* The few lines of French dialogue will be translated at the end of the chapter
The Bowery. Bordering Burnley to the west and Crime Alley to the north; tucked under a web of bridges leading to the glimmering, picturesque skyscrapers of Uptown. Otherwise known as one of the most crime-ridden districts in Gotham City, and that was saying a lot. It was designed just as such to protect the wealthy's ignorance— after all, they couldn't feel guilty for what they couldn't see.
It was better for people like Bruce Wayne, with all of his money and land and good looks, to not acknowledge the existence of places like those. To spend his days inside— warm, comfortable, and away from the slaughter and pollution that made up the rest of the city. If Bruce Wayne, silver-spoon-fed Prince of Gotham, didn't understand the severity of the corruption, he simply couldn't be blamed.
But Batman— the vigilante who had been brutal and borderline cruel in his first years as a "hero," or whatever he'd considered himself back then— was always to blame. A majority of the media didn't want to forget how he'd once operated, regardless of how many times he proved that he had changed.
If it was in Bruce Wayne's nature to comprehend such things, he might say he... regretted the person he used to be.
Except that wasn't in Bruce Wayne's nature because Bruce Wayne, being the shiny little star of the city that he was, didn't experience inconvenient emotions such as regret.
Batman regretted most things.
It was irritating, having to play both sides. To be both the savior and the corruptor. The know-it-all and the fool. The Dark and the White Knight.
Neither could seem to do anything right— both were subject to harsh criticism in the papers— both deservedly so.
And in the middle of this never-ending identity crisis lied Bruce, the...
Who was Bruce?
Not quite a playboy, certainly not a hero. Perhaps the man who bantered with Oliver Queen over charcuterie boards. Or the father who scolded Damian for skipping school. Perhaps even that was all an act.
Bruce wasn't sure that Bruce existed.
For now, he was content (and the fact that that's the word he chose to describe his current situation was a problem in itself) nestled between the metal bars of a run-down billboard which featured the faded image of some broadway blonde that Bruce Wayne may or may not have spent a night with at one point. He genuinely couldn't remember. Eventually, they all became the same woman.
In the visor of his cowl, he watched the red blinking dot of a tracker he'd placed on a van a few blocks back— Oracle had been working for some weeks on getting information about a sex trafficking ring occurring in the Bowery. Allegedly, there was going to be a form of "hand-off" happening tonight, which Batman planned to stop.
So he waited. Patiently. The skin of Batman felt good— it felt more natural than the skin of Bruce Wayne. The drop to the nearly empty street below him was a good fifty feet. Bruce Wayne would've been scared— what a coward Bruce Wayne was.
He couldn't say much about Bruce, but at the very least, he could say that Bruce wasn't scared of some trivial fall. Thank God for that.
"Batman," the feminine voice of Barbara Gordon spoke into his ear.
"Oracle."
"There's a call for you."
He scowled, although she couldn't see. "It can wait."
"He... says it's important."
Batman supposed he'd take the bait. "Who's he."
"Devin Elias."
Batman paused. That had definitely not been who he'd expected. "It can w—"
Now it was Bruce who faltered. What if Devin was hurt? What if someone from his family was hurt—
No. No, Devin only calls for stupid reasons. It's never anything important. Don't answer. Don't answer. Don't—
He bit back an annoyed growl. "Send it through."
Stupid Devin Elias. Stupid Devin Elias for forcing him to briefly stop being Batman. Stupid Devin Elias, making Bruce care. Batman didn't care about people like that.
Bruce could see on his visor that the call had connected.
"Hellooo?" sang the overly cheerful voice of Devin.
If the older man were there in person, Bruce would've punched him. He was calling for something stupid. Just as Bruce had suspected. Should've listened to the Bat.
He scanned the street again to see when the van would be near its destination. About two minutes.
Bruce tried to fill his voice with all the venom in the world, not that it would particularly deter Devin. "What."
And of course, the Florida billionaire didn't get the hint. Actually, he probably did but chose to continue, anyway.
"Short Stuff! Your secretary sounds different than I remember— did you fire Dana?"
"What do you want."
"Well, that depends. Are you busy right now?"
"Yes."
"Yeah, your secretary told me."
Fire shot through Bruce's veins. The criminals needed to hurry up— he needed to punch something. He shouldn't have been using names from outside the cowl, but it was slipping off of Bruce's tongue before he could stop it. "Devin—"
"Kidding, Shortie. Kidding. Listen, I have a favor to ask of you—"
A black van was suddenly screeching around the corner. Bruce checked the tracker. A minute earlier than expected. It came to a halt and two men flung open the doors, walking around to the back. Bruce crouched into position.
"—and I know you're probably gonna say no at first, but I promise you it's important—!"
