Something In Common Part 12
Title: Something In Common
Part: 12/?
Authour: JSherlock
Fandom: Batman Begins
Pairing: Bruce Wayne / Jonathan Crane
Rating: PG-13 for adult themes.
Warnings: None for now. Refers to the last chapter which had sex in it.
Beta: Slarti
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that belongs to DC and Time Warner/AOL
Summary: After the fact, Jonathan awakens to a rude discovery, and runs into an old friend.
1 2 3 4 4.5 6 7 8 9 10 11 (NC-17)
Mmm - that feels nice. Jonathan buried his head deeper into the pillow, but the sounds of splashing water again intruded on his sleep, and he woke up fully. He cracked open an eye and turned over to sprawl inelegantly across as much of the bed as he could. He watched Bruce splash water on his face through the open bathroom door. I wonder how long I can get away with pretending to be asleep. His mattress is a lot more comfy than mine.
Idly running his fingers over the bedspread, Jonathan waited. The faint scent of Bruce’s favoured aftershave lingered on the pillow. He wrinkled his nose - it wasn’t unpleasant - it suited the man perfectly, but it was a rather strong scent. Bruce moved away from sight into the closet beyond, and Jonathan turned his attention to the room itself, now bathed in light from the bathroom, darkness having fallen outside.
How interesting. There’s hardly any knick-knacks. Few personal items…
Of course not - there was a fire. He got drunk and burnt the place down.
I bet that memory still stings.
But it’s been near nine years - and still very few items.
Jonathan buried his head under the pillow and closed his eyes. God, that was really good. I got my daily exercise, that’s for sure.
“Comfy?” Bruce asked softly, a hint of laughter in his tone.
“Mmmf,” Jonathan said, not opening his eyes. Damnit - he was tired.
“Good. Time to get up.”
“What time is it?” Jonathan countered, as Bruce pulled the pillow off. He turned back over onto his back, yawning. So much for getting away with sleeping in his bed. He pulled the covers up a bit.
“It’s about seven o’ clock. Alfred will be up here soon to tell me dinner is waiting.”
“It’s the old wham-bam-thank you-ma’am, then?” Jonathan carded his fingers through his hair lazily. He took his cue from Bruce, who had pulled on a pair of sweat pants, and didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed or uncomfortable, a pleasant surprise.
“Something like that.” Bruce replied, watching Jonathan. “Besides, I don’t think Alfred would approve. You can use my bathroom, instead of making a run for it to your room.”
“How generous of you.” Jonathan flashed him a smile, and dragged himself out of the bed. He pulled on his boxers, which were still in his pile of clothes. “Thanks, Bruce.” He added as he pushed the bathroom door almost fully closed.
He bit back a laugh at he looked at himself in the mirror. If only Mrs. Evans could see me now - I look very well fucked.
Which you were.
Damn straight, he told himself, and rubbed his hands over his face, frowning at his scars. He leaned forward to inspect them in the mirror. Bruce had only given them the most cursory of glances, and for some reason, Jonathan had been glad. They were a minor disfigurement, but a small source of shame for him. He’d become someone different, but having an ever-present reminder was a source of discomfort.
He turned his attention to the bathtub - which was a very luxurious jet stream bathtub big enough for a tall man to stretch out comfortably. Nice. He started the taps, waiting for it to become hot.
Over the roar of the water, he heard Bruce talking to Alfred. Out of curiosity, he moved closer to the door, but stayed behind it.
“Master Wayne, I don’t think that was a good idea.”
“The poor man was desperate, Alfred.”
A pity fuck. I was expecting that. Still, it rankled.
“Well, just be careful.” Alfred said. Bruce replied, but Jonathan didn’t catch it. He opened the door a little wider. He watched in the mirror as Alfred bent down, and picked up his clothes and began folding them neatly. “Will you be going out tonight?”
“Of course Alfred. Like usual.” Bruce threaded his tie through his fingers. “Batman can’t falter.”
Alfred shot a glance at the bathroom door and Jonathan froze. Bruce looked up sharply, but didn’t move. Slowly backing away from the door, he made splashing sounds in the bathtub. The voices outside moved away, out of the bedroom.
Jonathan stared at his hand oddly distorted under the water. The world around him faded, and when he finally took notice of it again, he was standing in his own room, dressed in his clothes, straightening his tie.
I completely blanked. How strange. Is the bathtub still running?
You had a shock, Johnny-boy. A nasty one, remember? The bath was nice and long. The jets were a luxurious touch. And here’s your man, bringing you your dinner.
“You took such a long bath, you missed dinner, so I brought some up for you.” Bruce entered, a smile on his face, which faltered as Jonathan stared at him.
“I’m not hungry; thank you.” Jonathan said distantly.
Bruce stared at him with a worried intensity, then smoothed out. “I see. Having regrets?”
“No - just - I’m not hungry.” Jonathan kicked himself, and managed a smile, but he feared it was a bit off-balance; his face felt odd - like it was being stretched beyond the skin’s elasticity. “Really, Bruce. I’m not having second thoughts, I enjoyed myself, and…well, yes, I am having second thoughts. I believe it would be best if that was a one-time deal.”
