Chapter Text
Bruce stretched on the front porch, cracking his back and shoulders. He would need to see his chiropractor soon; his back was getting stiffer. He sighed as he descended the front steps to his gravel driveway. Normally, Alfred would take the golf cart to the end of the drive to get the mail. Today, he was going to prove a point.
Whistling “Sweet Georgia Brown,” Bruce sauntered toward the crowd of ninjas blocking his front yard. The crowd of ninjas parted as he approached, clearly wary of his intentions. He made it to the mailbox without incident, pulling out the letters and the day’s paper. He flipped through the envelopes. Nothing spectacular: a few mailers, a couple of financial statements, and a census form. Bruce stuck the envelopes in his robe pocket and folded the newspaper into the crook of his arm. Still whistling, he made his way back to the manor.
The ninjas shifted slightly as a few casted side-eyed looks at each other. “Morning, Slade!” said Bruce cheerfully. The ninjas began to fill in the space behind him. Bruce walked up to Slade. “What brings you to Gotham on this beautiful Saturday?”
Wilson appraised Bruce, blinking owlishly. Perfect. Wilson was caught off guard and clearly didn’t know what to do in this situation. Nothing made people feel more awkward than seeing another person in their underwear. Bruce could almost see the internal monologue playing out:
Did… did I just catch the Batman with his pants down? No. No, wait. Batman is never caught unprepared. What is he planning? What is he doing? Is… is this… it can’t be this easy. Is… is he crazy? My god, he is actually crazy.
Yes. Yes, Bruce was crazy. Certifiably so. Just ask the shrinks who do the psych evals for the Justice League.
“Something wrong, Wilson?” said Bruce nonchalantly.
“Uh,” Wilson’s eye kept wandering to avoid looking at Bruce’s shorts, “is Talia here?”
“You know damn well she’s here. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have brought your posse along with you. Now, I’m going to ask again: why are you camping out on my front lawn?”
“My business is with her.”
“No, your business is with me.”
“What makes you think that?”
“You’re standing on my property. That makes your business my business. Unless you decide to take your business with her elsewhere. Then it won’t be my business. Now, the next question is: do you really want me in your business?”
Slade Wilson stared at Bruce. Bruce stared at Slade Wilson. The ninjas shifted uncomfortably in Bruce’s periphery. These were not League of Assassin ninjas; they lacked discipline. The real and only threat here was Slade Wilson. The rest were cannon fodder. The poor bastards hadn’t figured it out yet.
Come on, Wilson. Blink, you one-eyed bastard, thought Bruce.
“No.”
“Good. Now, once Talia’s finished her business here, she’s all yours.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“As the grave.”
“She’s the mother of your child.”
“Yep.”
“And you’re throwing her to me, just like that.”
“Just like that, yes.”
Wilson frowned. “What’s your game?”
“No game.”
“Bullshit.”
“Look, you’re threatening my house on a Saturday. You send your people in there and they will come up against a very virulent strain of the flu and some very pissed off members of my family. Now, we can either go through with your plan – which will not end well for either of us – or you can deal with Talia privately and I can enjoy what’s left of the only relaxing Saturday that I’ve had in over three months.” Bruce waited a beat. “I’ll even text you when she’s gone. Burner to burner.”
Wilson looked at Bruce skeptically then reached into his belt. Bruce took a breath, ready to defend himself.
Wilson handed him a business card. “That number is good for forty-eight hours. If I find out that you’ve screwed me –”
“Then that’s my business.” Bruce took the card. “Always a pleasure, Wilson.” Bruce stalked off, fairly certain that Wilson had flipped him off behind his back. The gravel crunched beneath Bruce’s shoes as he approached the house. He opened the door, took off his shoes, and put his jeans back on while Clark applauded.
“Well done, sir!”
“It is not wise to celebrate prematurely,” cautioned Talia. “What did he say?”
Bruce sighed. He took off the bathrobe. “Well, he’s pissed at you. I told him that your business with him would be his business with me if he did his grandstanding here at the house. Congratulations. I’ve bought you a few hours.”
Talia shrugged. “Thank you. That’s more than fair.”
Selina stared at Bruce. “You’re not going to defend her?” Bruce threw a bitch face. Selina threw her hands up defensively.
“Alright,” said Clark. “I’ll go tell the kids to stand down and get Kamiya from the panic room.”
Oh right, thought Bruce bitterly, that’s another problem to worry about. “Get Alfred out of the Batcave while you’re at it.”
“Shall I fetch your cigars and slippers, too?”
“If you please.” Bruce smirked as Clark flipped him off.