A Secret Admirer
Feb. 15th, 2007 12:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shankieThis is my sappy Valentine's day story, which I couldn't get up yesterday because there was a blizzard, so the library closed rather suddenly on me.
A Secret Admirer
Bruce/Wally, DCAU, PG-13
Who's sending Batman little gifts and love-notes? That's what he'd like to know.
Batman didn’t like mysteries.
He was expected to, of course. Expected to like detective novels; he left that to Alfred. Expected to like something raveled; he liked things to be unraveled, thank you. Or at least, things that could be discovered.
There was a heart-shaped box of chocolates sitting on his bed in the Watchtower. And it was the last straw.
For weeks now, little gifts, little notes in a script so elegant it was strikingly old-fashioned, and completely unfamiliar. The notes he matched against every writing sample he had of anyone with access to the Watchtower, which was admittedly not everyone, and found nothing. He would be able to see if it was a match in disguise, but every one was lacking a strange flourish, hasty, almost incongruous with itself.
The box of chocolates was added to his collection in the top drawer of his desk, where he could have them at hand to examine, but keep out of sight. He was only keeping them to examine them. He was. He didn’t have time for romantic nonsense, not even today. Especially not today.
Batman was certain that J’onn had something to do with this, but he refused to say a word, or do anything but give him a blank look when he approached the subject.
A little black teddy bear with a red ribbon around its neck. It looked soft, but he hadn’t touched it without his gloves. It made him want to stroke the silky fur against his cheek, and he didn’t like that he didn’t understand why. It was a trivial thing, it was likely bought at a supermarket. An antique book of early archaeological theory. A snow globe with tiny bats instead of white particles, falling around an exaggerated haunted house scene, complete with a little ghost in one window. A hand-knit scarf in tones of gray, silky soft yarn.
He couldn’t imagine who would think he would want these things, even if they were touching in their simplicity.
He opened the first note in the little pile, glancing over it briefly, as if to find some unseen clue.
The act doesn’t fool me.
There’s a heart inside that chest, I’ve seen you bleed enough to know. You’ve said it a hundred times, that you don’t need anyone, so I won’t try and make you need me.
I just want you to know.
It was straight out of some teen drama.
He hoped it wasn’t Kara, that would make things even more tense with her cousin, and he didn’t need that right now. To be another thing that made Clark angry, as so much seemed to do these days. Not to mention her horde of admirers that would be out for his blood if it was discovered.
He didn’t think she would write something like that, though. And was frustrated by not being able to figure out who would.
Bruce closed the drawer, then paused and opened it again, taking out the box before he did shut it. It was wrapped in red cellophane, with the remains of a price label that had been peeled off, sticky on the back.
Despite being rather standard in appearance, he had to admit, the chocolate was very good. He let one melt on his tongue, until caramel tingled sweet past the dark coating, and chewed thoughtfully. He idly thought he should have had it tested and examined first, but there was just something so… honest… about all of it. Even for the mystery.
Even the mundane of the League didn’t pause for a holiday, especially such a minor one, and he was quickly on his way to a council meeting to discuss the aptitude of their new recruits.
Passable, all, so it should be brief enough.
Batman walked in to take his seat, the others standing about chatting about nothing, all but Flash. You’d think the fastest thing on planet Earth would be punctual.
You’d think.
And just as he thought it, a red blur ran past, sat down, then ran back to him, now a curious looking Flash staring at his lips. At least, that was what he was fairly certain he was doing, and a suspicion crept into his mind.
No. It couldn’t be.
“Uh, you’ve got um…” Flash gestured at his mouth, and then Bruce felt a little brush against his lip, but it had been too fast; he never saw the other man move. “Chocolate. Why Bats, you dog.”
Bruce had several unexpected reactions to that. The most unexpected being a sudden hope that it was him. Because he was so... warm.
Flash grinned and vanished into his seat, putting his feet up on the table, and taking them down again when Diana shot him a look that needed no translation.
* * *
When Bruce transported down from the Watchtower, Alfred was waiting; with a letter in his hand. He frowned curiously as he took it, and looked it over; a plain white envelope, no return address or postage. Just the familiar script with his name on the front in black letters.
“Who delivered this?”
“It was with the mail, sir.”
He dusted the letter and the mailbox for prints, but found only those of himself, Tim, Alfred, and the postman on the box, and nothing on the paper but smudged ones obviously from sale and not the writer.
All before he actually opened the thing, which he was surprised at himself for being hesitant to do. He could guess what it’d say; something along the lines of the others, of affection always careful not to use words like ‘affection’ or ‘love’ but were unmistakable in their intent.
