Archive of Our Own

After they saved the world, the six of them stumbled into an abandoned storefront, where Bruce sprawled out on the floor, his back against the wall. He wished he could take off his cowl—he was hot and his head was bleeding—but anyone could walk in.

Barry settled next to him and offered half of his granola bar.

He took it; he wasn’t going to eat it, but the pleased look on Barry's face made him shove it in his mouth. It was dry and too sweet, but he chewed it slowly, trying not to grimace.

That was why he couldn't say anything when Clark, who had come back from the dead, said, "We should stick together. Maybe form a team. We could call ourselves the Justice League."

Vic laughed and opened a bottle of water. "I like it. I'm new to this; I could use some pointers from you old timers."

Bruce could see that Diana liked the idea, too, and he felt his heart sink. This was supposed to be a one off.

"We'll need a meeting space," she said.

"Let me take care of that," Arthur replied, before Bruce could protest.

If he weren't so tired, he would have punched Clark in the face. The broken bones would have been worth it.

Barry leaned against him and sighed. "Do you think we can get pizza delivered here? I think I'm going to need more than a couple of granola bars. You keep some money in that suit, right?"

He glared, but the boy only laughed.

*****

Barry was a nice kid. A nice kid he'd recruited to save the world.

But for some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about the kid's set up: old monitors and ancient computers cobbled together to make a functional citywide surveillance system. It was brilliant, but the crudeness bothered him.

He was a sucker for orphans, which was why he was sitting in a beat up truck in a Central City alley waiting for the kid to show up. He leaned back in his seat, glad that this was the sort of neighborhood where people minded their own business.

He didn't startle when Barry suddenly appeared in the passenger side seat.

"I thought you said you didn't want to see us again." Barry looked pleased regardless, leaning into Bruce's space, like he always did.

"You're late," he said, instead of responding to Barry's comments. "You're usually here by 6:30."

"Yeah, Iris wanted to get coffee after work." Barry ducked his head as a small smile played across his lips.

"Your girlfriend?" Bruce knew she wasn't, not anymore, but he couldn't stop himself.

Barry put a hand on his arm and squeezed. "Aww, don't be jealous. She's just a good friend."

He snorted; Barry used humor to deflect, like now. "I have something for you."

"The computer equipment in the back is for me?" Barry's eyes widened in surprise and his mouth fell open.

Bruce couldn't help but be inordinately pleased with himself. "I told you, being rich is my super power."

"Bruce, you didn't—How can I ever repay you?"

"You helped save the world, Barry. It was the least I could do." He put his hand on the boy's shoulder, and Barry surged forward, wrapping his arms around Bruce and holding him tight. It had been a long time since someone had hugged him like this and it took him a moment to relax into it.

"You didn't have to, Bruce." Barry's hair smelled like strawberries.

"I wanted to," he said.

*****

Bruce was at a bar because that's where he obtained most of his useful information these days. Rumor was that a man calling himself Hunter was looking to sell a few Mother Boxes in Gotham and since Diana and Clark had sworn they'd found and destroyed all the ones S.T.A.R. Labs hadn't taken, that was worrying.

Bruce didn't bother with a disguise; he just dressed down, slipped on some eyeglasses, and pulled on a cap. No one expected Bruce Wayne to sit in some run down bar on the wrong side of the tracks, drinking crappy beer.

He was an elder statesman these days, only fit for cocktail parties and $2000 a plate dinners meant to raise money to help revitalize The Bowery.

He kept his head down and listened to the group of men sitting at the table next to him. They muttered in low voices, eyes darting around the room, about a shipment coming into the docks in the next few days. He was so close to getting the information he needed when the door opened and everyone went silent, tension filling the room.

Bruce looked up from his beer and fought down a groan when he spied Barry standing in the doorway, hands tucked into the pockets of his torn jeans, his black t-shirt emblazoned with a skull.

"Hey, no one's interested in what you're selling, kid," the bartender rasped out and Barry blinked in confusion, then blushed.

"I'm just here for a beer, sir." Barry gave him an uncertain smile.

The bartender narrowed his eyes, like he was trying to figure out if Barry was making fun of him. "We don't sell beer. Get lost."

The mood in the bar turned ugly, but Barry didn't seem to notice. Bruce knew Barry could take care of himself, but only if the kid understood he was in danger. Bruce got to his feel and stalked over to Barry, using his height and bulk to intimidate him. "You heard him, kid, get the fuck outta here."

Barry pressed his lips together, eyes twinkling, and Bruce knew the kid was holding back a laugh.

Dammit!

He grabbed Barry by the back of his shirt and dragged him out of the bar, the other patrons laughing.

"You don't have to…" Barry struggled, but Bruce was used to manhandling people. "Let me go, B—"

"Shut up," he hissed, dragging Barry into an alley next to the bar and shoving him up against a wall. "What are you doing here?"

Barry stared up at him, calm as could be. "I wanted to see if you needed help."

"I told all of you, Gotham is my city." He crowded up against Barry and let the register of his voice drop. "I don't want your help. I don't need your help. The next time you come into Gotham without my permission, I'm going to kick your ass all the way back to Central City. Got it?"

"Wow," Barry said softly. "I don't know what this says about me, but that was really hot."

Bruce snarled, his hands clenching Barry's t-shirt even more tightly. He opened his mouth to tear the boy a new one when Barry leaned in and kissed him, soft and almost sweet. Bruce made a surprised sound that Barry must have taken as encouragement because the kiss deepened. He didn't know why, but he kissed back.

Barry broke the kiss a moment later, lips swollen, cheeks flushed. "I'm sorry I upset you. I just wanted to help."

Bruce let go of his shirt and took a few steps back, his heart hammering in his chest, lust curling hot and uncomfortable in his belly. "Go home."

Barry glanced at Bruce's mouth and nodded. "Okay."

In a blink of an eye, and a flash of lightning, he was gone and Bruce was standing alone in the alley wondering what the hell had happened.

*****

The next morning, Bruce was sitting on the patio in his robe, sipping coffee and reading the newspaper as the warm morning sun chased away the last of the night's fog, giving a clear view of the trees across the lake. He finished the last of the coffee and was just about to call for Alfred when there was a rush of air and sudden shock of electricity; he tensed up. "Barry," he said, setting down his paper and glaring up at the boy.

"I know, I know. I just… I wanted to apologize again." Barry pulled up a chair and sat down. "I was going to buy you some flowers, but I didn't know what you liked and besides, they tend not to make the trip. Then I thought, booze, but… I figured you weren't really big on schnapps or Captain Morgan."

"Barry…" Bruce rubbed his forehead and sighed.

"Was that the first time you kissed a boy?"

Jesus Christ, Barry was going to give him a migraine. "I went to an all boys boarding school." Granted, when he kissed the boy, he'd been playing Romeo in the school play, but Barry didn't need to know that.

"Oh, because you looked a little freaked out afterward. But you seemed to like it." Barry grinned and leaned in. "I liked it, too."

His cheeks warmed and he reminded himself that he was almost fifty and had dated countless women. This shouldn't turn his head.

Barry put a hand on his knee and gently stroked up towards his inner thigh, sending an electric thrill through his body. "I've been thinking about it all day. I want to kiss you again. And again. And again."

There was a quiet whoosh, the hair on his arms stood on end, and before he knew it, he had a lap full of Barry Allen. He should have pushed Barry off or yelled at him, but the boy wiggled and then pressed a warm kiss to the side of his mouth and he couldn't remember the last time he'd been kissed like that. He cupped the back of Barry's head and pulled the boy closer.

Barry wasn't the only one who knew how to kiss.

*****

Barry stayed just long enough for Bruce's mouth to feel swollen, for his body to ache for more contact. It had been ages since someone had touched him that way and he missed it more than he realized.

He'd only just managed to get himself back under control when Alfred came out with a fresh pot of coffee. "You should have asked your young friend to stay for brunch. I could have whipped up something for a growing boy."

Bruce stared up at Alfred, face blank. "Are you done?"

"Not in the slightest. I will, however, desist for the time being." Alfred refreshed his cup. "You may wish to wear a turtleneck if you're going to meet with Mr. Fox today. Unless you want him to question you about the mark on your neck."

Bruce touched the tender spot where Barry's mouth had worried at his skin and cursed softly.

"You other suit should hide it very well, at least." Alfred hesitated a moment, then said softly, "He seems like a nice boy."

"You've never met him."

Alfred shrugged. "He helped save the world. That's something. And the people of his city seem to love him. Next time, invite him to stay, sir. And perhaps remind him that one does not need to be Superman to see through glass walls."

*****

The problem was that Bruce liked Barry. The boy was intelligent, hardworking, and polite, but not so polite that he let the other members of the team bulldoze him. And, as Alfred had reminded Bruce, he was willing to step up and defend the world against a superior force.

Everyone liked Barry, he thought, as he watched the boy talk with Diana. She slung her arm around Barry's shoulders and laughed. Barry soaked in the attention and it amazed him that the boy was not afraid, not of Diana or Clark. He wasn't afraid of Bruce either, not in the slightest. Not when Bruce was throwing razor sharp projectiles at him or shoving him up against the wall of an alley.

Barry finished his conversation with Diana, then walked over to the table they'd managed to drag into Arthur's lighthouse and flopped down into a chair. "This is super weird, right? Even for you. I mean, there's an Amazon, an alien, a cyborg, and the friggin' king of Atlantis—I don't even know what I'm doing here. I'm just a kid from Central City."

"A kid who can run across the country in a blink of an eye," he said, eyebrows raised. "I'm the one who's an anomaly here."

Barry grinned at him and leaned in close. "Yeah, but that's not really new for you, is it? I get the feeling that you're always the outlier in any given room."

Which, he realized, was Barry's way of calling him special. He shouldn't find that charming, but he did. "Do you like the equipment I brought you?"

"Yup. Seriously, Bruce, you didn't have to do that. I was doing fine with the S.T.A.R. Labs stuff I salvaged. But it is faster and the screens are clearer." Barry tilted his head. "I did have to clean out all the bugs you installed though. I feel like I should warn you away from Central City, but I don't have your gravitas."

Barry hadn't found all of Bruce's goodies, but he found more than Bruce expected. "I like keeping an eye on things."

Barry laughed softly, and then leaned in even closer. "If you wanna keep an eye on me, all you have to do is ask."

Arthur, who was across the room, snorted softly; Bruce ignored him. "I passed a diner on my way here. Feel like lunch?"

"Man, I am always up to eat." Barry stood up, grabbed Bruce's hands, and hauled him to his feet. "C'mon, old man, I'll race you to the car."

*****

The diner was one of those greasy spoons with fading 50s décor: red faux leather booths, dirty linoleum floors, and a middle-aged bottle blonde waitress who called them both Hon. He could tell immediately that Barry loved it.

Bruce ordered a coffee and Barry asked for a soft drink. "So what were you and Diana talking about?"

"The Olympics," Barry said, opening the menu and looking it over. "She said they had games like that back home: swimming, running, wrestling. Only difference was they did it naked. Can you imagine?"

He could. It wasn't a bad thought.

Barry grinned and shrugged. "I told her that sunburn must have been a real danger; she laughed at me."

The waitress came with their drinks and took their orders.

"I'll have the fish and chips. Oh, and a cheeseburger, medium rare, please." Barry would probably get dessert later, too.

"The coffee is fine for me," Bruce said and Barry shook his head.

"Nu-uh. He'll have a cheeseburger, too, medium rare, same as me." Barry cocked his head. "I'll finish whatever you don't."

The waitress laughed softly and jotted down their orders. "Oh, to be able to eat like that. You're lucky he doesn't eat you out of house and home."

Bruce hummed noncommittally and handed the woman his menu. When she left, he said, "You know I'm not going to eat that burger."

"No, but I am." Barry dumped out the sugar packets from their container and made different shapes and patterns with them on the tabletop. "It's a long run from here to Central City and I forgot my nutrition bars."

"Barry—"

"I was already running behind and you get grumpy when I come in late." Barry flicked a packet of Sweet 'N Low at him; he caught it with ease. "So fucking hot."

Bruce ignored the heat building in his belly. "You need to take care of yourself. "

"I know." Barry rolled his eyes. "Seriously, Bruce, I know. I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself." He nudged Bruce's ankle with his foot. "Can we talk about something else, please?"

"Like what?"

"Like how amazing you look in that suit." Barry licked his lips and smiled. "I wanna strip it off you and just…" His gaze turned sultry as he looked over Bruce's torso. "There's a motel across the street. Do you think they rent by the hour?"

*****

Bruce rented a room for the night. The little old man that took his credit card and checked his ID didn't even blink an eye; he hoped that he wouldn't wake the next morning to tabloids plastered with his name.

The room was clean, though it had seen better days, and smelled of bleach and artificial lavender. Sunlight poured in through the parted curtains and they had a fantastic view of the ocean. He turned to Barry to comment on it and the boy pushed him up against the wall, mouth pressing eagerly against his. He allowed himself to be manhandled, enjoying the press of Barry's body, the way the boy vibrated slightly in excitement.

"I've been wanting to do this all day," Barry murmured, then nipped at Bruce's lower lip. "You smell so good. You always smell so good."

"I better. I spent a lot of money on this cologne," he said, and Barry laughed. He pulled Barry in for another kiss, probing the boy's generous mouth.

Barry worked the jacket off of Bruce and tossed it on the desk, and then loosened his tie. "I wish I'd brought stuff with me."

Bruce shivered, sliding a hand under Barry's t-shirt to stroke along his side. "It wouldn’t take you long to get supplies."

"Don't wanna leave you, not even for a second." Barry groaned and nibbled along Bruce's jaw. "Bed?"

"Yeah." Neither one of them wanted to stop touching the other, which made the journey to the bed a bit awkward but they managed. When the backs of Bruce's knees hit the bed, he let himself fall, pulling Barry along with him.

"God," Barry whispered, rolling his hips and pulling a groan from Bruce. "God, you're so hot."

Bruce bit back his own groan, but couldn't stop his hips from rising to meet Barry's. He ran his hands up Barry's back, letting his blunt nails skim the boy's smooth skin.

"I can't think when you do that. I can't—" Barry gently pushed Bruce's hands away from him and eased them up over his head. "Can you keep them there, please? Is that okay?"

Selena had loved that sort of game, but it had left Bruce tense and wary, so there was no reason for his hips to judder up the way they did, no reason for his pulse to quicken. He didn't understand why, but his brain was racing too fast to get a handle on his thoughts. "Yeah. That's… that's all right."

"You're so perfect, baby." Barry made quick work of Bruce's shirt, baring his skin, scars and all, to the boy's greedy gaze. "I just wanna… Lift your chin, yeah, like that." He pressed sucking kisses to Bruce's throat, his clavicles, then lower, licking and sucking at Bruce's nipples. "You like that?"

Bruce gasped, hands clenching into fists, body thrumming with pleasure and the buzz of static that came off of Barry's body, adding a layer of urgency he'd never felt before. "Yes, yes, I—" He wanted to touch Barry, but instead he gripped the bedding, fingers twisting in the rough fabric.

"You look beautiful." Barry licked up his sternum, then kissed his way down, nuzzling his stomach, then circling his belly button with a slick tongue. "God, baby, I wanna pop your cherry so bad. I bet, fuck, I bet you're so tight. I bet your sweet hole would clench around me."

Bruce's dick twitched and he hid his flushed face against his biceps.

"You want me to fuck you, baby? Want me to bury my cock inside you?" Barry pressed his mouth against Bruce's stomach and hummed.

"Fuck, Barry." He could feel the vibration through his body, a tension growing exponentially. "Please," he said, through the unbearable trembling.

"Pretty please with sugar on top?" Barry replied, his own voice hoarse.

"Yes, pretty please. Pretty—" A whine escaped his mouth and he fought for control, but it kept dancing away just beyond his fingertips. "Fuck me. Barry, please fuck me."

Barry cried out, sliding up to press his body against Bruce's.

It felt like he was a conduit, like someone had turned up the volume to a hundred on their stereo but the only sounds were his and Barry's moans. Then the pleasure broke open and it was hot and alive and he was sure that when it finally ended there would be nothing left of him but a pile of ashes. He wanted to scream but he couldn't.

The pleasure dissipated slowly, leaving him wrung out, slick with sweat, a sticky mess in his trousers. His muscles trembled and jumped, like he'd been electrocuted.

"Sorry," Barry said, a frown on his face. "I didn't mean… God, I hope I didn't blow the electrical circuits. I did that once when I… well, never mind. Are you all right?"

He grunted and unclenched his hands.

"Shit. Bruce, c'mon, say something." Barry stroked his face with shaking fingers.

"Can I move my arms now?" He grinned and Barry laughed softly.

"Jerk." Barry straddled him, gently took his hands, and kissed his knuckles. "You're so fucking perfect."

******

Bruce hated how his life bounced from one extreme to the other. The sweetness of the afternoon had quickly soured once he'd started patrolling. By the time he got home, there was a scrape on his jaw, his ribs were bruised, and he'd spent all night dealing with a couple of thugs who'd found a cache of Joker's old toys. He'd brought them down, eventually, but not before Frick—or was it Frack—had brought down part of a wall on top of him.

At least he wasn't bleeding.

He'd dragged himself back to the bunker and had a hot shower. All he could think about was having a few glasses of wine, and then heading up to bed. Maybe Alfred would let him sleep past noon.

All thoughts of sleep went out the window when he saw the motorcycle in the driveway. He parked and walked around to the patio. Dick was slumped in a chair, feet propped up on the table, nursing a beer.

He let out a deep sigh. "Alfred didn't tell me you were coming by."

"He didn't know." Dick looked over at Bruce and held out his phone. "You're all over the tabloids. My favorite has to be 'Billionaire Bruce Wayne, bisexual?' They even added a fuzzy picture of you and some guy walking into a motel room."

Bruce's heart sank and he lowered himself into the other chair. Damn the paparazzi, they worked quickly. "Wonderful."

"Is it someone I know?" Dick asked.

Bruce leveled him with a stare. "How's your love life?"

"Fine, don't tell me." Dick took a swig of his beer and looked out at the lake. "It's really beautiful here. I don't know why you built that monstrosity." He jerked his head towards the house.

"I like it," he replied, snagging the bottle from Dick and finishing it off.

"Liar." There was a moment of silence where the tension rose. "I miss the mansion."

Bruce rolled the bottle between his hands. "Are you staying the night?"

"Yeah, I told Alfred that I'd let him make me breakfast." Dick gave him a slow once over. "Rough night?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle," he said and Dick snorted.

"Bruce, you always say that even when it's bullshit."

He shrugged, wincing slightly when his ribs protested; Dick gave him a pointed look but didn't comment. It felt so damn familiar that he smiled. "Alfred misses you."

