#he frequently gossips with Lex Luthor

[tvobsessivefanatic]

The Justice League knowing Bruce's Civvie ID aside, have they never consider the thought of Bruce Wayne being a Villain/Crime Lord?

Bare with me right now.

A majority of the Gotham elites are corrupt or some kind, and with Oswald Cobblepot, Black Mask, and Harvey Dent ending up being Rogues to prove that point, its normal to doubt literally any Gotham elite.

And It's most definitely normal to doubt Bruce Wayne.

He's got the Villain backstory. Dead parents? Grew up in a crime infested city? The CEO of a multi billion dollar worth Company? One of the most suspiciously successful men in the globe? Has a butler who quite literally looks like he'd be a secret agent? He's got it all! Gotham is lucky he didn't end up actually becoming a Villain. Not to mention, the similarities and the comradeship with Lex Luthor, a publicly known nemesis of a Justice League member(cough cough* Superman).

What about all the fundings and donations you ask? Since a majority of them are perfectly timed after a certain catastrophy happens or quite literally raising fundings for a rebuild of some property damaged from a fight or so, they think it's just Bruce trying to fix the flaws of his plan, fixing the mistakes of the people he is in charge of, and so on.

Even the Villains and Rogues have the same opinion about Bruce. The way they see Bruce Wayne changing his whole personality and posture whenever a threat is around, the way his glare shows the calculative and knowing glint all over, and the way he negotiates and make deals with the seriousness and the coldness of his whole presence. They know Bruce is definitely onto something.

Being suspiciously nice and too skillful as a public celebrity may be a mistake on Bruce's side

But at least no one would think Bruce is Batman... This is somewhat better than that.

[deathtrapnest]

A Philosophy of Violence

fandom: DC / references to Smallville but not really Smallville characterization?

characters: Bruce Wayne & Lex Luthor (non pairing)

warnings: N/A general/no ships

summary: Bruce and Lex have a history with each other. (Bruce and Lex boarding school fic).

READ @ AO3

When Bruce was eleven years old, he’d punched a reporter in the face and smashed his camera. It was his first year at boarding school- Excelsior Academy, an elite prep school in New England where only the children of the uber rich were accepted. Bruce was a quiet and unhappy child then- stoic and pale and precociously fierce. It was not uncommon for him to get in fights with the other children when he’d first arrived. He was small, and an orphan, and children of privilege are cruel. But after some time he was more or less left alone, because it didn’t take very long for the other children to realize that no matter how much older, or bigger, or stronger the bully was, Bruce Wayne, short and thin and pale as he was, would rather be beaten into the dirt than ever yield and once a wrong was done against him, even if it was delayed, Bruce would find a way to retaliate against the person in equal measure. In no time at all Bruce only had to give his best glower to send his would-be tormenters running. They learned what usually followed his glares. More than that, Bruce was indifferent to the teasing and it was no fun to pick on someone so apathetic.

He had good grades but was not well liked by his professors. Was athletic but did not socialize well. An enigmatic student who talked to others very rarely but was talked about frequently. For most, the incident with the reporter faded into a tapestry of other similarly exciting and mysterious things Bruce did while at Excelsior Academy.

While Bruce’s behavior often seemed inexplicable there was one person at least who knew the truth behind the reporter incident because he’d been the key witness as well as the instigator, and that was Lex Luthor.

Lex Luthor was four years older than Bruce and also a scion to a large family fortune. Lex also had excellent grades and was also unpopular. Lex’s father was infamous in the corporate world and many of the father’s of the other students of Excelsior had been undercut or swindled by him in some way or another, leaving his son vulnerable to their intergenerational hatred. His unpopularity was amplified by the fact that Lex had lost his hair from some illness or accident that had left him completely bald at age nine. The gossip pages in the newspapers at the time had reported on it with a note of schadenfreude toward Lionel Luthor, maybe some thought it was retribution that misfortune fall his young son after a lifetime of evil doings. Headlines called him the ‘hairless heir’. Lex’s peers deemed him a freak of nature and from the time of his enrollment he was a frequent victim to the older, bigger, and more mean spirited boys. 