He held it still sealed while he checked the security footage on the front drive, but the only visible approaches to the mailbox had been by the postman.
Too fast to see.
* * *
Wally knew that he couldn’t just keep stalking the Bat in his weird fanboy reversal anymore. Wasn’t going to do another thing, because if he had already figured it out, he obviously thought it was dumb and wanted to kick his ass. And if he hadn’t… well, maybe that was better.
He totally knew that the Bat would never want anything to do with him, no doubt, that was fine. He got that. He had no idea why he’d been doing it to begin with, he just… wanted to.
Wanted to think that maybe, just once or twice, he’d made the Bat smile. The idea made Wally absurdly happy. Giddy, even.
Wally and his man-crushes. He sighed, and stopped for a moment in his running at The World’s Largest Frying Pan and re-lived this fantasy he had where the Bat… or more specifically, the chisel-chinned blue-eyed playboy giving him the Batman look… was one of his flings back in college.
Dating guys didn’t generally go over well in a police station, lab rat or no. So he hadn’t, and whatever, because he was generally more of a statuesque brunette type. Only generally women.
‘Course, blondes were nice, too. And redheads, because, you know, had to stick together.
Wally laughed at himself and kept going; a slow cruising pace, but not really paying much attention to anything but the changing terrain just in front of his feet. Just thinking.
The faces and glimpses of the bodies of women he’d been with fluttered through his mind. Short, tall, curvy, skinny… God he loved women. Got all frisky just thinking about it.
And then there was this guy who almost never smiled and dressed kinda like he should be wearing a bullwhip and a dildo with that utility belt, and that was so hot. So hot. In like, that way you never ever reveal to anyone else for any reason because is also twenty kinds of wrong.
And he really wasn’t going to do this with him anymore. It was fun, and yeah, maybe he did want him to figure it out, but he was going to leave him alone now. Leave the poor Bat in peace to go thrash some purse-snatchers.
He ran back to Central City, waving his way through the rush-hour traffic on the bridge and feeling pleased with himself, because that sign on the bridge did nothing to quell his ego.
As usual, things were as they should be here, and nobody needed his help beyond a nice old lady who’s dog had gotten away after a squirrel and gave him one of those Werther’s Original candy things.
The windows downtown were all full of hearts and pink and it was all terribly cute.
The caramel candy was still sitting on his tongue when he went home for a snack and rushed out of his costume and into boxers to putter around in the kitchen, unwrapping some frozen pizzas and turning on the oven to warm up.
He didn’t realize there was someone in his living room until his third trip through, which in and of itself left him a little dumbfounded as he stopped in his tracks. And utterly speechless when he realized who was standing in his living room.
Bruce Wayne, in a suit. A black power suit, like he did on TV and stuff, only he was in Wally’s living room. Not looking at all like he did on TV, because he was giving him the Batman look and…
Wally realized he was in his underwear and ran away.
Not just to his room, but actually away, just going farther and father until he realized that was kinda stupid. But now that he was gone, he was terrified to go back.
Batman was totally in his apartment. Not in a uniform. Which meant… Wally didn’t know what that meant. He doubted that he was there to make a business deal or something, because it wasn’t like Wally was rich, or knew much about that kind of stuff. Maybe he did know what that meant, but that was even more terrifying to even think about… Bruce Wayne in his apartment. Standing there, waiting for him, right now. Right this second.
Wally stopped, and that made his feet cold, because he was standing in snow. He had to go back. If he didn’t, he’d have to quit the Justice League and never show his face anywhere ever again.
“You have to be a man,” he said to his reflection in an abandoned gas station window, “be a man. You can do it. Yes you can. Manly. Very, very manly.”
Batman was really, really manly.
Must have a veritable harem of hotties stashed away somewhere. Right?
But he was in Wally’s apartment.
Wally went back, changed into twenty things before deciding on jeans and a white t-shirt, simple, classic, didn’t mean anything, totally neutral. He counted to a thousand, and walked out into his living room.
Bruce just looked at him, and he just looked back, because he couldn’t for the life of him think of a single thing to say. And when he did start talking, he kinda wished he hadn’t.
“That tie is really nice, what is that, silk? It really brings out your eyes.” He nodded and tried not to look petrified.
“Thank you, it is.” Deep, silky velvety voice that made Wally think of listening to smooth jazz for some reason. Not like the Batman voice, not like the TV voice. Somewhere in between. “Actually, that’s why I’m here.”
“Your tie?”
“I wanted to thank you properly.”