"Yeah?" Dick smiled back at him. "I miss him, too."

'Then why did you leave?' he wanted to ask, but he knew better. He didn't want to fight. "Want another beer?"

"Sure. I'll get them," Dick said, rising to his feet in one fluid motion. "Then you can tell me what happened tonight."

"Okay." He missed this; maybe Alfred could convince Dick to stay for lunch.

*****

Alfred woke him at noon. He grumbled and threatened, then grumbled some more, but Alfred was pitiless. He managed to pull on a robe before stumbling down the hall to the kitchen. Dick was sitting at the table, eating his way through an indecently tall stack of pancakes.

"The precinct isn't going to miss you?" he asked and knew immediately that it was the wrong thing to say.

Dick tensed, staring furiously down at his plate. "Don't."

"What? I just asked—"

"Well, don't. Don't ask. I don't want to fight."

"Fine." He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down.

The silence stretched until Dick broke. "I'm on administrative leave. It's required when a cop's involved in a shooting."

Bruce set down his cup and coffee slopped out, burning his fingers. "A shooting. With a gun."

"Yeah, Bruce, with a gun. I'm a cop and we use guns. God, I knew this was a bad idea." Dick pushed the plate away and got to his feet. "For the past few years, you've been off the rails and I didn't say shit—sorry, Alfred. Men who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones."

He clenched his hands, but didn't reply.

"I'll talk to you later, Alfred." Dick grabbed his jacket on the way out.

"Brilliant, just brilliant," Alfred said.

Bruce was so damn tired. "I'm going back to bed."

*****

The first thing Bruce did when he got back to the bunker after a horrible night was pull off his cowl and rub his sweat damp hair with a clean towel. It had been hot and humid and it was nights like these that made him want to reconsider all the Kevlar.

Bruce completely ignored Clark who was sitting on the computer chair, a plastic container on his lap.

"Alfred let me in," Clark said when the silence stretched on for a few minutes.

Bruce grunted and wondered if he should wait to take a shower at the house. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to see how you were doing. The tabloids are really having a field day about you and Barry."

"It's why I have a publicist." He'd been ignoring her calls since the story broke. "What's in the Tupperware?"

"Oh, it's the second reason I'm here." Clark got to his feet and handed it to him. "Mom thought these might cheer you up. Sorry."

Bruce opened the container and blinked, unsure whether he should be grateful or horrified. "Martha made me sugar cookies with rainbow colored frosting."

"Yeah." Clark shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets. Probably so Bruce couldn't give the cookies back.

"She made me coming out cookies." They probably tasted heavenly.

"She's worried about you. Some of the comments out there are brutal."

Bruce remembered how small and frail she seemed at Clark's funeral, like she was caving in on herself. He remembered her ranting at the TV every time someone on the news blamed Clark for Luthor's destruction. "Tell her I said thank you."

Clark nodded. "Are you okay?"

He snapped the lid back on the container. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You look—"

"It's four in morning, Clark. I’m tired."

"All right." Clark sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I guess I'll talk to you later."

He turned away and didn't respond.

*****

Bruce took the cookies in to work, because while Martha was a wonderful baker, he wasn't that fond of sweets. However, he knew quite a few employees who were. He walked into the executive break room and faltered when he saw Lucius at the coffee machine.

Lucius slowly poured creamer into his coffee, then stirred, the spoon clinking against the inside of the mug. "I've called you several times in the past few days. Something happen to your phone?"

"I was busy." He walked over to the counter and set down the container. "Our stock is stable; I didn’t think there was anything to talk about."

"Nalia disagrees." Lucius raised his eyebrows when he saw what Bruce had brought in.

"A friend sent them," he said, defensively.

"Should I have brought you a cake? Is that the thing to do in these situations?"

"You're not funny." Bruce poured himself a cup of coffee.

"That's what Tam says." Lucius smiled. "But she lies like a rug."

Bruce snorted softly, and then sipped his coffee. He didn't want to ask, but he knew it was better to get it over with quickly. "Did we lose any business?"

"I managed to smooth things over," he said. "Bruce, if you keep holding your cup that tightly you're going to break it."

Bruce set down his coffee and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

"It's why you pay me." Lucius touched his arm. "It wasn't as bad as all that. I even had a few people suggest, discreetly, that you might like to date their sons."

Bruce covered his face with his hand. "Jesus, Lucius." He just wanted everyone to mind their own damn business.

"I know, I know. But this will blow over in a few weeks. In the meantime, talk to Nalia. You know her, if you don't she'll hunt you down and force you to do The View again."

*****

Bruce clenched his jaw and tried very hard not to yell at Nalia. He reminded himself that this was why he paid her so much money.

"We'll put you on with Fallon," Nalia said, typing furiously on her phone. "He'll softball the whole interview, it'll be great."

"I'm not doing Fallon."

"Colbert, then. The millennials will love it." She looked up at him and narrowed her eyes. "We should prep you and your boyfriend together. I'll need his contact information."

"I'm not going on Colbert either. And he's not—" Bruce covered his mouth. He didn't know what the hell he and Barry were.

"A one night stand?" Nalia shrugged. "No worries, I can spin it."

"He's not a one night stand," he said and he couldn't quite keep the uncertainty out of his voice.

Nalia's expression softened and she set her phone down. "Bruce, look, I know this is a shitty situation; you were outed without your permission. But hiding is not going to make this better. People are going to think you're ashamed."

"I'm not ashamed." He wasn't. Bruce just wanted to be left alone for one goddamn minute so he could think.

"I know you're not ashamed. Look, talk to your… whatever, and get back to me, okay?" She gathered up her things and got to her feet. "Call me ASAP."

Bruce nodded. "Okay."

*****

It was six o'clock and he knew that he should go home but the very idea left him feeling tired and uneasy. Staying in the office wouldn't be much better.

He wasn’t sure what to do, then he saw Martha's Tupperware on his desk—Jessica, his assistant, had filled it with baklava and left it for him.

He shouldn't, but he was going to anyway.

Bruce picked up his phone and dialed his pilot. "Daniel, I need you to meet me at the airfield. Yeah, we're taking a trip."

*****

It was the middle of the night by the time he pulled up to the Kent farm, but Martha wasn't home. He sat on the porch swing, closed his eyes, and listened to the crickets chirping. It was a cool night, but he didn't mind. He loved Gotham, but the weather could be awful.

It was quiet here and he felt alone.

Every time his phone buzzed, he'd twitch, but he told himself he wasn’t going to check it. Alfred knew he was here and Barry…

Bruce concentrated on his breathing and forced himself to go lax.

He just needed to breathe.

*****

He didn’t open his eyes until he heard Martha's truck pull up to the house. He sat up and watched her get out of the car and hesitate just a moment before walking up to the house.

"Bruce? Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." Martha gave him a warm smile and tugged him up into a hug.

"Thank you for the cookies," he said. "I brought back your Tupperware."

She laughed. "Clark could have done that."

"I wanted to see you. It's been awhile."

"Yeah, it has." Martha stepped back and searched his face. Whatever she saw made her frown. "Come on in the house. I've got some beer in the fridge."

A few minutes later they were seated at the kitchen table, drinking beer. Martha was delighted by the baklava. "Smallville is a meat and potatoes kinda town."

"You could always move to Metropolis. Or Gotham."

"Ha. I almost did once, you know," she said. And he did, she'd told him how she almost went to Gotham University, but instead settled on Wichita State, because it was cheaper. That's where she met Jonathan Kent. "But, nah, I couldn't leave this place. It's got too many memories. Clark learned to walk in this room. Jon put the flooring in himself. Took him twice as long to do it because he kept measuring wrong."

"Yeah," he said softly. "The mansion was like that. When I needed time to think, I'd go to my father's study, sit in his chair, and smell his pipe." He didn't know why he told her that. There was something about her that invited confidences.

Martha reached out and laid her hand over his. "It's been a tough week for you."

"It's nothing I can't handle." Bruce shrugged.

"Still." She sighed and gave his hand a squeeze. "You can stay in Clark's room tonight. Be warned, I'm going to put you to work in the morning."

He smiled at her fondly. "I wouldn't have it any other way.

******

After they finished their beers, Martha got him settled into Clark's bedroom. "There's a clean set of pajamas in the bureau. You know where I keep the spare toothbrushes."

"Yes, ma'am," he said and she playfully cuffed his head. "Good night, Martha."

"Good night, Bruce. Pleasant dreams."

He brushed his teeth, changed into a pair of sweatpants, then climbed into bed. He wasn't particularly tired, but he knew he needed to get some sleep. Martha would wake him before dawn.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand; he picked it up and when he saw who it was, he answered it quickly. "Barry," he said softly.

"Hey, Bruce. You're not busy are you?"

"No." The tight painful knot in his chest eased and he took a deep breath. "No, I'm not busy."

"I'm sorry I didn't call earlier. God, Bruce, I'm so sorry, but things have been kind of awful here lately." Barry's voice shook. "But that's no excuse to leave you to deal with… with everything. That was really crappy of me."

"It's okay, Barry. I understand." And he did; they both had such busy lives.

"I wish I was right there with you. Baby, I miss you so much."

Bruce closed his eyes and let his empty hand rest on his stomach. "We should have dinner."

"A date? That sounds like fun."

"There will probably be paparazzi." He curled his fingers, his body tensing as he waited to hear Barry's response. "Not all of it will be fun. Not after everyone finds out."

"I don't care. I want to be a part of your life, Bruce," Barry said softly.

"My life's a mess."

"Yeah, welcome to the club. Are you done trying to scare me off?"

He chuckled. "I suppose so. How does Saturday night sound?"

"I'll be at your place at seven," Bruce could hear the grin in Barry's voice. "I can't wait to meet Alfred."

"He can't wait to meet you either," he said wryly.

Barry laughed, and it was low and soft. "You know what else I can't wait for, baby? To have you underneath me, naked and open and perfect."

Bruce's breath caught in his throat. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I can't stop thinking about poppin' your cherry. Having that pretty mouth of yours around my cock. You wanna suck me off?"

He shuddered and let the tips of his fingers slip underneath the waistband of his borrowed sweats. "Yes."

"Say it then." There was something demanding in Barry's voice that made lust unfurl in his belly.

"I want to suck you off," he whispered. "I want to… Barry, please."

"Saturday, after dinner. I promise. I'll take care of you." Barry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I better go before someone walks in on me. Singh's been in and out of the lab all night."

Bruce squeezed his eyes shut and let out a little huff. "Tease."

"That's me. Don't touch yourself too much or you'll go blind. Good night, Bruce."

Bruce murmured a good night, then hung up. He knew this was a mistake, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

*****

There were a lot of things to do around the farm: parts of the fence needed new chicken wire, the barn door's lock was broken, and one of the shutters had fallen off during the last storm. It took him awhile to get started—he hadn't brought his pain meds—but once he did, he worked steadily through the morning until Martha called him in to breakfast.

After he cleaned up, he sat at the table and raised his eyebrows at the amount of food on his plate. Plates. "I don't think I'll be able to finish all this."

Martha gave him a rueful smile, handing him a cup of coffee. "I'm used to feeding Clark."

"Mmm, I'm surprised he hasn't taken care of all this." He started in on the eggs, watching her from under his lashes.

"He's been busy. Coming back from the dead isn't easy," she said softly.

"I know." Bruce remembered what it had been like for him all those years ago. "The paperwork is horrendous. Still, it's not like he can't zip over and put new shingles on the roof." He'd have to have a conversation with Clark. Bruce thought he was a better son than this.

"He knows I can take care of myself." Martha stared at her coffee, fingers tight around the cup.

Bruce set down his fork and frowned. "Are you all right?"

"The first few months after Clark came into our lives, I barely put him down. I was afraid someone would show up and take him from us." She took a shaky breath. "My mother reminded me that a child couldn't grow up like that. He had to learn to be independent."

"You taught him well," he said.

She laughed and blinked away the tears. "Yes, I did. But whenever he comes home, I just want to hold him. I just want to hide him away from the world. But I know that's selfish."

He rubbed his mouth and stabbed at a potato until it turned to mush. "It's not selfish to want your family to be safe."

"You have a couple of boys, don't you?"

"I had two boys. Dick's a policeman." And even after all these years, he still couldn’t talk about Jason. "You should ask him to help out more. Maybe he needs to be held just as much as you need to hold him."

Martha wiped her eyes on her napkin. "Do you really think so?"

"He always talks about you; ma, this, ma, that." Bruce reached over and squeezed her hand. "Be a little selfish, Martha. Be a little greedy. If anyone deserves it, it's you."

"I'm glad you dropped by."

He smiled at her. "So am I. Thank you for letting me hide here for awhile."

"It was my pleasure." Martha cleared her throat and sniffled. "All right, no more of that. Finish your breakfast. We still have a lot to do this morning."

*****

It wasn't until Bruce got home that he realized that Saturday was just around the corner. He'd never been nervous about dating—women were always falling all over themselves to catch his attention—but whenever he thought about dinner with Barry, he realized he was unprepared.

There were just some things he'd never done before and he needed to be sure he had at least a nominal understanding of the mechanics from the giving end of the equation.

Thank God for the Internet.

*****

One of the downsides of living in a glass house was that the chances that your butler would catch you watching gay porn rose exponentially. But he needed more than just a cursory knowledge of blowjobs for his date with Barry. So he logged on to a free porn site and watched a few of the clips, fighting the urge to stick a hand down his pants and jerk off like some teenager.

It still wasn't enough. He needed hands on experience. Or as close to—God, this was embarrassing.

He headed downstairs to the kitchen to check the bowl of fruit Alfred kept on the table. He gave the bowl a withering glare when it didn't have what he needed.

"Is there something the matter with the fruit, Master Bruce?"

He didn't visibly react, though Alfred had startled him. "I wanted a banana." He willed his face not to heat; there was nothing strange about wanting a snack.

"I'm afraid we don't have any. But I'll be sure to put it on the grocery list. Would an apple suffice?"

"No. No, that's okay." Bruce stepped back towards the door.

Alfred frowned. "All right, good night, sir."

Maybe later, when he we sure Alfred was asleep, he'd check the fridge for a cucumber or zucchini.

In the end he used his nunchucks and learned that the spermicide on a condom would numb your mouth.

*****

Bruce woke up on Saturday afternoon with one pervading thought: Barry was going to fuck him tonight. His stomach clenched with an unease that did nothing to stop his cock from stiffening. He moaned softly, curling on his side, and thought about the case he'd been working on for several weeks. It took longer than usual to control his arousal. He blamed it on nerves.

He stumbled out of bed, this time groaning as his body reminded him of last night's fistfight. He needed a shower. He turned on the water as hot as he could stand and let it beat down against his back until his muscles relaxed and the aches and pains dulled.

Bruce tried not to think about Barry fucking him but he kept remembering Barry's body against his, hands and mouth exploring his body. The heat and need and…

He leaned against the shower wall and rubbed a finger over his hole. Bruce gasped, knees going weak with pleasure. Barry's fingers would feel even better, he knew. He worked a finger inside of himself and it was slightly uncomfortable. He was unbearably tight; Barry would like that. Jesus. Bruce bit his lip, eased the finger out and then pushed it right back in. He jerked when pleasure rolled over him.

Then he jerked again when there was a sharp knock at the bathroom door.

"Master Bruce. Do you want to wear the navy or gray Tom Ford?"

Bruce eased the finger out of himself and ducked his head under the spray.

"Sir?"

He sputtered softly and said, "The blue."

*****

Barry was late, which, as Bruce reminded himself, was a common enough occurrence. So much so that Arthur and Vic would bet to see who could predict when Barry would show up to their meetings. They refused to let Bruce play after he'd won five times in a row.

So Bruce wasn't worried; Barry was perpetually late, but he always showed up. And he always had a good excuse.

He looked at himself in the mirror, picked a bit of lint from his jacket, then let out a sharp breath when he saw a flash of lightning in the distance. He glanced at his watch: twenty-three point six minutes late.

Bruce took a deep breath and headed to the front door; their reservation was in a half hour. When he got to the foyer, he saw that Barry was grinning and gesturing expansively at Alfred as they spoke. It gave Bruce time to really look at Barry whose hair was tousled, his suit a little too big on his lean frame—his sneakers looked brand new though. Barry would get looks at Le Jardin and Sophia's, and not the complimentary kind, but no one would bat an eye at Osteria.

Bruce cleared his throat and they both turned to him.

Barry's eyes lit up. "Wow, you look gorgeous."

He couldn't help but preen, just a little. "So do you."

"I clean up okay, but you, baby…" Barry walked over to him and kissed the corner of his mouth. "You're way out of my league."

"Don't be ridiculous." Bruce glanced at Alfred. "I'll be home late, but—"

"You'll be at Osteria." Alfred smirked. "Have a nice night, Master Bruce. You as well, Mr. Allen."

"Good night, Mr. Pennyworth." Barry took Bruce's hand and tugged him towards the door. "Osteria? Is that French? Am I dressed okay?"

"Italian, and you're dressed just fine," Bruce said. "Do you want us to take the Lamborghini or the Aston Martin?"

"Oh, man, the Aston Martin. Seriously, Bruce, James Bond drove an Aston Martin." Barry bounced on his toes. "I love those movies."

"Good to know." Every once in awhile The Crest showed movie marathons; maybe he could toss some money their way and suggest the Bond films. He could take Barry.

He opened the car door for Barry, because manners were important, no matter who he was taking on a date, and started his car. Closer blared from the stereo and Barry looked at him incredulously. He winced slightly and turned off the music. "Sorry."

"Never would have taken you for Nine Inch Nails fan."

Bruce shrugged. "I'm a man of mystery."

Barry laughed and leaned into kiss his cheek. "You sure are, baby. You're better than James Bond."

"Glad you think so," he said, as he pulled out of the driveway. "What were you and Alfred taking about?"

"Oh, flowers. Diana said that Mr. Pennyworth was interested in the flora that grew on Themyscira, so I told him about the hybrid roses my foster mom grows. He seemed really interested so I promised to ask for some cuttings."

"Diana told you that?" Bruce had a hard time believing that Diana would mention Alfred.

Barry shifted in his seat. "I might have asked her if she knew what he was interested in. You rarely talk about him and… and he's your dad. I want him to like me."

"He's not my dad." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Barry give him a flat, disappointed look. He sighed. "Well, offering him rose cuttings would certainly put you in his good graces."

"I hope so." Barry gently rested a hand on Bruce's knee and looked out the window. "I have a question."

"Okay." Bruce felt a thrill as Barry let his hand slide a little higher.

"Are there curtains in your room? Because, as much as I think a glass house is cool, I'm not really an exhibitionist."

"I have the best security in the world installed around the house. Trust me, no one is seeing anything."