Whatever inner core of strength that Bruce had that made him impervious to the type of cruelty his schoolyard enemies tried to inflict on him, Lex was lacking it. While Bruce seemed immovable, Lex was quick to fury, and he hated to be picked on by people who were physically dominant to him but who were intellectually inferior to him- which was nearly everyone. What Lex had, instead, was an almost neurotic, strident, ambitiousness that manifested itself in the schoolroom, in their fencing matches, in chess club or debate team. But the desperation of this ambition, the neediness of it, only provided more ammunition to his classmates who could now add being a know-it-all to his list of flaws and who lived to see him fail. His high intelligence and drive was to them just another thing that made him a freak, in need of being knocked down a few pegs.

Lex Luthor and Bruce Wayne lived in the same dorm building in Bruce’s first year but were not particularly friendly. That was why it seemed strange to the other students who’d seen it, that Bruce had punched that reporter for Lex.

It had been a grey Tuesday and they’d been walking with the rest of the students from the dorm to class, when a camera had flashed abruptly and Lex had blinked, disoriented. A few of the other kids parted out of the way or kept walking. It wasn’t so unusual for young Luthor to be ambushed by paparazzi who’d snuck onto the grounds. His father’s name was rarely out of the paper and a quote from or photograph of his sickly, freakish, son often added an extra draw to the article. But that day it was different.

The reporter shoved a tape recorder next to Lex’s mouth and said “I’m from The Inquisitor. Do you have a statement you’d like to make about your mother’s death?”

Lex didn’t speak. He didn’t look like he had the capacity to at that moment, though his lips parted. All the color had drained from his face.

“Our sources at the hospital confirmed her death at 5 A.M. this morning. Is there a reason you weren’t present at the hospital at the time of her passing? Have you spoken to your father? What are the plans for the funeral arrangements in Metropolis? Is it true your father was having an affair with her nurse?”

Lex’s silence continued. His eyes were set on some far away point, unseeing. Like he’d exited his body and it only remained upright by some quirk of gravity. Because it was the first he was hearing of it. So his mother was dead.

And then Bruce punched the reporter. He’d had to stand on tip toes and swing upward to achieve it but the blow was impactful. And the reporter doubled over, grabbing at his nose which was bleeding. And Bruce grabbed the man’s camera and smashed it on the ground. It shattered, leaving a corona of broken glass and black plastic across the pavement and a sound that echoed in the ensuing silence.

Bruce did this all wordlessly and with a detached, matter-of-fact, attitude.

The reporter began to yell in protest but Bruce had calmly taken hold of Lex’s arm and was pulling him behind him, and to the reporter he said simply “We have to go to class now.” And walked away.

He had blood on the knuckles of the clenched hand at his side, and the bruising on them that would linger for days would be the only evidence Bruce showed that anything had occurred.

Bruce and Lex continued to not be friends after that day. The next year they both switched dorms and lived on separate sides of the campus. Lex, being a few grades higher, only occasionally crossed paths with Bruce and their interactions were often unremarkable and furthermore, not very warm. In fact, despite that brief act of camaraderie that they’d shared on that day, the two had seemingly grown apart in opposite directions.

By the time Bruce was fourteen he was in talks to be advanced a grade, was excelling in his martial arts extracurriculars and spoke four languages. Lex, by then a senior, had developed his own power at the school. With a turning point at roughly sixteen, Lex had begun to grow into himself physically and at the same time developed a penchant for bad behavior.

With a keen business sense inherited from his father, it came as no surprise that Lex was highly enterprising but his newfound extracurriculars were far from school approved. In short, he was running a thriving import-export of cocaine, marijuana, and various prescription drugs between Metropolis and the dorms. Not that drugs on a prep school campus were anything unusual but Lex excelled at nearly everything he put his mind to. He’d effectively cornered the majority of the market of the campus and it was rumored that some of what he sold was even cut with something of his own creation, made in the chemistry lab after hours, something that was already starting to gain a reputation on the streets and in the clubs of Metropolis. That part may have been nothing more than a rumor, after all, Lex himself denied it when it was brought up- laughing off that he had no real interest in pharmaceuticals, adding cryptically that aerospace and engineering would be the front on which the principle corporate battles of the next century would be waged.