Another van appeared from the opposite end of the block. The trade-off car. It was white.
The men from the black vehicle ripped open the back doors, revealing eight women all uncomfortably bound and shoved together. Bruce squared his brows. From what he could see, the men each had two guns, .22's, probably another beneath their waistbands judging by the way they hunched when they walked. They began tugging the shrieking women from the van.
The white van was coming to a stop near them. He just had to wait until every woman exited the car, but before the men in the other vehicle got there.
So far, six women were out.
The white van was rolling to a halt.
"So, Mare and I were hoping to use the Manor for a Halloween Party— you know, like the ones your parents used to throw?"
Seven women.
"We figured it would be a great tradition to bring back! Thought my mom could help decorate 'n stuff like she used to do with Martha?"
The white van almost stopped.
"No."
The last woman finally stepped out, and Batman's body acted before his brain— shooting out from his hiding spot and falling through the air with a calculated dive, landing in a crouch on the concrete, pothole-littered street.
The first man spun around, gun half raised. Batman grabbed his arm and pulled it upwards. The gun fired into the air. The women started panicking.
"Oh, come on, Shortstack. You know it'll be fun—"
The second man had finally noticed what was happening but was seconds too late. Batman ripped the gun from the first man's grip, landing a hard punch to his head before slamming the back of the gun into the second's collarbone. There was a crunching noise. The man was screaming.
"—uh, what's that sound? Are you watching a movie or something?"
It was official. Batman hated Devin Elias.
The first man had gotten up and had an arm around Batman's neck. Not a very skilled fighter, he could tell by the way the man carelessly left his left leg wide open, though not the worst he'd ever seen.
"Sex-trafficking ring," Batman managed to grunt out as he flipped the guy over his shoulder and into the hood of the van, hoping Devin would get the message.
"A movie about sex trafficking? That's a little intense for a Tuesday night, don't you think?"
If Barbara was listening to the call, which she undoubtedly was, she was likely laughing her ass off.
The women were all curled into their knees on the ground in fear. The doors to the white van opened. Out came nine men. All armed. Batman hadn't accounted for that. If he'd known there would be eleven men in total, he would've brought a Robin. He would've called Dick.
But what he would've done didn't matter— he'd fought more men at once on his own before and won.
A man rushed at him. Knife in his right hand. Batman was a moment away from pulling out a smoke bomb before something metal flashed through the air and then the knife was gone.
The man seemed startled. Batman nearly was, too.
The Dark Knight tilted his head towards the building on the opposite side of the street. A figure was standing at the top, body silhouetted in dim moonlight beneath foggy clouds. The person had a bow drawn.
"Arrow," Batman spoke, not exactly relieved, but not angry like he once would've been at the invasion of his city by another hero. He supposed Oliver could have a pass— at least he didn't have any powers.
The blond gave him a two-finger salute before performing an impressive move as he landed next to Batman with ease.
"Arrow?" Devin spoke into his ear. "Are you— are you with Oliver right now?"
The men from the van appeared to have composed themselves and had weapons drawn as they ran at him again.
"Been following a trafficking case in Star for a few weeks," the archer explained as he drew back his bow and fired another arrow at one of the men, successfully knocking a gun from his hand. "Somehow led me here. A coinkydink, huh?"
Batman tossed another man over his shoulder, dodging a bullet in the process. An arrow soared over him and released into a net, pinning a man to the ground. "So coincidental."
A laugh. "What, don't believe me?" A grunt. "I don't do everything just because I wanna see you, ya know."
The Dark Knight kicked a man's legs out from underneath him. "Could've fooled me."
There was suddenly the all-too-familiar click of a grande pin being pulled. Batman didn't have time to figure out where it was coming from before Arrow was barreling into him and shoving him behind a nearby car.
The street exploded. The air sizzled. Batman noticed the women scamper off into the closest alleyway. One was limping. Her calf looked pink with burnt flesh. Crap.
"Oracle. Need a medic."
"GCPD and medical assistance have already been contacted. ETA is two minutes."
"Wait," Devin's voice broke through the call. "Are you out fighting people right now?!"
Batman couldn't help himself. "Shut up."
Arrow's head snapped towards him. "Whoa, don't talk to Oracle like that!"
He heard Barbara chuckling.
Batman didn't roll his eyes, but if he did, he would be right now. That was hardly the most pressing issue at the moment. He elected to ignore it. "I'll go left, you—"
The blonde held up a finger. "I'll do you one better. I've been waiting for an opportunity to try these babies out."
Gunshots pounded against the front of the car they were behind. The archer pulled two arrows from his quiver with metallic balls attached to the ends, and placed them on the strings of his bow.