"If you're sure." Barry's hand moved further up Bruce's thigh. "I don't want anyone to see me take you apart, baby."

Bruce flushed and said, "Good, because I'm not an exhibitionist either."

*****

A half hour later, they were being ushered to a table by the owner of the restaurant who was so very glad that Bruce could join them this evening. Bruce chatted with the man, drawing Barry into the conversation as well. The man left a few minutes later, beaming.

"That was… interesting," Barry said.

Bruce shrugged and placed his napkin on his lap. "Umberto knows that I have expensive tastes and that if I'm happy with the service and food, I'll tell my friends."

"I like this place. I sort of expected you to take me somewhere with a lot more silverware, to be honest."

"I had considered it, but honestly, I don’t think you would have been comfortable. And that would have made me a bad date." Bruce leaned in. "Now may I make a suggestion?"

"Okay."

"Get the lasagna. It's amazing and the portions are massive." He reached out and gently brushed Barry's cheek. "Also, I should warn you, by the time we leave this restaurant, we're going to have to contend with paparazzi."

"So you said when you asked me out." Barry turned his head and kissed Bruce's fingers. "It's a good thing that I'm very fast and you're extremely resourceful."

Bruce chuckled softly. "That comment earns you dessert."

"Buy me dessert and I'll follow you home," Barry said with a grin.

He leaned in and leered. "That's the plan."

Barry's grin widened. "There he is. There's the Bruce Wayne I've heard so much about. I'd been told you were a suave playboy, but honestly, I've yet to see it until now."

Bruce reached out and gently ran his fingers along the back of Barry's hand. "Well, I've hardly had to be suave with you jumping me every time we're in the same room. Not that I'm complaining."

"I had to jump you. You wouldn't have noticed me otherwise."

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows. "And why do you say that?"

Barry shrugged. "You're Bruce Wayne and I’m Barry Allen."

He couldn’t help making a face. "I'm just a man, Barry. Having a lot of money doesn’t make me special."

"Maybe not special, but it does make you important." Barry bit his lower lip, then shook his head. "Besides, there are other reasons why you're special. "

"Says the fastest man in the world," he said, pitching his voice so that only Barry would hear him.

Barry ducked his head and said, shyly, "I really like you, Bruce."

Bruce had dated supermodels and villains, but he had never been more charmed than he was right now. "I really like you, too, Barry."

*****

The hoodie he'd bought off the busboy was too small and every so often he had to tug the hem down to cover his dress shirt. Barry snickered and Bruce nudged him. "Keep it up and they'll catch us," he said softly as they sneaked out the service entrance and crossed the street.

"I can't help it," Barry whispered, ducking his head, when one of the paparazzi looked their way. It was a tense moment, but thankfully they hadn't been caught. "Usually when I have to undress, it's at the end of the date, not at the restaurant. By the way, you totally owe me a new jacket."

"Alfred will pick them up tomorrow." Thank God a few of Umberto's employees were willing to sell them their hoodies. "And what do you mean, usually?"

"Hey, a gentleman never tells." Barry took Bruce's hand and squeezed gently.

He raised his eyebrows. "Who's a gentleman?"

"That's cold, Bruce. That's very cold." Barry looked around curiously. "I've never been in Gotham at night. We're not gonna get mugged, are we?"

Bruce tensed at Barry's words, his steps faltering slightly. A bitter taste filled his mouth and he swallowed hard.

"Oh. Oh, shit." Barry stopped, tugging Bruce close. "Shit, Bruce, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"I know," he said, voice hoarse. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to Barry's. "It's all right. Jesus, it's been almost forty years."

"Hey, there's no timeframe when it comes to grief." Barry gave him a quick kiss on the mouth. "I think about my mom every day."

So did he; every damn day. Sometimes it felt like a curse, a burden he'd never manage to let go. Fuck, he didn't want to do this right now. He'd been having a good time. Bruce took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he offered up a wan smile and said, "I usually save the traumatic flashbacks for the second date."

"You Gotham boys always move so fast. Everybody knows you're supposed to wait until the third date. That way you can ask for pity sex."

This time Bruce's smile was genuine. "I thought sex was the plan already. Now you're telling me I have to wait until the third date? I feel cheated."

Barry chuckled and pressed against Bruce. "Oh, it is, baby, I'm poppin' your cherry tonight. You don't have to worry about that."

Bruce flushed with pleasure. "Come on, let's go back to my place. You can show me what you got."

"Why, Mr. Wayne, you sure know how to turn a boy's head." Barry's smile grew mischievous. "Race you?"

He grabbed the front of Barry's hoodie. "No."

*****

They made it to his room and Barry shoved him up against the wall, kissing him hard, hands gripping his shirt. Bruce let out a soft moan and grabbed Barry's hips, trying to drag him even closer, wanting to feel Barry's muscular body against him.

His mind raced as he thought about what they were going to do and how they were going to do it. He considered trajectories. If he pushed just right, Barry would stumble back on the bed and… the thought skittered away when Barry stepped back, breaking the kiss.

Bruce licked his swollen lips and cocked his head.

"Don't move," Barry said, face flushed, mouth red. "Just stay where you are."

Bruce nodded and watched as Barry stripped down so that all he was wearing was his trousers.

Then Barry settled on the bed, legs spread, leaning back on his hands. "Now I want you to take off your clothes for me. Slowly."

He smirked; this was familiar territory. He pulled off the borrowed hoodie, dropping it to the floor and kicked off his shoes. Alfred was going to kill him for leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor, but he had more important things to occupy his thoughts. Like the way Barry's mouth hung open when he took off his trousers. Bruce knew he was attractive, despite all the scars on his body, he'd had enough people tell him so, but Barry's reaction was still flattering. When he was naked, his cock half hard, he raised his eyebrows and waited.

"God, you're beautiful," Barry said and shuddered. "You ever sucked cock before, baby?"

Bruce's mouth went dry and he shook his head.

"I want you to suck mine. Get on your knees." Barry's voice went low and raspy, but despite his arousal there was a hint of steel behind it, like he expected to be listened to; Bruce's cock twitched and he slowly obeyed. "Take out my cock."

He took a deep, surprisingly shaky, breath and reached over to undo Barry's trousers, but before he could do anything, Barry touched his hands.

"If I do something you don't like or if you're not ready, all you have to do is say no, Bruce. All you have to do is say stop. Okay?"

Bruce swallowed hard and brushed aside Barry's hand. "Okay." In quick order, he had Barry's hard, leaking cock in his hand. It was a nice size, not too big. He stroked it a few times, familiarizing himself with the shape of it, then leaned in and licked the precome off the head. It was more bitter than his own, but he knew he could soldier through. Besides, he liked the way Barry moaned, hips giving a little involuntary jerk, so he did it again.

"Fuck, baby." Barry gripped his hair and tugged. "Go on, suck my cock. You know you want to."

He did want to, but he wasn't about to go straight for it without doing a bit more reconnaissance. Bruce licked a stripe up the underside of Barry's cock, from the base to the tip, rubbing his tongue under the head where he knew it would be the most sensitive. Barry let out a choked off sound, fingers tightening in his hair in the most delicious way. Precome dribbled down onto his tongue, filling his mouth with Barry's taste, making his mouth water. He fought the urge to touch himself and instead pressed sucking kisses down Barry's shaft, and then licked and sucked at his balls. Women loved it when he went down on them and he was sure he could master this too.

Barry groaned, lifting his hips, his body vibrating gently. "God, either you've been practicing or you're a natural."

Bruce smirked and lapped at Barry's balls. He should probably get on with it—his knees were beginning to ache and he knew they were going to hurt like hell tomorrow. He looked up at Barry, whose face was flushed, eyes glazed with lust, and felt his own desire flare hot in his belly.

"Suck my cock, Bruce. I know you're hungry for it," Barry said.

He shuddered, opened his mouth, and engulfed the head of Barry's cock. Barry moaned, body trembling in a way that made Bruce feel like he had a vibrator in his mouth, then stilled. It felt strange: his lips stretched wide, the head hot and heavy on his tongue. He gave an experimental suck and Barry cried out, thrusting hard. Bruce gagged, eyes watering, drool spilling out of his mouth. He tried to pull back, but Barry's fingers tightened in his hair, keeping him still and he should have hated that, but his own pleasure surprised him. He gave a choked moan and his own hips jerked twice, cock hard and leaking.

Barry stilled and Bruce took that moment to wrap his hand around the base of Barry's cock and get his gag reflex under control. "Baby, you look so gorgeous like that. You like my cock in your mouth? I think you do. I think you love it. Come on, start sucking. Show me how much you love my cock."

Bruce's face flushed and he moaned helplessly. He squeezed the base of Barry's cock and began to suck, slowly bobbing his head, trying to take as much as he could before choking. Barry kept making these little noises and vibrating in quick little spurts that threw Bruce off his game and made him gag. And every time he gagged his cock would throb with pleasure. It was ridiculous but he supposed it wasn’t the most ridiculous thing about him.

He took more of Barry's cock, purposely making himself gag and choke, spit dribbling out of his mouth, making a mess.

Barry gave a breathless laugh. "Fuck, you like that. You like choking on my cock, don't you? F-Fuck, I was trying to go easy on you. Should have known."

Barry gripped his hair with both hands and he couldn’t move, not without tearing out his hair and he grumbled in protest. Then Barry began to rock his hips, fucking into Bruce's mouth and oh. Oh. He pressed his hands on the bed, bracketing Barry's hips and clutched at the sheets so he wouldn't touch himself, wouldn’t get himself off. He wasn’t a kid anymore, and with the pain medicine he was taking, he might be able to manage twice in one night. Maybe. But he didn't want to chance it.

"Yeah, you love it when I use your pretty mouth. You're gonna love it even more when I fuck your tight pussy. You're gonna come so pretty for me, Bruce."

Bruce went hot all over as Barry's words washed over him, but didn't drown out the wet, obscene sounds of his mouth being fucked, of his gagging and choking and suddenly Barry's cock swelled and the taste of come was overwhelming. He swallowed what he could but some of it spilled out of his mouth and down his chin.

Barry didn't let Bruce go, didn't pull out, until his cock was soft. Bruce stayed on his knees, gasping harshly, eyes staring blankly at the floor.

"That was… that was pretty damn amazing," Barry said, running his knuckles down the side of Bruce's face, brushing his thumb across Bruce's mouth. "You with me?"

Bruce cleared his throat, looked up at Barry, and nodded. His lips felt bruised and his throat hurt, but that only made him want more. "Please," he whispered.

Barry wiped the spit and come from Bruce's chin with his fingers then wiped them on the blanket. "I like making you messy. Get on the bed."

Bruce's knees protested when he got to his feet, but he was good at ignoring the pain when there was a task at hand. He climbed into bed, sprawling out on his back, wrist crossed above his head, thighs spread. "Lube is in the nightstand."

Barry grabbed the bottle. "What about condoms?"

He hesitated, and then said, "I'm clean."

"Oh." Barry stared at him a moment, then gave a little nod. He dropped the bottle on the bed and knelt between Bruce's thighs. "Look at you. You're such a good boy."

The gasp surprised him, so did the way his cock jerked, precome spilling onto his belly.

"Oh, you liked that." There was amusement in Barry's voice and he circled Bruce's right nipple until it stiffened. Then he pinched it and said, "You wanna be my good boy?"

The pleasure that radiated out from his belly, hot and fast, left him flushed and panting, He buried his face against his arm, hips rolling up, his cock pulsing with need.

"Answer please," Barry said, pinching his other nipple, making Bruce whine low in his throat.

He fought through the pleasure, trying to find a bright spot of sanity in the clamoring need of his body. He gasped out, "Yes. God, yes, please." He'd be humiliated about the desperation later, after Barry had fucked him. "Please. Please."

"You're so pretty when you beg." Barry gave Bruce's cock a few tight, slow strokes, making him groan and then squeezed his balls. "Are you ready for me to pop your cherry? Your cock's ready, but is the rest of you? You want my cock, baby? You gonna be a slut for me?"

He wanted to laugh because everyone knew that Bruce Wayne loved to fuck. "Yes, yes, I'm… I…" His voice trailed off and he groaned when Barry rubbed his perineum. It felt weird at first, but once he got used to it, the pleasure slowly built up. "Fuck. Stop teasing." He lifted his knees, spreading them, trying to entice Barry to finally just get on with it.

"Okay, okay, I get it. I'm officially getting on with it." Barry laughed again, grabbing the bottle of lube and flipping it open. He drizzled the lube onto his fingers, getting it everywhere.

Bruce watched, his hands clenching and relaxing, knees and lower back protesting the position. He jumped slightly when Barry's slick fingers brushed up against his hole, but he took a deep breath, and released the tension.

Barry rubbed against his hole, thumb continuing to massage his perineum. It felt so damn good, but he wanted more. He knew Barry was trying to be solicitous, but he wanted everything. He rolled his hips and let out a slow, deep moan—Barry seemed to like feedback.

"Yeah? You like that?" Barry asked, his fingers slowly breaching Bruce's hole.

Bruce let out a gasp; it burned like a muscle that had been overtaxed. It wasn’t painful, it wasn't too much, but it was different, good but different. He panted softly and bore down, which helped; Barry's fingers slid into him, making him moan. He bucked his hips when the pleasure was too much, then did it again when the pleasure spiked, He felt breathless and out of control—he should hate it, he wanted to hate it.

"I know." Barry stroked his prostate, pulling a choked cry from him. "I just want to be sure I'm not going to hurt you. You're so tight."

"You can—You can hurt me," he said, the words spilling out of him in a rush.

"Next time, I promise." Barry gently stroked his thigh; his legs were trembling. Hell, all of Bruce was trembling. "You're doing so good. I'm so proud of you."

He gave a soft whimper and buried his face against his arm so that Barry couldn't see his face. He could manage this, he knew he could, and he might have but then Barry's fingers began to vibrate, and he reached the end of his patience. He gave a sharp cry and moved: hips rocking as he fucked himself on Barry's fingers, his chest heaving as he gasped and moaned. He reached down to touch himself, because he had to, he just had to.

"No," Barry said sharply, his voice cutting through the haze of pleasure. "If you touch yourself, I will stop. Put them back where they belong."

He wanted to protest, but the look on Barry's face told him it wouldn’t work; he jerked his hands back up.

"Okay." Barry slipped his fingers out of Bruce, prompting a cry of protest. "Okay, I know. Shh, baby, I've got you."

Bruce would have continued to protest, but Barry was slicking his cock, then pushing Bruce's knees up and pressing closer. Barry's cock was so much bigger than his fingers and Bruce didn't care. He wrapped his legs around Barry's waist and tried drawing him in. The full feeling was… it was so damn amazing.

"Shit, you're so tight, so fucking tight." Barry gasped and rocked his hips, sinking in more and more with every stroke.

Bruce rocked up to meet him, clenching around Barry's cock, knowing that he wasn't going to last much longer. His balls ached painfully and his cock was spurting precome with every thrust.

"Can you come from my cock, Bruce?"

"Yes. God, yes." Bruce tightened his legs around Barry, urging him to move faster, and Barry did, shifting until he was hitting Bruce's prostate. Bruce's mouth fell open, but no sound emerged; the pleasure was too much.

"Come for me. Come for me now," Barry said, voice strained.

Bruce arched up, balls tightening as he spilled between them, bright spots of light dancing across his vision as everything went supernova with pleasure. Barry cried out, grinding against him, and it was perfect. Everything was perfect.

When his vision cleared, he let his legs fall back onto the bed; his bones felt like they'd turned to jelly and he was having a hard time catching his breath.

Barry stroked his face with trembling fingers. "You okay?" He grunted in response, which was about all he could manage, and Barry laughed. "Yeah, me, too. Fuck, hold on, hold on."

Bruce groaned when Barry pulled out of him—he was already sore—and watched as Barry stumbled to the bathroom. He could feel Barry's come trickling out of him and that felt weirdly erotic.

When Barry came back into the room, he was carrying a glass of water and a wet washcloth. He gently cleaned up the mess on Bruce's belly and chest, and then touched Bruce's wrists. "You can move them now."

Right. Bruce lowered his arms and Barry helped him sit up so that he could drink the glass of water. When the glass was empty, he flopped back down onto the bed, exhausted.

Barry fiddled with the glass, then set it on the nightstand. "Can I stay the night?"

"Alfred would kick my ass if I sent you away without breakfast." He rolled over onto his stomach and pressed his face against a pillow.

"We wouldn't want that," Barry said, settling next to him on the bed.

*****

Bruce woke to sharp pains in his knees and a dull throbbing in his lower back. He groaned softly, cursing himself for not taking his pain medication last night. Now he was going to have to spend an hour in the hot tub trying to get the pain down to a manageable level. He gave himself a moment to wallow, then slowly sat up, grunting softly.

The space next to him was empty, for which he was glad, until he realized that Barry was probably with Alfred. Last time that happened with a date, baby pictures were involved. He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. Okay, medication first, and then he needed to put on some pants.

The medication was easy enough—he kept it in his nightstand. He opened the bottle and dry swallowed a couple of pills. Then he slowly scooted his way to the edge of the bed, and levered himself to his feet, clenching his teeth and breathing through his nose as his body protested. He slowly made his way to the dresser, where he kept his pajamas. He took out a pair of bottoms, leaning against the wall to put them on, then slipped into his favorite robe.

Bruce knew exactly where Alfred would be, which meant that's where Barry would be: the kitchen. He stretched, slowly, carefully, then made his way out of the room.

He could hear Barry laughing from the hall and he couldn't help but smile. Bruce quickened his pace, then stopped and stood in the kitchen doorway. Alfred was at the stove, flipping pancakes, a platter of bacon already sat on the table. Barry was setting out the plates, talking animatedly to Alfred about some new video game. Bruce stepped into the room and cleared his throat. "Good morning."

Barry gave a start, then gave Bruce a wide smile, eyes lighting up with pleasure. "Hey, baby," he said, and strode over, pressing a kiss to Bruce's mouth. "Good morning."

Alfred looked over his shoulder and gave Bruce a quick look. "Sit down, Master Bruce, breakfast will be ready in a moment."

He knew that Alfred could see that he was in pain, but instead of protesting that he was fine, like he usually did, he made his way to the table and sat down.

"Oh, hey, where do you keep the silverware?" Barry asked, giving Bruce an expectant look.

Bruce froze in his seat, mouth slightly open to respond, as if he had one goddamn clue where anything was.

Alfred gave a snort and said, "The drawer below the coffeemaker."

"Thanks, Alfred." Barry moved to the drawer, opening it. "Oh, look, Bruce, I found the silver spoon you were born with." He held up a salt spoon and grinned.

"Oh, ha ha," he said with a mock-scowl. "You're not funny."