It seemed Lex was able to get away with all this because he was additionally running some sort of blackmail racket that had maneuvered the head of the science department as well as the dean of students, and who knew how many other adults at the academy, effectively under his thumb. The adults weren’t the only ones. The other kids still called Lex a freak, but now they were too scared to say it to his face. Lex had achieved what he’d always wanted- he wasn’t liked by the other students but they were in his pocket and many of them feared him- or at least the more impressionable of them did. But Bruce was hardly impressionable.

Bruce found Lex’s behavior distasteful and made no attempt to hide his distaste. It wasn’t that Bruce was a stickler for the academy’s rules, which he himself often shirked, but as could be exemplified by the incident with the reporter as well as many others, Bruce had his own personal code of honor and when it came to that, he was unyielding.

On the other side of it, Lex certainly never acted like he owed Bruce any favors. In fact, he resented him. And he hated having any competition to be the smartest person in the room. They rarely went head to head academically, being in different years, but the school hardly seemed big enough to contain the force of two personalities like theirs. And in the fencing club, they frequently sparred, with a wordless vigor they seemed to reserve only for each other.

If either of them were less were less apathetic about it, it could almost be referred to as a rivalry. But it never really reared its head in any decisive way until that last year, in the garden, and yet at that time there were no witnesses to verify it.

It was a spring day when the campus air was heavy with heat and the perfume of lilacs, when Bruce slipped the procession of students in their perfectly pressed khakis and oxford shirts on their way to class, and took refuge in a hedge of hemlocks, coming out the other side into one of the campus gardens. He checked over his shoulder, between the leaves, to see if he’d been observed but no one had paused or backtracked to find him. The gardens on the campus were beautiful in the spring, bursting in blooms of kingsblood tulips and hellebores in preparation for tours of incoming students and parents and the spectacle of commencement. A water fountain bubbled a few yards away and in the shade were placed benches baring the names of former donors on gold plates along with the school’s latin motto- “memoria pii aeterna.”

And on the bench shaded partially by a syringa reticulata shedding white petals, Lex was reclining, longs limbs splayed elegantly in a louche, overly orchestrated pose, his bare head cocked slightly askew in thought, a copy of The Genealogy of Morality balancing on his knee but translated in Mandarin. The whole scene looked staged. Like he was waiting for someone to show up to take his picture.

Just eighteen years old and a late bloomer, he was at the age where his body kept abruptly adding inches to his limbs without warning and his khakis ended a little short, revealing a glimpse of bare ankle. He’d always been slim but now there was an artistic angularity to his form whereas before he’d seemed so ungainly, almost colt-like. And Bruce knew from his experience of him in a duel that when he moved he was as lithe and swift as a snake. After years of being mocked for his appearance, he’d grown into himself and despite all odds, was… handsome. Even his baldness which had always made him stick out in a crowd among other teenagers, lent him a sort of mysterious allure and made him seem more mature. Only a slight softness at the curve of his jaw belayed how young he really was.

When he noticed Bruce he looked up and smiled, casual and lazy, like his mouth had nothing better to do so it might as well do this, though his eyes were sharp as they ever were.

“Wayne.” He said. “What are you doing here?”

Bruce gave a last glance through the bushes to see his classmates retreating, not noticing his absence, before turning.

“Hiding out.” he didn’t bother lying. Not to Lex. “I don’t want to go to English class.”

“Really? I saw Mrs.Timm in the hallway earlier today. She’s wearing one of those low cut cashmere sweaters that show off her cleavage. You might want to reconsider.” Lex mused without looking up from his book, dabbing his fingertip with the tip of his tongue before turning the page.

