Work Text:
"Get out."
Ghost-maker frowns, setting aside his katana, it had been another successful day for him. After all he had gotten to try his hand in battling a giant dinosaur, creation of the infamous toy-man. He's aware that the Justice league has had run ins with the kid before but he honestly doesn't get why they needed a whole team when he himself had managed to rid of the threat alone.
Just the mental image of grown men and women in tights having to take down an over eager child with a giant toy was laughable—the boy had great potential. It was disappointing that all of it went towards a life of villainy.
He hoped that after such a challenging battle he would get to wind down with the wine he had procured recently from Germany— or maybe enjoy a relaxing bath and a nice long nap before he went back to his other exciting cases. Instead he was now forced to deal with the very attractive intruder laying on his bed.
"Miss me?" Bruce Wayne drawled out—the man who should've been rotting away in his large Gothic castle set in the garbage pit that was Gotham. He looked every part of the spoiled rich prince he had made himself out to be to the public eye, and it was almost insulting that he thought the same shtick could work on the Ghost-maker twice.
"I'd really hate to ruin my sheets with your blood Bruce, but if it has to come down to it—" he starts, and yet the man doesn't waver. Instead of taking his threat seriously like any sane person, he just smiles and leans forward.
"Now don't be like that Ghost-maker.." he trails off, the blanket pooling around his lap hardly left anything to the imagination. He would even indulge it if he didn't know what game Bruce was playing.
"Get. Out." He growls, giving him one last chance to drop the charade and leave. Ghost-maker already detested repeating himself and his patience was wearing thin, had it been anyone else he'd have them dropped out of the jet and into the sea.
Maybe he should do the same with him, it was tempting.
"Don't be that way—"
"You do remember our truce don't you?" He interrupts, before Bruce could spew out some sentimental bullshit at him, Ghost-maker didn't have those attachments and nor did he miss people, least of all him.
Maybe if Bruce hadn't so callously thrown away his offer he would've welcomed the intrusion.
"You're not welcome here" he says, with a bit more force, yet he doesn't step away when Bruce gets on his knees and cups the helmet—as if he were cupping his cheek.
Ghost-maker tilts his head, not that he could actually feel the calloused hands through the protective material, If sending him away wasn't going to do the trick he could at least entertain the man until he's figured out his true motive.
"I missed you" Bruce whispered, his other hand rested on the Ghost-maker's chest plate. His tone was earnest—eyes filled with regret, an expression that looked all too familiar on his face. And that's what irked the Ghost-maker the most, that despite choosing a hopeless city over the greatness they both could've achieved he still had the gall to look remorseful about it.
"Do you honestly think I care?" He sneered, grabbing a fistful of Bruce's dark hair and knotting his knuckles into the thick curls, yanking it back as he leaned in closer.
"Kho—Ghost-maker-"
"You have two minutes to tell me your true intentions before I follow through with my plans to kill you" He finished, loosening his grip and untangling his fingers from Bruce's hair.
"I didn't mean what I said at the airport," Bruce says, which didn't need much clarification—Bruce's words had hardly stung and he's always taken pride in his psychopathy, it wasn't something he was ashamed of and Bruce knew this.
"Do you really want to waste your two minutes on this?'
"Aren't you lonely?" Bruce asks, pressing himself closer. He had the decency to be in his boxers at the very least—Ghost-maker let his gaze travel down, his shoulders taut and his fists clenched—Bruce deserved to get decked for that statement alone, but it was futile to expect sense from a man who had lost all of his a long time ago.
Ghost-maker didn't get lonely, he had the perfect amount of company—and had the ability to charm his way into any social interaction. He didn't need friendship getting in the way of his goals, he'd already made that mistake once.
"You know I'm not." He answered plainly, his voice leveled even as Bruce buried his face in the crook of his neck.
"I know that you're lying"
"Ah is that so?"
Ghost-maker found himself indulging Bruce more than he should've, it was entertaining to see him try and manipulate his way into getting whatever he wanted—he's truly perfected the art of espionage in his training with Avery, it would've probably worked on any socialite or crook he tried it on.
But the Ghost-maker was no mere socialite, he knew the game like the back of his hand, having mastered it far before Bruce and him had even met—like any artist he had a far better understanding of the fundamentals that went behind the final structure, and Bruce was still lacking. Not because he was incapable of it—but simply because Ghost-maker had more experience.
"Just for one night," Bruce pleads, his fingers wrapped around the white fabric of Minhkhoa's cape. "Let us pretend."
Ghost-maker takes off his helmet, the cloth bandana still perched on the top half of his face. his free arm wraps around Bruce's waist—gloved nails digging into pale skin.
"You're pathetic" he concludes before finally letting himself go.
Ghost-maker's eyes felt heavy, the soft cotton mattress stuck to his skin as he stirred, bunching up around his hips. He moved to cover his face his with his arm, only to find that he's unable to move them.
He tugs harder, opening his eyes only to find that his right arm had been handcuffed to the headboard, all of signs of Bruce gone—along with the dinosaur head from toy-man.
Idiot could've just asked.
He sat up, it took another half hearted tug for the flimsy chains of the handcuff to break. Ghost-maker almost felt insulted that the gothamite assumed this was enough to slow him down.
Calloused hands ran over the empty space, he wrapped the sheets around himself and sighed,he couldn't help but a feel a bit proud—it was almost cute how Bruce thought he was going to get away with this without any repercussions.
He had the audacity to steal from the Ghost-maker, instead of fighting for it like they used to—and no matter how cute it was it wasn't going to stop him from hunting the him down.
He sighed, laying back down on the soft mattress. He'd hunt him down after he's properly rested.