Work Text:
Bruce walks through one of the many floors of Wayne Enterprises, sipping from his mug of coffee as he observes the bustling workplace. Office workers donning white pressed shirts and slacks, blouses and skirts, litter the room. There’s a sense of consistency Bruce likes.
Of course Bruce fits in, in his own way. He wears very similar attire, a pressed business suit and tie. Very few of the workers approach him, but he can see them glance from the corner of their eye almost expectantly at him. Though he no longer holds the rank of CEO, which he had transferred over to Lucius Fox, he still has the influence and ability to provide input that could make or break an employee’s career, if need by.
However, it hasn’t really come to that; Bruce has been very distant from the company. However, he recognizes it’s best to keep up appearances. With these appearances, he can control the narrative of how people see Bruce Wayne, which protects both of his identities.
“Morning, Bruce,” Lucius says, stepping beside him. He’s drinking from a coffee mug as well. “It’s nice to see you. I know you haven’t been in the building in a while.”
“It’s still very familiar,” Bruce smiles. “But I’m sure there are plenty of things you can inform me about.”
Lucius does. The company has expanded, and though they refrain from certain topics in this area where they could be overheard, Bruce also fills in the gaps, having knowledge of how certain technologies have been worked on. His time as Batman does fill him in on some of Lucius’ work, of course.
Bruce nods at the appropriate times, and his eyes start to drift across the room. In the sea of mundane blondes, brunettes, the occasional ginger hair, and dark brown hair that almost appears black, he sees dark green. His smile fades.
“--and we can expect to see more improvement the–”
“I didn’t know the company allowed that kind of… vibrant hair color,” Bruce interrupts, nudging his head in the direction of the employee that caught his eye.
The one that stands out. The one that instantly makes him think of—
“Ah,” Lucius says. “We’ve become more lax with that kind of thing. Mr. Goff over there’s a good worker, I can’t imagine coming up to him and reprimanding him over his hair color of all things.”
Bruce makes an attempt to be subtle about his dire need to know more about Mr. Goff. “How long has he been working here? I don’t remember seeing him.”
“Just a couple months,” Lucius notes, a faint smile creeping up on his face. “You’d be surprised what you don’t notice, Bruce.”
Bruce laughs goodnaturedly, but feels a sense of panic.
They continue with their tour. Their last stop is over in Lucius’ office, and while Lucius is preoccupied, Bruce uses the computer to look up the employee’s file.
First name Jack, Last name Goff. As Lucius said, Jack has been working at Wayne Enterprises for only a short duration of time and has done excellent work with Wayne Tech. Though all the info can be compiled into a list of evidence, and therefore holds more credibility, it’s the employee photo that makes his fists clench and his heart race.
It’s the smile. It’s not the same as The Joker’s wide, chaotic grin of sharp teeth, mid-laughter. No, it is the same smile The Joker dons when he tells a punchline, a wry, smug smile. Bruce imagines he was thinking of this very moment when he had the employee photo taken.
He knows with absolute certainty it’s the Joker without even digging into the background info and identity. He would know that smile anywhere.
—
Bruce does his research, just to be thorough.
Jack Goff does appear squeaky clean, but it’s as if he just suddenly emerged one day in Gotham, no explanation of his past or where he came from.
It’s still completely possible for him to be The Joker, and this realization is what drives Bruce to find himself once again at Wayne Enterprises, overlooking the same scenery as before.
Jack Goff is in his cubicle, green hair setting him apart from the rest. Bruce watches him diligently type away and ponders what excuse he should make to talk to him. Should it appear as if it was a complete coincidence, having caught him on the way to get coffee? Should it be him strolling up to him, all too aware of how his presence as Bruce Wayne would intimidate Jack and his co-workers?
“Excuse me,” a voice rings out, a body squeezing past him. “You’re in the way of my coffee.”
Bruce looks towards the figure. It’s Jack Goff, who’s already moving past him, not even giving him a second glance. Jack had interrupted his thoughts so easily and so carelessly, and yet Bruce was like a speck of dust in his conquest of receiving an overly caffeinated beverage.
He has no choice but to follow, making sure to pick up a mug near the coffee maker. Jack begins preparing his coffee.
“You seem like the type to like sugar in your coffee,” Bruce muses. Jack’s head turns to him, and he looks him over inquisitively.