Bruce shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged his shoulders. “Is that a matter of interest?”

“Or lack thereof?” Lex said, still pretending to pay more attention to his reading than on Bruce. But Bruce saw his eyes slide in his direction, searching for a reaction, before returning to the page.

Distantly, someone in the school building was doing a violin tutorial and the Bach Chaconne in D Minor echoed harsh and tinny over the grounds. Must have been a freshman. The sound was making Bruce’s jaw twitch.

He strolled further into the clearing, invading the invisible border of Lex’s domain, where the smell of the flowers was headiest. He usually avoided Lex but if he left now, he’d likely be caught by a teacher. Though, having detention might be better than having to make conversation.

“Nice reading choice.” he feigned interest. “Didn’t know you could understand Mandarin.”

The corner of Lex’s mouth curled, cat-like. “Oh, I just picked it up recently.” he said breezily, as if it was the sort of thing one picked up as casually as learning a new card game.

“Why aren’t you in class?” Bruce asked.

At this, Lex perked up, finally looking away from his reading. “Haven’t you heard? I’ve already been early accepted to Princeton and Metropolis U.” His chin tilted back slightly, his shoulders falling back, unconsciously preening for Bruce’s benefit. “Scholarships from both, of course. Not that it was much of a surprise. With my SAT scores, they’ll practically pay me just to go to their school.”

Unsurprising, Bruce thought, that Lex’s ego would flourish under such attention. He made a half hearted attempt to suppress a scoff. “Like you need the money.”

Lex acted like he hadn’t heard him, continuing in a bitter tone, “So I hardly bother showing up for class here anymore. The median IQ of the room usually barely tops 100. I’m sick of politician’s sons and society brats who lack the imagination to aspire to be anything more than a parasite that feeds on familial wealth. Taking on some nominal position under their father’s companies.”

Lex had always adamantly said he wanted to build something separate than this father’s empire, even when he was a kid. They had a notoriously bad relationship. While other children came back from spending holidays with their parents looking joyful and with arms laden with new gifts and expensive clothes, Lex always came back from holidays looking pale and fragile, ever since his mother passed.

“And you really think Princeton will be any better?” Bruce asked skeptically.

Lex waved his hand dismissively. “I already have the knowledge to be a graduate from any of these schools. What matters is the resources and connections they can provide. Once you’re an adult you have ownership over your own intellectual property, then you can patent, which leads to industry, and ultimately I have corporate ambitions.”

Bruce could easily imagine Lex as a mad scientist in a white lab coat or as a board room tyrant, both equally frightening.

“And what will you do?” Lex asked. “Gotham University?”

Bruce shrugged, giving him the same, half lie, answer he usually gave when the school guidance counsellor asked him the same thing: “Not sure. I’ll probably travel for a bit after high school. Maybe join the Peacecorps or something like that. Help people.”

This time it was Lex’s turn to scoff.

Bruce gave him a disapproving look. “What? You don’t care about making the world a better place?” he drawled, half joking. Knowing what Lex’s answer would be.

“I save my pity for myself.” Lex quipped. “Us poor little billionaires have enough tragedy on our own, don’t we?”

Bruce smiled wryly. There was a grain of truth to it. They were two of the richest boys at the school. And easily the most miserable. And miserable children, he thought, rarely grow up to be good people. He likely wouldn’t and he didn’t think Lex would either. They’d always been rather alike. More alike than Bruce would’ve preferred.

“There’s lots of other tragedies in the world, Lex. Besides yours and mine.”

“Yes. And you’ve always acted like it was your job to solve them, haven’t you?” Lex said and there was suddenly acid in his voice that Bruce hadn’t expected. But Lex continued, “You think there’s something wrong with the world and that you’re the one who’s going to fix it. But you can’t because there is no such thing as how things ‘should be’, there is only how things are.”

Bruce stared at him, not saying a word in response, but Lex seemed content to monologue.