The blond waited until the barrage of shots slightly dulled, and then he stood up, fired the arrows, and then crouched back down. Seconds later, there was the boom of an explosion mixed in with what sounded like the crackle of electricity.
"And this is the cherry on top." Green Arrow smirked, standing up and sending one more arrow soaring over the car.
Batman's ears picked up the hissing of gas. He slowly peered over the car to see green smoke dissipating across the street. All eleven men were unconscious.
Batman— Bruce— had to bite back the barest of grins. It felt a little like they were fifteen and Oliver was showing him how to fire gumballs into pencil holders across the school library, except this time it was high-voltage arrows across a gunfight in the Bowery.
"I should invest in a bow," Bruce commented.
Oliver chuckled, leaning against the car with a huff. "The Batbow."
Bruce sometimes rolled his eyes, so he did.
Police sirens were then wailing down the block, and they turned to see red and blue lights coating the walls of the buildings. Ambulances were right behind them, screeching to a halt, doors flying open, and EMTs rushing towards the group of women in the alleyway.
Somewhere amidst the chaos, Bruce caught a glimpse of Jim Gordon's brown trench coat. The commissioner definitely saw them, flashing a knowing wink in their direction before turning back to his officers.
"I think you should do it," Oliver continued. Bruce glanced down at the blond's arms. How the man survived every night sleeveless was beyond Bruce. "The Batbow thing. I'd teach you how to shoot it and everything."
Bruce decided to play into the banter. "I could teach myself."
"Psh, yeah right! I'm, like, the best archer you know!"
"More like the only archer I know."
"Bruce, what the hell is going on?!" Devin shouted into his ear. "Is that Oliver? Get him on this call, dammit!"
"Already on it." Barbara's voice was teasing. Lighthearted. Bruce was going to yell at her later for this mess.
"Oliver! Oliver Queen!" Devin spoke.
The blond appeared startled, twisting his face in confusion. His hand went to his ear. "Uh, hi?"
"Jesus Christ, you two are gonna give me a heart attack! I don't know how Alfred does this every night! Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, everything's... fine? Why are you on this line right now?"
"I was talking to Bruce and trying to convince him to let Mare and I host a Halloween party at his house and then suddenly there's screaming and gunfire and explosions!"
"I told you I was busy," Bruce muttered.
Oliver raised his brows beneath his green domino mask. "Halloween party?"
Bruce scowled. "That's not the point—"
"I think a Halloween party would be sick!" The blond grinned. "Our costumes would rock. What do you wanna be?"
"I'm not having a party—"
Devin seemed to forget about his momentary panic. "Mare actually drafted up a guest list! Don't worry, Bruciecakes, we're keeping it small. There's only like, a hundred and fifty people, give or take."
Bruce furrowed his brows.
"I vote yes on the party," Barbara commented. "I wanted to be a NASA scientist this year and I have nowhere to wear my costume."
"Come onnn," Oliver pleaded. "It'll be so fun! And you know it's gonna be a good party if even Meredith wants it to happen."
"Which is strange," Bruce said. "Meredith doesn't like parties. Or Halloween."
"Okay soooo?" Devin asked impatiently.
Bruce scoffed.
There was silence.
"Fine."
Cheering.
Oliver laughed, fist-pumping the air. "Alright!"
"Only because my mother would've wanted Eleanor to decorate," Bruce grumbled.
"I'll let Mare know— you're the best, Shortstuff!"
The call ended.
Bruce sighed, pressing a button on his utility belt and signaling the Batmobile, which rumbled towards them from its previous spot in an alleyway.
Oliver took out another arrow, firing a grappling line to a nearby building. "Well, that was fun. Let me know when you end up deciding on a costume— we should match!"
The Son of Gotham twisted his brows in irritation as the top of the Batmobile quietly hissed open. "Whatever."
Oliver laughed, loud and bright, echoing down the block amidst the sirens. A dead giveaway to the identity of the Green Arrow if one knew Oliver Queen well enough. Bruce had always been a little envious of the blond's laugh.
"See you tomorrow night at the meeting, Pretty Boy."
The Star City archer disappeared into the night.
The corner of Bruce's lip turned up.
Pretty Boy was such a stupid nickname.
* * *
Tonight, Meredith had decided to spice it up from her usual monochromatic pantsuits— she wore a white, tightly-fitted business dress, ending just above her knees. Over, she had a long black coat coupled with black heels.
Two cups of coffee were in her hands as she stood in the Daily Planet elevator, absentmindedly eyeing the silver doors.
Her personal phone in her jacket pocket buzzed.
She sighed in irritation, somehow managing to tuck one of the drinks in the crook of her elbow, nearly spilling both in the process. She reached in to pull the small device out, seeing one unread message from her brother.
Good news!! Just got the green light from B, Halloween party is a go!!!