"You keep telling yourself that." Barry brought the silverware over to the table, along with a cup of coffee for Bruce. "I'm guessing you like your coffee black, like your suits."

"I do, thank you," he said, taking a sip and sighing. He wasn't much of a morning person, so breakfast was usually toast and some coffee before he fell into bed, but he did love bacon, even if Alfred rarely made it anymore, complaining about cholesterol and heart disease. As if a heart attack was going to kill him and not some criminal who got lucky.

Halfway through his cup of coffee, Alfred set a plate in front of him. "Two slices of bacon, Master Bruce. And don’t you sneak him more." He leveled a stare at Barry.

"I won't. Cross my heart." Barry was drowning his stack of pancakes in so much syrup it made Bruce queasy. "Man, all of this looks great, Alfred. Thank you so much for this."

"It's my pleasure, sir." Alfred smiled fondly at Barry, who shoved a forkful of pancakes into his mouth.

When Barry wasn't eating, he was talking, flitting from subject to subject: work, friends, and his activities as Flash were his favorite topics. Bruce let Barry's voice wash over him as he concentrated on his own meal. He wasn't very hungry; the pain made it impossible to have a healthy appetite, but he forced himself to eat. Alfred complained otherwise and he didn't need Barry noticing.

"So this is probably uncool of me, but I'd really like to do this again," Barry said after wiping his mouth with a napkin. "If you'd like to do this again. Do you want to do this again? God, I'm probably coming off as desperate."

Alfred slipped out of the room, giving them some privacy. Bruce sipped his coffee as he thought about what Barry was asking; he wasn't prone to relationships, but this was different. Barry knew him, every part of him; he wouldn't have to lie about bruises or if something came up. And he liked Barry. He liked Barry a lot. "I would, actually. What about next Friday? I could come to Central City, make a weekend of it."

"Um, sure." Barry worried at his bottom lip. "I've got roommates, so we couldn’t stay at my place."

"Don't worry, I have a hotel. We can stay there."

"Oh, God, you actually mean a whole hotel, don't you?" Barry snorted and rubbed his forehead.

Bruce shrugged. "I always say what I mean, Barry."

"Yeah, I can see that." Barry glanced at his watch and cursed softly; Bruce raised his eyebrows. "I promised Iris I'd meet her for coffee and I'm late. Shit, I'm sorry, Bruce, I gotta go. If I show up in what I was wearing last night, she's gonna tease me."

"I'll let Alfred know you had to leave." Before he could get to his feet, Barry was at his side, giving him a slightly sticky kiss. "I'll text you later."

"Okay." Barry licked his mouth. "I really did have a great time."

"Me, too." Bruce pushed him away. "Now go; you should never leave a lady waiting." Barry was gone even before he finished the sentence and Bruce sighed. He reached for a slice of bacon when he heard Alfred come into the room. He considered his options and decided it wasn't worth the nagging. "Barry wanted me to thank you again for breakfast."

"Mm, yes, he's a nice young man." Alfred's tone was noncommittal which put Bruce on edge.

"He's a nice young man, but he's too young for me?" he asked. Alfred always had something to say about his dates.

Alfred grabbed the pot of coffee and topped off Bruce's cup. "He's a nice young man and I like him. Please be careful."

"We've gone on one date, Alfred. This is hardly something serious."

Alfred stared at him until he looked away, then gave him a piece of bacon. "I'll get the hot tub ready. After, I'll rub you down with liniment. Really, Master Bruce, you have to remember to take your medication."

His only response was to stuff the bacon in his mouth and chew on it loudly until Alfred turned away in disgust. He finished the rest of his coffee, then slowly got to his feet. If he didn't get his pain under control, he'd have to cancel his weekly training with Diana. She hated that and he did try not to piss her off too much.

*****

Bruce's nose had stopped bleeding, but he could still taste blood in the back of his throat. He wiped his nose with his forearm, smearing the blood across his cheek, and shifted from foot to foot, looking for a weak spot in her defenses. There wasn't one, but he lived in hope.

"You look a little tired, Bruce," she said, with an amused smirk; she was as cool and put together as when she first arrived.

"Taunting mortals, Princess? That's not very sporting of you. Not all of us can be demi-gods." He feinted left twice, letting her deflect his punches, then swept her feet with his leg. She stumbled, but managed to roll and get on her feet again.

"Not bad."

His narrowed his eyes and moved all his weight to his right foot, that's when the hairs on his arms stood on end and a blast of air swept over him and Diana.

"Hey, guys," Barry said with a little wave.

"Hello, Barry." Diana smiled and Bruce took his chance, moving forward quickly and punching. Of course, Diana shifted to the side, grabbed his arm and pulled, throwing him off balance.

Bruce let out a grunt when his back hit the mat. He didn't even have a chance to draw a breath before Diana pinned him to the ground. He struggled, but she was stronger than he was.

"Wow." Barry stared at them, mouth slightly open. "That was really hot."

Diana laughed and rolled her eyes. "Men."

"Let me go," Bruce said, jerking up, trying to throw her off; he could feel Barry's eyes on them.

"Tap out," she replied. Bruce glared up at her, but Diana only raised her eyebrows at him. "It's your rule. Combat is not over until one of the opponents taps out. You're not trying to cheat again, are you?" She leaned in close. "Do you want another sprained wrist?"

Bruce flexed his arms and tried to get free; nothing. He made the mistake of glancing at Barry, who was staring at Bruce, cheeks flushed, eyes hazy with lust. He could feel his own desire rising and quickly hit the heel of his foot against the mat, relieved when Diana rolled off him and got to her feet. They were friends, but he wasn't sure how she'd react if she felt how much Barry's gaze had affected him.

Barry walked over and handed Bruce a bottle of water. "You're a mess," Barry said, he was so close, their chests were practically touching.

"That's what happens when you spar with an Amazon." Bruce shrugged and chugged the water until the bottle was empty. "She's been in the game longer than I have."

"I could spar with you, Barry, if you want." Diana smiled mischievously at him. "It might be fun."

Barry laughed, his hands settling on Bruce's hips. "Thanks, but no thanks, Diana. I'm more of a runner than a fighter."

"If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me."

"Yup. Kicking Bruce's ass," he said.

Bruce rolled his eyes and sighed. "What are you doing here?"

"Alfred called and said he had my jacket. And since I have to be in court tomorrow, I need it."

"Are you staying for lunch?" Diana asked, giving Barry a fond look.

"I'd like to, but I can't. I'm hanging with the foster parents today. They need me to clean the gutters and if I don't do it today, I know that Jay is going to try to do it himself. I probably should have left five minutes ago, but I wanted to say hi." Barry kissed Bruce on the jaw, a hungry look in his eyes. "Hi."

"Hi." Bruce took a step back, putting some distance between them. He wasn't going to let Barry start something they wouldn’t be able to finish. Bruce had company and Barry needed to head to the Garrick's. "I have to clean up before lunch." It was one of Alfred's rules. "I'll see you next week."

"Next week," Barry said, then turned to Diana. "I'll see you on Wednesday."

She nodded. "Same time, same place."

Barry gave him another kiss, then zipped away. Bruce stretched, wincing when his body protested. "What's Wednesday?"

"We meet every other week for dinner," Diana said with a slight tilt of her head. "He's only been at this for a short time; I think he was looking for a mentor."

Bruce grunted softly in response, and then took off his shirt and used it to wipe the blood from his face.

"Bruce—"

"You're a good choice," he said, honestly. His last two forays into mentorship hadn't gone very well. Dick barely spoke to him and… He rubbed his eyes. "Who's mentoring Vic?"

"I believe he and Clark spend time together. Vic is fascinated by Kryptonian technology." Diana stripped out of her workout clothes and slipped into a dress; she hadn't even broken into a sweat. She gave his ass a smack as she passed him on the way out. "Get cleaned up."

*****

Alfred made spanakopita for lunch, which made Diana smile with delight. Amazons weren't Greek, they were older than that, but she'd spent some time in Greece after the war—Bruce didn't ask her which war, it wasn't nice to guess a lady's age.

"You've outdone yourself, Alfred," she said, taking his hand and squeezing it gently.

Alfred brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it. "You inspire me, Ms. Prince."

Bruce rolled his eyes and poured himself more ouzo. Alfred gave him a sharp look, which he ignored. "I need a favor," he said, scowling when Alfred grabbed the ouzo and put it away.

"Oh? What sort of favor?" She took his glass and knocked it back.

"I'm going to be out of town this weekend and I was wondering if you'd keep an eye on things." He didn't like asking, but even with the stealth plane, it'd take him forty-five minutes to get back to Gotham. And that was forty-four point five minutes too long.

"You wouldn’t rather Clark?"

Bruce snorted. "Gotham would eat him alive."

"Clark?" Diana tilted her head. "You underestimate him, Bruce."

"I've been saying that for the better part of two years," Alfred mumbled under his breath and set a glass of tea in front of Bruce.

"I know Gotham. If you don't want to do it…"

"No," she said, "I'll do it. Thank you for trusting me."

He shrugged; he would have asked Dick, but the last time had ended with them screaming at each other.

*****

"The guy you're banging called me," Dick said cheerfully when Bruce answered his phone.

Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose. It was Monday morning, he'd only had a few hours of sleep, and if he didn't get going soon he was going to be late for the eight o'clock meeting Lucius had set up with Ray Palmer for some godforsaken reason. "Dick—"

"Hey, I would have called him your boyfriend but then you'd complain because you've only been on one date."

"You could just call him Barry since that's his name." Bruce needed a drink. He needed a couple of drinks. Either Barry took the number from Bruce's phone or, more likely, Alfred had given it to him.

"I could have, but then that vein in your temple wouldn't be pulsing right now. If I close my eyes, I can practically see it."

"Why did he call you?" Bruce asked, trying to stave off a conversation that would end in yelling.

"He wants to get coffee and talk about my time on the police force. I told him that I'd have to check with you first. I know you're not a fan of me meeting your special friends."

"When you were a kid." Bruce hadn't wanted Dick to get attached, not when whoever he was sleeping with at the time would be gone the next week. "You can meet with Barry, if you want." He was quiet for a moment. "He knows about me. I told him."

"Wow, that serious?" Dick sounded stunned.

"No." Bruce took a deep breath. "It's… There were special circumstances, but you can trust him."

"Well, at least I know he's been vetted and the background check didn't turn up anything." Dick hummed softly. "Is he a meta?"

"You know I'm not going to answer that."

"That's fine," Dick said almost gleefully. "I'll find out myself."

Bruce considered warning Barry, but really, he brought it on himself. "Just remember I'd like him in one piece."

"For all the banging?"

He sighed. "Yeah, for all the banging. Keep it up and I'll release a sex tape." Again.

"You wouldn't dare," Dick said. "Alfred would kill you."

Alfred would kill him. "That's a chance I'm willing to take."

"Jerk," Dick's tone was fond instead of furious and Bruce wondered if he'd had a nice night or if Barry had put him in a good mood. "I should go, my shift starts in an hour and the sergeant gets mad when I'm late. I tell you, Bruce, I thought once I went semi-legit, I wouldn't have to deal with weird stuff."

"What do you mean?" Bruce asked.

"I know you've said that S.T.A.R. Labs has all the Mother Boxes under lock and key, but we've had instances of people disappearing from lock up, then an hour later, showing up two hundred miles away; we even had a perp commit burglary when he was already in prison for murder. Ever since Superman came back, it's like the world's gone collectively crazy."

"I could look into it," he said.

"Please, don't. If it really is a Mother Box, I'll let you know. Otherwise, I can handle this myself. I'll talk to you later."

"Have a nice day at work," he said, closing his mouth so he wouldn't say something to ruin the end of their conversation.

"You, too, Bruce."

The call disconnected and Bruce stood there for a while, staring out at the lake, wondering if tangling his life with Barry's was the right decision, wondering what would happen when they inevitably broke up.

*****

Bruce was pretty sure that Ray Palmer spent most of his life higher than a kite. There was no other explanation for the unrelenting cheerfulness of the man—it made Bruce's head hurt. "Let's never do that again," he said to Lucius, who laughed.

"I'd tell you that you were getting grumpy in your old age, but honestly, I think you were born irritated."

He put a hand to his chest and gave an offended look. "I'll have you know that I was a happy and carefree child."

"Bruce, I think you forget that I spent time with you as a child." Lucius gathered up a stack of papers and got to his feet. "That said, I agree with you. I thought Palmer was going to give us something we could work with but… miniaturization? The man's a dreamer."

"Yeah, well, I suppose stranger things have happened." Not that he thought Palmer would get his project off the ground. "Changing the subject; I'm going to be out of the office on Friday."

"Oh?" Lucius raised his eyebrows. "Business or pleasure?"

Bruce cleared his throat and shuffled the papers in front of him. "Pleasure. I'm spending the weekend in Central City."

"I see," Lucius said with amusement. "Not your usual weekend getaway, but I suppose it must hold some fascination for you. Planning to eat at the first Big Belly Burger?"

"You know, I hear the sense of humor is the first thing to go once you hit old age."

Lucius pointed at him. "You should know."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "I'll have my cell if you need to get a hold of me."

"I'll only call if there's an emergency. You really like this kid, don't you?"

"He's…" Bruce struggled to find a word to convey exactly what Barry was; but everything that came to mind sounded like too much. "He's all right."

Lucius laughed and shook his head. "You're allowed to like him, Bruce. He can be more than all right."

"I don't exactly have a great track record when it comes to people who are more than all right, Lucius. But he's a good friend and our first date was… fine." He scowled at his inability to express how much he enjoyed his time with Barry.

"I'm glad." Lucius got to his feet and patted Bruce's arm. "I'll take whatever meetings can't be moved. You have a nice time with your boyfriend."

*****

Bruce left Gotham later than he wanted to on Friday thanks to an emergency at his south Gotham plant. One of the venting systems went on the fritz and several people had to go to the hospital with minor burns. He stayed until Lucius ordered him to go with a promise to call if anything else happened.

So when he finally got to the hotel, it was late, and Barry was waiting for him in the living area, sprawled on the couch, a few boxes of Chinese food on the coffee table. Once the bellboy left, Barry rose to his feet, walked over and wrapped his arms around Bruce, who returned the hug.

"I saw the news. Is everyone all right?" Barry pressed a kiss to the side of Bruce's mouth.

"There were a few people with second degree burns, but the doctors say there are no serious injuries. Lucius will handle it." The tension loosened in his shoulders and he leaned into Barry.

"I left you some food," Barry said, but Bruce shook his head. "Did you want to go to sleep?"

"No." Bruce wanted Barry. He just wanted him.

"Okay." Barry let him go and took a step back. "Take off your clothes, baby, and then let's go to the bedroom. I want to show you what I brought."

It didn't take long from Bruce to strip out of his clothes and follow Barry into the next room. There was an open suitcase on the luggage rack and Bruce found himself drawn to it—there was a lot of leather.

"So this is what I'm thinking; you suck me off, then I tie you up and eat your ass until you're begging me to fuck you. And if you're a very good boy, I will. How does that sound?"

"Good," he said softly, his cock twitching with interest.

"I brought some options: rope, wrist cuffs, and some arm binders." Barry took out each item and showed it to him. "Though arm binders put a lot of stress on your shoulders and I don't want to hurt you."

"I can take it." He'd taken a lot worse. Also, the arm binders looked hard to get out of and that appealed to him.

"I know you can. But I don't want to hurt you." Barry gently stroked his back.

"I want them." Bruce took a deep breath and licked his lips. "Please."

"Okay, just remember, this isn't about endurance, it's about pleasure." Barry set the arm binders aside. "I also brought some floggers, a few butt plugs, and some wax."

"What's that?" He reached over and picked up a white, lacy piece of cloth. Oh. "Panties."

"Yeah." Barry tensed and the expression on his face was guarded. "You ever…?"

"No." Some of his past girlfriends had joked about it, but he was too big to have fit any of their delicate underthings. He tilted his head and brought the panties to his body; a look of hunger passed quickly over Barry's face and Bruce was desperate to see it again. "I don't mind trying them on."

"If you want." Barry shrugged. "I've got a pink pair and black pair, too."

Bruce decided to stick with what he had in hand. He stepped into the panties and pulled them up. They were Brazilian cut, which meant the lower half of his ass was exposed, but they weren't uncomfortable. The lace was soft and not as scratchy as he thought they would be. "How do I look?" he asked, turning slowly.

"Okay." Barry was staring at him, cheeks flushed.

"Just okay?" Barry's obvious desire made his own breath quicken and his cock was making itself known, tenting the fabric of the panties. He liked making Barry aroused; he liked knowing that he could do this for Barry.

"You look amazing." Barry reached out and gently ran his fingers over Bruce's bulge. "Why don't you go take a shower? I left you something in the bathroom to get you clean inside."

Bruce nodded, then leaned in to kiss Barry hard on the mouth before heading to the bathroom. "I won't be long." He used the enema kit and then took a hot shower, washing away the day's stress. When he dried off, he slipped the panties back on and stepped out into the bedroom.

Barry was naked, sprawled out at the head of the bed. "I figure kneeling on the bed will be easier on your knees. Come here."

He climbed onto the bed and crawled over to Barry.

"God, you're perfect. Why are you so perfect?" Barry ran his fingers through Bruce's hair. "I want to fuck your face, baby. Do you want to choke on my cock?"

"Yes." He felt hot all over. He felt like his skin was too small for his body. "I want to choke on your cock."

"We won't do anything you don't want to, Bruce. Nothing you won't like. All you have to do is tell me to stop. Or tap out." Barry stroked his face and Bruce shuddered. "Yeah?"

He swallowed hard. "Yes."

"Then suck me. I want you so bad."

Bruce let out a little moan and took Barry into his mouth. He didn't have to worry about anything except Barry's cock and Barry's pleasure. And if he did a good job, which he would, Barry would take care of him. After the day he had, that sounded perfect.

"Oh, God, Bruce." Barry gripped his hair with both hands and dragged him in.

Bruce gagged when Barry's cock hit the back of his throat and sent a thrill through his body. He pulled back, and Barry did it again, until they had a rhythm going. It was good, it was very good, each time he choked, an answering heat filled him, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't quite what he needed.

Barry sensed that because he gently pushed Bruce off him. "On your back, baby. Let's try something a little more intense. A needy little cocksucker like you will love it."

He face grew hot, but he didn’t protest Barry's comment. After all, he did love sucking cock. Bruce settled on his back, head hanging over the edge of the bed, mouth open so when Barry slipped off the bed and stood in front of him, he was ready to be fed Barry's cock. It took a moment to get the angle right; Barry had to shift around a bit, but once it clicked, Barry didn't bother easing himself in.

