Something in Common Part 9
Title: Something In Common
Part: 9/?
Authour: JSherlock
Fandom: Batman Begins
Pairing: Bruce Wayne / Jonathan Crane
Rating: PG-13 for mention of sex.
Warnings: None for now.
Beta: Slarti
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that belongs to DC and Time Warner/AOL
Summary: Jonathan admits he has a physical attraction to Bruce to Mrs. Evans and complications arise when Bette spent the night. Really, just a set-up for the gym scene in the next installment.
“That is a very good likeness.” Mrs. Evans turned Jonathan’s journal around so he could see his pencil drawing. “It’s by far the best one out of the twelve of Mr. Wayne.” She closed it with a snap and handed it back to him. Giving him a searching look, she picked up her pen, clicking it absently.
“Yes.” Jonathan cleared his throat. “He posed for that one. It was a very long day at the office. Gave up re-organizing my desk for the fifth time in a row and started sketching while answering phones.” He lifted his shoulders slightly, not quite shrugging. “Nobody actually calls my extension unless they need to talk to Bruce, and then most of the time I get to tell them Bruce will call them back.” He said with mock enthusiasm.
“So you doodle instead of working?”
“Well, as per my contract, they moved my desk into his main office room, so I just occupy a corner. I just file away a small pile of folders in a cabinet, and answer phones. Usually Bruce is reading report after report, and actually works, so no chatting until break time.” I just sit and reorganize my desk or re-direct calls, writing down who called at what time, and Bruce takes turns between reading reports, and calling people back.”
“He caught me staring at him, and asked what I was doing, so I showed him. He also expressed that he liked my work, and insisted he sit for me.”
Naked. Well. Shirtless. He even took off his tie. Thank heaven for Jessica.
The secretary had given them a surprised look, but Bruce’s easy smile and quick sleight of hand had spilled Jonathan’s cup of coffee over his desk, thus giving him a real excuse for using his tie to mop it up.
“That was nice of him. So, working for Bruce Wayne is turning out to be a good position? He’s a good employer?” Her pen was poised, expression neutral.
“An excellent employer. Considerate of my needs and restrictions, and always up front with what he expects.”
Lying through your teeth comes so easily, doesn’t it Johnny-boy?
“That’s good. But does he often find you doodling, and not working? After all, you are getting a paycheck.”
“I’m over-qualified to be a glorified secretary; I find myself bored often, and my mind wanders.” He tapped his neatly folded glasses on his thigh, and watched her pen scratch across her notepad.
“And where does it wander?”
Porn.
“To whatever catches my attention, earlier today it was about my early childhood, and last week, I gave serious thought to what diseases might have run rampant through medieval Europe after the plague.”
“Do you often think about diseases and viruses and other things medical?” Her question was blatantly fishing.
“I have a Phd in the subject. You cannot expect me to not think about what I devoted my young adult life to, Mrs. Evans. Besides, it’s not as if I am actually planning to sneak into the CDC and steal something. I’m sure all the employees know my face better than they do their families’.”
“I bet.” Mrs. Evans was not impressed. She wrote something down and underlined it twice, but Jonathan couldn’t see what the word was. He put his glasses on. Mrs. Evans watched him and tilted her note pad away from him.
“I don’t want any surprises when the men in white coats come to pick me up again,” he said in a reasonable voice.
“You’re lying, Dr. Crane.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Do you want to go back to chemically manipulating and hurting people?”
“Not about that, Mrs. Evans.”
Her expression said she thought otherwise. “What about then?” she asked, game.
“That Bruce Wayne is a good employer.”
“He isn’t?”
“No. He blatantly flouts the contract, and has, at times, coerced me into doing things I would rather not do.”
“Such as?”
“He drags me out to have dinner with him. He took me to a sushi place two weeks ago. Then last night, we went to an opera, but we left early. Apparently he was bored.”
“Out? As in going out on dates? He’s courting you?”
“I think he wouldn’t know what it looks like he’s doing even if I hit him over the head with it. He train of thought is ‘take him out often, so that everyone sees what a normal, safe guy he is now’. But everyone else thinks we’re having wild sex all over that manor of his. And then, he just ignores me and takes off with his girls.”
“And how does that make you feel?”
Horny as hell.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said, ‘horny as hell’, Mrs. Evans.” He sat back and stared her down.
“Really?” She jotted something down.
“The man is rather…virile.”