Meredith smiled ever so slightly.
Perfect timing.
She put her phone away and rearranged the drinks just as the elevator doors opened. Walking out, she received the same stares that she usually did anywhere she went. She flashed a professional smile to onlooking, open-mouthed journalists as she strode past them and into the bullpen.
Finally finding the cubicle she was looking for, she leaned over the wall to see a ravenette reporter with her nose deep into her laptop.
Meredith rapped her knuckles on the beige, laminate wall. "Knock knock."
Blue eyes darted up.
"Meredith! Oh m— what are you doing here?"
"I have good news and bad news." The businesswoman smiled as she handed over the drink to the other woman whose eyes widened. "Bad news: they were out of your favorite brew so I had to choose something else. Good news: you're officially invited to the annual Wayne Manor Halloween party."
Lois blinked repeatedly as if she was struggling to process the information. "I— uh, okay? Um, firstly, thank you for the drink— I've been working on this article for hours and I definitely need the pick-me-up. Second, since when does Wayne Manor have an annual Halloween party?"
Meredith leaned her elbows on the top of the wall. "Thomas and Martha Wayne used to host them all the time when we were young. My brother and I are taking it upon ourselves to... rekindle the tradition."
"Ahuh," Lois hummed unconvincingly, sipping her drink. She tilted a questioning brow. "Since when have you ever cared about rekindling traditions?"
"Wha— I can care about tradition! Contrary to popular belief, I do have a heart, Lois."
The reporter ungracefully snorted. "C'mon, Mare. What are you up to?"
The businesswoman rolled her eyes, even though the other woman was absolutely right in thinking that Meredith had ulterior motives. "Are you coming or not? I can extend the invite to someone else if you're not interested."
"Oh, shut up, of course I'm coming! Let's dress sexy." Lois had a wicked grin on her face that made Meredith semi-regret telling the reporter about the party in advance.
"Meredith?"
Both women turned to the masculine voice from the opposite direction. Meredith's heart dropped slightly. This should be interesting.
She put a smile on her face. "Clark! How are you?"
He gave her his million-watt smile that would've made Meredith melt into a puddle on the floor if she had any less dignity. Though his eyes didn't seem to be paying attention to her, rather the woman sitting in the cubicle who was skillfully avoiding his gaze.
"I'm good!" he answered a beat too late before now turning his whole body to Lois. "Um, hi, Lo. I haven't seen you at all today... or this week, for that matter— I, uh, think you look great!"
Meredith cringed at the way Lois' face was void of any emotion other than annoyance.
"What did I say about nicknames, Clark."
So apparently Lois was still mad about the whole "finding out Clark is Superman" thing.
Whoops.
Clark looked like he was experiencing heartbreak.
Meredith coughed to try and break the tension. "Uh, anyway... I was just telling Lois about this Halloween party Devin and I are hosting at Wayne Manor. Thomas and Martha used to throw them, so we figured it would be nice to bring them back. You're more than welcome to come as well, Clark."
That got her an irritated side-eye from Lois.
"Oh!" He appeared as if he just realized Meredith was still standing there. "Yeah, absolutely. I'd love to come."
"Fantastic— you'd better have a good costume, Farmboy. I expect more than a flannel and straw hat," Meredith attempted to joke to lighten the mood.
"Clark in a costume would be absolutely ridiculous." Lois deadpanned. "I mean, could you imagine? Him dressed up as someone else? Ha!"
The man seemed utterly confused and Meredith's mouth dropped slightly.
Alright, so Lois was taking it much worse than originally anticipated.
It was a rare occurrence that Meredith Elias couldn't find any words to say. "Right. Um..."
"Anyway, I have to go." Lois abruptly stood up, collecting some papers and her laptop. "I have an interview in a few. Thanks again for the drink, Meredith."
The reporter stormed off down the hall towards the elevator, other journalists having to step out of her way.
Clark turned to her with a puzzled face. "Meredith, what is going on with her? She's just been in such a terrible mood these last few days and... I... I can't help but feel like she's mad at me or something."
The billionaire thanked her lucky stars that she was a good liar because the Golden Boy of America looking like no more than a dejected puppy was enough to have anyone crumbling with guilt. "It's nothing you did, Clark."
Lie.
"She's just going through some... feminine... problems."
Another lie, and a terrible one at that.
His cheeks were suddenly tainted pink. "Oh! I— I... gosh, I didn't realize... is there... is there anything I can do for her? I obviously don't, you know, experience those things."
Meredith almost started to grow irritated with the man. Didn't he ever get tired of being so... sickeningly perfect?
She offered a sympathetic smile. "I find that sometimes the best thing to do is give a woman space— I think she just needs a little alone time."
