sleeved t-shirt.
“I’m searching him, Bruce. I came in to find him raiding the pantry. It’s a breach of his contract that he’s even in the kitchen!” She snapped, not stopping her search.
“Shall I undress and have Bruce hand you some gloves, too while you’re at it?” Jonathan drawled.
“What were you doing, Jonathan?” Bruce asked, walking over and physically pulling Rachel away.
“Looking for some jelly to put on the toast Alfred made for me. I don’t like jam - it’s too natural, with seeds and fruit bits in it.”
“Ah. See, Rachel? He’s innocent.” Bruce said, drawing her away. She shot Jonathan a poisonous look before they left the room.
Jonathan smoothed his clothing down and ran a hand through his hair.
Bitch.
He sat down and tore his toast to pieces, no longer hungry. He was cleaning up the dishes when Alfred rushed in. Rachel’s trident tones intensified when he opened the door.
“Miss Dawes -”
“Is having a temper tantrum. I know.”
“She says she’ll turn you in if you don’t remove yourself from the kitchen and forthwith not enter it ever again.”
“She’s right - I am breaking my contract.” Jonathan mused. “Well, heaven knows we musn’t piss off the D.A.” He winked at Alfred and left the kitchen.
“Hello Bruce, Miss Dawes. I’ll be in my office filing.” He began walking up the steps slowly, to hear what she had to say.
“Bruce? He calls you Bruce? What are you thinking? You’re as certifiable as he is!” Her cell phone rang, and she answered automatically. “Dawes here, what? What? Ok, I’m on my way.” She hung up. “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.”
“Ok, Rachel.” She turned on her heel and raced out, slamming the front door behind her.
Bruce watched her go, then turned and jogged over to where Jonathan was leaning over the banister, unabashedly listening.
“I’m so sorry about that.” Bruce started.
“No need. She’s correct - I’m not really allowed in the kitchen.” Jonathan grinned. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
“You’re…welcome.” Bruce replied, looking puzzled, but he recovered and smiled back. “Do you really need to file? I was thinking about going for a drive - do you want to come?”
“No, thank you. I do indeed have papers to file. Being Bruce Wayne’s assistant-come-secretary is a full-time job.”
“I see - even on the weekends?”
“Even on the weekends. And don’t forget you have the Mayor’s annual Spring Festival party to go to. It begins at 6:30. I’ll have a list of names, dates, and intriguing tidbits at your door by five o’ clock.” Jonathan continued up the flight of stairs and closed his office door behind him.
Jonathan put his glasses on and picked up the first pile of files. He looked up irately as Bruce’s solid rap broke his train of thought.
“What?”
“Can I come in?”
Go away.
“Of course.” He took off his glasses and folded them, placing them on the desk. Bruce came in, and slouched right away in his chair across the desk.
“About tonight -”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask you!”
“’Please come with me Jonathan - I’m sick and tired of all those vapid girls that I usually take, so please, please, please come with me’. Or something just as tedious. As always, Mr. Wayne, I delightfully decline.” He put his glasses back on and began copying out the information he was gathering on the various attendees. He studiously ignored Bruce’s presence.
“Stick in the mud.”
Maddening insect.
Three hours later Bruce was still in the chair, and Alfred had come and gone with the lunch tray.
Bruce put down the little rake for the Zen sand and rock garden he was fiddling with and said, “well, now that you’ve done as much busy work as you can possibly think of to delay and put me off with, I have something for you.”
“Oh?” Jonathan turned around, closing the file cabinet drawer, and locking it out of habit. He took the envelope that Bruce handed him with interest.
He crudely ripped it open, wishing again for a letter opener. I’m still not allowed anything sharp.
“Dear Dr. Crane, we invite you to attend our Spring Festival Extravaganza…” Jonathan trailed off and looked up sharply at Bruce who was smiling like the cat that got the cream. “And how much did you donate to get this little gem?”
“None whatsoever - that was in the mail this morning.”
“Really? Well, I’m so sorry, but I fear I must decline.”
“Now, REALLY, Jonathan! Why the hell do you insist on secluding yourself away like an old hermit?” Bruce slapped the desk, and stood, eyes sparking.
“Temper, temper.” Jonathan said mildly. “I’m sure - ”
“None of that, Crane - out with it.”
“Well, if you must know - I - I don’t enjoy parties. I was always sniveling, bowing, and scraping to get grants and funds, or I was hauled to a private spot and beaten up.”
“Oh.” Bruce fell back into the chair, defeated. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize -”
“Stop apologizing. It’s pathetic. Why do you enjoy the parties so much, anyway?”
“Who says I do?”
“Well, you’re always…” Jonathan looked at Bruce sitting in his chair, inelegantly slouched over the edge. Now there was a man not interested in attending a party just because. Acting.
Just like you.
Jonathan sat in his chair, flattening his palms over the desk calendar.