Barry used Bruce's mouth, moaning and cursing, filthy words spilling from his lips. "You're just the perfect fuckhole. I could fuck you all day and never get tired of you. Just fill you up with my come. You'd like that wouldn't you, slut? Breed you until you can't move."

Spit spilled from Bruce's mouth and his throat felt raw and used and he couldn’t keep himself still. He rocked his hips to Barry's thrusts, his cock aching for more friction, the lace of his panties sodden with pre-come. He gripped Barry's thighs, because if he didn't, he'd touch himself and he knew that Barry would be disappointed with him if he did.

"Good boy, good boy, good boy," Barry chanted with every thrust and Bruce felt as if those words were battering him with pleasure. "Look how much you love that." Barry leaned in, making Bruce gag, and teased the waistband of the panties with his tongue.

He clenched Barry's thighs, hard, so hard. He couldn't breathe and Barry's tongue was dipping into his belly button and he was trying, he was trying so hard not to come but then Barry whispered 'good boy' against his stomach. His whole body jerked several times as he came, his vision going dark around the edges. He still couldn't breathe, then Barry pulled out and he gasped for breath. Then gasped again when he felt something wet spill across his mouth and chin.

"You all right, Bruce?" Barry asked and he grunted. "I'm gonna take that as a yes. Come on, head on the bed so you don't get come up your nose.

He wiggled until he was fully on the bed then wiped at his mouth; it was a mess of spit and come.

"Here." Barry zipped away and came back a moment later with a wet washcloth in his hand, which he used to clean up Bruce and himself. Then he eased the wet, sticky panties off Bruce and tossed them onto the floor.

Bruce had only felt a small electrical disturbance in the air; Barry was getting better at controlling it.

Barry sat next to him on the bed and grinned. "Well, that was a little more intense than I'd planned. But at least now I know that next time I should bring the leather choke collar."

"Choke collar?" He should probably be concerned, but he felt too good to drum up more than slight curiosity.

"For breathplay. Not everyone's interested and it takes a lot of planning and care." Barry stroked Bruce's hair back from his forehead. "You did like it, right?"

"Yeah, I liked it." Bruce felt heavy with exhaustion, and he wasn’t sure he could move, but he knew that Barry still had ideas for the night. "So, the arm binders?"

Barry laughed. "Why don't we save that for later. You look like you're ready to drop off and to be honest, that took a lot out of me, too. Why don't we just call it a night? Where are your pain meds?"

"In my shaving bag."

"You shave?" Barry rubbed a hand over Bruce's stubbled cheek.

He batted away Barry's hand. "Get me my pills before I fall asleep."

Barry kissed him sweetly on the mouth before climbing out of bed, and muttered softly, "Pushy sub."

*****

Bruce knew he was dreaming because his line of sight was too low. It was dark and quiet and his parents were on either side of him. They were walking towards a warehouse and he knew, he knew they couldn’t go in there. There was something bad there.

"No, we can't," he said, but his father grabbed his hand and tugged him along. He tried dragging his heels but his father was too strong. "There's a monster in there."

"Don't be silly," his mom said. "There's no such thing as monsters."

That’s when he heard the high-pitched, wild laugh that sent terror through him. Bruce struggled in earnest, trying to pull out of his father's grasp. "We can't. Dad, we can't. He'll kill us." No matter how hard he struggled they continued to move forward.

"Don't you want to see Jason?" his dad asked.

Bruce woke with a gasp, his face wet with tears, his heart hammering in his chest. He was tense and ready to leap into action because someone was touching him, someone was in the room with him, but it was too dark to see who it was. It took his sleep-muddled mind a moment to realize it was Barry.

Barry, who was gently rubbing his back and murmuring softly, "Shh, it's okay. You're safe, Bruce. I'm right here and you're safe."

He took a shaky breath and forced his body to relax into Barry's touch. "I didn't mean to wake you." His voice was rough and he wasn't sure if it was because of the blowjob or the crying.

"I have nightmares too. Usually about the night my mom died, but sometimes I dream about my dad. That he dies before I…" Barry kissed the back of his neck. "When I lived at home, I used to wake up Jay and Joan. Jay would rub my back and tell me I was all right until I stopped crying, then we'd go downstairs and have hot chocolate. Joan always made sure there was mini-marshmallows."

"I'm not really the hot chocolate type," he said, which was a bit of a lie because in winter Alfred made sure to bring him some if he was working late.

Barry hummed. "Do you think you can fall back to sleep?"

"No."

"Why don't we watch some TV then. There's usually something amazing on at two in the morning." Barry pulled away and a moment later, the TV on the far wall came to life.

Bruce sniffled, wiped his eyes, and sat up; Barry immediately settled close.

Barry flipped through the channels then stopped. "Oh, The Great British Bake-Off."

"The what?" He stared at the TV screen; it looked like someone was crying over a panna cotta.

"You've never seen The Great British Bake-Off? You can't tell me that Alfred doesn’t watch this. I think it's a requirement for British people, like drinking tea and loving the Queen."

"We're both a little too busy for TV, Barry," he said.

Barry snorted. "Clark told me that his mom said that Alfred watches soap operas online."

That sentence hurt Bruce's head. "So it's a cooking show?"

"It's the best cooking show." Barry smiled at him. "Trust me, by the end of the night, you'll be as in love with Mary Berry as the rest of the viewing audience."

"If you say so," he said, ready to be bored to tears.

*****

Bruce must have fallen asleep at some point, because one moment he was watching a bunch of British people make éclairs and the next Barry was gently shaking him awake.

"Good morning, sleepy head. Breakfast is here."

He groaned and buried his face in the pillow; he hated mornings.

"I know, but I had them bring up extra bacon." Bruce's stomach growled at that and Barry laughed. "Come on, before everything gets cold."

Bruce grumbled as he climbed out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. He splashed water on his face, pissed, then walked back into the bedroom where he realized that his luggage, along with his clothes, was still in the living room. He grabbed a sheet off the bed, wrapped it around his waist and stepped out to greet Barry properly.

"Nice toga," Barry said, handing the blushing young man who brought their food a twenty.

Bruce smiled brightly and posed, which made Barry tilt his head. "More of a kilt than a toga."

The bellboy turned an even brighter shade of red, mumbled a thank you, and quickly fled.

"It's a good thing I didn't come out naked." He dropped the sheet and pulled out a pair of pajama bottoms from his bag. Once he was partially clothed, he made his way to the patio. Oh good, they brought him a newspaper. After breakfast, he'd make a quick call to Lucius, then Diana and Alfred, to see how things went last night then… then maybe he and Barry could go back to bed. "So who won the bake-off anyway?"

"No idea. I fell asleep right after you did." Barry sat at the patio table and began to uncover their plates. It was a lot of food, but then Barry's caloric requirements were off the charts.

Bruce poured himself a cup of coffee, then glanced at the newspaper. The front-page article was about the issues the CCPD was having with their assistant crime scene techs. The subject had been on his radar for some time, for obvious reasons, but Barry never talked about it. "Looks like things are heating up," he said, tapping on the article.

"Hmm?" Barry stuffed a sausage in his mouth and chewed slowly. "Oh, I guess."

"Not worried?"

Barry shrugged. "Sure, but I mean, there's really nothing I can do. Either they'll hire us on as proper CSIs or they'll fire us. A couple of my coworkers have already jumped ship; gone back to school or got into the police academy."

"Is that why you called Dick? To ask about the academy?" Bruce cut into his omelet.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I should have told you that I was calling him, but I didn't know how you'd feel about me talking to your kid."

"Barry." He nudged Barry's leg with his own. "My kid is older than you and as he so frequently tells me, he can do what he likes. So what did he say?"

"That it's rewarding, but it's also a lot of work." Barry shrugged. "It's an option."

"You don't sound very enthusiastic about it."

"I'm not." Barry let out a frustrated sigh. "They hire assistant CSIs fresh out of technical school as contract workers. That way they can pay us half of what they do regular CSIs and they don't have to give us benefits. We're told that we can eventually promote up once we've had enough experience. I've been with the CCPD for four years. I've got more knowledge than anyone just coming out of the academy or college. I shouldn't have to go back to school. We tried talking to the union, but they'd be happy to have us gone."

"Is there anything I can do?" Bruce asked, reaching out to gently touch Barry's hand.

Barry shook his head and offered up a wan smile. "No, I'll figure it out. But thank you for letting me rant. "

"Let me know if you need anything. I could always buy a lab."

"I'd laugh, but I know you're serious." Despite Barry's words, he chuckled. "No more talk about work. Finish eating and we'll take a walk around the park. There's this great ice cream parlor that I want you to try."

*****

"What do you think?" Barry asked, and then slowly licked around his ice cream cone to keep it from dripping. He'd gone for blueberry and his tongue was already stained purple.

"Not bad." Bruce had gone for their Flash inspired ice cream, which was just sour cherry with yellow sprinkles. They were walking through the park and holding hands, just like half a dozen other couples they'd passed. Bruce didn't think he'd done anything so normal in all his life.

"Not bad? Are you crazy, this is the best ice cream in the city." Barry gently bumped Bruce with his shoulder.

"I've just tasted better. Next time you're in Gotham—"

Barry groaned. "Please, the only good thing to come out of New Jersey is you."

"Hey!" Bruce jerked Barry forward so that when he went to take a bite of ice cream, he wound up with a face full instead.

Barry yelped, and gave Bruce a look that was more surprised amusement than outrage; Bruce laughed. "You jerk! I got ice cream up my nose."

"It's a good look on you." He offered Barry a handkerchief.

"I'll show you a good look." Barry took it, wiped his face, and blew his nose. "Gross."

"Aww, you're not so bad." Bruce smirked, then took a long, slow lick of his ice cream.

Barry opened his mouth to retort when a man coming towards them from the west entrance of the park shouted his name. The man wasn't alone, he had a companion; they were both tall and muscular. Barry dropped his ice cream. "Oh my God. Hal? Hal!" He ran towards Hal, leaping at the man, who caught him, and wrapped his legs around him.

"One of these days I'm gonna drop you," Hal said with a laugh.

"When did you get back into the—town?"

"Last night. John and I dropped by your place, but your roommates said you were having a romantic evening with your boyfriend," Hal said.

"Oh." Barry dropped his feet to the ground and Hal let him go. "Bruce, c'mere."

Bruce tossed his ice cream in a nearby garbage can and stepped forward. "Hi."

"Bruce, this is Hal Jordan and his friend John. Guys, this is my…. Bruce." Barry shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled awkwardly.

"He meant boyfriend," Bruce said with an easy, nonchalant laugh. He let his voice soften and dragged out the words a bit, dropping into his Brucie personality. "It's nice to meet you, Hal. Barry hasn’t mentioned you at all." He held out his hand and Hal took it, squeezing tightly as they shook. Bruce desperately wanted to squeeze back, but that wasn't who Brucie was. Instead, he winced, pulled his hand out of Hal's grasp, and laughed again. "Nice grip."

"Yeah, you, too." Hal looked at him with barely concealed scorn.

Bruce also shook hands with John, who had a firm grip, but didn't try to squeeze his hand off. He noticed that John was wearing the same garish green ring as Hal. He gestured to it. "So, are you two married?"

John laughed, "Not a chance. Hal and I work private security together. This is sort of a badge."

"Sounds like fun." John was lying and Bruce wasn't sure why. Barry didn’t seem concerned.

"If you guys aren't busy, we could get a beer." Hal put his arm around Barry and hugged him close. "I've got some stories you'll love, Barry."

Barry rolled his eyes and elbowed Hal hard in the side. "I'd like to, but Bruce and I have plans. If you guys are gonna be around tomorrow night, we can get a beer then?"

"That would be fine," John said, grabbing Hal by the back of the shirt and jerking him back. The two men shared a long look, then Hal sighed and slumped, looking away. "Does seven work for you, Barry? We'll pick you up at your place."

"Sure, that works. I'll see you guys then." Barry grabbed Bruce's hand and tugged him towards the exit. "Sorry about Hal. He can be kind of, well, a jerk."

"It's all right. Interacting with exes can always be weird."

"Ex?" Barry snorted. "He's not my ex."

"Oh?" Bruce raised his eyebrows. "I just thought with the reticence to call me your boyfriend, you were trying to spare his feelings."

Barry grimaced at that. "No, I just… I wasn't sure if we were there yet."

"Do you want to be there?" He kept his tone light; he didn’t want to pressure Barry.

"Yeah, I do."

Bruce nodded and took Barry's hand. "Me, too."

*****

They didn't leave the room after that, which was fine with Bruce. They fucked and when they weren't fucking they watched a few more seasons of The Great British Bake-Off, or ordered room service. By late afternoon Sunday, Bruce was utterly exhausted and perfectly sated.

"Do you have to go?" Barry asked, then kissed Bruce languidly.

Bruce made a soft little sound, hugging Barry tightly. If they were other people, he might stay; thanks to computers and video conferencing, it was certainly possible for him to run Wayne Enterprises from here. But they weren't other people. He broke the kiss and sighed. "Come to Gotham next weekend. I'll send my plane."

"Your plane?" Barry nibbled on Bruce's lower lip. "Don't tell me I broke you."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "People are going to start wondering how you get from Central City to Gotham, then back again, so quickly. You taking my plane will stop people from putting two and two together and getting the Flash."

"Planes are so slow." Barry groaned as if he were in pain. "But fine, I get your point."

"So next week?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah, next week." He stepped back and smiled. "Text me?"

"I will. Have fun tonight." When Bruce got home he was going to find out just what Hal and John were hiding.

Barry glared at him. "He's not an ex-boyfriend."

"Okay, okay." He grabbed Barry by the t-shirt and dragged him close. "One more kiss for the road."

*****

As soon as he got on the plane, he called Lucius's cell and left a message. "Hey, Lucius. I just wanted to let you know that I'm on my way home. I should land in Gotham about six. When you have a moment, will you send me those reports on the fire? I know, I know, let the experts handle it, but you know me. Oh, and I have a lunch appointment in Metropolis on Wednesday, so if there's anyone you want me to pay a visit to, let me know. Give Tam and the grandkids my love. I'll see you tomorrow." Then he called Alfred, who answered immediately.

"On your way home, sir?" Alfred asked, though he knew the answer.

"Yes. Lay out my suit, will you. I'm probably going to go straight out." Bruce enjoyed spending time with Barry, but he missed Gotham and was desperate to go on patrol. He knew Diana took good care of his city, but she didn't understand the currents of it like he did.

"Very good, Master Bruce. I'll make sure everything is ready for you."

"Thank you, Alfred. I'll see you soon." Bruce hung up then opened his tablet and looked over the crime reports Alfred had sent him that he only got a chance to glance at while Barry was in the shower.

*****

Once a month, he and Clark would get together for lunch, eating at that horrible greasy spoon around the corner from The Daily Planet. They'd spend an hour talking about nothing in particular because if they were going to work together from time to time, they should at least like each other. The first few lunches were difficult—how did you get past someone trying to kill you? But eventually the conversations between them got easier.

Clark rarely missed their meetings, but when he did, it was usually because of a natural disaster, so he wasn't surprised when Lois caught him coming out of the elevator and said, "Earthquake in Malaysia."

"Pity. I was looking forward to hardening my arteries."

Lois laughed and steered him back into the elevator. "You can take me to lunch instead. I've been dying to try La Estella, but getting a reservation there is impossible. Unless you're, you know, you."

He raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Well, I'm glad I'm good for something."

"You have your uses," she said.

The day was warm and the sun was out, so they walked to the restaurant, where he smiled charmingly at the maître d', who sputtered and stammered, and found them a table by the window.

"This is going to be all over the tabloids, you know. Lois Lane and Bruce Wayne's secret love affair." She placed her napkin on her lap and sipped her water.

"It wouldn't be the worst thing written about me," he said and she hummed, looking over the menu. "I'm surprised you're not interrogating me."

Lois looked up then, a tiny frown on her face. "About what?"

"About the fact that I'm a switch hitter."

"Bruce, I've interviewed presidents and warlords and done exposés on Intergang. Compared to that, your personal life is boring. But if you want I can have one of the society reporters drop by."

"No, that's all right." She smacked his arm and he gave an exaggerated wince. The sunlight hit the very modest diamond of her engagement ring and Bruce gripped her hand to look at it. "Set a date yet?"

"We're taking it slow." Lois smiled fondly at the ring. "With everything that's happened in the past year, Clark needs to get his bearings. Don't worry; you'll be one of the first to know. Clark will probably ask you to be his best man."

"Me?" Bruce stared at her incredulously "But... me?" Jesus.

Lois shrugged her shoulders and went back to her menu. "Have you ever had sea anemone?"

"Get the lamb." He leaned in, his hands clenched into fists. "Lois."

She glanced at him. "He trusts you, Bruce."

"He shouldn't."

"Yeah, well, that's Clark." She set down her menu. "I think you're right; I'm going to get the lamb chop. What are you going to order?"

Bruce forced himself to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "The mussels with linguini."

"Just a warning, I'm going to eat off your plate."

"I don't share well with others."

Lois smiled. "I've heard that. I'm still eating off your plate."

*****

On the ferry back to Gotham, he texted Clark, "Your fiancée is a menace."

A few hours later, Clark responded, "Yeah, she steals food from me, too."

*****

Barry canceled their weekend. "I'm sorry, baby, but I'm swamped. There's a new bad guy in town, calls himself Zoom and he's been running everyone ragged. He… He seems to have the same powers as me."

Bruce had been keeping up-to-date on the new villain, but hadn't learned anything, which was more than a little frustrating. "Do you need some help?"

"I got it." Barry sounded exhausted; Bruce could sympathize. "What about next week?"

"No, I have to go out of town. There's a tech conference in Kyoto that Lucius wants me to attend."

"The week after's out, too. It's Jay's birthday; we're going fishing."

Bruce winced. "Sorry."

"Yeah, me, too. But I'll be home in time for the League meeting." Barry let out a frustrated sigh. "If things slow down, maybe I can drop by for dinner."

"That would be nice," he said, but of course Harley blew into town and everything went to hell in a handbasket.

*****

The problem was that Harley was in Arkham and this girl, with her tiny shorts and baseball bat was the wrong flavor of crazy. He'd chased her across Gotham before finally cornering her on top of a building. They weren't far from The Bowery, and he knew he'd lose her if he didn't put her down now.

"Who are you?" he asked, jerking back as she swung at him.

"Aw, you know who I am, Bats." She grinned and swung her hips in mock seduction. "Why don't you come over here and gimme a kiss?"

"Kiss this." Batman moved forward, letting her catch him in the ribs, then he sucker punched her hard enough to take her down. Batman tied her up then crouched down, waiting for her to wake up. When she did, the first words out of his mouth were, "You're not Harley Quinn. Who are you?" She was too young by at least ten years.