“All right. I’ll just leave this here.” Bruce put the tray of food on his desk, and slowly backed out. Jonathan locked the door after him, and retreated into his bedroom, locking that door too.
He took the cordless phone into the closet and closed that door too after turning on the light. He ran out, and latched the windows, diving back into the closet.
He took a few calming breaths, and dialed Mrs. Evan’s private cell phone number.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Evans?” Jonathan whispered.
“Jonathan? Is that you? What’s happened?” Mrs. Evans’ voice snapped with worry.
“I…I…”
“Just relax, take a deep breath in slowly, and exhale slowly,” she waited until he had done so, then continued, “now, Dr, Crane, if you please, what has bothered you?”
“I had sex with him,” he said finally.
That’s good. Don’t give out his secret. That would be bad form. After all, he had you screaming twice.
Is it a game to him? Keeping me? Does he get off on the fact that he is the Batman and I am the Scarecrow? Is that why he’s flirted all along? Just to see what I’d do? He’s sick. He’s just as screwed up as the rest of us. What kind of man would play twisted games like that?
No wonder he was conflicted about having sex with you.
“Really? Did he hurt you?” She pulled a notepad over the kitchen table, shooing her husband away. He rolled his eyes and went to plunk in front of the TV.
“No - yes. I don’t know - it felt damn good. Really good. I - it was mutual and I enjoyed it, and from the sounds he made he had fun - so that’s fine. But I had sex with my employer - and I’m not sure how I’m going to deal with it - he came in just now to leave a tray of food with me - I took a long bath - and I turned him away. I couldn’t deal with it.”
It’s just too much - Bruce Wayne, the little princeling of Gotham, is the Bat-man. Amazing. Never would have thought it at first glance. But it makes so much sense when you think about it.
He should be more careful.
What?
“Jonathan, are you even listening? Do you want me to come get you? Talk to me, Dr. Crane.”
“I’m here.”
“Good. So - it was an enjoyable experience all around. That’s good. Now, what has you so terrified? Performance issues?”
“NO! No, I’m sorry - it was a mistake to call - I’m just - it’s like the first time - I’m overreacting to nothing. It’s just…”
He’s Batman.
“It’s just that…?”
“I feel better, Mrs. Evans. I’m sure you have better thing to do than listen to me ramble on like a pathetic idiot over my sex life troubles. I’m going to hang up now, and I’m sorry to bother you.
“Wait! Jonathan, let’s set up an appointment for tomorrow. Morning. I can fit you in before you go to work. Just ask Mr. Pennyworth to drop you off.”
“No - there’s a meeting tomorrow morning. I can…lunch time? I have a spare hour then.”
“Yes, perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch.” She nodded to herself, wincing at the hurried hang-up. “Damn.”
Jonathan peered out of the closet, and seeing nothing, went to the windows, and closed the drapes, checking that the locks were firmly latched. He went to bathroom and locked the windows in there too.
He crept back into the closet, and waited until morning.
The alarm went off, and he started awake with a small scream, batting out at his attacker, realizing he’d been having nightmares and only his clothes were surrounding him. He sat up and crawled out of the closet, not knowing how much sleep he’d gotten.
From the looks of himself in the mirror, not much. His clothes were rumpled and he had dark circles under his eyes. He scrubbed his face, and started violently as his alarm sounded again. He ran and turned it off. He twitched the bedclothes neater and went back to the bathroom to try to make himself look more respectable.
He met Bruce in the front entrance, nodding shortly, flipping through his files to make sure he hadn’t left any behind.
“Are you all right, Jonathan? You seem distracted.” Bruce asked as they walked to the car.
“I slept badly, Mr. Wayne.” Jonathan snapped.
“You didn’t seem that upset last night…”
“Look, it was a mistake, and I do not wish to discuss it.”
“What changed your mind?” Bruce was giving him the half-lidded look again. He noticed that Bruce also sported dark circles under his eyes - he hadn’t slept much either.
Think fast.
“I…think that you were the first thing to come along, and I was horny and desperate. I am your employee, and indebted to you for my living arrangements, and I hope that you won’t think badly of me because of my momentary weakness of giving in to something as base as my hormones.”
Bruce raised his eyebrows. “Of course I don’t think badly of you, Dr. Crane. I will try to remember not to be my usual charming self around you further.”
As Bruce opened the door, Jonathan noticed that he opened it with his left hand, and was in fact favouring his right arm. He swallowed. “Thank you.”
“So, what do I have today?”
“A meeting this morning, and then phone time, then lunch, then another meeting that will probably take most of your day up.” Jonathan flipped through his planner, grateful for the distraction. “Do remember to call Bette back, and then, it’s also the Ms. Dawes’ birthday. You sent flowers to her office, and are going directly from work to her party.”
“Ah, what would I do without, you, Jona- Dr. Crane?”
“I’m sure I don’t know.”
