Chapter Text
Jim is sitting alone in the Batmobile.
Batman is currently casing a decaying apartment building, looking for any signs of the drug ring the pair have been looking into the last few weeks. A new drug entered the market round about two months ago that acts a lot like DMT and Scarecrow’s Fear Gas had a horrible, nasty child. The mayor instructed the GCPD to get to the bottom of it ASAP, one of the few things Gordon has agreed with the guy on over the last few years. While the Bat goes searching, Jim is supposed to keep watch for any one going in or out of nearby buildings just in case their info isn’t perfectly on the mark.
The only issue with that plan is that Gotham has been a crisp 4°F since the sun set, and the wind this close to the river is only making it worse. Jim knows how to layer for the weather in this city, he spent enough time on foot patrol in his early years freezing his ass off to learn his lesson. There are just some days when no level of precaution is enough to keep you from losing a toe, especially when you don’t know how long you’ll be waiting. It also doesn’t help that Jim forgot to look at the forecast before work. The temperature was a reasonable 52°F when he stepped out for this pre-breakfast smoke this morning. His outfit decision based on the morning’s condition rendered him entirely unprepared for the drastic dip.
At first, he accepts the next couple hours will be miserable, hoping Batman will do his best to not leave the commissioner standing around for too long. After a moment of internal battles, the Bat offers to let Jim take up residence in the passenger seat of the Batmobile (He just calls it ‘my car’, but Jim likes the sound of ‘Batmobile’. Mainly because the Bat doesn’t. The papers are usually full of utter garbage but that headline was a good one.), taking Jim off guard. Gordon accepts the offer, not shocked in the slightest when the vigilante reveals the car is already in the alley with them, hidden in the shadows cast by broken streetlights.
Now here he is, sitting in what might be the most comfortable seat Jim has ever felt in his entire life, resisting the urge to press buttons. The engine is off (Jim can’t imagine a car as fast as this one can idle perfectly silent), but the heat is running and all of the doodads on the dash are lit up. This thing is either fully electric (also unlikely given the way it growls during a chase) or has multiple power systems.
The important takeaway is that he has options and who knows if he’ll ever get to be in here unsupervised again. Besides, how much harm could turning on the radio do? There hasn’t been so much as a stray cat and Jim can only take complete silence for so long.
Making his best guess, praying he doesn’t set off some kind of alarm or emergency system, Jim pushes a few buttons and sighs in relief when he hears quiet music streaming from the speakers. Locating the volume knob, Gordon turns the dial up a few levels.
He is not at all ready for what plays. It takes the commissioner a moment, but he manages to place the voice. He used to hear through Bab’s door all the time back in her middle school days.
It’s My Chemical Romance.
The Bat listens to My Chemical Romance.
A little more haphazard navigation and the little red alphanumeric LCD display in the center showing the date, time, temperature changes.
INPUT | CD Radio AUX
The Black Parade | My Chemical Romance
Track 4
The Sharpest Lives
1:34/3:20
Babs is going to be thrilled. Now that he has the information, it makes a lot of sense. The piece fits perfectly into the puzzle that is Batman that Jim has in his mind. Dresses like a bat, fights crime for the love of the game, jumps off of skyscrapers instead of using the perfectly functional elevator, listens to MCR. Perfectly reasonable addition, right?
Content to be serenaded by whatever this guy’s name is (Gerald? Gerrod?) Gordon continues his watch. He finds himself humming along to bits he remembers and before long the disc loops back to where he started from.
He decides to get greedy. Jim rummages (gently, this thing is organized to hell and back) through the glovebox and the center console to no avail. Where else would be in reach of the driver’s side? He leans over, fumbling for anything under his seat, and his fingers brush against a handle. With one solid tug a little drawer opens. There is a leather CD case sitting next to some miscellaneous items like batteries and screws. It’s clearly well used, the leather is soft and shines from years of handling.
Jim picks it up, feeling the heft, and pulls the zipper around to start shuffling through. He sees a few names he recognizes and a few he doesn’t.
Black Veil Brides, Breaking Benjamin, Deftones, Green Day, more My Chemical Romance, a few by Nirvana, Pierce the Veil, Sleeping With Sirens, Three Days Grace, and many more. It’s organized alphabetically first by artist and, based on the ones Jim knows a bit about, then by album release date. Each disc has a sticker on the back of the sleeve with the title, artist, and tracklist. Very much the Bat’s style.
Jim glances at all of the tracklists before ejecting the current disc, securing it back in the corresponding labeled sleeve, and popping ‘Collide With The Sky’ in. He vaguely recognizes a few of the titles from Bab’s talking about them.
The fifth track is about to end when Batman repels down the side of the building. He signals the all clear, waiting for Jim to return the gesture before approaching. For a moment he contemplates scrambling to cover his tracks. There’s no way he can manage without looking suspicious.
The driver’s side door swings open and Batman pauses a moment too long before getting in and pulling the door shut.
“What are you doing?” The vigilante asks, turning the volume down so it’s barely audible.
“It was too quiet, I wanted a little background noise.” He explains.
“This isn’t the last thing I had in.” Jim can’t see his eyes, but he sounds like he’s squinting.
“Oh, I finished that one. I uh… did a bit of snooping and found the ones under the seat.” He does his best to sound casual. “Babs had a phase a few years ago, I recognized a couple that she used to listen to. Made me nostalgic, I guess.”
The barely there expression on the other man’s face makes Jim’s chest feel squirmy. Like a kid that got caught and is trying to dupe his way out of the consequences. His own reaction feels a little ridiculous. It’s just Batman, he may be a bit of a stickler but he’s not an unreasonable guy.
“Hm.” The vigilante hums.
Another moment of silence before finally: “There were signs of recent activity—”
This addition to the puzzle doesn’t change anything, not really. Jim doesn’t want it to. Nonetheless, Gordon feels like he’s seeing, really seeing, the guy next to him for the first time. Under all of that kevlar and control is just a kid that took the saying ‘it’s not a phase’ to heart. Jim admires that he didn’t let the world tell him who to be, even if dressing up as a bat to fight crime is a bit on the extreme side.
For all its quirks and oddities, Jim wouldn’t trade this partnership for the world.