"You pack a punch, baby. Next time, hit harder." She licked the blood from her lips. "It's tasty."

Batman grabbed her by the throat and she yelped. "I'm not going to ask you again."

"Don't be mad, Bats, I just wanted to take a stroll on the wild side," she said, leaning into his touch. "Don't worry, I don't need a safe word."

He let go of her, which was a stupid mistake because she head-butted him. He fell back onto his ass, then there was a flash of light and she was gone. "Fuck." He got to his feet and looked around, but she'd disappeared. "Base, I need you to patch me into Silas Stone."

"Problem, sir?" Alfred asked.

"Yes. Now patch me through." It took a few moments, but when Silas picked up, Batman interrupted his greeting. "Are all the Mother Boxes accounted for?"

"What—Batman. Yes, of course they are," Silas said.

"Check. I don't care if you just did, check again."

Silas sighed in annoyance. "All right."

There was silence and Batman stood on the edge of the building, scanning the surrounding areas. It took Silas three point seven minutes to come back. "Well?"

"They're all locked up. I counted twice. You know, you're the second person to call me about the Mother Boxes this week."

"Who else asked about them?"

"The Flash. Look, Batman, I'm a busy man—"

He hung up on Silas.

*****

Bruce was a patient man, so he'd wait until the League meeting to confront Barry about his secretiveness—that made Alfred laugh. When he got to the lighthouse, Barry and Arthur were already there. He lingered in the doorway and watched them.

"Dude, aren't you tired of fish?" Barry asked. He was lying on top of the meeting room table, eating fries from a bag on his chest. "Don't you have them all the time?"

Arthur was sprawled in a chair, stuffing his face full of said fish. "Not batter fried. And there are no fries in Atlantis. Or beer."

"That sucks." Barry shoved a couple of fries into his mouth and chewed noisily. "After the meeting we should go out for a beer. There's some stuff I wanna run past you."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "What about Bats?"

"He's not a go out for beer kind of guy."

That was Bruce's cue. He stepped into the room; Arthur didn't look surprised. "How would you know? You've never asked. Get off the table, please."

"Hey." Barry zipped over and kissed him gently on the mouth.

Bruce wanted to deny Barry the intimacy, but as soon as their mouths met, he drew Barry closer and deepened the kiss.

"Aww, man, seriously? It's bad enough I'm single, but now I have to watch you two make out," Vic said as he strolled into the room, Diana and Clark behind him.

"I think it's cute," Arthur replied and Bruce broke the kiss to glare at him. He just grinned back. "Still think it's cute."

"Let's get on with this." Bruce reluctantly let Barry go and sat down. He waited for everyone to get settled before he said, "We've got a problem."

"Two problems," Barry said reluctantly.

"Same problem. Why didn't you tell us that one of your rogues had a Mother Box?" That certainly got everyone's attention.

Barry blinked, mouth open in surprise. It took him a moment to pull himself together. "He—He doesn't. Zoom's from an alternate universe. The tech he's using is different."

It was nice to get a confirmation, but that still left a problem. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Because Central City is my territory and Zoom's my problem." Barry crossed his arms over his chest. "What, only you can get all territorial?"

"Your problem is affecting my city," Bruce said. "I had to fight a Harley Quinn who wasn't my Harley Quinn. I can't plan for these things if I don't know about it, Barry."

"I didn't know."

"You should have. You've been distracted." Bruce didn't want to be harsh, but this life wasn't a game; Barry had to be on his toes all the time.

"Bruce, lay off," Clark said softly. "You made your point."

Barry's face was red with embarrassment and his shoulders were hunched as if ready for a blow. "I’m sorry."

Diana gave him a pointed look and Bruce sighed.

It wasn't okay. It wasn't close to being okay, but he put a hand on Barry's shoulder. "You'll know better next time. Do you need help dealing with Zoom?"

Barry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "No, I can deal with him. But I'll let you know if I do."

There was an awkward silent, then Vic said, "I'm not the only one who thinks this is kinda cool, right? I mean, alternate universes? That's some Star Trek shit right there." And just like that the tension in the room snapped and everyone seemed to breathe easier.

Clark stroked his chin. "I wonder if alternate me has a goatee."

*****

Bruce hung back after the meeting, staring out the window as Barry made plans to meet Arthur at a bar in town.

Then Barry walked over to Bruce, steps slow and hesitant. "I'm heading out."

Instead of answering, Bruce turned to him, grabbed him by the wrist, and tugged. Barry moved easily, pressing against Bruce's body, arms wrapping around him, cheek pressed to Bruce's shoulder. Bruce ran his hands up and down Barry's back, until the tension was gone between them. "Come over tonight," he said, pressing a kiss to Barry's temple.

Barry shuddered. "Yeah, okay."

"Bring the choke collar." The words came out a whisper, he was almost afraid Barry hadn't heard.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." He'd looked it up online and then watched a few videos. He was desperate to try it out.

"Okay." Barry kissed the side of his neck. "I gotta go, but I'll see you tonight." A moment later, Barry was gone, leaving behind the smell of ozone.

Bruce let out an unsteady breath and resumed staring out the window.

*****

"It's soft," Bruce said as he gingerly handled the black leather choke collar; it was lined and the edges were rounded so it wouldn't cut into skin.

"It's not meant to hurt. Though, I mean, you could do permanent damage if you're not careful." Barry took the collar from Bruce's hands. "You know your body's limits, you know how to stop yourself from being hurt. That's the only reason why I'm doing this, Bruce, because I know you'll stop me if I don't notice I'm going too far."

Bruce nodded, his mouth dry, his heart pounding desperately in his chest. "I'll say no or tap out if I don't like it or if it's too much."

"We'll go slow. Take off your clothes and get on your knees." Barry looked pale in the moonlight pouring in from outside and Bruce stared at him for a moment before stripping down and kneeling. Barry slipped the collar over Bruce's head, then pulled the leash until the leather tightened.

It didn’t impede Bruce's breathing, but he felt the constriction every time he swallowed. Then Barry tightened it further and Bruce let out a soft, choked sound as his breathing was hampered. He'd never hardened so fast in his life and he couldn’t even moan. He stared up at Barry, mouth open, face hot, then Barry loosened the leash and he gasped for breath.

"Good?" Barry asked, fingers stroking Bruce's mouth.

"Yes," he said, then Barry did it again and Bruce had to clench his hands against his thighs to keep from touching himself.

"You're so pretty when you're desperate." And he kept the collar tight for another five heartbeats before letting the collar go lax. "We're going for a walk around the room and if you're a good boy I'm going to give you more of what you want. But if you're bad, I'm going to leave you like this, aching and needy, in the middle of the room for the rest of the night. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Bruce licked his lips and tested a new phrase, at least for the bedroom. "Yes, sir."

Barry grinned, tugging the leash, forcing Bruce to straight up. "Oh, good boy."

He shouldn’t feel so pleased by Barry's delight, but he couldn't stop the pleased shiver that ran through him.

"Hands and knees," Barry said and walked him around the edges of the room, sometimes moving at a brisk pace that tightened the collar almost too much, but not quite.

By the time they made three turns around the room, Bruce was panting, his throat aching from the pressure, his cock so stiff there was an edge of pain to his pleasure. Barry had him kneel by the bed, and just stood over him quietly, waiting. It was torturous. It was—Bruce wanted Barry to say something, anything, but the silence only stretched on. "Please," he whispered just to break the silence. "Sir, please."

"Please what?" Barry asked, dropping the leash and trailing his fingers along the side of Bruce's face. "What do you want, baby?"

"Please." He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Barry's stomach, his breath coming out of him in shuddering sobs. He'd been good; he knew he'd been good.

Barry stroked his hair and murmured soothingly. "Easy, Bruce. Easy. I know what you want. Get on the bed, ass in the air."

Bruce obeyed quickly, clenching his fingers in the blankets to keep from touching his cock. He moaned when he felt Barry's slick fingers in his ass, working him open. He rocked back on those fingers, fucking himself.

Then Barry grabbed the leash and pulled it tightly. "Stop moving."

He fought to keep from coming. He thought about Harvey and Lucius and Alfred staring down at him, disapproval on their faces. He couldn’t cry out, but he tightened around Barry's fingers, shaking as he came.

Barry released the leash again and Bruce gasped and wheezed. "Good boy," Barry said, slipping his fingers out of Bruce and shoving his cock in. "Fuck, oh, fuck, I love how hot this makes you. Love watching you come. Desperate little slut."

Bruce whined softly; each thrust of Barry's cock sending a wave of pleasure that bordered on pain for his overly sensitive body. He shouldn’t like this, but it was one of the many things he shouldn't like or shouldn't do; he didn't care. It didn't take long for Barry to come inside of him, to press wet lingering kisses along his shoulders and back.

"Perfect. Bruce, you're so perfect." Barry pulled out and carefully removed the collar from around Bruce's throat. "Shit, you're going to bruise."

He was glad; it wouldn’t be the first time he'd go to work with bruises around his throat. At least this time it wasn't because some criminal managed to half-strangle him. "It's fine," he croaked out from his raw throat. "I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine."

Bruce rolled over onto his back and gave what he hoped was a proper glare. "You're ruining the afterglow."

Barry laughed and lightly pressed his hand to Bruce's throat; Bruce couldn't stop the tiny moan from escaping his lips. "Okay, okay, I get it. You enjoyed yourself."

"Stay the night," he said, running his hand down Barry's arm and gripping his wrist.

"Okay. Yeah." Barry leaned down to kiss him.

*****

Bruce woke a few hours later to a painful throat and an empty bed. He pulled on a robe and headed for the kitchen—other than the bedroom, it seemed to be Barry's favorite part of the house.

Barry was sitting at the table, eating a sandwich and looking at his phone. He offered a smile when Bruce came in and sat down. "Hey, hungry?"

He shook his head; his throat felt raw and it hurt to swallow.

"Why don't I make you some tea with honey?" When Bruce nodded, Barry got up to fill the electric kettle. "I had to run over to Central City, there was a hostage situation that was going belly up. I should have left a note."

"It's all right," he whispered. "Duty first."

"Yeah." Barry silently moved around the room, getting a mug, taking down the tea and the honey. Then Barry turned to him, gaze tender, looking very much like he had something profound to say.

Barry was going to say something that Bruce would very much regret, so he cut in quickly, "Jim Gordon's birthday is next month. He's having a big party. I want you to be my plus one."

"You, what?" Barry stared at him in surprise, completely derailed. Good.

"He wants to meet you," he said. "You'll need a tux."

"I have a tux."

"Then you're all set. Good. I'll RSVP." Bruce got to his feet. "Forget the tea, I'm going back to bed." After twenty years as Batman, he knew when to strategically retreat.

*****

Barry kept fiddling with his bowtie, which was a dark burgundy instead of black. He was nervous, fidgety, and when he wasn't playing with his tie, he was staring out the limousine window and vibrating. "Are you sure this is all right? It's not gonna take focus off the birthday boy?"

He and Barry had been together for three months now and the paparazzi were still wild for them. "The birthday boy is seventy years old, Barry, and very happy not to be the center of attention. We're doing him a favor. Just remember to smile, even when you're being insulted."

"Why would I be insulted?" Barry looked horrified by the prospect; Bruce felt sorry for him.

"Because Gotham high society is filled with vultures." And Barry was young, charming, and absolutely gorgeous—they would go right for the throat. He moved so that he was sitting next to Barry, put an arm around his shoulders, and began to kiss his jaw. It would relax Barry, but also… Barry in a tux was irresistible. Bruce wanted to muss him. "You'll do fine."

"Bruce, what are you doing?"

He hummed and bit the spot just below Barry's ear. "Am I not being obvious enough? I'll have to try harder."

Barry laughed and tilted his head slightly. His breath caught when Bruce nibbled his earlobe. "Alfred said to behave."

"I haven't touched you for a whole fifteen minutes. I have my limits." Barry turned his head and Bruce kissed him, plundering his lush mouth, then pulled back slightly so that he could whisper, "I'm going to suck you off later. And then I want you to fuck me."

Barry nipped sharply at Bruce's lower lip. "I can't believe you're teasing me right now."

Bruce chuckled. "If I really wanted to tease you, I'd tell you that I was wearing a pair of red silk panties."

"You bastard," Barry said, then pushed Bruce against the seat and kissed him hard.

When their limo finally pulled up to the Hotel Belle Monico, they were both flushed and panting and Barry had a dazed look in his eyes. It was enough to get Barry through the gauntlet of press outside hotel without freaking out, even if he did stammer a few nonsensical things to some of the reporters' questions.

Barry was absolutely frazzled by the time they made it to the ballroom, where the party was in full swing. Bruce grabbed a couple of glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handed one to Barry. "Drink."

"Thanks." Barry emptied his glass in one go, then took Bruce's and did the same. "I can't believe you have to deal with that whenever you go out."

"You get used to it," he said.

"My God, what an awful thought." A waiter took the empty glasses from Barry, exchanging them for full ones.

Bruce was about to suggest they find the hors d'oeuvres, when he heard someone call his name. He gave Barry an apologetic smile, then turned to face the woman coming towards. "Madeline," he said, elongating the pronunciation of the vowels, adding a bit of vocal fry. And of course, never forget the empty smile.

Barry looked at him in surprise.

"Bruce Wayne, late as usual," Madeline said, taking his hands in hers. They air kissed, then laughed. She'd known his parents; his mother had thought she was a busybody. "Oh, and this must be your friend from Central City? Madeline Crowne." She held out her hand and Barry shook it.

"Barry Allen. It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Crowne." Barry stepped closer to Bruce.

"Well, isn't he polite. Though, I'm still upset with you, Bruce. Couldn't you find yourself a nice Gotham boy? Where's your pride?" She shook her finger at him.

"The Crownes are one of the founding family of Gotham," Bruce said.

"As are the Waynes," she reminded him, as if he would forget.

"So you'll have to forgive her for her excessive hometown pride," he finished, as if she hadn't interrupted him.

"If only you had more pride," she said a bit sharply.

"Mm." Bruce sipped at his champagne. "Where's the birthday boy?"

"Probably hiding behind a potted plant," said a familiar voice.

Bruce gave a genuine smile and kissed Roni on the cheek. She looked spectacular in a tight, red dress.

"Madeline, Tulia is looking for you. I think she's having a bit of a problem with her dress." Roni gestured vaguely to the right and Madeline excused herself before scurrying off. "You'd think a gossip like her would be more interesting."

Bruce laughed softly. "Thanks for the assist. Barry, I'd like you to meet a good friend of mine: Veronica Vreeland-Dumas. Roni, this is Barry Allen."

"It's so nice to finally meet you, Barry." She gave him a warm kiss on the cheek. "I'm glad that Bruce isn't hiding you away anymore. We were all so terribly curious about the special young man who stole his heart."

Barry flushed, and for a moment looked at a loss for words. "I'm not special."

"That is not true." Bruce put an arm around Barry's waist and squeezed him close. "He's intelligent, funny, and absolutely amazing in bed."

Roni laughed when Barry sputtered and turned a brilliant shade of red. "At least wait until the end of the night before you embarrass him, Bruce. That way everyone's drunk and no one will remember in the morning."

"My apologies," he murmured softly and brushed his mouth to Barry's. "I'll make it up to you later."

"You'd better." Barry smiled at Bruce, then turned to Roni. "How long have you known Bruce?"

"Oh goodness. I don't know that there's ever been a time when I haven't known Bruce. Gotham high society is horribly incestuous. I think we've been friends since Tommy Elliot poured punch on my dress and Bruce shoved him into a pond in retaliation. I was… five?"

"So you've only known each other for fifteen years," Barry said, which made Roni beam.

"Oh, I like this one, Bruce. You have to keep him. Or at least send him my way when you're done." Her smile turned devilish. "I'm sure Paul won't mind."

Bruce rolled his eyes and tightened his grip around Barry. "Behave, Roni, he'll think you're serious."

"Besides," Barry said, "I could never move to Gotham. I love Central City way too much. Bruce understands that."

"Then I'll leave you both to it." Roni sighed heavily, then laughed. "Goodness, I see Gilda Dent headed this way. I better go hide before she tries to pull me into a conversation about Harvey. See me before you go, yes?"

"Yes," Bruce said, kissing her cheek. She got a kiss from Barry, then slipped away. Gilda was getting closer and he didn't want to have a conversation with her either. She'd want to know why he hadn't been by to see Harvey and that wasn't something he wanted Barry to hear. "Come on, let's go find Jim. If I know him, he's near the food."

*****

Jim was in fact hiding behind a potted palm tree with a plate of crab puffs, complaining to Bullock. "I don't know why Barbara did this. You know me, I'd be happy with a backyard barbeque: hamburgers, potato salad, and all the beer you can drink."

"I don't think I have an outfit for that," Bruce said with a grin.

Bullock gave him a sour look, but Jim laughed and popped another crab puff into his mouth. "I'm sure Alfred could pull together an outfit for you."

"That sounds pretty good to me, too." Barry smiled shyly at Jim and offered him his hand. "Barry Allen. It's nice to meet you, Commissioner Gordon. Bruce talks about you all the time. And everyone at my precinct says you're a great cop."

Jim shook Barry's hand. "Precinct? You a cop, too?"

"Assistant CSI, actually," Barry said.

"Lab rat." Bullock sneered and Bruce bit back a retort.

Jim rolled his eyes and shoved the almost empty tray of food at him and said, "Get me some of those egg rolls. And a glass of whiskey." Bullock grumbled, but did what he was asked; Jim gave Barry an apologetic look. "Sorry about that."

"That's okay. A lot of cops feel that way." Barry slipped a hand into Bruce's and squeezed.

"I don't. The work the lab boys do is important. We wouldn't catch or prosecute half the people we do without you."

"Thank you, sir." Barry brightened a little at Jim's words; Bruce could feel him vibrate for a moment. "That means a lot coming from you."

"So how did you and Bruce meet?" Jim tilted his head, eyes narrowed a bit. "He's been pretty tight-lipped about you."

They'd talked about this, coming up with a backstory that would hold under scrutiny; as long as Barry was able to lie well. "We met here in Gotham, actually. I volunteered to help with clean up after the whole aliens trying to take over the world thing. The second time."

"I was just finishing up one of my press junkets and…" Bruce laughed, pausing so Barry could take over.

"And I spilled coffee all over his suit." Barry ducked his head and gave a self-depreciating chuckle. "One thing led to another and here we are."

"You're both full of bullshit," Jim said and when Barry opened his mouth to protest, he glared until Barry stopped. "You don't have to tell me how you met. I have a feeling that it's probably better I don't know. But the whole back and forth story telling? Too cutesy. You're a good liar though, kid."

