Word count: 2284
Notes: This was supposed to be posted sometime yesterday but I was kiiiind of drunk for most of the day, and then this morning I was so hungover then I had to go in to work (/excuses, I know), but it's here now! Written for jeannette for the Sekrit Santa stuff. Her prompt was something holiday themed and a first kiss. Hope this is what you wanted. Happy New Year, bb! (Also this isn't betaed, my beta is probably still hungover. It was a hell of a party, lemmie tell you I'll post a betaed version later, if she ever gets online).
I hope all of you had a safe and fun holiday!
Gordon stared down at the black card on his desk with a confused frown. Gaudy gold script spelled out an invitation to Bruce Wayne’s annual New Year’s Eve party, something that had the elite members of the city creaming their pants over who warranted such a prestigious invite. Gordon certainly didn’t, which was cemented when he saw the signature at the bottom of the card: Batman. He almost laughed at how ridiculous it all was, yet when he went home for the night he’d neglected to throw the letter in the trash on his way out.
In the morning he usually arrived at his office when it was still dark. He liked to go up to the roof with a cup of coffee and watch the sun rise over the city. His officers used to tease him that it was old man-ish and maudlin, but over the coming weeks he ended up sharing the rooftop with almost half his team.
Just as the sun was starting to lighten the sky, he heard the familiar flap of fabric and the light bootsteps of Batman. He didn’t turn even though he felt the man’s presence behind him, closer than usual but not uncomfortable.
“Thanks for your help with those bombings on Christmas. A lot of people could have gotten hurt if you hadn’t done something.” Gordon sipped his coffee, not expecting a reply. They stood quietly, Gordon listening to Batman’s steady breathing and the sounds of the city waking up. Eventually his cup was empty and he turned to go back inside.
“Did you get my letter?” Batman’s voice was raspier than normal, probably due to being silent for almost an hour.
Gordon felt a moment’s annoyance then shook his head. “You know, inviting someone to someone else’s party is really tacky.”
“You should go. He’ll be expecting you.”
Gordon turned away from the door but Batman was gone. He huffed, shook his head again and headed back inside.
His desk was already covered in paperwork, the invitation buried and already forgotten. He worked steadily through the stack of reviews, reports, the office newsletter which ran like a gossip rag for the entire police force (it promptly went into the shredder without a second glance), financial requests from various departments, and most importantly, the incident on Christmas when some lunatic decided to plant bombs in the city’s homeless shelters. He ranted something about the inhabitants draining the city’s resources.
Eventually his desk cleared, and by the end of the night the invitation became visible again. He stared at the number on the inside, hesitated, then picked up the phone. It rang twice and was answered by an old sounding British man.
“Hello. Uh, I’m calling to R.S.V.P. to the New Year’s Eve party next week.”
“Very good. And your name sir?”
“Jim Gordon. Er, Commissioner Jim Gordon, I guess.” He didn’t know if titles meant anything, but he figured he wouldn’t be the only person throwing one around.
“Ah. Excellent. I shall tell Master Wayne that you’ll be attending then. He will be pleased.”
“Uh, okay. Thanks.”
“Good night to you, sir.”
The man hung up and Gordon began to wonder about the connection with Wayne and Batman. How had Batman known Wayne was inviting him, or did Wayne ask Batman to deliver the card? If so, why? It wasn’t like Gordon hated Wayne, they’d gotten along whenever they were together, which wasn’t very often but still.
Then another thought occurred to him: what if Batman would be there, but not as Batman. What if Batman and Bruce Wayne had some kind of connection, like childhood friends or college roommates or someone Wayne met on his trips around the world? Wayne Enterprises surely had enough money to engineer all of Batman’s hi-tech gadgets.
Batman’s identity had been an issue before, but then the Joker happened, and all Gordon worried about after that was keeping Batman safe. It hadn’t occurred to him since then to start back on the trail of who he really was. He was trustworthy, and that’s what counted in Gordon’s book. And then there was the strange direction their relationship was heading. Lately he’d noticed a weird tension between himself and the masked man. It wasn’t a bad tension but he didn’t know exactly what it was either. It didn’t interfere with his job and Batman wasn’t acting so strangely that it made Gordon question him, so he ignored whenever it cropped up.
Those thoughts made him toss and turn in bed whenever he went home, and the following days went by in a blur until December 31st dawned blustery and cold. As he headed to the office, he had a feeling it was going to snow, and part of him secretly hoped that the party would get snowed out. His hope was dashed, however, when he went to go pick up his suit from the dry cleaners and his cell rang. It was Alfred, confirming his invitation once more. Gordon got the feeling that he was the only one who’d gotten such a call.
On the drive over to Wayne’s penthouse, snow began to fall, fat flakes swirling violently in the wind. Now he hoped he wouldn’t get stuck there, he was planning on leaving as early as he could. Parking was underground, thankfully, and the elevator ride up to the top floor was long and quiet. He buzzed the door and was greeted by an older man dressed in a tuxedo.
“Ah, Master Gordon. Please come in. I’ll take your coat.” His voice was the same voice Gordon heard on the phone. “My name is Alfred. If you require anything I will be taking care of you tonight, on Master Wayne’s orders. Not that I mind, of course. That means I don’t have to see to any of those pompous—my my where are my manners? Would you like some wine? Champagne? I’ve got hard liquor. You might need a shot or two before the night is over.”
Gordon shook his head politely, ignoring the old man’s ramblings as he was led into a large glass walled room already filled with people. Over the murmuring crowd he could hear soft music playing from somewhere. There was a table full of food set up along one wall, and wait staff were walking around handing out glasses filled with bubbling champagne.