“What,” Jack says, slowly, “gives you that impression?”
Bruce opens his mouth to explain, but he watches as Jack’s coffee finishes being brewed, the man dumping loads of sugar into it, as well as coffee creamer. He’s hit by the thought that he wasn’t aware Wayne Enterprises provided so much to their coffee station, including several different choices of coffee creamer. Jack chooses vanilla.
“Looks like I was right, though,” Bruce points out.
“A good guess,” Jack says, sipping at his coffee. He looks at him expectantly. “Well?”
He’s thrown off again, realizing he still hasn’t thought of his motive, his way of getting closer to Jack. Then, he seems to remember who he is, that persona.
“I think we should get to know each other a little more,” Bruce suggests. “Maybe get some coffee sometime.”
“You mean when we’re not at your company?” Jack’s voice is flat, and one of his eyebrows arches. “I believe this could be considered an HR violation. I mean…”
“Me, asking you out on a date?”
“If that’s what this is,” Jack replies. It’s clear he’s suspicious, but Bruce supposes even he knows it’s not out of the realm of reality for Bruce Wayne to casually ask someone on a date, and, he would be a sucker not to agree. After all, Bruce Wayne is an interesting person.
“We can keep it a secret,” Bruce says. Jack just stares at him. “Our secret.”
This is when it seems to kick in for Jack that he’s being completely serious. And in that same moment, Bruce has the realization that he’s knowingly asking out The Joker, in an attempt to… find out more? Even he realizes this is a weird plan just to justify getting more information from Joker, but something tickles him at this game that they’re playing where they both know each other’s identities but won’t say it.
It does still terrify him that Joker knows Bruce Wayne is Batman, but it’s always been a reassurance that Bruce Wayne does not interest him the way that Batman does, which has given him the opportunity to appreciate the distance between them. At least until now, until he had spotted The Joker posing as a normal worker in Bruce Wayne’s company, creating the tension and the dissonance.
The Joker’s broken the status quo, and thus, he can only retaliate further, see if he can push his buttons, see if he can make him go away.
It’s a different game.
Jack’s mouth twitches and he turns away from him, placing the mug down. His body shakes in what Bruce presumes to be silent laughter. “I can keep secrets,” Jack agrees. “I’ll see you then, Mr. Wayne.”
Jack leaves. They never exchange contact information, but Bruce has already jotted down the phone number from his employee file, something that he thinks they both know.
—
Though Bruce had suggested getting coffee as their date, he finds that he’s not sure such a public place would be good for them to meet at.
He’s thought of the scenario an immeasurable amount of times, and he often considered whether he could really keep his cool when confronting Jack with the truth of the man’s identity. How would he be able to handle it when both of their masks drop? How would The Joker react, and what was he thinking with this plan?
He spends days thinking about it, and he wonders if the plan is just to mentally torment him.
Soon, though, he does text him, inviting him to a date at his mansion. There was no point in pretending he was not Bruce Wayne, and though the move could be interpreted as a man who’s being rather forward, he thinks both can recognize that this is a unique and volatile situation that should not take place in one of Gotham’s many cafès.
And of course he didn’t debrief his butler, Alfred. Alfred would surely think he’s not in his right mind, and sometimes, Bruce isn’t in the mood to hear about logic.
Jack appears at Wayne Manor a couple minutes late, appearing not at all stressed about his late appearance. He’s wearing a purple button-up shirt and black slacks, his hair having been gently sculpted with hair gel into a more up-right position. He also has a pair of black sunglasses he takes off as he enters the home. “You look well, Mr. Wayne,” Jack says with a smile.
“Please,” Bruce replies, “call me Bruce. We’re getting to know each other, aren’t we?”
“Sure.”
Bruce guides him into a dining room, at which point they run into Alfred. “Ah, Master Bruce,” Alfred says. “I see we have company. Would you like me to prepare anything?”
He can hear in his tone that Alfred is upset by not being informed, but he keeps it polite in front of company. As well, he can tell that Alfred does not suspect the true identity of his guest, which fills him with a dull curiosity, and almost anger.
Can’t he see? Jack, by appearance alone, fits The Joker so well that there might as well be a neon arrow pointing at him declaring him as the evil mastermind. Though his lips are bare, not adorned with crimson red, surely Alfred could recognize the shape in his smile, the harshness in his laugh?