Barry glanced at Bruce for reassurance and Bruce smiled at him. "Thank you, sir. I guess."

Jim patted Barry on the arm. "I'm going to find out where Bullock is with my whiskey. I'll see you around, Bruce. It was nice to meet you, Barry. Don’t let Bruce hide you away in that glass house of his."

"I won't, Commissioner. Happy birthday."

Jim grunted in response and headed towards the bar.

"You're meeting my parents," Barry said suddenly. "And Iris. I feel like that's the right thing for you to do after tonight."

"All right." That seemed only fair. "And we'll work on our story." If Jim didn't buy it, and why would he, Barry's friends and family wouldn't.

*****

Going through Arkham security on visiting day was a long, thorough process. Bruce went through several different scanners, was patted down seven times, and had his watch, belt, and shoelaces taken from him. He was glad he hadn’t worn a tie. Once that was done, he was taken to a room with a glass window he was not allowed within six feet of, which looked into a similar room.

Harvey was brought into that second room, heavily restrained. His arms and legs were cuffed to a chair, which was bolted to the floor, and a guard was stationed at the door. "Hey, Bruce, long time no see." Harvey smiled, the unruined side of his face brightening.

Bruce let out a soft sigh of relief; today was a good day for Harvey. "Hi, Harvey. I'm sorry it's been so long."

"I get it, you're a busy guy. Especially with that new boy toy of yours." Harvey laughed at Bruce's groan of consternation. "We get TV here, too, you know. And the Prince of Gotham stepping out with a twink from Central City is big news."

"Barry is not a twink, Harv." It felt good to hear Harvey teasing him like this, even if his ego was taking a few hits. "He's a nice young man."

Harvey shifted in his chair and the guard behind him tensed. "How long have you two been dating?"

"Long enough that I'm meeting his parents tomorrow," he said.

"Jesus Christ." Harvey grinned gleefully. "Did you warn the kid that you never met a parent who didn't hate you?"

"I did and he said that his parents will like me because I make him happy." Bruce hadn't known what to say to that, so he'd given Barry a blowjob. Which, indeed, made Barry happy. "We'll see what happens tomorrow."

"My God, you're worried." Harvey tilted his head. "You're actually afraid of screwing this up. You really like this kid."

"He's not a kid."

"He's under thirty, Bruce, he's a kid." Harvey laughed. "I haven't seen you this twitterpated since Selina Kyle."

"Don't. If you say her name three times, she appears out of thin air." Bruce would always care deeply for Selina but when her complications met his complications, things blew up. Who knew what would happen with Barry's complications in the mix.

"Just be yourself, Bruce, not the little airhead high society and the media sees, but the real you. The one Barry likes."

"I’m not worried," he said and Harvey scoffed. "Anyway, I came to see how you were doing."

"Liar, liar, pants on fire," Harvey sang; Bruce tensed. "I'm fine. They seem to have come up with the right chemical cocktail to keep me mostly myself. My psychiatrist is trying to convince me to get plastic surgery for my face."

"You don't want to?"

"The medicine's just a Band-Aid. This, all of it, it's who I am. It reminds me that I shouldn’t get complacent. And the people who are around me shouldn't either."

Bruce didn't know what to say to that. He'd searched for years for the words that would heal Harvey, but there weren’t any. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry for me, Bruce." He smiled beatifically. "Be sorry for yourself. Tomorrow's going to be a disaster."

Bruce let out a bark of laughter. "You're an asshole."

*****

Bruce had been sitting in his car in front of the Garrick's house for sixteen point three minutes. The neighbors across the street kept looking out their window and frowning at him and he was sure that Barry's family knew he was there. He should get out and get the day over with.

Alfred had told him that he'd be fine. Martha, because of course he'd called Martha, had told him to be himself.

But which self? Not Brucie, and definitely not Batman, but which amalgamation of the two would be pleasing to the Garricks without making Barry look at him like he was a pod person.

Bruce was startled out of his thoughts by a knock at the passenger side window—it was Mr. Garrick, looking amused.

"Come inside," the man said, then turned and walked towards the house.

Bruce grabbed the bouquet of roses and bottle of wine next to him, got out of the car, and followed Mr. Garrick.

Barry gave him a kiss when he entered the house, chaste and brief, and took the wine.

"Mr. and Mrs. Garrick, it's nice to meet you." He offered Mrs. Garrick the roses and shook Mr. Garrick's hand.

"Jay and Joan, please, Bruce." Jay shook his hand and gently slapped him on the shoulder. "Come on inside. Would you like a beer? You must be thirsty from sitting in the car all that time."

"Pop," Barry said in warning and Bruce's face went hot.

"Ignore him, Bruce." Joan gently nudged Jay and smiled at Bruce. "He thinks he's funnier than he actually is. Please sit down. Barry, help me get the drinks."

"Yes, ma'am." Barry saluted and followed her into the kitchen.

Bruce took a seat on the couch while Jay sat in a chair to his right.

"So, we were a little surprised when Barry told us he was dating Bruce Wayne," Jay said and it was almost a relief that they would get this out of the way.

"Yes." Bruce considered each word carefully. "He's not my usual type."

"Because he's a man."

"Because of that." Bruce stared at his hands a moment. "But Barry's an extraordinary person. He makes me happy and I think that I do the same for him."

Jay leaned back in his chair, relaxed and smiling, like maybe Bruce passed some test. "Good answer."

Joan and Barry came back into the room carrying their drinks. Barry settled next to him and handed him a bottle of imported beer. "You done interrogating my boyfriend now, Pop?"

"Not quite," he said. "There's still one thing I want to know: have you ever met that Batman?"

"That menace," Bruce said, giving the standard response. "Only a few times."

Barry's parents tensed, he wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been watching for their reactions, and both their gazes had flicked briefly to Barry. Barry had said they didn't know about him, but Bruce realized they absolutely did.

"Of course, he's done a lot of good for Gotham," he continued, backpedalling quickly. "And he did help save the world several times. I should probably give him a break."

*****

After dinner, Barry took Bruce's hand and announced he was giving him a tour of the house. They ended up in Barry's old bedroom, which still had the trappings of his childhood: band posters hung on the walls, a blanket printed with the solar system lay on the bed, and action figures lined a simple dark brown dresser. Barry closed the door and dragged Bruce over to the bed; they had to press close to fit.

"Nice room," Bruce said, sighing softly when Barry pushed him onto his back and kissed him. "How many boys have you had in this bed?"

Barry laughed. "Including you? One. I was the resident weird kid at school. The only person who hung out with me was Iris."

"Ah yes. " Bruce had looked her up; she was a nice, normal young woman. No police record, not like Barry, but then her father was a cop. "I'm surprised she wasn't at dinner."

"She was supposed to come by, but then she got a lead on a story—she works for the Central City Tribune. And work comes first. You'll meet her next time." Barry tensed slightly, vibrating in starts and fits, then stopping abruptly. "Maybe next visitor's day you can come with me to Iron Heights to see my dad."

"Sure, if you want." Bruce stroked Barry's side in a soothing manner. "You hardly ever talk about him."

"People get weird when I do," he said, looking through Bruce as if afraid of what he might see. "I'm the only one who believes he's innocent. Everyone else thinks I'm in denial. But I know what I saw; my dad did not kill my mom. It was something else. Someone else."

Bruce made a noncommittal noise.

Barry blinked and focused in on him. "Would you believe me if I said that Alfred killed your parents, Bruce? No, you wouldn't, because you saw who killed them, but even if you hadn't, you know Alfred. You know how much he loved your parents, how much he loves you, and you know, you know, that he would never do that. It's an unshakeable truth that Alfred would never hurt you. It's the same with my dad."

He was quiet for a long moment, taking in Barry's words. There were a lot of things he could say; he'd seen men and women who'd professed to love their families do horrible things. He'd met countless children who refused to believe that their parents were the real monsters of the world. But those weren't the words Barry needed to hear from him. "Okay. If you say your dad didn't do it, I believe you."

Barry slumped against him with a sigh. "Thank you for saying that."

"You've got good instincts, Barry." He slid his hands under Barry's shirt, tracing spiral on Barry's warm, smooth skin. "But are you sure your parents don't know that you're Flash?"

"Definitely." Barry squirmed under his touch. "Why?"

Bruce shook his head; his instincts were telling him to stay out of it. "How long do you think it'll be before your parents call us back downstairs?"

"Probably in a few minutes."

"Pity." Bruce nipped at Barry's jaw. "I was hoping to show you the panties I'm wearing. I bought them special, just for you."

Barry laughed. "Panties, huh? I think I may have created a monster."

"What can I say? They're comfortable." He let out a yelp when Barry undid his jeans and shoved a hand down his pants. "Fuck."

"Not enough time," Barry murmured against his mouth. "But maybe if we're very fast we can—" A knock on the door interrupted Barry and he groaned.

"Dessert's ready, boys," Jay said. "Better make yourselves presentable and head downstairs."

"Thanks, Pop. We'll be right down." Barry slipped his hand out of Bruce's jeans. "Sorry."

"Later," Bruce promised and Barry grinned.

*****

It was a lazy Saturday morning and Bruce was tinkering with the 1965 Ford Mustang Convertible he'd bought at an auction a few weeks back. He thought he might give it to Barry for their six-month anniversary.

He was wrist deep in greasy machinery when his phone went off. "Alfred," he called, "would you pick that up, please?"

"Of course, sir." A moment later the ringing stopped and Alfred said, "Good morning, Clark. No—No, he— I see. Good lord, yes, thank you."

"Is everything all right?" he asked. Alfred didn’t respond, but a minute later Bruce heard a familiar voice say, "You're so pretty when you're desperate. We're going for a walk around the room and if you're a good boy—" Bruce went cold. He freed his hands from the undercarriage and pushed himself out from under the car. "What was that?"

"It seems there's a video of you and Barry—" Alfred gestured to his phone. Bruce's own phone was vibrating on the worktable, lighting up as he received text after text and call after call.

"Give me the phone." Bruce held out his hand and Alfred passed it to him. He felt sick as he watched it, his gut churning, his hands shaking in helpless anger. How? How the hell did anyone get video of this? Then he stopped cold. "The angle. Alfred— Get Barry here, now. Tell him… Tell him go slowly when he reaches the house." He got to his feet and ran.

There was no way this video was taken from the outside.

When he made to his bedroom, he checked the video again, pushing aside the anger and fear, pushing aside Bruce. The Batman pulled up a chair, stood on it, and ran his hand over the wall, slowly, smearing grease on the glass, until he felt it, the tiniest of imperfections. He used his nail to scrape it off and held it in his fist. "I'm going to find you," he said. "I'm going to find you and when I do, you're going to pay."

"Who—Who are you talking to?" Barry asked as he stood at the door, hands stuffed in his pockets, his eyes bloodshot, lashes wet.

"Someone bugged me. Bugged us." He grinned savagely and Barry took a step back. "Let's find out who." He'd have Clark come by once he and Diana were back on Earth and give the house and Bunker a once over. For now, the damage had been done; thank God, he never wore his uniform in the house.

"I think I know who did it," Barry whispered. "It was Zoom. He's got the tech. A few weeks ago I found a tracker on my suit."

"You—" He stared at Barry, incredulous, then shoved him hard against the wall. "And you didn't say anything? You just put everyone in danger!"

"No, I didn’t. I always wear my civvies when I see you or the others." Barry grabbed his wrist and looked at him tearfully.

"Don't be naïve. He knows who you are; we can only assume he knows about the rest of us." He'd have to call a League meeting.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"Your apologies are meaningless," he said and stepped back. The bug might still tell him something, even if Zoom deactivated it.

"I know I messed up, but I'm doing the best I can. Everything is… is all screwed up right now. But Bruce, you know I would never purposely hurt you. I love you."

He tensed, drawing in a sharp breath, then gritted his teeth as panic clawed at his belly because no. No, no, no, why would Barry say that? Why would he say that now? Bruce might have been able to deflect, to make light of it, but the Batman was another story. "I didn't ask you to."

Barry gasped; he looked like someone had punched him. "W-What?"

"I didn't ask you to." He pressed a finger against the bug in his fist and felt it crack; he wouldn’t allow Zoom this. "Barry, you're a nice kid, and you were lots of fun, but I'm not looking for a love affair."

"Bruce, don't, don't do this. I know you're mad, but—"

"We're done," he said, sharp as a whip. "I'll let you know what I find. You should have Clark look over your base for bugs."

"God, I can't catch a break this week, can I?" Barry gave a sob of laughter. "You're full of shit, Bruce. You're so full of shit."

"It's better this way," he said.

"Fuck you. It's not. You know it's not." Barry zipped away, leaving a trail of lightning that blew out the lights in the hall.

He stood there in the darkened hallway, feeling regret well up from inside of him, as sharp as any knife wound, as painful as a gunshot. His regrets were written on his skin. Scars and burns like hieroglyphs of ruin across his body. He'd learned to live with the regret and ruin. He would learn to live with this.

So would Barry.

*****

Bruce threw himself back into his mission with a zeal that had Alfred complaining about sleep schedules and missed meals. He ignored it the way he always did, burying himself in his work. And he was glad he did because when all hell broke loose a few days later, he was ready. Well, as ready as anyone could be for a strategic assault.

It was the middle of the day in Gotham, muggy and hot enough that Bruce decided to eat lunch in the cafeteria downstairs instead of going out. Cynthia, his secretary, offered to grab lunch for him, but Brucie never cared about what people thought about his sex life. He blithely ignored the whispers and stares.

Lucius joined him for lunch and they sat at a corner table, talking quietly about the Palmer-Kord collaboration on a new type of body armor.

"It could have useful applications," Bruce said and Lucius hummed knowingly.

"I'm sure we could come up with something just as good, if you're that hard up for new toys."

"I'm not hard up for new toys. I—" The building shook and everyone in the cafeteria stilled. Gotham wasn't known for its tremblers but it wasn't outside the realm of possibilities. Then the building shook again, but this time they could hear the sound of explosions in the distance.

"Clear the building now, Lucius. And get yourself to safety." Bruce rose to his feet and made his way to the exit while behind him, Lucius's calm voice reminded everyone of the evacuation procedures.

It was chaos outside, several more explosions went off and people were running and screaming. He needed a better vantage point to see what was going on, but the closest safe house was five blocks in the direction of danger. He grabbed his phone and dialed home. "Alfred, tell me you know what's going on."

"World War bloody Three, that's what's going on." Alfred said, angrily. "I have reports of multiple explosions in Gotham, Metropolis, and Central City. The pattern is random, mostly, although, S.T.A.R. Laboratories have been targeted in each city."

"Get the others on the line." Bruce elbowed his way through panicked crowds.

"I've been trying. Aquaman is reportedly dealing with a pack of Kraken." Alfred laughed almost hysterically. "I haven't been able to reach Cyborg, but communications in and out of Metropolis are spotty."

"And Flash?" Bruce asked, heart pounding in his chest.

"Nothing, yet, but he may be busy. Central City is taking a bigger hit than Gotham and Metropolis put together."

"Why in the hell— "

"Dear God."

The utter horror in Alfred's voice sent a chill down Bruce's spine, but he didn’t stop moving, not until he reached the entrance to his safe house. "Alfred."

"There's been a mass outbreak in Arkham."

"How in the hell did that happen?" But it was obvious a moment later when boom tubes began opening up. He relayed that information to Alfred, then ducked into the alleyway where the entrance to his bolt hole was located.

"They're popping up everywhere," Alfred said. "And some of them are giving out a peculiar sort of energy."

Bruce pressed his hand to the sensor on the brick wall and when the door opened, he quickly slipped through. "Call Nightwing. I'm going to need backup."

*****

It took Nightwing two hours and forty-three minutes to make it to Gotham from Bludhaven and Batman couldn't help coming up behind him and saying, "It took you long enough."

Nightwing jumped and spun, his eskrima sticks held ready. "Jesus, I hate when you do that. Do you know how hard it was getting into the city? It's a mess. I heard they've called in the National Guard. You know I'm probably going to move back home after this. I'm pretty sure they'll fire me for going AWOL."

"Alfred will be glad to hear it. Turn on your comm, I need you in The Bowery. Scarecrow has been playing hide and seek with the cops for an hour. If he manages to get a hold of a stash of fear gas, this day is going to get exponentially worse."

"Yeah, I know, I know." Nightwing stood on the parapet of the building. "Have you heard from Flash?"

"Stay on point," he said harshly.

"I'm sure he'll call in." Then before Batman could berate him, Nightwing dove off the building, performed a double flip, then let loose a line from his grapple gun.

"Show off."

Nightwing laughed.

*****

Some of the portals had to lead to other universes, because he was sure this had to be the third Edward Nygma he'd taken out today. Fuck, but he hated fighting in broad daylight. The suit was hot and stuffy and he was drenched through with sweat.

"Batman, I've heard from Dr. Stone," Alfred said. "Cyborg has been infected by a virus, one that the good doctor has never seen before."

Damn, that meant that Metropolis was vulnerable, but there weren't exactly other metas to reach out for help. "Keep trying Wonder Woman and Superman."

"Sir, maybe you should take a break. The biometrics in the suit—"

"I don't have time," he said sharply.

"Make time." Alfred rarely raised his voice, so when he did, it was to great affect. "You won't do anyone any good if you pass out from dehydration. There's a Red Cross station two blocks north of you."

"Fine." He gritted his teeth and made his way through the chaos. "Have you heard anything from Flash?"

"No, sir, but reports coming out of Central City say that he's busy."

"Keep trying."

The medics at the first aide station looked terrified when he walked up to them, but a tiny blonde woman handed him a cup when he asked from something to drink. It tasted awful—both salty and sweet—but he finished it, then handed back the cup for a refill.

"What the hell is that?" he asked.

"Pedialyte. Have a little more first, then you can have water." Her voice shook a little but her hands were steady.

"Thank you," he said, because they didn't have to be here in the middle of this mess with monsters and maniacs running around.

"You're welcome." She handed him two bottles of water. "Come back as often as possible."

*****

"Hey, I hear you've been looking for me," Barry—Flash said, sounding as tired as Batman felt.

"Where the hell have you been? The protocol is to call in every hour." He punched the Mad Hatter in the face and heard a satisfying crunch when he broke the man's nose.

"I know, sorry, I've been busy. It's a mess out here. And I-Iris—"

"No personal information over the League line." He always had to remind them of that; one of these days it was going to get someone in trouble.

"Oh, fuck off, Batman. They had to medevac her to St. Louis, and I don’t fucking care about protocol, okay? Zoom already knows who I am." Flash took a deep breath. "I heard Cyborg's down. I sent a few friends to help out in Metropolis."

"What friends?" He tied up the Mad Hatter and left him in the middle of the street for the police to pick up.