“You’re wasting your time trying to make things ‘better’ in the world. Someone is always going to be suffering and helpless and someone else is always going to be prospering and in power. It’s preferable to be the latter. You have money, you’re sharp, I’ve even seen your GPA and PSAT scores, there’s no reason for you to have to be the former.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes at him. “And since when do you know so much about me?”

Lex shrugged one shoulder. “I have an acquaintance in student records. He lets me look through whatever files I want. Not that I couldn’t have broken into the office myself if I’d really wanted to- the security here is laughable.”

“You shouldn’t go poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.” Bruce warned him, but Lex looked completely unfazed.

“It’s not just you I’ve looked into. I’m curious about all of my competition at this school.”

“And did it sate your curiosity?”

Lex rolled his eyes. “Hardly.”

“Then what was it you wanted to know?”

He paused for a moment, to think. “Your philosophy, I suppose. Why you act like you do. Why you are the way you are.”

“You mean why I’m not more like you?” Bruce asked.

Lex stilled, his smile caught in place on his mouth but his eyes dark, belaying nothing.

Bruce sighed. “I believe in things that you don’t. I believe in justice.”

At that, Lex brought his hand to his mouth like he was trying to stifle a laugh. “Well, I suppose you are still a child, after all.”

Bruce fixed him with a glare. “That’s childish to you?”

“Don’t be such a cliche. What is justice? To protect the innocent and punish those who would take advantage of them? It just breaks people up into a binary of people who have been wronged and people to seek vengeance against. But wasn’t it Bertrand Russell who said- ‘life is nothing but a competition to be the criminal rather than the victim’?”

“Are you done? With that debate club oratorial?” Bruce said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Lex ignored him. “The truth is, there are no innocents. Everyone tries to get what they want. Some people use kindness to manipulate, or follow the rules hoping one day what they want will be delivered to them by someone stronger and benevolent because they’re too weak to take it themselves. Those people are only ‘innocent’ because of their weakness and their fear of retribution. There is no evil either. Evil is just the name people give to things that hurt them. Evil people are only those with the power and the will to take what they need. People like to say that ‘power corrupts absolutely’ but power means choices, it means freedom. And when people are given the power to choose their own destiny, anyone would choose to be self interested.”

He spoke with just the right touch of ideological fanaticism. It made his face flush slightly with excitement. It made Bruce’s stomach turn. They looked at each other and both knew they were thinking along the same lines- that Bruce hated Lex. And that Lex was glad that Bruce hated him, because there had once been a time when he didn’t and when Bruce had thought Lex was a victim in need of protecting. And Lex would rather be anything than that.

“So?” Lex said. “What do you think?”

“I think you read too much Nietzsche.” Bruce said evenly.

Lex laughed, tapping the cover of the book on his lap. “I would’ve thought this was you all over. Self conquest. Der wille zur macht. Don’t think I haven’t noticed, you have as much to prove as I do.”

“I’m not like that.” Bruce muttered, but Lex heard him.

“Well maybe you ought to be.” The ever present lazy smile on his face started to curl at the corners into a sneer. “There’s lots of students here who will never amount to anything. Because real life isn’t boarding school. If you want to survive and turn things in your favor, you have to adapt. Otherwise you have nothing to blame for your misfortune but your own shortcomings.”

Bruce looked at Lex and wondered if that’s what he’d call it- adapting. He could still see in him the boy who’d cried himself to sleep in his bunk every night because the other kids called him a freak. The boy who’d been older than him but who Bruce had felt sorry for. He didn’t think he would ever feel sorry for him again.

“You think that’s an accomplishment?” Bruce said. “To turn into your father?”

The slit of Lex’s mouth widened, revealing a glimpse of white teeth. “At least I have a father.”

It was not on reflex. It was a choice. But it was a split second one, and decisive. Lex had no time to block or avoid the blow. Bruce’s fist smashed into the center of Lex’s face, knocking him clear off the bench. The book on his lap fell open onto the grass, a drop of Lex’s blood staining the spine. He only hit him once, then turned on his heel and walked away.

