Work Text:
"Sir, I'm not sure about this," Bad Cop murmured, trying to tug the skirt down so it wouldn't flash lacy panties every time he moved.
Business laughed and slapped Bad Cop's ass. "It'll be fine. You're my sexy little maid and I want to show you off." He threw a pen on the floor and gestured to it. "Go on, why don't you pick that up for me?"
Bad Cop nodded and waddled over to it; he had to go slow with his balance off from trying to keep the long, long socks from falling down and not trip as his mary janes pinched his feet. He bent over from the waist, knowing Business would make him do it over again if he did the sensible thing and sat on his heels to grab the pen; the boss wanted a show, not an efficient job. A few red curls fell out of his lacy bonnet and the panties moved against him as he slowly spread his legs and grabbed the pen.
"Very good!" Business whistled his appreciation.
Bad Cop felt his face heat up from humiliation. He stood up and gave Business the pen. "Is that all you need before we go to the party?"
"I think so," Business said. He put his finger on Bad Cop's chin, guiding his face down with it until Business could kiss him. "Go ahead and show everyone you're my little trophy cop."
Bad Cop blushed further.
There was a blister on Bad Cop's ankle by the time he and Lord Business got to the party. It was full of rich people, old men in tuxedos and costumed eye candy on their arms, and Bad Cop felt out of place. He was a member of the Super Secret Police, a torturer and a killer, not someone who kept on getting his panties snapped while people chortled behind his back.
Good Cop had said, once, that right hands were used for masturbation, so Business making them his right hand wasn't a great sign, and this was one of the times Bad Cop could do nothing but agree.
At least the snacks were good. Some of the servers were robots, spies, and they were willing to let him take several of the little egg pastries while he chased off creepy old men. He could be flirted with, fine, but the robots were his and Good Cop's responsibility. Even if they were undercover at the time.
There was a shout from the edge of the room. Bad Cop turned; some masked robbers were aiming guns at people, and there was - dammit, one of Batman's villains there, too. The Ostrich or the Emu or some kind of fat, flightless bird with a monocle. Bad Cop couldn't bother to remember the name properly; all he knew was that he had to stop them before they hurt Business.
He hadn't been allowed to bring his gun, so he put on his brass knuckles and started edging through the crowd toward the robbers. He was in disguise, as it were, no glasses and out of uniform, so he doubted any of the robbers would see him and recognize him as Business's chief of security.
The first robber didn't see him and went down with a single punch. The second did and Bad Cop had to wrench his gun arm up to send the gun flying before shoving an elbow into his throat.
The third robber aimed his gun, but a black-gloved fist rammed into his head and he collapsed. Batman grinned at Bad Cop. "Nice to see you MAID it to the fight!"
"It took you long enough to WING your way here!" Punch, kick, kapow! Bad Cop did a somersault to avoid a stream of bullets while rich people fled, screaming.
"I don't like it when people SKIRT around the law!" Batman yelled, and tackled someone.
Bad Cop flushed, kicked someone in the face, yelled: "Says the man wearing underwear over his tights! At least you're enjoying this CAPEr!"
Batman wrestled with the monocle guy, twisting an arm behind monocle guy's back. "I think we both look good. I figured you were wearing it for fun, like me."
"Of course you would, you weirdo." Bad Cop facepalmed. "My boss has weird tastes. Can you help me tie them up? Or give me a pair of pants? I am not talking to the responding officers in my panties."
Batman silently handed Bad Cop a pair of tuxedo pants and several pairs of handcuffs. Bad Cop kicked off the tiny shoes, pulled the pants on and started cuffing robbers.
"It's a good thing he came in his PENGUIN suit so he'd fit in," Batman said quietly.
"I knew he wasn't the Emu!" Bad Cop said, then coughed. "I guess we weren't WATER he was expecting. I think it was an ICE surprise to break up the monotony."
"It was a pretty BEAKY stunt to pull."
"We should have realized something was FISHY earlier."
"I'm glad we made sure he got a COLD reception."
The two of them stood; all of the robbers were cuffed. "I'll take them to jail," Bad Cop said. "You mind staying to give a statement? We could still use someone like you at Octan. And you look winded; take a break."
"Sorry, Bad Cop, but today I have to resist A REST!" Batman threw a smoke bomb; by the time the air cleared, he was gone.
Bat Cop screamed in frustration, then sighed. Felt around his pockets until he found his glasses. "Situations like this," he said, and put his sunglasses on, "just drive me BATTY."
"Take the pants off."
"Sir, I'm going to be on live television. You keep on telling me that kids wearing saggy pants and showing their underwear are a plague on our city, so I don't see why I have to show mine when I'm making an official report."
Business sighed. "Fine. But I want them gone when we get home." He pulled Bad Cop down into a possessive kiss, then wandered off to schmooze while Bad Cop watched the prisoners.
Bad Cop sighed. His boss really was a brat sometimes. At least he was in a good mood about the PR of having Bad Cop beat up the robbers and save the day.
"Excuse me. Is the fighting done?"
Bad Cop looked over; a man in a tuxedo was peeking out from behind a pillar. Rich people. He sighed again and nodded. "It's done. You can come out now."
The tuxedo guy came out; he had no pants, just boxers with little money signs on them. "Sorry. I ran and hid in the bathroom when the robbers came and, uh, I came as the Where Is Your Pants guy, there wasn't an accident." He coughed, straightened up, offered his hand. "I'm Bruce Wayne, from Wayne Industries. I'm assuming you're the brave man who took out the Emu?"
"The Penguin," Bad Cop muttered, blushing.
"Yes!" Bruce Wayne looked very pleased. "You must be a great fighter." He fished a pen and a business card out of his pocket, wrote something, and offered it to Bad Cop. "Here's my card if you ever think Octan isn't the right place for you."
Bad Cop blinked at the card and took it. Wayne winked at him, then walked off humming. Bad Cop watched him go, then took a good look at the card. There was Wayne Industries on the front; Bruce Wayne, CEO, and a few phone numbers. On the back was another phone number in shiny pen, and a note: you don't have to wear a maid outfit to work here.
Temptation throbbed in his chest. But. Business had given him and Good Cop a good job when few others would have, and Business loved Bad Cop very much the few times Bad Cop hadn't screwed up, and it'd be hard to find a place that paid enough to help him support his parents, and Business would be so sad and so angry if Bad Cop left him -
He couldn't.
Bad Cop tore the card up into little pieces. It was too dangerous to leave lying around. If Business had found it - well, it wouldn't be good that Bad Cop didn't have his helmet. Not to mention whatever would happen to that Bruce guy. Nope. Bad idea.
Besides, memorizing a few numbers was trivial for him. So if - if - say, he got injured on the job and needed a place to stay, or a place to lay low, or something, maybe he'd give the guy a call after all. After all, anyone Batman stole pants from had to be someone who wouldn't mind Bad Cop's weaknesses.