He nodded in understanding. "Oh, sure. Absolutely. I can do that."
She sipped her coffee, and he continued to stare at her.
"For how long, exactly?"
Meredith rolled her eyes. "She'll reach out to you when she's feeling better."
"Okay." He nodded again slowly. "When... when do you think that will be?"
She scoffed. "Clark, you're too handsome to be acting this desperate. Maybe you need a little time for yourself, too."
"I'm not desperate!"
Meredith glared at him.
"...for other women."
"Mhm." She sipped the coffee. "Anyway, changing the subject, I also drove all the way here because I wanted to... apologize."
He seemed startled. "Apologize?"
"To you. For..." She sighed. "For how I treated you at the last meeting. I was just under a lot of stress, I shouldn't have talked to you like that."
"Oh. No, don't even worry, Meredith. I appreciate you coming here to say that, but I kind of figured something was going on." He paused for a moment. "Could I... could I ask you a question?"
The look on his face told her exactly what question he was going to ask. Most of the time, the man's naivety when it came to Lois nearly made Meredith forget that Clark was still an investigative journalist, and a talented one at that. He was bound to pick up on things eventually.
"You can ask, but I may not answer."
Clark dropped his head towards her slightly and lowered his voice. He appeared to be choosing his words. "Do... do you know? About him?"
She realized that if she didn't say no immediately, he would have an answer, but she still found herself hesitating regardless.
"Clark..."
He nodded faintly, eyes holding a certain amount of seriousness that made her remember who he truly was behind those glasses. "I won't tell. I swear on it. But at the meeting... I could sense that something was off. He... he was especially on edge— he has to be really paranoid to show up as Bruce Wayne."
The way he said the name out loud made guilt well in her chest because suddenly everything felt so real, hearing Superman confirm what she already knew to be true.
"I know." She sighed, resting her weight against the wall again. "Who was it, just out of curiosity? In the suit?'
"Another League member— he's a shapeshifter."
"Ah. Well, I suppose I've seen crazier things in the last few weeks."
He turned the corner of his lip up. "Are you ever going to tell him? To be honest, I don't think he has any idea that you know. Or, at least no concrete confirmation."
She thought for a moment. "No. I don't really see a point— there's no benefit for him to know. It would only cause tension, and God knows we already have enough of that."
"True," Clark chuckled. "I know I tease you about it, but I genuinely do think that he likes you, Meredith."
She grimaced. "Trust me, he doesn't. At least not right now. He has before, he probably could again—"
He's going to have to, because now I'm marrying the man.
"—But I don't want that. That ship sailed long ago, and I doubt either of us wants to revisit it."
Clark nodded, allowing the both of them to fall into silence as she drank the coffee languidly. The sounds of idle chatter, flipping paper, and cackling keyboards filled the background.
"So, any plans for the rest of the night?" he asked.
"Just heading back to my office to finalize some paperwork. Nothing special."
"Ah." He paused. "Any chance you need a ride?"
She stared at him with a quirked brow. "I'm assuming you don't mean by car."
He smiled mischievously.
Later, she stood on the helicopter pad of the Elias Incorporated tower with windblown hair and adrenaline racing through her veins, watching the red cape of a hero disappear into the night sky.
She laughed quietly.
"Thanks, Kent," she spoke out into the open air.
The man probably heard.
* * *
After finishing business in the Bowery, the Batmobile roared through Gotham. One last round of patrol before heading back to the Cave, he had promised Alfred.
Bruce somehow found himself on the streets of Uptown in the business district. He wasn't quite sure how— it wasn't a place usually in desperate need of Batman, in comparison to areas such as the Narrows or Park Row.
The glowing emblem of Elias Incorporated was suddenly peering at him from its tower at the end of the block, shining tauntingly through the thin layer of drizzle and dark skies.
Perhaps that's why he was in Uptown.
Did Batman have any business with Meredith at the moment?
A stupid question, he knew. Batman, Brucie, Bruce— whoever the hell it was— always had business with Meredith Elias.
Don't go, don't go, you need to go back to the Cave and do more work and you don't need—
Evidently, the Bat didn't like Meredith Elias. Not one bit. The Bat was a void— void of emotions, void of attraction to particular silver-tongued CEOs. Void of anything other than vengeance and determination because distractions simply couldn't be tolerated, and there was no greater distraction to the mission than Meredith, with her pretty lips and pretty words and pretty—
Distraction. He was getting distracted.
The car was suddenly changing course with a sharp turn. Wheels screeching, slamming on the gas.
Not because he hoped something would happen. Bruce stopped having hope when he was eight years old. But there was a lot of business to discuss with her, such as her wanting to be the League's new government liaison.
Yeah, that was a good reason.