“Quite. Well, apart from that, he’s not done anything else to make you feel uncomfortable?”
I think he knows exactly what he’s doing, actually. I think he’s waiting to see if I crack.
Jonathan bared his teeth in not-quite-a-smile remembering Bruce’s eyes smouldering at him over the rim of his sake cup.
“No.”
“Well…how about we re-write some of that contract? You’ve shown a lot of progression, and since you’re no longer chemically dehanced, . .you might want to think about dating again?”
“Well, I hadn’t thought about it. Most people are only interested in me because I was the Scarecrow.” He traced the outlines of the burn scars. “Besides, I’m not exactly perfectly pretty anymore.”
“Don’t say that! You’re a perfectly handsome man. The scars give you intrigue.”
“More like give me the look that make store owners watch me with their fingers over the panic button.” He dropped his hand.
“You’ve got good eyes and…well. It’s up to you. I’m not going to be your mirror. Anything else you’d like to discuss, before we move on to altering the contract?”
“No, Mrs. Evans. I believe I have told you everything.”
“Alright. Let’s get a-changin’.” She clapped her hands together and rubbed them. She sighed and gave Jonathan an annoyed look when he just stared at her blankly.
Jonathan strolled into the kitchen, smiling at Alfred.
“I see you’ve decided to start taking advantage of the new contract.” Alfred said, tying on his apron and rolling up his sleeves.
“Mmm. I think it’s been long enough not to have Miss Dawes burst in trying to ‘catch me in the act’.” He sat down at the kitchen table and flipped through the newspaper.
“Morning, Alfred, Jonathan.”
“You’re up early.” Jonathan remarked, turning over a page.
“Yeah. Bette needs a ride home.”
Jonathan turned to watch Bruce down the juice he now called Alfred’s Grass in a Glass. “Really? I was under the impression she left early.”
“No, Dr. Crane, I’m still here.” She swept into the room, tossing perfectly styled hair back over her shoulder. Her clothes were the ones she had worn the evening before, and were rather rumpled. It was an odd look. She casually watched him, but he recognized her subtle posturing for ‘back off’.
“If he takes you in the Lamborghini, mind that he takes the curves on all four wheels.” He flipped to the comics.
She made a humming noise in her throat, and glared at him. She smoothed down her clothes and raked her fingers through her hair, tumbling the curls.
Bruce raised his eyebrows, watching them. Jonathan gave him a flash of ‘innocent’ eyes. “Well, then, let’s go, Bette.”
“Why does he live here, Bruce?” Bette whispered loudly, putting her arm through Bruce’s.
“Because he matches the furniture,” Bruce said.
She gave him a poisonous look over her shoulder as Bruce led her away. Jonathan sat back, and returned to the paper.
“That was childish, Dr. Crane.” Alfred said, putting down a bowl of oatmeal, and taking a seat across the table.
“Really? She should realize that she’s the only one to actually spend the night, so she must be something special.” He turned back to general news. “Hmmm. Gotham’s infamously beloved bat wasn’t spotted once. He must be in hiding since that last attempt to catch him - poor bastard.”
“Wasn’t that the one where they tossed fishing nets over him?” Alfred asked, after swallowing a spoonful of his oatmeal.
“Yes, I think so.”
“That’s just bad business, I say. At least he’s doing something.” Alfred grumbled, shooting a glance out of the window, to watch the Lamborghini roar out of the garage.
Jonathan aborted his move to fold the paper and set it aside. “Oh? What are your thoughts about the Bat-man?” He asked, casually, keeping his eyes focused on the small print next to an ad.
“Well - the way I see it, he’s trying to do good. And he is. In fact, he’s doing better than a whole police force does!” Alfred clinked his spoon in the edge of his bowl for emphasis.
“I agree.” Jonathan folded the paper and handed it to Alfred who flipped right away to Batman’s article. “Well, I think I’m going to skip breakfast, and head to the gym.”
“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
“I seem to have lived to be a good age so far with skipping breakfast whenever possible,” Jonathan said, standing.
“They let you skip meals in Arkham?”
“Force-feeding a patient is not a good thing unless they’re on suicide watch in which case an IV is usually the best course after they’ve been sedated.”
“I see.” Alfred looked at him for a moment, then carefully folded the paper away. “Well, then. Master Wayne should be back soon. I had better finish breakfast and start asking the maids to clean under the heavy furniture too.”
Jonathan turned and walked out, hearing Alfred clean out his bowl at the sink as the door swung shut.
