Work Text:
A clammy, sputtering wind sailed into the nethers on rotten wings, distasteful in texture and flavor as it ghosted down the sordid streets of lower Gotham City. Strolling languidly, heels clicking against the uneven cobbled sidewalk, an innocuous figure circumvented a steaming sewer cap before turning down a menacingly lofty and leering alleyway. Stale air whispered across his goose-pimpled ears, tangling in his auburn hair, and he sighed, carding away a loose strand. He shoved his hands in his pockets, frowning. Kicking angrily at a stray pebble, he tried not to ruminate on how he’d just been stood up and left to find his own way home. Following the movement of his toes across the filthy concrete, it wasn’t until the man had taken a wrong turn that he noticed the steady thumping of footsteps behind him.
Lex Luthor froze.
Heart crawling into his mouth, a quick cascade of saliva rolled down the man’s throat in tandem with a spider-like vice of panic. Slowly, he turned around.
“Can I help you, gentlemen?”
The masked figures said nothing. There were three of them, clad in bulky black and impervious cracked leather. Lex blinked, shaking his head so he might banish the apparitions. Harsh metal flashed brightly in their palms, clashing with the darkness that permeated the brick walls around them. They did not evaporate like wraiths into the night, but advanced.
“I-” Lex chuckled, the fingers of one hand twiddling in the air beside his head. “I apologize, I do believe you have the wrong man.” He smiled, taking a small step back, eyes darting around in a frantic search for any means of escape. Ducking between the tallests’ legs - no, that wouldn’t do. Scaling the building - no, the fire escape was too high.
And he was too slow. Glinting steel turned to a fine needle-point sting against his throat. Gasping for air, Lex was thrown against the alley wall, hissing as the knife broke skin and an infinitesimal drop of blood pooled beneath his jaw. “Is this really nece- ah!” A large hand clamped around his throat, and he saw stars.
Luckily, he saw something else too.
Like a specter that haunted his happiest dreams, a harbinger of his liberation, there was a flutter of fabric, a barely-perceivable flourish of capes.
A leisurely grin broke across Lex’s face.
The Batman struck.
It was like watching a ballet - all elegant twirls, fluid movements from point A to point B, efficient and deadly and captivating. The first man fell without a fight, an unconscious heap, the second quickly after. The third jerked like a cornered animal, letting loose his grip on Lex’s throat. Lex slumped to the ground, breathing greedily and blinking away the water from his eyes so he could watch the show.
Forsaking his knife for the rough hilt of handgun, the thug spun clumsily, heavy hems of his pants-legs dragging the ground. He let loose a round, two, into the empty space in front of him, legs spread in a ridiculous defensive stance. Lex chuckled breathily, watching as the man cocked his head at the sound long enough for a fist clothed in midnight to connect with his skull.
Closing his eyes and letting slip a relieved sigh, Lex listened to the groaning thump of his assailant barrelling to the ground. When his lids peeled open a pair of chasmic brown eyes were watching him intently, mere inches from his nose.
Lex smirked playfully. “Regretting not coming to dinner?”
Bruce didn’t reply. Lex sighed in resignation, holding out his arms for the other to take. Bruce helped him to his feet, guiding Lex’s hands to his armor-clad shoulders and kicking at the shorter man’s shoes. Lex sighed again, making a show of rolling his eyes as he stepped onto the other’s boots. He grumbled testily, ignoring Bruce’s sigh as the caped crusader unclipped a grapple-gun from his utility belt and shot it skyward, hooked ends catching the building above with a sharp clink.
Narrowed eyes kept careful track of the minutia of expressions that flitted across Bruce’s face as they rose through the air, wind whistling against rubber and denim. Lex disliked the costume - thought it was a nuisance, impractical - but what always drew him in were the gleaming eyes that caught the light, standing out like the beacons of a lighthouse against a sea of darkness, summoning lost souls from the roiling waves out of which they could only pray to be delivered.
That’s what Bruce Wayne was, and Lex didn’t always like that.
The view wasn’t impressive, but once they were safely on the rooftop of what appeared to be a sleazy hotel Lex took the time to appreciate what he could see of Gotham. Wayne Enterprises twinkled in the distance, a starscape of innovation and hope for the future. Stepping away from his personal elevator, Lex smiled to himself, head tilted fondly. Just beside the gargantua Art Deco specimen stood the sleek modernist rise of LexCorp’s new corporate center.
That’s where they belonged. Not out here. Though Wayne Manor would have to do for now.
“Stay here.”
Lex’s face fell. He closed his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m sorry, I think I misheard you,” he said, turning and smiling threateningly.
Bruce was unmoved. “Stay here.”
“Here,” Lex repeated incredulously. “On the roof.”
“On the roof.”
“ Why? ”
Bruce offered no further explanation, silhouetted against the skyline. “Alfred’ll pick you up in a little while.”
“ A little while. ”
Lex was almost grateful Bruce didn’t reply, choosing to disappear into the night the same way he’d come: phantasmically. When the Bat was no more Lex stomped across the roof petulantly, plopping down and crossing both arms and legs. He huffed, and he huffed again, as if the sounds of his frustration would summon the orthodox butler.
It was an entire sixteen minutes before Alfred showed up, and Lex agonized over every grueling second. When the tell-tale grind of glossy wheels on concrete reverberated from the street below he leaned over the negligible plaster roof lining, smiling as pleasantly as he currently could. “Hello, Alfred!”
“Good evening, Lex,” the man replied, impeccably dressed in tweed as always. His thick glasses reflected the odious, foggy light of the nearest street-lamp, making his warm smirk near-imperceptible in the blinding glare. “Might I direct you to the nearest fire-escape?”
“Please do.”
The car ride passed in near silence, Alfred inquiring after Lex’s well-being before closing the partition and allowing him his peace. Resting his forehead against the clean glass of the Lamborghini, the rhythmic thumping of Michelins against jagged road gave way to smooth passage through the suburbs, lulling Lex into slumber.
When next he woke, dawn had risen from the ashes of darkness, and so too had given way Batman to Bruce Wayne.
The man’s smile was impish, out of place on the scruffy multi-billionaire, but Lex loved it all the same. Bruce had obviously just laid down, as he was still in a filthy t-shirt and slacks from his night on the town. Gaze dripping with fondness, setting aside the man’s crypticism and repulsive habits, Lex ran a hand through Bruce’s short hair. “Morning.”
“Morning.”
“I thought you were nocturnal.”
“I thought you were upset with me.”
“I am. Indeed, I am, but I’ll yell at you later.”
“You never yell at me.”
“Sleep.”
“You gripe, and you seethe, but you never yell at anyone.”
“Wayne.”
“You grumble, but you’re fine with it.”
“Bruce Wayne. Sleep.”
“Right.”
As much as the hours between twilight and sunrise drove Lex up the walls, it was moments like this he coveted. Bruce Wayne was his in these precious seconds, and as long as he had that he would relinquish his hold on the man he loved when dusk fell over Gotham City.
Come talk to me on tumblr!