A million pornographic things flashed through Wally’s head. “Oh. I was kinda wondering about that, because, I mean, you’re here, and why would you be here, right? I mean, you’re like big and important and I’m sure you’re also very big…” Wally bit down on his tongue to shut himself up.
Bruce was smiling. Not like one of his ‘I’m totally the man’ or creepy ‘Batman is totally going to own your ass’ smiles, ass, oh God…
“So, uh, you got me, huh?”
“It would appear that way.”
Wally curled his toes into the carpet. Bruce stepped closer.
There wasn’t a single scar on his face. Bruce’s face, which was coming closer still, and Wally had to remember to breathe and almost fainted. Fainted, like some love-struck, silly little…
Bruce looked at him like a question, and must have found the answer in the resoundingly yes somewhere in Wally’s utter lack of being able to control himself, because he reached his hand behind Wally’s head, running his fingers through his hair and sending shocks of tingly sparks into his now very interested manhood.
And then he kissed him.
Just a soft, warm kiss, his lips against Wally’s for an eternal second.
Wally was still standing there in shock when Bruce left, licking his lips in amazement, humming with it. He was so surprised he never thought to follow him until he was surely gone.
“Oh man,” he whispered. “Man oh man oh man that totally just happened.”
It totally had. And he was back to wondering what was going on kinda, although that was a pretty darn clear message, now wasn’t it? Or was it? Maybe he was just being nice, and wanted to…
There was a heart-shaped box sitting on the sofa.
It was a red candy box, but not like one of the ones you get at a store, because all the writing on the front was in German or something and it was really nice, and the inside had this expensive crackly paper stuff over the chocolate.
Over that was a chocolate-scented note that was thankfully in English, just three words in neat no-nonsense black letters.
Happy Valentine’s Day.
A Secret Admirer
Bruce/Wally, DCAU, PG-13
Who's sending Batman little gifts and love-notes? That's what he'd like to know.
Batman didn’t like mysteries.
He was expected to, of course. Expected to like detective novels; he left that to Alfred. Expected to like something raveled; he liked things to be unraveled, thank you. Or at least, things that could be discovered.
There was a heart-shaped box of chocolates sitting on his bed in the Watchtower. And it was the last straw.
For weeks now, little gifts, little notes in a script so elegant it was strikingly old-fashioned, and completely unfamiliar. The notes he matched against every writing sample he had of anyone with access to the Watchtower, which was admittedly not everyone, and found nothing. He would be able to see if it was a match in disguise, but every one was lacking a strange flourish, hasty, almost incongruous with itself.
The box of chocolates was added to his collection in the top drawer of his desk, where he could have them at hand to examine, but keep out of sight. He was only keeping them to examine them. He was. He didn’t have time for romantic nonsense, not even today. Especially not today.
Batman was certain that J’onn had something to do with this, but he refused to say a word, or do anything but give him a blank look when he approached the subject.
A little black teddy bear with a red ribbon around its neck. It looked soft, but he hadn’t touched it without his gloves. It made him want to stroke the silky fur against his cheek, and he didn’t like that he didn’t understand why. It was a trivial thing, it was likely bought at a supermarket. An antique book of early archaeological theory. A snow globe with tiny bats instead of white particles, falling around an exaggerated haunted house scene, complete with a little ghost in one window. A hand-knit scarf in tones of gray, silky soft yarn.
He couldn’t imagine who would think he would want these things, even if they were touching in their simplicity.
He opened the first note in the little pile, glancing over it briefly, as if to find some unseen clue.
The act doesn’t fool me.
There’s a heart inside that chest, I’ve seen you bleed enough to know. You’ve said it a hundred times, that you don’t need anyone, so I won’t try and make you need me.
I just want you to know.
It was straight out of some teen drama.
He hoped it wasn’t Kara, that would make things even more tense with her cousin, and he didn’t need that right now. To be another thing that made Clark angry, as so much seemed to do these days. Not to mention her horde of admirers that would be out for his blood if it was discovered.
He didn’t think she would write something like that, though. And was frustrated by not being able to figure out who would.
Bruce closed the drawer, then paused and opened it again, taking out the box before he did shut it. It was wrapped in red cellophane, with the remains of a price label that had been peeled off, sticky on the back.
Despite being rather standard in appearance, he had to admit, the chocolate was very good. He let one melt on his tongue, until caramel tingled sweet past the dark coating, and chewed thoughtfully. He idly thought he should have had it tested and examined first, but there was just something so… honest… about all of it. Even for the mystery.
Even the mundane of the League didn’t pause for a holiday, especially such a minor one, and he was quickly on his way to a council meeting to discuss the aptitude of their new recruits.