“Yes, that would be perfect,” Bruce says. “Any requests, Jack?”
“Oh, no,” Jack replies. “I will leave it up to the chef. I’m not particularly picky.”
“Brilliant,” Alfred says. “I shall have it prepared shortly.” He bows and leaves the room.
“How useful,” Jack says. “But I imagine you’re used to that kind of thing, having a butler do everything for you.”
“Not everything,” Bruce amends. “But it is useful. I am in constant debt to Alfred.”
“I see.”
From there, the two fall into silence. They sit themselves down at the dining room table, chairs right next to each other rather than across the room. Bruce had been content with letting Jack lead the conversation, and perhaps the date entirely. As the minutes pass on, he wonders if perhaps Jack had the same thought.
Bruce frowns. The only thing he can really think of is that he could treat this like a real date. Without Joker leading, he has no idea what the man really wants.
“Tell me about yourself,” Bruce says, sporting a grin. “I’d offer the same, but I’m sure there’s not much else for you to know about me.”
Jack twists his hands but looks him right in the eyes. “I’m sure there’s plenty for you to tell, Bruce,” he enunciates slowly. Then, he fulfills his request. “My name’s Jack. I’m an orphan and I’m now pulling myself up by my bootstraps, as they say. Life was hard, but hey, it wouldn’t be fun if it was easy.”
His voice is dull, bored even, as if he was quoting from a book. Jack does not add any conviction to his tone, and he does not sound nearly as… dedicated or as emotional as the words would suggest. Bruce ponders if this persona being an orphan is meant to be relatable, but he’s sure even Joker would be able to sell it more, command some sort of empathy.
It’s so false.
“Ah,” Bruce says. “I see we have much in common.” He places his hands on the table, slowly moving them closer to Jack’s. They inch closer and closer until—
“I like long walks on the beach,” Jack continues, staring at him with some sort of urgency. “But more importantly, I like the ocean. The waves calm me. Sometimes, I use my vacation days from Wayne Enterprises to go to the beach.” He smiles then, a quirk of the lip that’s bashful.
Bruce brings his hands back to his lap, alarmed. Jack sounds… almost normal. As if he’s not… Joker. He’s unsure why, but he feels disappointment wash over him, and he doesn’t think it comes from just being wrong.
The truth was, Joker’s been inactive for a while. He hasn’t heard anything or seen anything that indicates some larger scheme, and it’s very unlike him to just sit around and do nothing. Bruce supposes that after he had seen Jack at the office and looked at the employee file, he had convinced himself that he had finally found him and found his scheme. Maybe it was desperation, then.
When he looks back up at Jack, his eyes are twinkling.
“That’s nice…”
“Do you like the waves, too?” Jack asks.
“They’re pleasant enough.”
The date continues with Jack appearing earnest. He shares more about his work, and Bruce does acknowledge he’s clearly talented, but even that is with a subtle disinterest. He knows now that he needs to make it through the date and just avoid him from here. There’s no point in pretense when he had truly never been interested in Jack at all.
It’s after the dinner that Alfred brings that Jack seems to see through him and question him. “Why did you ask me out?”
“I wanted to get to know you better,” Bruce replies, believing it sounds innocent enough. He doesn’t have to wax poetry about Jack’s looks or the charm of his personality when none of it had attracted him.
Jack places his silverware down, gently dabbing his mouth with a napkin. His head is angled downward. “Must not have been interesting enough,” Jack muses with a bitter scoff. “Though you’ve always been into the nutjobs, isn’t that right?”
“Excuse me?”
His words are so presumptuous, like he knows his true taste in partners. The lack of focus on him sets off an alarm bell.
“I’ve heard all about your… affairs,” Jack’s mouth twists. “Everyone in Gotham hears.”
Bruce relaxes. He was clearly referencing his playboy persona, but it is interesting that Jack’s noticing his lack of effort with this date. “That’s true,” he says. “Is it offputting to you?”
“Hardly,” Jack says. “But surely you would be a tad offended when your date isn’t as invested as you are.”
Invested? He hasn’t really seen Jack show that at all, unless he considers the man showing up at all to be investment. Bruce smiles charmingly. “I’ve just been distracted,” he murmurs. “But I see you now.”