Behind him, Lex grabbed his own face, blood pooling on his palm from his freshly split lip. “You’re a freak, Wayne!” He shouted after him. “You’re a fucking freak!”

Bruce clenched his hand unconsciously by his side, not turning around or slowing his pace. He had blood on his knuckles and he knew now from experience, that the bruising on them would linger.

End

( If you liked, please leave me some comments and kudos on ao3! my author’s notes are on there too. Thank you for reading! ) 

[winterskywrites]

Au where Kara meet Lena before she reveal herself as supergirl. Maybe when she was working as a waitress. 🤔

“Hey,” Kara’s coworker Jane whispers, “don’t look now, but Lena Luthor just walked in.”

“Lena Luthor?” Kara asks, her mind immediately going overtime. Lex’s crimes aren’t publicly known yet, but Kara knows all about him from Clark. This Lena must be related to him somehow. Kara’s pretty sure she’s his sister. If her opinions are similar to her brother’s…

“You know, super rich kid, sister of Lex Luthor, daughter of Lillian Luthor…” Jane gestures vaguely. “Do you seriously not know who the Luthors are?”

“No, I just don’t knows as much about Lena,” Kara replies. “My cousin knows Lex, but he’s never mentioned his sister.”

“Well, she’s sitting in your section,” Jane says. “You should go bring her a menu.”

Kara peeks over at her section, and a beautiful dark-haired woman who must be Lena Luthor is indeed sitting in it. Kara snatches up a menu, takes a deep breath, and walks over to the table.

“Hello! Welcome to Noonan’s. I’m Kara, I’ll be your server today. Here’s a menu. Do you know what you want to drink, or should I give you a minute to decide?”

Lena offers Kara a distant, clearly perfunctory smile. “I’ll have Perrier to drink, and the tomato and mozzarella panini to eat.”

“A good choice,” Kara replies, picking up the untouched menu.

“A friend suggested it,” Lena replies. She smiles slightly at Kara again, then pulls out her phone in a clear dismissal. Kara puts the menu away, sends the order into the kitchen, and checks up on her other patrons. By the time she gets back to Jane, the other woman is practically salivating for gossip.

“So? What’s she like?”

Kara shrugs. “She just placed an order. I guess a friend must have suggested Noonan’s to her.”

“But what was she like?”

“I don’t know,” Kara replies. “Not rude, but not especially friendly either. I mean, she smiled at me, but she made it pretty clear she didn’t want to talk.”

“God, I wish she sat down in my section. Except I don’t, because I’d be terrified.”

“She’s just a person,” Kara counters.

A person whose brother wants to kill my cousin, but still.

“What did she order?”

“The tomato and mozzarella panini.”

Jane nods sharply. “That’s what I’m having for lunch, then.”

Kara rolls her eyes, then she collects Lena’s Perrier and panini from the kitchen and brings them over to the table. Lena hardly seems to notice Kara’s presence, not looking up from her phone. She mumbles something that could be a “thank you” before Kara walks off, so at least that’s something.

The next time Kara looks over in Lena’s direction, she’s finishing up the panini, so Kara quickly scurries over to her table. “You sure ate that fast.”

“It was delicious,” Lena replies, wiping her mouth with the napkin and putting it on her plate.

Kara gathers up everything off the table. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“Could I get the check, when you have the chance?” Lena asks.

“Of course.”

Kara brings the dishes to the kitchen, then she gets the check and brings it over to Lena. Lena hands her a black credit card that’s probably got access to more money than Kara makes in a year.

“Is that panini available every day?” she asks as Kara pulls out the little card reader.

“It is.”

“Then I think I’ll have to come back and get it again,” Lena replies. “It really was delicious.”

“I’ll pass your compliments onto the kitchen staff,” Kara replies, handing Lena back her credit card and receipt. “Sign here, please?”

Lena signs the slip fluidly, then she leaves as Kara brings the store copy over to the register. “Did i hear her say she’s going to come back?” Jane hisses. “Oh, I hope she sits in my section next time!”