Passable, all, so it should be brief enough.
Batman walked in to take his seat, the others standing about chatting about nothing, all but Flash. You’d think the fastest thing on planet Earth would be punctual.
You’d think.
And just as he thought it, a red blur ran past, sat down, then ran back to him, now a curious looking Flash staring at his lips. At least, that was what he was fairly certain he was doing, and a suspicion crept into his mind.
No. It couldn’t be.
“Uh, you’ve got um…” Flash gestured at his mouth, and then Bruce felt a little brush against his lip, but it had been too fast; he never saw the other man move. “Chocolate. Why Bats, you dog.”
Bruce had several unexpected reactions to that. The most unexpected being a sudden hope that it was him. Because he was so... warm.
Flash grinned and vanished into his seat, putting his feet up on the table, and taking them down again when Diana shot him a look that needed no translation.
When Bruce transported down from the Watchtower, Alfred was waiting; with a letter in his hand. He frowned curiously as he took it, and looked it over; a plain white envelope, no return address or postage. Just the familiar script with his name on the front in black letters.
“Who delivered this?”
“It was with the mail, sir.”
He dusted the letter and the mailbox for prints, but found only those of himself, Tim, Alfred, and the postman on the box, and nothing on the paper but smudged ones obviously from sale and not the writer.
All before he actually opened the thing, which he was surprised at himself for being hesitant to do. He could guess what it’d say; something along the lines of the others, of affection always careful not to use words like ‘affection’ or ‘love’ but were unmistakable in their intent.
He held it still sealed while he checked the security footage on the front drive, but the only visible approaches to the mailbox had been by the postman.
Too fast to see.
Wally knew that he couldn’t just keep stalking the Bat in his weird fanboy reversal anymore. Wasn’t going to do another thing, because if he had already figured it out, he obviously thought it was dumb and wanted to kick his ass. And if he hadn’t… well, maybe that was better.
He totally knew that the Bat would never want anything to do with him, no doubt, that was fine. He got that. He had no idea why he’d been doing it to begin with, he just… wanted to.
Wanted to think that maybe, just once or twice, he’d made the Bat smile. The idea made Wally absurdly happy. Giddy, even.
Wally and his man-crushes. He sighed, and stopped for a moment in his running at The World’s Largest Frying Pan and re-lived this fantasy he had where the Bat… or more specifically, the chisel-chinned blue-eyed playboy giving him the Batman look… was one of his flings back in college.
Dating guys didn’t generally go over well in a police station, lab rat or no. So he hadn’t, and whatever, because he was generally more of a statuesque brunette type. Only generally women.
‘Course, blondes were nice, too. And redheads, because, you know, had to stick together.
Wally laughed at himself and kept going; a slow cruising pace, but not really paying much attention to anything but the changing terrain just in front of his feet. Just thinking.
The faces and glimpses of the bodies of women he’d been with fluttered through his mind. Short, tall, curvy, skinny… God he loved women. Got all frisky just thinking about it.
And then there was this guy who almost never smiled and dressed kinda like he should be wearing a bullwhip and a dildo with that utility belt, and that was so hot. So hot. In like, that way you never ever reveal to anyone else for any reason because is also twenty kinds of wrong.
And he really wasn’t going to do this with him anymore. It was fun, and yeah, maybe he did want him to figure it out, but he was going to leave him alone now. Leave the poor Bat in peace to go thrash some purse-snatchers.
He ran back to Central City, waving his way through the rush-hour traffic on the bridge and feeling pleased with himself, because that sign on the bridge did nothing to quell his ego.
As usual, things were as they should be here, and nobody needed his help beyond a nice old lady who’s dog had gotten away after a squirrel and gave him one of those Werther’s Original candy things.
The windows downtown were all full of hearts and pink and it was all terribly cute.
The caramel candy was still sitting on his tongue when he went home for a snack and rushed out of his costume and into boxers to putter around in the kitchen, unwrapping some frozen pizzas and turning on the oven to warm up.
He didn’t realize there was someone in his living room until his third trip through, which in and of itself left him a little dumbfounded as he stopped in his tracks. And utterly speechless when he realized who was standing in his living room.
Bruce Wayne, in a suit. A black power suit, like he did on TV and stuff, only he was in Wally’s living room. Not looking at all like he did on TV, because he was giving him the Batman look and…
Wally realized he was in his underwear and ran away.
Not just to his room, but actually away, just going farther and father until he realized that was kinda stupid. But now that he was gone, he was terrified to go back.