He stood as out of the way as possible, but the mayor still caught sight of him and pulled him out to meet and greet several “friends”. He knew the mayor was fishing for donations for the police department and his own office. He didn’t leave disappointed, and by the time they were done schmoozing Gordon had seen enough money thrown about to completely rebuild the MCU, outfit every single officer and detective with the latest equipment, and stock the crime lab with brand new, state of the art machines. The mayor spoke for him, promising the money would all be put to good use, and laughed as Gordon made a beeline for the bathroom to keep from hyperventilating.
He splashed water on his face and hovered over the sink as long as possible until someone knocked on the door and he had to leave. Instead of going back out to the main room, he turned the opposite direction and found himself in a private office full of heavy, expensive looking furniture. Through the windowed wall behind the desk he could see, off in the distance, blinking lights of ships in the bay. It was quiet here, and Gordon felt like he could breathe. He wondered if he could sneak out and make it down to his car without getting caught. He’d been a cop once, he was sure he could do it.
He jumped when the door behind him clicked shut. He expected to see Alfred in the reflection off the window but instead there was the familiar black shape of Batman. Gordon raised an eyebrow and didn’t bother to turn.
“I find it kind of foolish for you to attend a party where most of them want to see you arrested.”
“Since I was the one who issued the invites it would be kind of rude not to show up at my own party.” Batman’s voice sounded different, not as rough, slightly nervous.
Gordon snorted, though he became a little on edge because Batman was…fidgety, and he never got fidgety. He turned around. “I can’t believe you signed them all with ‘Batman’.”
“That’s because I didn’t.” Batman stepped closer and Gordon backed up, senses alert, fingers twitching for a gun he didn’t have. “I’ve been trying to figure out how I was going to tell you this, or hell, even if I should tell you, but I want you to know. What you do with the information is up to you.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Even as Gordon asked the question, Batman raised his hands to his cowl and there was a click and a hiss and he was pulling it over his head. Gordon could only watch, wide eyed, as Bruce Wayne stood in front of him looking trapped and vulnerable and scared. “I-you….is this for real?”
Wayne laughed, high pitched and nervous, and shrugged. “It should all make sense now, if you think about it. My disappearance and reappearance at the same time that ‘masked defender’ showed up, Rhas al Ghul, the car accident with Coleman, Rachael.” His voice cracked on her name and he looked away.
Gordon’s mind whirled as he put the pieces together. “Why me?” It seemed to be the only question his brain could produce.
Wayne looked back at him. “Because I trust you. And I want things to be clear between us. For our partnership, friendship, relationship, whatever it is we have. I don’t want to die on the street as Batman and have you find me in the morgue on a slab and think ‘Oh, it’s that guy’ and wonder how fucking crazy I was to dress up as a goddamn bat and fight criminals.” He scrubbed his face with his hand. “Christ, I just want someone else to know.”
Gordon couldn’t think of anything to say, he just stared. Then they both jumped as the door opened again and this time it really was Alfred.
“Master Wayne, the countdown has begun, and there are rumors going around that you’re secretly going to parachute in just as the ball drops. I suggest you change and go out to greet your guests.”
“Okay Alfred,” Wayne said, his voice quiet. He turned back to Gordon, his face now unreadable. “Like I said before, this information….it’s yours now. Do with it what you see fit.” He turned to leave and Gordon’s hand shot out and grabbed his arm.
“Wait.” Through the wall he could hear the crowd chanting down the last thirty seconds of the year. “I…I’m still processing all of this but…don’t worry. I’m not going to tell anyone. I don’t want to. This is something between us, and I’m going to make sure it stays that way.”
Wayne relaxed visibly, his lips twitching up in a ghost of a smile. That weird tension was back now, thicker than it ever was before, and Gordon held his breath. Wayne stepped closer and this time Gordon didn’t move back. He stood his ground until only a hand separated them. Wayne stared at him, and Gordon let his breath go in a rush just before Wayne kissed him.
Suddenly the tension snapped, and Gordon finally realized what it was. Attraction. How he could be attracted to a man in a bat suit he had no idea, maybe it was the way he carried himself, maybe it was because he risked his life for people he didn’t even know, or maybe it didn’t matter. Bruce’s lips were firm against his, coaxing their mouths open so his tongue could slip inside.
Gordon found himself pressed against the edge of the desk, fireworks exploding behind his closed eyelids. Then Bruce pulled away and Gordon realized there really were fireworks outside; they’d missed the countdown, the new year slipping past them without notice.
Bruce nuzzled the side of his neck and whispered, “Happy New Year,” before he removed Gordon’s glasses and set them on the desk with a click. They reflected the exploding fireworks, but Gordon wasn’t paying attention. This time he met Bruce with an open mouth, swallowing the pleased sounds coming out of the other man’s throat.
Neither of them noticed the door cracking open and a white haired old man sticking his head in. Alfred took one look, closed the door behind himself with a pleased smile, and went to issue an order for more booze to keep the guests happy. Then he went to make Bruce’s bedroom more presentable. He had a feeling one of the partygoers was going to be staying longer than the others.
“Alfred, why do you call me Master Wayne in front of guests?” Bruce sat on the kitchen counter in his robe, legs swinging like a child. Gordon was still asleep in the bedroom and Bruce was hungry for a late night (early morning, really) snack. He reached for an apple and bit into it.
“I don’t really know, sir. I’ve done the same thing with your father as well.” Alfred puttered about making tea.
“Huh. That’s weird.” Bruce took another bite of his apple. “What would you have done if our last name had been Bates?”
Alfred stopped, just for a second, then continued pouring his tea. “I’m afraid I forgot the date on which you will be graduating third grade, Master Bruce.”
(The omake was something that had been floating around in my head for a while. Hope it makes sense D: )