Honestly, Kara does too. Lena seemed nice enough, but Kara thinks it’s probably good to be a little wary around her, at least until she has proof that Lena’s not like her brother.

Clark, she knows, is going to freak.

Well, at least she’s got another three hours of her shift to go, so she has time to figure out how exactly she’s going to tell Clark that his nemesis’s sister is going to be frequenting her place of work for the foreseeable future.

(Clark is definitely going to freak.)

[chibinightowl]

Wooden Fans

For @charcoal-soul, who always gives me the best ideas, even when she doesn’t intend to. Fans are awesome and I feel like a plotting courtesan in the royal palace guest wing about to murder an ambassador that insulted my honor and start a smear campaign of vicious gossip about his business partner.

~*~

Outwardly, Tim was all cool and perfectly polished civility, smiling and laughing charmingly in all the appropriate places as the Ambassador from Metropolis continuously managed to insult him, his family, and his king. Inwardly, he seethed with icy rage. It was clear the man had no idea who he was clumsily flirting with. After all, who would expect a son of Bruce Wayne, even adopted as he was, to play the part of a highly trained geisha during a private party that by all rights he had no business attending?  

The things he subjected himself to as Bruce’s spymaster weren’t usually so involved. A kimono, complete with an elaborate obi, was new for him.

Ambassador Corben laughed uproariously as one of his traveling companions, Oswald Cobblepot, formerly of Gotham, but now firmly in Lex Luthor’s pockets, made a comment about Bruce and his propensity towards adoption. He slammed his hand on the table as he brayed like the mule he was. “Dammit, Oswald, if that isn’t the perfect description of old Brucie. Keeps firing blanks, so he collects all those pretty boys instead.”

Tim delicately raised a hand to cover his mouth as he chuckled, resisting the urge to punch the boorish oaf. “Well, he does have one blood son.”

The Ambassador waved him off. “That little piece of shit will never amount to much. Gotham is screwed if he takes the throne. Much better if that circus freak does instead. At least he knows how to bend over and take it up the ass, which is exactly what he’ll be doing if King Lex has any say in the matter.”

How this man became an ambassador in the first place was beyond Tim. John Corben was rude, crude, and while there was a veneer of intelligence that appeared during his and Cobblepot’s meetings earlier today with Bruce, Dick, and Tim, this was about as far from what Luthor usually threw at them as it could be. What was his newest scheme? Was he trying to provoke them into war? Because if word got out about what was being said, then Bruce by all rights could force Corben and his cronies to leave, which would instigate yet another squabble between Gotham and Metropolis.

“Now, Corben,” Cobblepot wheezed gratingly. “You know the old saying, the one about walls having ears?”

He too was brushed off in favor of more wine that Tim poured for him. “Ozzy, shut your flapping beak. I know why you’re here. Lexie thinks you can keep me under control. Well, you can sod off, you fat penguin.”

Cobblepot bristled even as he made that ridiculous squawking noise that earned him his nickname. “Corben, you’re a damn fool if you think that’s the only reason I’m here!” But unlike his colleague, the fat little man knew when to keep his mouth shut and didn’t elaborate.

Tim rather wished he could turn his attention on the former Gothamite. The Penguin was clearly the one with an agenda here and had braved Bruce’s wrath by returning to Gotham under the umbrella of diplomatic immunity after his exile years ago. What was he here for? It had to be something Luthor wanted.  

He was distracted from his thoughts as the Ambassador ran a thick finger along Tim’s face, forcing his attention back on him. “You’ve got such a pretty mouth, little boy. It reminds me of those cocksucker princes. You ever have a chance to dress up for them and put those skills to good use, huh? Or do they bend over and let you fuck them too?”

That was it. Tim was going to utterly destroy Corben, even if it meant he had to declare war on Lex Luthor himself.  

