Chapter Text
Bruce’s fingers nervously clamp around his untouched glass of whiskey as he feels eyes burning into the back of his head, He grimaces at the feeling, uncomfortably shifting on his seat. He really should’ve considered that his playboy persona Bruce Wayne would stick out like a sore thumb, certainly in a place like…this.
Bruce lets his eyes wander, quietly gawking at the other customers in the bar. Loud pop music thrums in his ears as his eyes briefly roam over a group of masculine figures sitting at a table. He can see them smiling and laughing, their mouths moving animatedly as they engage in excited conversation. A knot ties itself into Bruce’s stomach as he watches them, being unashamedly themselves. Their eyes sparkle almost as much as their brightly colored sequin-decorated T-shirts.
It’s so unfair, Bruce thinks, why is it so easy for them?.
It takes some effort to tear his eyes away and he feels his throat tighten in the familiar feeling of jealousy. This was a mistake, Bruce concludes bitterly, and he moves to alert the barman. As the barman moves towards him he places payment for his drink onto the bar top, adding a considerable tip. The red headed man thanks him as Bruce slides off the barstool and Bruce briefly flashes him a smile, but it does not reach his eyes. Bruce briskly strides towards the exit and pushes through the entrance doors, quietly closing them behind him. His heart jumps in relief as he feels a cold breeze hit his face and the familiar smell of Gotham fills his nose.
Bruce allows himself to lean against one of the walls of the building and he lets out a strained sigh before covering his face with his hands and throwing his head back. After a few moments Bruce lets his hands slide down his face, and his fingers pull slightly at his skin as his hands travel down. Bruce's eyes peer into the night sky, half hoping and half dreading seeing a bat-shaped symbol draped across the gray clouds of this dark summer evening. As he stares up into blackness, he finds nothing in return.
Bruce flinches as the doors open suddenly next to him and when he whips his head towards the sound, he’s greeted by brown eyes and a soft smile. “Hey! Bruce, right?”, the man asks, before walking closer. “Yeah?” Bruce answers, and it sounds more like a question than a confirmation. The other man nods and settles for leaning back against a spot next to Bruce, hiking one of his legs up against the wall behind him. The stranger digs inside his pocket and pulls out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes, taking one out of the box and offering it to Bruce. “Want one?” the man asks, and Bruce shakes his head. “I don’t smoke”, Bruce explains, and the unknown man shrugs. “Suit yourself”, the man mumbles as he pulls his hand back and puts the cigarette in his mouth, lighting it for himself. The fire from the lighter illuminates the angular features of the man’s face and Bruce suddenly recognizes him as one of the group members from the group of men he was staring at earlier. “You don’t drink either, do you?” the stranger asks, and there’s a slight tinge of amusement to his voice. Bruce hesitates, and the man continues: “You were in there for like, what, four hours? I didn’t see you take a swig from your drink once.”
“What’s your name?” Bruce asks, deliberately changing the subject. “Elias”, the man answers, not pushing further to get an answer out of Bruce. “You know,” Elias starts, tapping a finger thoughtfully against his chin, “I am curious what a man like you is doing out here at a bar like this.” Elias shifts so his shoulders are turned towards Bruce, signaling his curiosity.
”I mean, I know what I’m doing here, but you?” Elias points to him with his cigarette, smoke swirling from the top, “I wouldn’t take you for that kind of guy. I mean, with women, sure, but-” Elias cuts himself off, leaning back and putting his cigarette back into his mouth. He takes a drag and blows out a cloud of gray smoke, before speaking again.
”You know what, never mind. I really shouldn’t ask. I’m sorry.” Elias grins apologetically and Bruce smiles back, a genuine smile this time - appreciative of the other man’s respect for his privacy. “I guess I’m just figuring things out”, Bruce acknowledges, deciding to indulge the friendly man.