So he hid the Batmobile in the shadows of an alley, fired a grappling line to the top of a building. Shot another one to the roof of the Elias Tower. Overrode the lock on the air vent and dropped silently into the hallway. Accessed the maintenance stairs— her security didn't patrol it as often as the employee one. Attached another line to the ceiling, dropped down the center of the stairwell six floors. Pushed open the door, checked for security again, and slinked silently through the hall, making sure to stay shrouded in darkness.
He passed a door and the gleaming silver plaque on the wood caught his eye.
TIMOTHY DRAKE, OPERATIONAL INTERN, it read.
Bruce scowled. He continued down the hall, reaching Meredith's office. Her voice carried from inside— she was yelling in French. It had been years since he'd heard her use a language other than English, though not surprising— he knew she spoke around ten.
The door was already cracked open. He pushed it softly, creeping into the corner of the room between the two couches, the one spot where the light didn't quite hit.
She was facing the windows with her glimmering view of the Gotham skyline. "Êtes-vous ridicule? J'essaye de finaliser cet accord depuis des mois, et vous pensez..."
Before he could stop himself, his eyes were trailing down her body— she was wearing a white, fitted dress with long sleeves. Her hair was pitch black and curled over her shoulders. He remembered the day she decided to dye her hair darker for the first time, sixteen-year-old him had been... thoroughly impressed, to say the least.
Bruce eyed her black stilettos which were suddenly facing in his direction, why were they—?
He glanced up. She was looking directly at him, unamused. She still held the phone to her ear.
She was getting more observant— he'd have to try harder.
"Je dois partir, je t'appelle dans quelques heures," she spoke flatly before ending the call. Her hand dropped to her side, the other resting on her hip.
Her eyebrow raised. "Can I help you?"
He took solace in the fact that she couldn't see his face as he stepped out into the center of the room. She studied him carefully, almost unnoticeably, her eyes flitting down his body briefly. That almost made him uncomfortable, if it was possible for the Batman to feel such things.
Bruce considered his words.
She rolled her eyes and set her phone down on the table. "Or are you just here to gawk, Batman?"
He watched her waltz around the table, hips swaying softly and feet gliding across the floor as if she was floating.
Maybe, if Bruce were a better man, he would have noticed that she never walked like that. Because Meredith Elias carried herself with a purpose— with power and confidence, like the leader she naturally was. She didn't waltz. She didn't sway. She didn't languidly stride. She didn't walk as if she wanted... something else from Bruce, but, for reasons unknown, that's all he could seem to be thinking about.
"The A.R.G.U.S liaison position," he finally said. She paused, maybe three feet from him. "I... think it's a logical decision."
"Really?" Her voice held surprise. "You want me to replace Colonel Trevor?"
"His relationship with Wonder Woman has rendered him incapable in the eyes of the public. They trust you. It's the judicious move."
Meredith appeared pleased. She smiled slightly. And it burned— it made him physically cringe— the way something welled in his chest, something he couldn't seem to get rid of— the way pride crept up his throat because it was so rare to please Meredith, even rarer to get that little smile out of her, and damn his body and how it betrayed him because, even after all these years, it felt so, disgustingly good to be the one to get that reaction from her, to be the one receiving that stupid, pretty smile—
"I can't say I'm not a little shocked Batman," she said slyly, and he didn't miss the way she started to close the gap between them. "What made you change your mind? A few weeks ago you would've rather dropped dead."
"Your work with the League finances has been—" His voice fell in his throat as she slowly slid her hands up his chest and clasped them around his neck. "—Adequate."
"Adequate, hm?" she hummed, pressing her lips into a devilish smile. "I guess I'll take it."
It was one of the very few times in his life where Bruce was unsure of what to do next.
She cocked her head slightly. "How about a game?"
He knitted his brows. "Game?"
Meredith pulled her arms away and walked back towards her desk, clearing everything to one side. She set a tablet in the center. After pressing a few buttons, a glowing hologram chessboard appeared— half of the pieces were blue, and the other half were red.
"I figured you'd be a worthy opponent. I'm hard-pressed to find one, these days," she explained as she sat back down in her chair. She gestured to the leather seat across from her.
"Who says I have time."
She narrowed her eyes. "Well, considering you typically only visit me here on Thursday after the meeting on Wednesday, and today is Tuesday, I'd say crime is on the decline as of right now. Though, feel free to leave if you really want to."
He stared at her for a long while before finally deciding to sit down.
She smiled again. "Guests first."
He tried to shrug off the strangeness of being dressed as the Bat while doing something do mundane such as playing chess. The only time Batman ever played chess was when Riddler forced him through some convoluted trap in order to save hostages from being blown up. So while Bruce usually wouldn't have said yes, it would be a little interesting to see if he could actually beat her— when they were younger, Meredith always used to win.