It took some doing, but Tim managed to extricate himself from the party before the Ambassador got any more ideas about where he wanted his cock tonight. He sneaked into the palace via a secret side door that only members of royal family knew of and made his way across the compound through moonlight gardens to the rooms he shared more often than not with his lover, Prince Jason. The cool night air had calmed his rage somewhat, and as he slid open the thin door on his private veranda, Tim sighed in relief as he carefully stepped out of his geta and wiggled his toes in the tabi socks he’d worn with them. Too bad ninja clothing wouldn’t have had the same effect tonight.

He took a seat at his dressing table and carefully started to remove his jewelry and hair ornaments. Bruce was going to have a field day with this. Tim debated about informing him right away, but a glance at his clock showed the time to be much later than he’d thought. Even the king had to sleep sometime and in these quiet hours of the early morning, Bruce managed to sleep best.

Slipping a wooden fan out of his voluminous sleeve, Tim tapped it idly against his lips, trying to decide what the best course of action would be. Really, Corben was a nobody in this particular game. The real threat was Cobblepot and his network of business associates. The little man had his fat fingers in just about everything back in the day and he was certain the Penguin had returned to reestablish connections with those people and cause general unrest amongst the populace. They were still recovering from Luthor’s previous attack, which almost crippled their entire banking system. The last thing they needed was a civil war.

Behind him, he heard the quiet noise of his door sliding open and then closed. “You’re back,” Jason said, announcing himself, striding across the room on silent feet.  

“I am,” Tim replied, still lost in thought.

Jason placed his hands on Tim’s shoulders and started kneading gently, running his magic fingers over the tense muscles. “You’re stressed.”

Tim leaned back into the warm embrace of his lover. Jason was Bruce’s second adopted son, but by both of their own agreements had removed himself from the line of succession in favor of Tim, preferring a scholarly life that bordered on monkish at times with how frequent he would hole up in the library, only to emerge days later worn and wan, but brimming with new things to share with whomever would listen. Solid muscle wrapped around Tim, reminding him that Jason was also as much of a warrior as he was. His warrior monk.  

“I had to sit and listen to Ambassador Corben call us Bruce’s little cocksuckers and insinuate that all we’re good for is taking it up the ass for the highest bidder.”

Jason’s hands stilled. “Did he now?”

“He did. I want to toss him off the bridge with rocks tied to his feet.”

“Let me know if you do. I’ll bring the rope.”

Tim glanced over his shoulder at Jason. “We’ve got a bigger problem than Corben though.”

“Oh?”

“I think I figured out why the Penguin is with him.”

Jason frowned. “He’s here to stir up trouble, isn’t he?”

“I think so. He insinuated he was more than just a babysitter, but unlike Corben, he knows when to keep his mouth shut. I can’t help but think there’s something else going on though. This move is too obvious for someone like Lex.”

Sighing, Jason leaned over to rest his chin on Tim’s silken clad shoulder. In their reflection from the mirror, Tim thought he looked particularly handsome, wrapped around him like this. “So what’s the plan then?”

Tim deftly opened his fan with a flick of his wrist and coquettishly raised it to his lips, decision made. Corben and Cobblepot could wait a few hours. “For the moment, you’re going to help me out of these robes so I can wash up. Then, we’re going to bed where we may or may not have sex while we try to figure out how to best tail Cobblepot, as well as think up ways to get Ambassador Corben to make a complete ass out of himself in front of Bruce and the rest of the court.”

Jason was already untying the elaborate bow of the obi Tim had worn tonight. The folds of fabric fell to the floor and his fingers drifted up Tim’s back to gently slide the silken fabric and cotton under-robe from his shoulders, revealing pale white skin. He leaned over again, eyes locked on Tim in their reflection as his lips brushed the top of his shoulder. “You sure you want to wait until we go to bed?”

“Do you have a better idea?” Tim teased, eyes dancing as he snapped his fan shut.

“I do. Want to hear it?”

He was fairly certain he knew what Jason wanted to do. The kimono was rather fetching after all. “Only if it involves this mirror. I’d love to watch.”

Jason’s grin was all the answer he needed.