“Wanna figure it out with me?”, Elias jokes, wiggling his eyebrows - an invitation. Bruce laughs in response and actually considers it for a moment. Bruce glances at the other man and takes his time to actually look at him in earnest, scanning his facial features. It’s much easier now than back in the bar to make out the slight curve to his painted lips, his high cheekbones and the tiny creases around his hazel brown eyes - their warmness accentuated by gold eyeshadow. In short, he’s handsome, and Bruce feels a nervous tightening in his chest. Elias’ expression softens, obviously having noted the way Bruce was looking at him. “You know, I am single”, he whispers, lowering his voice and stepping closer to Bruce. Tentatively, Elias reaches out his hand and touches Bruce’s, briefly caressing his palm before intertwining their fingers. Bruce’s heart jumps in his throat at the gesture, but he accepts the touch and rubs the other’s hand with his thumb before turning his body to face the other man. Bruce wants to say something, but he can’t, and he settles for nodding instead. Bruce reaches up with his hand and brushes it against the stranger’s cheek, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. Elias kisses his palm and smiles at him again and Bruce feels like he’s going to have a heart attack. “You can kiss me, if you want”, Elias says, and Bruce does.
The man’s lips are soft and gentle and allow Bruce to take the lead. Bruce closes his eyes and moves his lips against Elias’ and Bruce notices the crazy beating of his heart has suddenly stopped. Frowning in confusion, Bruce pulls the other man closer to him and kisses him more deeply. Elias keens in response and grabs at Bruce’s hips and when Bruce searches his body for a response to Elias’ touch he finds nothing but a feeling of wrong. When Elias slips his tongue inside Bruce’s mouth, an image flashes in Bruce’s mind’s eye. Bruce gasps in response, pulling away immediately. Elias looks shocked, his cheeks tinged pink and eyes wide. “What’s wrong?” the man asks, a worried tone to his voice, “Too far? I’m sorry, you seemed so into it.”
“N-no, no it’s okay, it’s just…” Bruce’s voice trails off, and he runs a hand through his hair. He wrecks his mind for a possible explanation that doesn’t sound absolutely insane, and comes up with: “It’s not your fault, really. I’m just…”
not in love with you.
He doesn’t say it out loud, but from the hurt in Elias’ eyes Bruce thinks that the other man was able to figure out that part on his own. Elias untangles himself from Bruce’s body and folds his arms in front of his chest.. “...I think I should go.”, he announces firmly, and Elias doesn’t wait for Bruce’s response before making his way back into the gay bar.
As if Bruce’s day couldn’t get any worse, it started raining halfway through his walk home. Alfred greets Bruce at the door as he’s folding his jacket. “How was your evening, sir?” the butler asks, signaling to Bruce with his hands that he wants to take his jacket from him. Bruce’s mouth twitches downwards and his forehead creases as Bruce’s face takes on a sad expression. “It was fine, Alfred.” Bruce answers, handing Alfred the wet cloth. Alfred takes the hint, but casts a worried look at him before leaving the room. Mindlessly, Bruce travels through the countless rooms of the giant house until he reaches his bedroom and he lets himself fall face-first onto the silk sheets. He kicks off all his clothes except for his underwear and starts doing what he does best: brooding. He thinks back to the events that have unfolded over the past year. He allows his mind to wander, one memory after another playing like a film in his mind’s eye.
Vicki. Harvey. Lucius. Gordon. Oswald. Harley. Bane. Freeze.
…John.
Bruce pushes his hands against the sides of his face and groans, trying to get the image of John out of his mind. Why did he remember kissing John, right then, while kissing Elias? Why did his body respond like that to the memory of John? It didn’t mean anything. It shouldn’t. We were drunk, for god’s sake! I’m not gay!
Bruce continues berating himself for several more hours, until sleep eventually overtakes him.