Part: 9/?
Authour: JSherlock
Fandom: Batman Begins
Pairing: Bruce Wayne / Jonathan Crane
Rating: PG-13 for mention of sex.
Warnings: None for now.
Beta: Slarti
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that belongs to DC and Time Warner/AOL
Summary: Jonathan admits he has a physical attraction to Bruce to Mrs. Evans and complications arise when Bette spent the night. Really, just a set-up for the gym scene in the next installment.
“That is a very good likeness.” Mrs. Evans turned Jonathan’s journal around so he could see his pencil drawing. “It’s by far the best one out of the twelve of Mr. Wayne.” She closed it with a snap and handed it back to him. Giving him a searching look, she picked up her pen, clicking it absently.
“Yes.” Jonathan cleared his throat. “He posed for that one. It was a very long day at the office. Gave up re-organizing my desk for the fifth time in a row and started sketching while answering phones.” He lifted his shoulders slightly, not quite shrugging. “Nobody actually calls my extension unless they need to talk to Bruce, and then most of the time I get to tell them Bruce will call them back.” He said with mock enthusiasm.
“So you doodle instead of working?”
“Well, as per my contract, they moved my desk into his main office room, so I just occupy a corner. I just file away a small pile of folders in a cabinet, and answer phones. Usually Bruce is reading report after report, and actually works, so no chatting until break time.” I just sit and reorganize my desk or re-direct calls, writing down who called at what time, and Bruce takes turns between reading reports, and calling people back.”
“He caught me staring at him, and asked what I was doing, so I showed him. He also expressed that he liked my work, and insisted he sit for me.”
Naked. Well. Shirtless. He even took off his tie. Thank heaven for Jessica.
The secretary had given them a surprised look, but Bruce’s easy smile and quick sleight of hand had spilled Jonathan’s cup of coffee over his desk, thus giving him a real excuse for using his tie to mop it up.
“That was nice of him. So, working for Bruce Wayne is turning out to be a good position? He’s a good employer?” Her pen was poised, expression neutral.
“An excellent employer. Considerate of my needs and restrictions, and always up front with what he expects.”
Lying through your teeth comes so easily, doesn’t it Johnny-boy?
“That’s good. But does he often find you doodling, and not working? After all, you are getting a paycheck.”
“I’m over-qualified to be a glorified secretary; I find myself bored often, and my mind wanders.” He tapped his neatly folded glasses on his thigh, and watched her pen scratch across her notepad.
“And where does it wander?”
Porn.
“To whatever catches my attention, earlier today it was about my early childhood, and last week, I gave serious thought to what diseases might have run rampant through medieval Europe after the plague.”
“Do you often think about diseases and viruses and other things medical?” Her question was blatantly fishing.
“I have a Phd in the subject. You cannot expect me to not think about what I devoted my young adult life to, Mrs. Evans. Besides, it’s not as if I am actually planning to sneak into the CDC and steal something. I’m sure all the employees know my face better than they do their families’.”
“I bet.” Mrs. Evans was not impressed. She wrote something down and underlined it twice, but Jonathan couldn’t see what the word was. He put his glasses on. Mrs. Evans watched him and tilted her note pad away from him.
“I don’t want any surprises when the men in white coats come to pick me up again,” he said in a reasonable voice.
“You’re lying, Dr. Crane.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Do you want to go back to chemically manipulating and hurting people?”
“Not about that, Mrs. Evans.”
Her expression said she thought otherwise. “What about then?” she asked, game.
“That Bruce Wayne is a good employer.”
“He isn’t?”
“No. He blatantly flouts the contract, and has, at times, coerced me into doing things I would rather not do.”
“Such as?”
“He drags me out to have dinner with him. He took me to a sushi place two weeks ago. Then last night, we went to an opera, but we left early. Apparently he was bored.”
“Out? As in going out on dates? He’s courting you?”
“I think he wouldn’t know what it looks like he’s doing even if I hit him over the head with it. He train of thought is ‘take him out often, so that everyone sees what a normal, safe guy he is now’. But everyone else thinks we’re having wild sex all over that manor of his. And then, he just ignores me and takes off with his girls.”
“And how does that make you feel?”
Horny as hell.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said, ‘horny as hell’, Mrs. Evans.” He sat back and stared her down.
“Really?” She jotted something down.
“The man is rather…virile.”
“Quite. Well, apart from that, he’s not done anything else to make you feel uncomfortable?”
