Work Text:
Bruce pinched at the bridge of his nose. Creaking eyes open and he could the city stretched before from his floor to ceiling office window. He understood that last year he and Dick made a bit of a fuss moving around like they did, but that was no excuse for this sort of treatment. He was Bruce Wayne dammit. And he had better things to do than sit on the phone an hour like this.
Besides, their headlines made a lot of people very happy. It wasn’t their fault that Dick had a habit of stealing the show. If anything the powers that be should be thanking them for making the Oscars relevant again.
“I’m sorry sir, I just got off the phone with the coordinator and they told me the same thing. You just can’t buy that many seats.”
“What do you mean I can’t? Let me speak to someone higher up.”
“We’ve already transferred you three times, sir.” He could hear the worker getting frustrated, but that was no excuse. He was frustrated too. Wasn't used to getting sidelined like this. Wasn't about to let anyone think it was okay.
“I’ll wait, I’ve got all day, boundless determination and a lifetime of getting what I want. AND WHAT I WANT IS FOR YOU TO STOP APPROACHING THIS PROBLEM WITH NEGATIVES AND GIVE ME SOME DAMN RESULTS ALREADY.” Maybe Bruce was overreacting a bit by yelling, but this entire ordeal was growing ridiculous. Besides, the other man on the line was near yelling himself too.
“Please, sir I don’t know what to say. They don’t let people buy more than 5 spots and even that’s only for special cases. YOU AREN’T EVEN A DIRECTOR OR PRODUCER OR ANYTHING! I JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND. WHY?”
“YOU DON’T NEED TO UNDERSTAND THEN, JUST TRANSFER ME UP BEFORE I HAVE TO MAKE ANOTHER CALL. AND WHY? WHY? BECAUSE I DAMN WELL SAY SO. DO YOU KNOW HOW ADORABLE MY WARD IS? DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH IT HURTS WHEN HE’S SAD? PRESS NOT GETTING SEATS MAKE HIM SAD. I WILL BUY EVERYONE SEATS AND HE WILL SMILE AND THAT IS THE END OF IT.” Bruce let out a shaky breath and cleared his throat. This was getting out of hand. “Now please, just get me the seats or transfer me to someone who can. I don’t care who. I don’t care if you have to wake them up or travel across the damn world. Make. It. Happen.”
Bruce heard the half muffled exasperated huff on the other end. But again, he was beyond caring at this point. Maybe he’d feel badly later, but right now? Nope. “Fine. Fine. At least you won’t be my problem any longer.”
When the transfer music started back up, Bruce let out his own huff. Clicking a red button along his desk and waiting a moment for his assistant to walk in.
“Yes, Mr. Wayne?”
“Tonya, thank god. Someone reasonable. I need you to find out who’s running the Oscars this year. Not the figurehead but who’s actually in charge and I need you to get them on the phone for me.” She almost looked confused for a second before nodding and walking back out.
Leaving Bruce to run a hand through his hair and sigh as he waited. An old framed picture on his desk of his and Dick's first year at the Oscars together, linked arm in arm with the boy’s favorite director causing him to smile. No matter how much grief, it would be worth it.
By the end of the day, Bruce Wayne had secured seating for over 60 press members. Catering to their section and a sense of looking forward to showing it all to his ward. It only took a few hours he’d never get back, a sizeable chunk from his personal funds and the added promises of a few favors. Nothing unmanageable.
Heading out to his car while the sky started to crackle and pout with heavy clouds. No doubt a good storm on it's way as the man climbed into the drivers seat. His text tone ringing and a message from Dick flashing on the screen.
Yes, it was all definitely worth it.