He’s sitting in the Ha-Hacienda with John. John’s laugh rings in the air as he hands him another beer. Bruce takes it. There’s already four empty ones next to him on the floor. Wait, how did he even get here? Bruce’s mind is slow from the alcohol. Trying to think under the influence is like wading through mud knee-deep without shoes. It takes him a while before he remembers. Oh yeah, he’d asked John if he could have one of those Prizca beers so he could bribe Bane into liking him. John had agreed, but only if he’d drink one with him after. One had turned to two, turned to three, turned four and on an empty stomach Bruce had quickly started feeling the effect of the alcohol. Bruce looks at the label on the back of the bottle. 6.6 %: not bad, not good - at least he wasn’t a total lightweight. “Last one, John.”, Bruce states, “After this, no more.” Bruce’s speech is slightly slurred as he speaks, having trouble enunciating the words. John chuckles in response, amused by Bruce’s demeanor. “Sure, buddy. Last one. Cheers!” John brings his bottle towards Bruce’s and Bruce complies, clinking the two bottles together. Then Bruce presses his lips to the bottle and throws his head back, drinking most of the bottle in one go. He immediately regrets his actions as he starts heaving into the Ha-Hacienda’s trash can and John starts cackling in the background. “Bruce, I can’t believe you’d do that! You’re really something, you know.” John, who’d been sitting in a wheelchair, slides out of the chair before plopping down next to Bruce. Their thighs touch as John clinks their bottles together again, smiling, before taking a swig. Bruce watches John’s Adam's apple bob as he swallows, transfixed by the sight. “I think you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” John admits, after wiping away the excess beer from his mouth with the back of his hand. His green eyes meet Bruce’s again and Bruce feels an inexplicable feeling bloom in his chest. John tilts his head slightly, and Bruce can see John’s eyes trace every part of Bruce’s face. “Do you know you’re really handsome?” John asks, and it doesn’t really feel like a question at all. Bruce pauses at that. He plays with his beer bottle absentmindedly. “Yes?” he answers, tentatively, analyzing John’s face for his reaction. John grins. “Good. With that face and that famous Bruce Wayne charm, you really can get any woman you want. Even Catlady, I’m sure.”Bruce scoffs. “Catwoman is attractive, John, but I’m not sure if I want her to be my girlfriend. I can’t trust her.” John’s grin wavers at that, and his expression turns thoughtful.
He pipes up, suddenly: “Bruce, can I ask you something? As my friend?”, John inquires. Bruce’s eyebrows shoot up, interest piqued. “Of course, John. What’s up?”, Bruce says, putting his beer down on the ground and turning his body towards John to signal his willingness to listen. John wrings his hands together nervously, before starting to talk. “Remember, before your first meeting with Harley, when I told you about my secret? In the alley? I can’t help but keep thinking about how you asked me if…If I was in love…With you. Why…Why did you ask me that?” As John stares at him with puppy-dog eyes, Bruce’s body turns ice-cold with fear before turning red-hot with shame and self-loathing. He stumbles over his words as he attempts to justify why. “I just thought- um, you know, you always compliment me and- and I really didn’t mean anything by it, I swear.” Bruce raises one hand while placing the other on his chest as he talks, as if making an oath of honesty. There’s doubt in John’s eyes. “Bruce, be honest with me”, John presses, “are you in love with me? I won’t be mad. Pinky swear.” John wiggles the pinky finger of his left hand, reminding Bruce of the promise they made back in The Stacked Deck. Bruce’s face feels hot. The alcohol may as well be a truth serum, because he blurts out: “Maybe. I don’t know. I’m not sure.”
“Ah”, John replies and says nothing more, opting to stare at his beer instead. Bruce mentally kicks himself. Now what, detective genius? Oh yeah, this will definitely help your investigation. Great thinking, really. You just got into his good graces and now you confess you may-or-may-not be in love with him. That never ruins any friendships. Just as Bruce opens his mouth to tell John it was all a joke and to never mind that, John turns to him with a sparkle in his eyes like he’s just come up with the best idea ever and says “How about I kiss you. I bet that would help you figure it out!”
Before Bruce can protest, John wraps his arms around Bruce’s neck and presses his face to his friend’s. As John’s mouth envelops his own, Bruce’s lips tingle like there’s electricity coursing through his veins and his mind goes completely blank. It’s silence before the storm, because a wave of desire crashes over him as soon as John’s lips start moving. Bruce’s hands shoot up to grip onto John’s shirt for dear life, as if he fears that if he doesn’t John will be swept away with it. Before Bruce can well and good process his feelings about what’s happening, it’s over. John pulls away, looking at him expectantly. “So?” he asks, and the grin on his face makes Bruce want to pull him back in. Oh. Fuck. He really is in love, isn’t he?
But he doesn’t want to ruin his friendship with John, so he says: “To be honest, I still don’t really know. I don’t think it matters-” And then John is kissing him again and Bruce forgets all about decency and promises and rules and maybe the alcohol has something to do with the fact he eventually starts kissing John back.
When Bruce leaves the Ha-Hacienda, his hair is slightly disheveled and he’s wobbly on his legs. If he wasn’t drunk, Bruce would’ve noticed Freeze shooting him a knowing glance but Bruce is, so he simply waddles off to call the Batmobile to take him home - vowing to never drink again.