I think he knows exactly what he’s doing, actually. I think he’s waiting to see if I crack.
Jonathan bared his teeth in not-quite-a-smile remembering Bruce’s eyes smouldering at him over the rim of his sake cup.
“No.”
“Well…how about we re-write some of that contract? You’ve shown a lot of progression, and since you’re no longer chemically dehanced, . .you might want to think about dating again?”
“Well, I hadn’t thought about it. Most people are only interested in me because I was the Scarecrow.” He traced the outlines of the burn scars. “Besides, I’m not exactly perfectly pretty anymore.”
“Don’t say that! You’re a perfectly handsome man. The scars give you intrigue.”
“More like give me the look that make store owners watch me with their fingers over the panic button.” He dropped his hand.
“You’ve got good eyes and…well. It’s up to you. I’m not going to be your mirror. Anything else you’d like to discuss, before we move on to altering the contract?”
“No, Mrs. Evans. I believe I have told you everything.”
“Alright. Let’s get a-changin’.” She clapped her hands together and rubbed them. She sighed and gave Jonathan an annoyed look when he just stared at her blankly.
Jonathan strolled into the kitchen, smiling at Alfred.
“I see you’ve decided to start taking advantage of the new contract.” Alfred said, tying on his apron and rolling up his sleeves.
“Mmm. I think it’s been long enough not to have Miss Dawes burst in trying to ‘catch me in the act’.” He sat down at the kitchen table and flipped through the newspaper.
“Morning, Alfred, Jonathan.”
“You’re up early.” Jonathan remarked, turning over a page.
“Yeah. Bette needs a ride home.”
Jonathan turned to watch Bruce down the juice he now called Alfred’s Grass in a Glass. “Really? I was under the impression she left early.”
“No, Dr. Crane, I’m still here.” She swept into the room, tossing perfectly styled hair back over her shoulder. Her clothes were the ones she had worn the evening before, and were rather rumpled. It was an odd look. She casually watched him, but he recognized her subtle posturing for ‘back off’.
“If he takes you in the Lamborghini, mind that he takes the curves on all four wheels.” He flipped to the comics.
She made a humming noise in her throat, and glared at him. She smoothed down her clothes and raked her fingers through her hair, tumbling the curls.
Bruce raised his eyebrows, watching them. Jonathan gave him a flash of ‘innocent’ eyes. “Well, then, let’s go, Bette.”
“Why does he live here, Bruce?” Bette whispered loudly, putting her arm through Bruce’s.
“Because he matches the furniture,” Bruce said.
She gave him a poisonous look over her shoulder as Bruce led her away. Jonathan sat back, and returned to the paper.
“That was childish, Dr. Crane.” Alfred said, putting down a bowl of oatmeal, and taking a seat across the table.
“Really? She should realize that she’s the only one to actually spend the night, so she must be something special.” He turned back to general news. “Hmmm. Gotham’s infamously beloved bat wasn’t spotted once. He must be in hiding since that last attempt to catch him - poor bastard.”
“Wasn’t that the one where they tossed fishing nets over him?” Alfred asked, after swallowing a spoonful of his oatmeal.
“Yes, I think so.”
“That’s just bad business, I say. At least he’s doing something.” Alfred grumbled, shooting a glance out of the window, to watch the Lamborghini roar out of the garage.
Jonathan aborted his move to fold the paper and set it aside. “Oh? What are your thoughts about the Bat-man?” He asked, casually, keeping his eyes focused on the small print next to an ad.
“Well - the way I see it, he’s trying to do good. And he is. In fact, he’s doing better than a whole police force does!” Alfred clinked his spoon in the edge of his bowl for emphasis.
“I agree.” Jonathan folded the paper and handed it to Alfred who flipped right away to Batman’s article. “Well, I think I’m going to skip breakfast, and head to the gym.”
“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
“I seem to have lived to be a good age so far with skipping breakfast whenever possible,” Jonathan said, standing.
“They let you skip meals in Arkham?”
“Force-feeding a patient is not a good thing unless they’re on suicide watch in which case an IV is usually the best course after they’ve been sedated.”
“I see.” Alfred looked at him for a moment, then carefully folded the paper away. “Well, then. Master Wayne should be back soon. I had better finish breakfast and start asking the maids to clean under the heavy furniture too.”
Jonathan turned and walked out, hearing Alfred clean out his bowl at the sink as the door swung shut.