“I’m always what?”
“Regaling Alfred and I about your good times.”
“Yeah, well, why shouldn’t I have a little bit of fun? Oh, come on, Jonathan - it’s been years since the Narrows. Look, all you have to do is show up with me, smile and nod, and just maybe say something about the weather or…”
“Or perhaps not. I’m not some insipid girl.”
“I can’t very well take Alfred!”
Jonathan blinked. Well, that went over his head. “Why not Liesl or Alexa? They’ve left three messages each to say they’re in town.”
“Liesl sounds like a horse whinnying when she laughs and Lexi just hangs on my arm, and doesn’t let go. I get bruises.”
“Oh, poor baby!”
“It’s time you showed everyone you’ve really changed.”
He’s got you there, smarty.
“Well, I, damn.”
“Eloquence itself.” Bruce stood up, smiling. “See you at five.”
Jonathan glared at the back of his head, as he fairly waltzed out.
Wayne 4; Crane 3. Well, nothing for it now. Better go see what exactly is in that damn walk-in besides suits for work.
Rating: PG
Title: Something In Common
Part: 6/?
Warnings: None for now. And no Beta on this part.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that belongs to DC and Time Warner/AOL.
Summary: The morning after the previous part. Dr. Crane gets invited to a party.
“Good morning, sleepy head.” Alfred said as Jonathan entered the kitchen scuffing the floor in his socks, jeans slouched down with an old sweater pulled over the shirt he’d slept in.
Jonathan shot him an evil glare. Even a long, hot bath hadn’t eased the discomfit with which he’d woken up.
“Wrong side of the bed?” Alfred asked, rubbing his shaved chin.
“What?” Jonathan snapped, sitting down, and folding his hands on the table so Alfred could see them.
“Never mind. Master Bruce is still asleep.” Alfred put a plate with a grapefruit in front of him, along with lightly buttered toast, a choice of three jams and the same green drink he gave to Bruce.
“What the hell is this?” Jonathan blinked, rubbing his eyes. He hadn’t put his glasses, preferring everything to be slightly out-of-focus that morning. He realized the now-familiar smell of fried breakfast was absent from the sun-filled room.
“Your breakfast.” Alfred said, turning back to Bruce’s tray.
“Oh.” Jonathan poured some sugar over the grapefruit and started eating, while Alfred watched him, with a look of mild disgust. “What? It’s perfectly acceptable to put sugar on your grapefruit!”
“I can hear you crunching from over here.”
“I like sugar.”
“So I see. I’m going to take this to Master Bruce.” He left the threat of ‘don’t touch anything or your ass is back in Arkham’ unsaid. Alfred picked up the tray and left the kitchen.
Jonathan added another spoonful of sugar to his grapefruit, and crunched away as loudly as he could. He drank the green juice, which tasted like it had kiwi in it. But he didn’t like jam - it still had seeds and bits of mashed fruit in it, so he got up to look for any jelly.
“I thought those contracts made sure you weren’t allowed to touch food.” Jonathan whirled around, slamming the pantry door. Rachel Dawes stood in the side doorway, hands on hips, glaring at him.
“Miss Dawes, I can assure you, I’m only looking for some seedless jelly to spread over my toast.” He nodded in the direction of the table with his naked toast on a plate.
“Bullshit, Crane. Step away from there, or I’ll nail you for breach of contract. And this time, you’ll go to jail, not your precious asylum.”
He stepped away, and put his hands in his pockets.
“I don’t think so.” She snapped, marching forward. He took his hands out.
“Look - I haven’t done - oof!” He paused as she turned him around and pushed him against the wall and started searching him. “Really, Miss Dawes.”
“I don’t trust you further than I can throw you.”
The feeling is mutual.
“Rachel! What are you doing?” Bruce came in, dressed in jeans and a faded green, long-sleeved t-shirt.
“I’m searching him, Bruce. I came in to find him raiding the pantry. It’s a breach of his contract that he’s even in the kitchen!” She snapped, not stopping her search.
“Shall I undress and have Bruce hand you some gloves, too while you’re at it?” Jonathan drawled.
“What were you doing, Jonathan?” Bruce asked, walking over and physically pulling Rachel away.
“Looking for some jelly to put on the toast Alfred made for me. I don’t like jam - it’s too natural, with seeds and fruit bits in it.”
“Ah. See, Rachel? He’s innocent.” Bruce said, drawing her away. She shot Jonathan a poisonous look before they left the room.
Jonathan smoothed his clothing down and ran a hand through his hair.
Bitch.
He sat down and tore his toast to pieces, no longer hungry. He was cleaning up the dishes when Alfred rushed in. Rachel’s trident tones intensified when he opened the door.
“Miss Dawes -”
“Is having a temper tantrum. I know.”
“She says she’ll turn you in if you don’t remove yourself from the kitchen and forthwith not enter it ever again.”