Batman was totally in his apartment. Not in a uniform. Which meant… Wally didn’t know what that meant. He doubted that he was there to make a business deal or something, because it wasn’t like Wally was rich, or knew much about that kind of stuff. Maybe he did know what that meant, but that was even more terrifying to even think about… Bruce Wayne in his apartment. Standing there, waiting for him, right now. Right this second.
Wally stopped, and that made his feet cold, because he was standing in snow. He had to go back. If he didn’t, he’d have to quit the Justice League and never show his face anywhere ever again.
“You have to be a man,” he said to his reflection in an abandoned gas station window, “be a man. You can do it. Yes you can. Manly. Very, very manly.”
Batman was really, really manly.
Must have a veritable harem of hotties stashed away somewhere. Right?
But he was in Wally’s apartment.
Wally went back, changed into twenty things before deciding on jeans and a white t-shirt, simple, classic, didn’t mean anything, totally neutral. He counted to a thousand, and walked out into his living room.
Bruce just looked at him, and he just looked back, because he couldn’t for the life of him think of a single thing to say. And when he did start talking, he kinda wished he hadn’t.
“That tie is really nice, what is that, silk? It really brings out your eyes.” He nodded and tried not to look petrified.
“Thank you, it is.” Deep, silky velvety voice that made Wally think of listening to smooth jazz for some reason. Not like the Batman voice, not like the TV voice. Somewhere in between. “Actually, that’s why I’m here.”
“Your tie?”
“I wanted to thank you properly.”
A million pornographic things flashed through Wally’s head. “Oh. I was kinda wondering about that, because, I mean, you’re here, and why would you be here, right? I mean, you’re like big and important and I’m sure you’re also very big…” Wally bit down on his tongue to shut himself up.
Bruce was smiling. Not like one of his ‘I’m totally the man’ or creepy ‘Batman is totally going to own your ass’ smiles, ass, oh God…
“So, uh, you got me, huh?”
“It would appear that way.”
Wally curled his toes into the carpet. Bruce stepped closer.
There wasn’t a single scar on his face. Bruce’s face, which was coming closer still, and Wally had to remember to breathe and almost fainted. Fainted, like some love-struck, silly little…
Bruce looked at him like a question, and must have found the answer in the resoundingly yes somewhere in Wally’s utter lack of being able to control himself, because he reached his hand behind Wally’s head, running his fingers through his hair and sending shocks of tingly sparks into his now very interested manhood.
And then he kissed him.
Just a soft, warm kiss, his lips against Wally’s for an eternal second.
Wally was still standing there in shock when Bruce left, licking his lips in amazement, humming with it. He was so surprised he never thought to follow him until he was surely gone.
“Oh man,” he whispered. “Man oh man oh man that totally just happened.”
It totally had. And he was back to wondering what was going on kinda, although that was a pretty darn clear message, now wasn’t it? Or was it? Maybe he was just being nice, and wanted to…
There was a heart-shaped box sitting on the sofa.
It was a red candy box, but not like one of the ones you get at a store, because all the writing on the front was in German or something and it was really nice, and the inside had this expensive crackly paper stuff over the chocolate.
Over that was a chocolate-scented note that was thankfully in English, just three words in neat no-nonsense black letters.
Happy Valentine’s Day.
no subject
on 2007-02-15 09:32 pm (UTC)Wally and his man-crushes.
My favorite line!! *bounces about*
no subject
on 2007-02-16 07:03 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-02-15 09:32 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-02-16 07:04 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-02-15 10:08 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-02-16 07:05 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-02-15 11:16 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-02-16 07:06 pm (UTC)I'm still working on the other one, but I got daunted by sorting through piles of handwritten chapters. Doh.
Thank you! :)
no subject
on 2007-02-16 01:49 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-02-16 07:08 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-02-16 06:02 pm (UTC)I miss these kinds of stories with Bruce and Wally! ...Apparently my cat enjoys lying on me as I read such ._.
Thanks!
no subject
on 2007-02-16 07:11 pm (UTC)I'm glad you liked it. :)
no subject
on 2007-02-20 04:08 am (UTC)no subject
on 2007-02-22 12:45 am (UTC)no subject
on 2007-03-22 06:35 am (UTC)http://community.livejournal.com/dccbatflash/
no subject
on 2007-11-21 09:30 am (UTC)Awesome.
no subject
on 2007-11-21 10:41 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-09-11 07:32 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-19 02:14 am (UTC)no subject
on 2011-07-04 02:14 am (UTC)I hope it inspires you to continue.
no subject
on 2012-09-03 08:15 pm (UTC)My heart. I think it turned to goo.
This was so cute & sweet.
I love it!!