He moved a blue pawn forward.
"I'm hosting a party, you know," Meredith began, eyes darting over the board before she also moved a pawn.
He moved the same pawn forward another square.
"A Halloween party," she continued. She pushed a different pawn up one square. "My brother and I decided it would be fun. We used to have them a lot as kids— I would invite you, but I figured you're not really the type to enjoy dressing up in a costume and pretending to be someone else."
He glared at her as he moved a rook. "Funny."
"I know. I've been told I'm quite the comedian." Meredith pushed forward a bishop.
He placed his knight behind his rook, simultaneously cocking his head to say you're kidding, right?
She smirked slightly and shrugged. Her first pawn was suddenly in front of his. "Joking. Usually, that title was taken by my brother, though, sometimes if I was aware of the joke, I'd get grouped in."
Bruce hummed. He could take her pawn, but then her bishop would take his. He decided to advance his bishop out of its original spot, instead.
She was quick to take his pawn with hers. He furrowed his brows beneath the cowl. The blue piece disappeared from the board. Meredith leaned forward slightly on the table as he considered his next move.
"Can you keep a secret, Batman?"
Now she definitely had his attention.
He tried not to show that his curiosity had been piqued.
"I am the biggest secret in Gotham," he muttered, progressing his knight once again.
She blew a sharp breath from her nose. "That's humble."
"It's not ego if it's true."
"I'd hardly say you're the biggest." She advanced her bishop. "What's in the secret sauce at Gothaburger? That's a real mystery."
He gently nudged another one of his pawns. "Mayonaise, Worcestershire sauce, garlic powder, ketchup, and black pepper."
Meredith seemed amused. "Guess they really don't call you the World's Greatest Detective for nothing."
"You were saying," he prompted flatly as he doubled-stepped two of her pawns with his, successfully removing them from the board.
She smirked. She moved her queen. Too sudden— Bruce knew Meredith always waited towards the ends of the game to position her queen. "Right, the secret. You really can't tell, and I'm not even sure if I should be saying this aloud out of fear of him hearing—"
Him hearing?
"—But..." She paused. She looked around before sighing and standing up, walking around the large desk.
He eyed her warily as she did the absolute last thing he would ever expect her to do: she swung her leg over his lap, followed by the other one, and soon she was nestling herself comfortably across his thighs.
His heart faltered in between beats.
"Sorry for the invasion of personal space, but I'm worried he'll hear." She turned her head to the side and whispered ever so slightly, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Lois knows about Clark being Superman."
His hand was halfway to the board when it halted in midair. "What?"
She nodded. "I was with her when she figured it out. It... wasn't pretty."
It was difficult to remember what piece he was going to move. He decided on his other knight. "Does Clark know?"
"No." She moved another one of her pawns, which Bruce himself was starting to feel an eerie resemblance to. "God, he's such an idiot. I was over at their office early tonight, and Lois was doing all but basically telling him that she knew. That dumbass man looked confused and heartbroken— it was so irritating."
Bruce almost chuckled, but was too distracted by the pressure of her across his lap and the same perfume that she'd always worn and trying to figure out what the hell his next move on the board should be, all while somehow managing to uphold the fact that he was Batman.
He finally advanced his queen.
"And then he asks what's wrong with her, and what the fuck am I supposed to say?" Meredith talked so casually, as if she wasn't sitting on the lap of one of the most infamous vigilantes in the world. She tilted her head at the board. She progressed her king. Interesting. "So I end up telling him that Lois is having 'feminine problems,' whatever the hell that's supposed to mean, and you know Clark, ever the farmboy, starts blushing with his whole 'gosh, golly, darn' routine, like he's never come into contact with a female a day in his life, and then continues to pester me by asking what he can do for her!"
It was bizarre to have such an... unceremonious conversation with her.
He didn't say anything as he moved his queen again.
"Like, doesn't he ever get tired of being so disgustingly perfect? It wouldn't kill him to do what every other guy in the world does and just say 'gross' or simply not respond."
That got a sharp breath from Bruce. "He's from Kansas. They don't have women there. Or people in general."
She chuckled and he could feel it vibrate against his chest as she studied the board.
Bruce, courtesy of training to be Batman, knew his body all too well. He knew which chemicals in the brain caused which reactions, and he knew what ones were responsible for his current state: dopamine followed by norepinephrine followed by that unfortunate, irritating little thing called testosterone.
And typically, he could stop any emotion or chemical reaction at a moment's notice— and trust him, he tried. He really did. But his body didn't seem to want to listen, and soon warmth was searing across his abdomen and he found himself stifling an appropriately annoyed sigh.
They sat in silence for the next few plays, each removing a few of the others' pieces from the board. Both their kings were relatively near each other.
