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Metropolis news outlets have been up in arms since a battle in the heart of the city brought the comfortable partnership of Superman and Batman into the light. Every gossip column and magazine has been going on about Gotham’s filthy, no-good, lowlife vigilante corrupting their Golden Boy.
But Gordon, oh, Jim Gordon knows that’s not quite the truth. Far from it, really.
You see, that blinding ball of hope and love in the sky is the one doing all the corrupting. Jim used to be able to have civilized conversations with the Bat. They got work done. The pair had a closure rate unlike anything the GCPD had ever seen. Batman had two things on his mind: vengeance and efficiency. He expected Gordon to be the same, and he was for the most part.
The commissioner had a few other things going on in his personal life. The ongoing divorce, what weekends he has the kids, and the next time he’ll have a day off. He had the self-control to keep the rest under lock and key because this partnership was too important. Batman is a no-nonsense kind of guy, and Jim’s attempts at personability were never acknowledged beyond a grunt.
But now?
It’s a bit like watching birds mate on Animal Planet. Who can puff up the biggest, make the shiner offering, take out the most enemies.
Jim once literally watched Batman offer the Kryptonian an admittedly nice rock he produced from one of the pouches on his belt. Superman took this rock like it’s the best thing anyone had ever given him. Jim seriously questioned whether Superman is the only alien.
The long and short of it is that Superman makes Batman an idiot. He still has the biggest brain Jim has ever seen; that isn’t in question. It’s just, the guy loses all ability to actually use that massive brain of his when the hero of Metropolis is so much as mentioned. Forget about having a productive conversation if the Man of Steel is nearby.
Now, here Gordon stands. He just spent nearly ten minutes giving Batman the lowdown on tonight’s agenda, only to realize the man was not paying attention in the slightest. He should have known from the distinct lack of hums and grunts.
Batman is staring just over Jim’s right shoulder, completely entranced. Jim takes a breath, turns, and his eyes land on none other than Superman.
He’s floating oh so patiently over a rooftop across the street. He isn’t looking at them, but rather scrolling on a cellphone. Jim assumes he’s been there the entire time, following Batman and waiting for their meeting to be done.
Gordon turns back to face the Bat, taking in the laser focus in his eyes. Jim needs that focus to be on him and not the alien over his shoulder.
“Did you get any of that?” After a moment of silence, Jim snaps his fingers in front of his partner's face. “Earth to Batman, are you listening?”
“I have it recorded.” Is the absent response Jim receives a beat later.
Admitting defeat, Jim sighs. As long as everything he asks gets done, the commissioner can let this slide. If it means Jim can make it home a few hours earlier, it’s a small price to pay.
“Fine, go see your boyfriend or whatever. Just please— and he’s gone.”
Jim didn’t even look away. How does he do that?
—
The commissioner has been standing on this roof for thirty minutes. It’s freezing, snow is starting to fall, and he wants to go home. The coffee clutched between his hands preventing them from getting numb went cold far too quickly. He’s about ready to resort to doing jumping jacks or jogging in place to get his core temperature up.
Jim checks his watch and looks up to the cloudy sky to make quadruple sure the signal is really lit. It’s their usual meeting night, just a little earlier than typical. Batman is usually pretty quick in responding to his meeting requests. If he can’t make it, he finds some way to send Jim a sign in return. So far, silence.
He’s a little worried about the guy, sue him.
Fuck, the snow is really coming down now. Jim can’t feel his fingers or toes, and his nose is sore and red. He really needs that file back, but goddamnit.
Decision made, Jim hurries over to flick the switch on the Batsignal off and heads to the elevator. He spams the down button like it will actually make the thing any faster.
Just as the elevator doors open, someone calls out.
“Commissioner!”
It’s Superman, not a hair out of place, perfectly dry despite the inclement weather. He’s carrying the marked file Batman was supposed to return to Jim tonight. Something about him seems… off, but Jim is too cold to think clearly enough to place it.
“I’m so sorry you’ve been waiting.” He apologizes, holding the folder out. “Here, B asked me to bring this over.”
B?
“He couldn’t make it himself? Did something happen?” Batman has never sent a proxy to a meeting.
“He’s, um, occupied?” Superman sounds uncertain.
“Occupied.” Gordon squints, unimpressed.
“Mhmm, he said everything you need is in there. Notes and all that.” The guy sounds and looks ready to bolt.
“Thanks, I suppose,” Jim says, ready for this to be over so he can get inside. “He’s okay, though?”
“Yep, just peachy.”
Jim nods, and Superman flies off when he says nothing further.
Batman is never peachy.
Halfway on the ride down, once his brain has begun to thaw, Jim finally figures out what was bothering him about the Kryptonian.
He was wearing one of Batman’s capes.
—
“Okay, this has to stop.”
This isn’t just a catch-up. Not a debrief on events passed. The GCPD is planning a full fledged sting operation to take out a drug ring, and Jim needs to know the Bat is on top of this. This plan cannot fall through; it could set them back months if it spooks the ringleader into hiding.
Yet, here they are once again. Jim is putting in the work to keep things on track, but Batman’s gaze keeps wandering. Superman isn’t even here. Jim looked around for any sign that the hero was waiting nearby, but he came up empty-handed.
“Sorry.” His voice is as gritty and gentle as ever, but Jim is familiar enough to hear the genuine guilt under the surface. Now Gordon feels bad; that’s not how this is supposed to go.
“I appreciate the sentiment, but I need to see a change.”
Silence. He needs to shift gears.
“Does he make you happy?” Jim questions.
Batman blinks, taken aback for the first time in Jim’s recent memory.
“What?”
“Superman, Man of Steel, Metropolis’ Golden Boy? You’ve been completely off your game the last few months that he’s been coming around.” Batman opens his mouth, displeasure clear in his eyes and a rebuttal on the tip of his tongue. “Ah! I’m not done yet. You still do good work, great work even, but this is starting to border on comedy. So tell me, does the person-shaped ray of sunshine make you happy?”
Batman is staring dumbly at the commissioner like he just grew a second, maybe even a third, head and suggested they start a book club with Joker. He clears his throat awkwardly as Jim waits, hands on his hips, for an answer.
“He does.”
“Does he know that?” Gordon pushes.
“We’ve spoken about it.” The words are forced out slowly, like they’re being dragged out against his will.
“Hallelujah, you can communicate in a healthy way.” Jim teases.
Batman grunts in protest, not offering any real words of defense. He knows better than to challenge Jim on his lack of interpersonal skills.
“Congrats and all that. I’m glad you found the golden retriever to complement your wet black cat.”
“Excuse me?” Gordon does not acknowledge the offense.
“Now, for the love of God, please get your shit together. I need Batman right now, not the lovesick fool in goofy kevlar.”
It takes a moment and a tense standoff, but the wandering in Batman’s eyes falls away. His gaze is back to the steady attention Jim is used to.
He can work with that.
It just needs to last.