“She’s right - I am breaking my contract.” Jonathan mused. “Well, heaven knows we musn’t piss off the D.A.” He winked at Alfred and left the kitchen.
“Hello Bruce, Miss Dawes. I’ll be in my office filing.” He began walking up the steps slowly, to hear what she had to say.
“Bruce? He calls you Bruce? What are you thinking? You’re as certifiable as he is!” Her cell phone rang, and she answered automatically. “Dawes here, what? What? Ok, I’m on my way.” She hung up. “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.”
“Ok, Rachel.” She turned on her heel and raced out, slamming the front door behind her.
Bruce watched her go, then turned and jogged over to where Jonathan was leaning over the banister, unabashedly listening.
“I’m so sorry about that.” Bruce started.
“No need. She’s correct - I’m not really allowed in the kitchen.” Jonathan grinned. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
“You’re…welcome.” Bruce replied, looking puzzled, but he recovered and smiled back. “Do you really need to file? I was thinking about going for a drive - do you want to come?”
“No, thank you. I do indeed have papers to file. Being Bruce Wayne’s assistant-come-secretary is a full-time job.”
“I see - even on the weekends?”
“Even on the weekends. And don’t forget you have the Mayor’s annual Spring Festival party to go to. It begins at 6:30. I’ll have a list of names, dates, and intriguing tidbits at your door by five o’ clock.” Jonathan continued up the flight of stairs and closed his office door behind him.
Jonathan put his glasses on and picked up the first pile of files. He looked up irately as Bruce’s solid rap broke his train of thought.
“What?”
“Can I come in?”
Go away.
“Of course.” He took off his glasses and folded them, placing them on the desk. Bruce came in, and slouched right away in his chair across the desk.
“About tonight -”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask you!”
“’Please come with me Jonathan - I’m sick and tired of all those vapid girls that I usually take, so please, please, please come with me’. Or something just as tedious. As always, Mr. Wayne, I delightfully decline.” He put his glasses back on and began copying out the information he was gathering on the various attendees. He studiously ignored Bruce’s presence.
“Stick in the mud.”
Maddening insect.
Three hours later Bruce was still in the chair, and Alfred had come and gone with the lunch tray.
Bruce put down the little rake for the Zen sand and rock garden he was fiddling with and said, “well, now that you’ve done as much busy work as you can possibly think of to delay and put me off with, I have something for you.”
“Oh?” Jonathan turned around, closing the file cabinet drawer, and locking it out of habit. He took the envelope that Bruce handed him with interest.
He crudely ripped it open, wishing again for a letter opener. I’m still not allowed anything sharp.
“Dear Dr. Crane, we invite you to attend our Spring Festival Extravaganza…” Jonathan trailed off and looked up sharply at Bruce who was smiling like the cat that got the cream. “And how much did you donate to get this little gem?”
“None whatsoever - that was in the mail this morning.”
“Really? Well, I’m so sorry, but I fear I must decline.”
“Now, REALLY, Jonathan! Why the hell do you insist on secluding yourself away like an old hermit?” Bruce slapped the desk, and stood, eyes sparking.
“Temper, temper.” Jonathan said mildly. “I’m sure - ”
“None of that, Crane - out with it.”
“Well, if you must know - I - I don’t enjoy parties. I was always sniveling, bowing, and scraping to get grants and funds, or I was hauled to a private spot and beaten up.”
“Oh.” Bruce fell back into the chair, defeated. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize -”
“Stop apologizing. It’s pathetic. Why do you enjoy the parties so much, anyway?”
“Who says I do?”
“Well, you’re always…” Jonathan looked at Bruce sitting in his chair, inelegantly slouched over the edge. Now there was a man not interested in attending a party just because. Acting.
Just like you.
Jonathan sat in his chair, flattening his palms over the desk calendar.
“I’m always what?”
“Regaling Alfred and I about your good times.”
“Yeah, well, why shouldn’t I have a little bit of fun? Oh, come on, Jonathan - it’s been years since the Narrows. Look, all you have to do is show up with me, smile and nod, and just maybe say something about the weather or…”
“Or perhaps not. I’m not some insipid girl.”
“I can’t very well take Alfred!”
Jonathan blinked. Well, that went over his head. “Why not Liesl or Alexa? They’ve left three messages each to say they’re in town.”
“Liesl sounds like a horse whinnying when she laughs and Lexi just hangs on my arm, and doesn’t let go. I get bruises.”
“Oh, poor baby!”
“It’s time you showed everyone you’ve really changed.”
He’s got you there, smarty.
“Well, I, damn.”
“Eloquence itself.” Bruce stood up, smiling. “See you at five.”
Jonathan glared at the back of his head, as he fairly waltzed out.
Wayne 4; Crane 3. Well, nothing for it now. Better go see what exactly is in that damn walk-in besides suits for work.