She shifted in his lap and fire raced up his stomach.
"Comfortable?" He couldn't help himself from asking, mouth only a few inches from the side of her neck.
"Extremely," she answered in a voice he'd only heard in his old childhood fantasies, and suddenly he wasn't Batman the vigilante or bachelor Bruce Wayne, but the fifteen-year-old boy who would go home and grin into his pillow and gush on the phone to Oliver Queen about his stupid, silly crush on the pretty girl.
She moved her rook. He furrowed his brows. Not what he'd anticipated, and he'd already thought of twelve different ways he could win the game based on the current board.
He studied the pieces before moving his knight. A risky move, leaving a space open between his king and bishop, but he wanted to see what she would do.
As he did so, he took the opportunity to slowly wrap his other hand around her waist.
He was such a fool. Such an idiot. The Bat was opposed to what was happening, he could tell by the way it chastised him in the back of his head. But playground flirting with Meredith felt so natural and... almost fun, that he couldn't help but indulge himself in it even just for a little while longer.
"Hm," she hummed. "I have to admit, you're not terrible, Bats."
Bats. Bats. He'd always hated that nickname, but it honestly didn't sound too bad coming from her—
"Not terrible?" He repeated her line from earlier. "I guess I'll take it."
Was his mouth closer to her neck or was he imagining it?
Meredith giggled. Giggled. Meredith Elias giggled. What alternate universe had he spiraled into?
She moved a piece that he was starting to not care about identifying anymore. She tilted her body and then a hand was running up his chest and he was idiotically suppressing a shudder.
"You should." Her voice was nonchalant. "I don't dish compliments out too often."
And then he stupidly moved his rook in tandem with the other hand that currently rested on her waist, now making its way down to her thigh.
She was somehow pushing up the bottom of his cowl and... damn it all to hell, how could he say no?
He let her fingers curl underneath the black material, deliciously scraping his jawline and Bruce all but purred. They were slightly cold and dangerously soft— so soft that he wanted to imagine them in other places but he didn't allow himself to for the sake of his dignity.
Meredith's hand crawled around the back of his neck and she tilted her head towards the right. Bruce noticed briefly that she was wearing red lipstick and fuck he promised himself he'd never be in this position ever again, yet here he was anyway, being a moron who—
Her lips molded slowly into his and suddenly the front of his pants was irrationally tight— a piece of information he would take to his grave because Bruce Wayne didn't have reactions such as that just from merely kissing a woman.
He didn't know when his eyes had lolled into the back of his head or when both of his hands had made it around her body or when her tongue softly started pressing into his, but then there was the quietest sound of a piece being removed from the board which made all of Bruce's increasingly reckless thoughts come to a dead halt.
She pulled back just enough for her cupid's bow to brush his.
"Checkmate."
Bruce glanced down to see his king had disappeared.
"You're a decent opponent, Batman," Meredith said with too much normality given what had just occurred. She stood up and brushed herself off, adjusting her blazer and wiping the side of her mouth with her thumb. "I'll give you that."
Irritation was bristling all down his spine as his vision began to clear from the foggy haze of lust. He scanned to board, trying to figure out what had happened. He didn't exactly pay attention to his last few moves.
"You castled your king," he finally concluded.
"I did."
"And then checked me with your queen."
"That would be correct."
"Castling is cheating."
His heart froze. Meredith had always said that she thought castling was unfair— but only Bruce Wayne would know such a thing, not Batman.
She paused. "Says who?"
"It's unfair," he lied easily as he stood up.
She seemed to buy it. "I think so, too. But I think a lot of things in life are unfair— doesn't mean I don't do them anyway."
And there was that smirk again, with those slitted eyes as she leaned back on her desk. He started towards the door with an angry flourish of his cape.
"Leaving so soon?" she commented. "What a sore loser."
"I have somewhere to be," he managed to grit out between his teeth.
"Oh." Her voice sounded teasing. "Shame. I was going to offer to... help you out."
He nearly missed his next step.
"Next time, then," she said.
He wordlessly exited the office.
Next time.
He hated the way his skin jumped at that, because "next time" implied that there would be more, and Bruce Wayne was known as the man who wanted everything.
* * *
French Translation
Êtes-vous ridicule? J'essaye de finaliser cet accord depuis des mois, et vous pensez...
= Are you ridiculous? I've been trying to finalize this deal for months, and you think...
Je dois partir, je t'appelle dans quelques heures
= I have to go, I'll call you in a few hours
* * *
Hi everyone! Glad to be back with a new chapter, this one took a while to get done. I wanted to thank you all for the love and support recently, as well as 64k! I always appreciate it. Let me know your thoughts on this chapter!
xo Alexa