Jack is pleased. He can see it in his face in how he relaxes. “Let’s play a game.”
The game, as Jack calls it, is another way to get to know each other. The two of them are so used to being on guard that they cannot be as honest as they want, even in the face of true companionship. The crux of it is telling the truth, while the other person discerns if it’s a lie.
Truth can be a weapon.
Jack starts first. “I use my wages from Wayne Enterprises for… unique purposes.”
“Define unique.”
“Extracurricular.” Jack smiles and this time, it’s razor-sharp, manic. Bruce has hit the goldmine.
Bruce calls it as truth then shares his own statement. “I’ve never kissed a man,” he says. He presses his hand down on the table.
“I find that very hard to believe,” Jack snorts. “You’re lying.”
“You want to make it a lie?” he offers.
Hook, line, sinker.
Jack does not resist the temptation, and Bruce wonders if this is something this whole night’s been leading up to. He scoots his chair closer to Bruce and leans forward, a hand aiming for the side of his face.
When their lips meet, Bruce closes his eyes, physically and to the truth of the matter. He can tell himself that he’s doing this because Joker’s probably done all of this just for this moment, but it would be a lie for him to say he’s not enjoying it. Him and The Joker have been on the cusp of this for a long time now, and maybe playing Bruce Wayne and Jack Goff is the only way for them to get what they want.
When they part, Bruce breathes in. Jack’s face lands itself in the crook of his neck, and he reaches his hand out to feel his hair. The strands are wild, messy. “You didn’t wear the lipstick,” he says, dismayed.
He feels Jack pause. Bruce knows he’s given it up now, ruined the game. Jack never wears lipstick, not in his employee file photo, not to this date, and never at Wayne Enterprises.
“Who do you think I am?” Jack pulls back, looking him straight in the eyes.
“You know who.”
“No, Bruce,” Jack retreats back to his chair, drinking the rest of the wine in his glass. He laughs dryly. “You’re projecting. You want me to be someone so bad, but I’m just… me.”
“You’re a nobody,” Bruce snarls, and shares his evidence like rapid gun fire. He aims to kill. “You have no history until you showed up at Wayne Enterprises. You show up just as soon as The Joker fades into inactivity, you show up to this date when we both know we want nothing to do with each other.”
Jack is silent, making no attempt to dispute it. Bruce continues, this time softer. “And that thing you said, about how you use your wages… I know that’s the punchline, using Wayne money to fund your crimes.”
He’s so sure of it he would bet money on it. He’s already calculated how much Jack has earned during his employment, and he had mused over the numbers, wondering how the thousands will appear in Joker’s work. How many bombs has he funded because of Joker’s sick game? How much death will there be?
How much will there be when he’s sure Joker’s going to walk out of the manor, unharmed?
These thoughts ring through his mind as Jack stands up, pushing the chair in before leaving the dining room. From afar, he can hear Alfred conversing with the man, thanking him and showing him the way out. But rather more pressing is the phantom sensation of when Jack had his lips on his, the way it had been soft, chaste, but enough for him to want more, enough for him to wish to be wrong.
—
Jack disappears. He doesn’t show up at work the next day, or the day after that. Soon, he finds that Jack had sent a letter of resignation over to Lucius.
Soon after, some of Batman’s patrolling reveals an informant about the latest Joker scheme. It’s a new plan, according to the informant, only days into the planning.
Bruce knows now what The Joker has done. At first, he assumed it was like he said, the novelty and amusement of using Wayne money to fund crimes, and he still maintains that it’s part of it. The crux of it, however, is the fact that The Joker has completely dismantled him, dissected him for his amusement.
In that farce of a date, he had learned much, had seen his truth, and thrown it in his face. Joker played an interesting character that was easy to find, easy to scrutinize, and easy for him to spot The Joker within.
“You’re projecting.”
Because as much as he told himself he had seen the truth and was obsessed over uncovering it, he knows that he wanted it to be The Joker. He never wanted to get to know Jack, never wanted to know about his family or his fascination with the ocean.
He wanted Joker’s madness. The man knows it, and had even stolen a kiss. Or, rather, take what Bruce was so willing to offer.
He had seen Batman within him, too.