They spent the rest of the ride in silence, Jonathan studiously not looking up, even though he knew Bruce was boring holes into him, and Alfred was sneaking glances at him through the rearview mirror.
“Wayne Tower.” Alfred announced. Jonathan got out, and bolted for his desk without waiting.
Give yourself away, why don’t you? Just scream at the top of your lungs that you know his little secret.
For all he knows I thought he sucked in bed. He knows nothing. And even if I tell him I know - the worst he can do is kill me.
Or keep you prisoner.
Jonathan dropped his briefcase on his desk with a loud thud.
“Was I really that bad?” Bruce asked, right behind him.
It took all of Jonathan’s willpower not to jump. “I told you, the problem lies with me. I’m sure I wasn’t very good, either, so please - we’re at work, so drop it. Be professional. Hanging off me like a kicked puppy worrying a bone isn’t helping me be sane right now, all right?”
“I’m that transparent?”
Tell him that you know.
“Please.” Jonathan turned, but didn’t look up at him.
Bruce put a cup of coffee on his desk next to a letter that was waiting. “We’ll talk about it more after work, then.” He left, running to catch up to Fox down the hall.
He knows that you know. Well done.
“Thank you.” Jonathan said faintly, sinking into his chair. His nerves shot at the thought of having to deal with Bruce staring at him the whole day, trying to figure out what was wrong with him.
He turned his attention to the letter. Sucking in his breath as he recognized the return address, he ripped it open.
Dear Dr. Crane,
I am sorry to inform you that your mother has grown quite ill. Her state of mental health has deteriorated, and I urge you to come at once to see to her…
He stopped reading, folded the letter neatly, and slid it into his breast pocket. Instinctively he answered the phone when it rang.
“Wayne Enterprises, Bruce Wayne’s office.”
“Hello, Jonathan. Long time no talk. I was wondering if you’d like to meet for an early lunch?”
“Pamela? Pamela Isley?”
“You remember my voice! That’s wonderful. Shame about your mother. I’m in Gotham, and I wanted to catch up. How about in a half hour - Gotham City Park? There’s a nice little café here.”
“My mother - how do you know about her? I just got the letter this morning.”
“Oh, Jonathan! You know I’ve been caring for her, right? I work for the ----. Didn’t they tell you when they released you from Arkham? Shame on you for not coming to see her more often. After all, you put her there.”
“I’ll see you in a half hour, then, Johnny! I can’t wait to catch up.” She hung up and Jonathan replaced the handset down, staring at it in shock. He stood up and collected his jacket, walking out.
He was stepping into the elevator when Bruce caught up with him. “Playing hooky?”
“I- I’ve got a lunch appointment with Mrs. Evans and I’m walking.”
“Well, that’s a first. I’ve never sent anyone to their therapist afterwards.”
“I’m a special case, Mr. Wayne.” He hit the button to close the elevator doors, and watched as Bruce stared at him with an unreadable look on his face until the doors closed and the carriage moved down.
Gotham City Park was a twenty-minute train ride away, and a few minutes after that, he entered the park, making a beeline for the café at the center. He scowled at the redheaded woman waiting, with a potted plant at one of the tables. She rose and ran to throw her arms around him, kissing him.
“Pamela. I thought I was clear - I’m not interested.”
“What? A girl can’t hug her best friend whom she hasn’t seen in years?”
“What do you want?” Jonathan asked shortly, pushing her away. She pouted, then smiled.
“I want you to come see your mother. She’s not doing well, and has been asking for you for the last few days.”
“The last I saw of her - she thought I was my father.”
“Yes, well, that’s your own fault, isn’t it?” She clucked her tongue, fingers stroking his scars. “Shame, those. Come on, I’ve brought my car. I’m afraid she won’t last much longer - a day or so.” She pulled him towards the other end of the park, shoving the potted plant at him to hold.
“My goodness- you’ve filled out nicely. You have anyone?”
“No, Pamela. You?”
“The last man hit me. I left him, and good riddance! I’ve dedicated myself to my work, now. So, not much of a social life.” She glanced back at him. “Though from what I’ve read you and Mr. Wayne seem to be socially dating.”
“The man is on a quest to show the world I’m harmless.”
“Harmless? The man should be more careful.”
“He’s a good man, Pamela. I’m just his charity case.”
Harsh, Johnny. Very harsh. The man puts on a bat costume and actually helps Gotham and you blow him off…
“Ah, the tabloids spinning lies again? Here we are.” She unlocked the car with a beep and put her plant in the back seat.
He pulled back. “I haven’t seen my mother in over ten years. And I thought we were having lunch.”
“And her dying wish is to see her son, so get it, and stop being such a baby - someone has to put her affairs in order. We’ll make a drive-through run somewhere.”
“All right.” He got in the car, and she took off with a squeal of tires.
“Well, that was surprisingly easy.” She said conversationally, flicking the guard of a syringe off with one hand. “You’ve really changed, Jonathan.” She stabbed his thigh, depressing the plunger. “Pity about your face, but beggars can’t be choosers.” She told him as he slipped unconscious. “But you’re a handy man to have.”