"They wear all green, like big glowing leprechauns. You can't miss 'em. Shit, I gotta go."

"Call in every hour," he said, but there was no response.

*****

The Joker's laugh was like fingernails on a chalkboard and he gritted his teeth, fighting to keep his emotions in check. But it was hard, so damn hard when all he could think about was Jason's bloody, broken body.

"Did you miss me, Batsy?" The Joker cackled, swinging a sledgehammer wildly. "I missed you."

He was going to snap the Joker's neck. It would probably be easier the second time.

*****

"Do you know how to defuse a bomb?" Flash's words slurred together so that it took Batman a moment to understand him.

It didn't help that Bane managed to punch him in the face. "Not now," he said. Bane was a formidable enemy, and as tired as he was, he needed to concentrate.

Flash gave a high-pitched laugh. "I don't think I can get rid of it without cutting off my hand."

Bane punched him again and he went flying into a concrete wall—fuck, fuck, fuck, that hurt. "Then cut off your fucking hand. Batman out!"

*****

"Batman," Alfred said, and there was relief there. "I managed to get a hold of Wonder Woman and Superman. ETA is four hours."

He shouldn't be relieved, he shouldn't need them, but God, it was good news. "Copy that."

*****

Thirteen hours of hell, of fighting and now it was time to look for survivors in the rubble that was downtown Gotham. Superman and Wonder Woman couldn’t get back soon enough. He and Nightwing were sitting on the roof of the Wayne Enterprises building, divving up the city.

"I'll take north of the river and you take south, that seems easiest," he said and Nightwing nodded. Suddenly, his League comm crackled to life.

"I didn't cut off my hand." Flash—Barry was crying, he was crying so hard. "I want you to know that I love you. Just that. I love you. B, I—"

There was a roar in the comm and Batman winced, then it cut off and there nothing but silence. "Flash? Flash, do you copy? Goddammit, do you copy!" But Barry didn’t respond, so he tried Alfred. "Did you catch that, base?"

"Yes, sir, I'm tracing The Flash's last known location."

"I want visual on him, base. Do you understand?" He was on his feet, his heart pounding, a sour taste in his mouth.

"Go," Nightwing said. "Bruce, go find him."

"There's still work—"

"The rescue workers and I can handle it." Nightwing grabbed him by the arms. "Go, he could be really hurt. You'll regret it if you don't go."

He dithered for one agonizing moment. "Fine. I'll be gone for two-three hours tops. Did you copy that, Base? I need wings at my location."

"Already on its way. Bring him back safely, sir."

*****

Barry had headed straight for the S.T.A.R. Labs weapons testing site in New Mexico, and it was a damn good thing he had because the explosion rivaled the detonation of a RDS-220 hydrogen bomb. At least according to the data from the satellite.

Bruce tested for radiation before landing near ground zero and getting out of the plane. There was nothing there, just patches of smooth glass where the heat of the blast had melted the sand.

It wasn't—Barry could outrun a bomb blast, Bruce had seen it. He stood there a moment, helplessly staring at his surroundings before contacting Alfred. "Base, I need you to run every scan possible on this site."

"Sir?"

"He's not here," Bruce said; he was so tired, he couldn't think properly. "I…"

"Stay where you are. I'm going to send Superman your way. He'll be there in ten minutes. Can you do that for me?"

He didn't know why Alfred sounded like that, quiet, gentle. It was the voice he used when Bruce's parents had died, when he'd brought Jason's body home. "Yes, of course." If anyone could find Barry, it was Clark.

He took a few samples, then ran some scans using the plane's sensors. It took eleven point three minutes for Clark to get to his location.

"Hey, Bruce," Clark said gently, moving towards him like he was an injured animal.

"Barry's not here." He tipped his head back to look at the stars.

"No, he's not."

Bruce's breath hitched slightly. "You think he's dead."

"I don't think anything." Clark touched his shoulder and squeezed gently. "All I know is that there was an explosion. You and I both know that Barry is fast enough to get away."

"You'll find him."

"Yes." Clark smiled. "I'll find him. But I need you to go home. Take a shower, eat, and then rest."

"Barry is not dead, Clark. He's not." If Clark were in civvies, he'd grab him by the shirt, but the suit was too skintight for that, so instead he pushed Clark's hand off his shoulder. "You find him. You find him and you bring him back!"

"I will," Clark said, but he didn't promise.

*****

Thank God for autopilot because now that the adrenaline had run out, his body was protesting the day's activities. His muscles spasmed and his knees, hips and shoulders felt like they were on fire. He managed to get out of the plane, but if Alfred hadn't been there, he might have crumpled right there on the landing pad.

"All right, out of this suit and into a hot bath," Alfred said, quickly working open the releases on the suit. "Master Dick is already asleep in his bed."

"I have tests to run."

"You will have a hot bath, a bite to eat, and then you will sleep, Bruce, because you will need your wits about you when the others come for dinner tonight. How can you expect to entertain if all your muscles have seized up? I'm afraid I must insist."

"Alfred," he said softly. Even with the suit off, he felt a great weight on his shoulders.

"I know, dear boy. I know. But you won't do him any good like this." Alfred put an arm around his waist. "Now come along, you've spent almost twenty hours in that suit. You're smelling a bit ripe."

"If they find Barry?"

Alfred squeezed him gently. "I will wake you, I promise."

*****

The hot bath and the medication hadn't done one bit of good. His muscles continued to cramp painfully and his knees throbbed, waking him every few hours until he considered asking Alfred to pull out the morphine just so he could get a moment's peace.

Finally, he decided he'd had enough, and he slowly worked his way out of bed in stages. As long as he hugged the wall, to keep himself steady, he was fine. He could hear the low murmur of voices before he saw them in the kitchen. They were all there, except Arthur, looking worse for wear, even Clark and Diana.

"Master Bruce," Alfred said, "I was just about to wake you."

He grunted and made his way to a chair, settling next to Dick. "You didn’t find him."

"No," Clark whispered and his grief was evident in every line of his body. "I looked for hours, Bruce."

Bruce fought back a wave of almost overwhelming anger. "I need to look over the scans and samples I took."

Clark nodded. "S.T.A.R. Labs said they'd send over what they have of the… the incident."

"I'll speak to his parents. I've met them a few times." Diana took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'll do what I can to comfort them."

As if there were any comfort to be given to a grieving parent. "What about Zoom?"

"No trace," Vic said, face pinched with pain and exhaustion. "And trust me, I've been monitoring all the comm channels trying to find that bastard."

"We need to double our efforts. If he could do this, if he could—He's dangerous." Bruce rubbed his knees, trying to take the edge off the pain, but that only made it worse.

"We will," Clark said. "We'll find him."

"Like you found Barry?" Each word was a vicious snarl and Clark jerked, like Bruce had punched him. Everyone else looked away in silence. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath—Clark didn’t deserve his anger. "I'm sorry. I'm sure we will."

And when they did find Zoom, Bruce was going to gut him just to see how fast he could heal, then do it all over again.

"We should eat," Alfred said, trying to cut the tension in the room.

"Actually, we can't stay, Alfred." Diana rose to her feet and Clark followed. "We have to relieve John and Hal."

Bruce opened his eyes as pieces of information began to click together. "Hal and John. Barry's friend?"

"Yes." Diana pressed a kiss to Alfred's temple and gave him a warm smile, before turning back to Bruce. "Evidently we aren't the only people watching over Earth. They are a part of the Green Lantern Corps."

"Security," he spat out remembering those garish rings and Barry's description of glowing green Leprechauns.

"In a sense." Diana shared a glance with Clark. "They have special rings that focus their wills. If you care to meet them—"

"Oh, we've met." Bruce knew there'd been something weird about those rings. He pushed himself to his feet. "I have work to do. If you need anything, let Alfred know." He walked out of the room as quickly as he could; there were fentanyl patches in the Bunker that would make the pain more manageable.

He was sitting at the computer, running analysis on the samples he took earlier, as well as looking over the information S.T.A.R. Labs sent, when Dick came into the room and sat down beside him.

"I miss the old Cave," Dick said softly, spinning around in his chair. "It had more room."

"Now you're chatty? You didn't have much to say earlier."

Dick shrugged. "I was just getting the lay of the land. You've done a pretty good job of keeping them away from me."

Bruce didn't bother denying it. "They're dangerous."

"You're dangerous." Dick stopped spinning and looked at him. "Whatever you're planning, Bruce, don't. Let the others handle Zoom."

"I'm not planning anything."

"Bullshit. I saw that look in your eyes when everyone was talking about Zoom. Did you think I wouldn’t recognize it? It was the same look you had after Jason." Dick took a deep breath. "Bruce, please."

"He killed thousands of people, Dick. He caused millions of dollars in damage. He—"

'That's not why you're thinking about murdering Zoom and we both know it." Dick leaned forward in his chair and put his hand on Bruce's arm. "Vengeance is not the same as justice, you taught me that. And you know Barry wouldn't want you to do this."

"Yeah, well, Barry's dead." His voice caught slightly, but he continued on. "Barry is dead, like Jason is dead, and Rachel is dead, and our parents are dead! So, you know what, he doesn’t get a say."

Dick threw his hands in the air. "What about me, Bruce, do I get a say?"

"We haven't been partners for years."

"No, we haven't," Dick said, "but I'm still your son. Doesn't that count for something? Don't I get a fucking say? Or am I supposed to watch you tear yourself apart again?"

"If you don't like it, go back to Bludhaven."

"Why are you always such an ass? Why does it always have to be your way or— No, no, you know what? You're right; I'm going home." Dick got to his feet and headed to the door. "Call me when you have your head on straight."

Bruce pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. "Fuck."

*****

Bruce spent a week looking over the evidence of the blast. He spent hours pouring over the video footage from the satellite and the lab's sensors. He searched everywhere, literally everywhere, with the technology at his disposal.

But the data was conclusive.

So he concentrated on finding Zoom.

*****

When Barry was alive, Bruce had talked him into running countless tests, and Barry, the trusting soul that he was, agreed cheerfully. Bruce had probably known more about Barry's powers than the man himself. He'd use that knowledge now to write an algorithm to find Zoom.

Coding wasn't his strongpoint, but he soldiered through, crouched over the keyboard, ignoring the way his back twinged. He looked up, briefly, when Alfred came into the room with a cup of coffee and his pain medicine.

"Just leave it on the table." Alfred knew better than to argue.

"I just received a call from Mrs. Garrick, sir."

Bruce stopped for a moment, and then forced himself to continue typing. "And?"

"They're going to have a memorial for Barry next Wednesday and she would like you to attend." Alfred put a hand on his shoulder. "Shall I clear your schedule?"

"No, I'm too busy," he said.

"I'll clear your schedule anyway. Just in case you change your mind." Alfred sighed. "Please get some sleep, sir. And don’t forget to take your medication."

*****

Bruce and Jim were friends, but honestly Bruce could count on one hand the number of times the Commissioner had personally contacted him. So he felt a little wrong-footed when Jim called him on his personal cell.

"Jim? Hi." There was an awkward pause. "Is everything okay?"

"I know you're done for the night, but how fast can Bruce Wayne get to the corner of 45th and Central?" Jim asked gruffly.

Gotham General Hospital was on that corner, but Jim didn’t sound panicked. "Not as fast as I usually can, but maybe twenty minutes?"

"Make it fifteen, Bruce."

Bruce had to break a few laws, but he managed to make it in sixteen point two minutes. He was expecting police cars, maybe a SWAT team, but it was only Jim and a couple of plainclothes detectives in strategic points around the hospital. "Jim, what's going on?"

"Harvey Dent escaped from Blackgate about two hours ago. I know, I should have notified Batman, but I was hoping my men would catch him before I had to call in the big guns. His psychiatrist says he's mentally stable, just upset. Gilda was hurt during the attacks; some idiot guard informed him of that fact."

Bruce narrowed his eyes; he still wasn't sure why Jim had asked for him and not the Bat. "Does he have hostages?"

"Nope, he's not even in the hospital. For the past forty-five minutes he's just been sitting on top of this building here, staring at the hospital." Jim sighed. "I though he could use a friend. I know you visit him pretty regularly."

"And if I can't talk him down?"

Jim shrugged. "You are uniquely suited either way."

"Keep everyone back," he said, and made his way into the building. It had been evacuated, so he didn't have to wait for the elevator. When he walked out onto the roof, he saw Harvey standing on the parapet, looking down. "Hey, Harv," he said softly, not wanting to startle the man.

"Hey, Bruce." Harvey looked over his shoulder and smiled. "The Commissioner call you?"

"Yeah." Bruce walked over and stood next to him. "He thought you could use someone to talk to. I'm sorry about Gilda, I didn't know." He should have known.

"It's okay; I didn't know either until recently. She was hurt really bad. The building she was in collapsed during the attack." Harvey sucked in a shuddering breath. "Did you know that she visits me every week?"

Bruce shook his head. "No."

"She does. And every week, I offer her a divorce. And do you know what she says? She says, don’t be silly, Harvey, I love you. Then she blows me a kiss. Every week." Harvey laughed sadly. "We've been apart more than we've been together. What kind of marriage is that, Bruce? Forget having kids, I can't even touch her. I can't visit her in the hospital when she's hurt. Don't be silly, Harvey, I love you. Maybe she's the one that deserves to be in Arkham." Harvey wiped at his face and sniffled.

"Maybe she thinks you're worth it, Harv."

"She's the only one, Bruce."

"Well, she is the only one that matters," Bruce said with a lightness he didn’t feel.

Harvey snorted. "Is that what your little twink tells you?"

Bruce clenched his hands and stared up at the sky; of course Harvey didn't know. Why would he? "My little twink died during the attacks."

"Oh, shit." Harvey grabbed Bruce's arm. "I'm sorry, I didn’t know."

"It doesn't matter." His vision blurred, but he knew as long as he didn't blink, he'd be all right.

"Like hell it doesn't. I'd shake some sense into you, but I don't feel like falling off this damn building."

"You're lucky. You still have her, you still have a chance." Bruce closed his eyes and tears fell from the corners of his eyes into his hair. "When she gets out of the hospital, she's going to be there every week in the visitor's room telling you that she loves you."

"So what you're saying is that I'm an idiot."

"Some things never change." Bruce looked at him. "Let's go, Harv. You know you can't stay here."

"Just give me five more minutes, okay? Please."

"Okay," Bruce whispered and when the five minutes were up, they went downstairs and Harvey surrendered himself. "I'm going home."

"Thank you for the help." Jim hesitated, then said, "I heard about Barry."

"Yeah. I don't want to talk about it." Bruce turned and walked towards his car. By the time he got home, the sun was rising. He wasn’t tired, so he walked across the property to the cemetery. He brushed his fingers against the engraving on Jason's tomb, then stopped at his parent's names. He stood there silently until he heard Alfred's footsteps behind him. "Do you think they would have liked Barry?"

"I do."

"How do you know?" His voice wavered, but he didn't have it in him to care.

"He made you happy. That's all they wanted for you, Bruce. They just wanted you to be happy."

Bruce closed his eyes. "I was cruel. I broke his heart. And still…"

"And still he loved you."

"I thought I was protecting him, but I was only protecting myself." He laughed bitterly. "It didn't work."

"It never does."

"Alfred, what if I can't let him go?" He rubbed his eyes.

"You will. Maybe not completely, that's not in your nature, but enough."

"I'll never get to tell him the truth," he said.

"No, but maybe his parents would like to hear it. Your schedule is still clear for Wednesday."

"I can't—I can't go to the memorial, but I'll see them, all right? I'll offer my condolences."

"Of course you will, Master Bruce. Of that, I had no doubt." The smugness in Alfred's voice made Bruce laugh brokenly. "Now come along. I'll make you waffles."

*****

Bruce showed up on Sunday morning, with a box of lemon squares that Alfred made because they were Barry's favorite. He didn't linger in the car this time, but the tension was just as bad.

Joan answered the door and when she saw him, she smiled and gave him a hug. "Bruce, I'm so glad to see you."

"I'm sorry I missed the memorial," he said, hugging back. "I just couldn't get away."

"It's all right, I read the papers. I know you've been busy." She let him go and ushered him into the house. "What's that?"

"Oh." Bruce handed her the box. "Alfred made lemon squares."

"I'll have to thank him. Let's go in the kitchen." Joan peeked into the box and made a sound of delight. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Yes, please." He sat at the table, hands clasped in front of him.

Joan opened the back door, leaned out, and called out loudly, "Jay, come inside. Bruce is here." Then she poured Bruce a cup of coffee and sat across from him. "He's been spending a lot of time in his workshop since… everything."

Bruce wrapped his hands around the cup and nodded. "It helps to keep busy."

She laughed, her breath catching in her throat. "I must have cleaned the house from top to bottom a dozen times. I'll probably do it another dozen next week. The only room I can't touch is Barry's. Every time I go in, I break down. He hasn't lived here in eight years. Isn't that silly?"

"It's not silly," he said, touching her wrist. Bruce knew how ghosts could linger in walls and objects.

Joan blinked rapidly and took few deep breaths. "I told myself I wasn't going to cry again. I've been crying ever since Diana came by and gave us the news. God, where is Jay? Why is he being so rude?"

"Joan, it's okay. He just needs time. You both just need time," he said.

"It feels like it'll never stop hurting." She covered her mouth and began to cry.

"It won't." And he wished he could lie, but she deserved the truth. "It'll always hurt, just a little. But it won't always feel like this, like your heart's shattering."

"Do you promise?" She looked at him like he could save her and he desperately wished he could.

"I promise." He offered her his handkerchief, and then gripped her free hand. "When you're ready to clean Barry's room, call me, and I'll help. If you need anything, even if it's just someone to talk to, call me. I will always pick up."

"You're a nice boy, Bruce." She wiped her eyes. "I see why Barry loved you."

Someday his heart would stop shattering.

*****

That night he put on his suit and went out.

One of the things he'd learned from all those tests, was that when Barry moved at Flash speeds, he left a burst of energy that with the right sensors could be observed, and therefore, tracked.

Luckily, he'd had those sensors, as well as a neurotoxin that would slow Zoom down, made and ready as part of a contingency plan should any of the League members go rogue. It would take two days to place the sensors throughout the city, but he had to be here anyway—Bruce was helping to fund the rebuilding of Central City and he had half a dozen meetings to attend.

He would lay out the sensors and wait.

*****

Barry's base had made it through the disaster and Bruce felt it a fitting place to spend his nights. The equipment was functional, but useless—ninety-eight percent of the cameras Barry had hacked into were down, so Bruce repurposed the computers.

He got a hit the first night. It was random and arbitrary and he knew that by the time he got there, Zoom would be gone. He dropped by the area the next morning, but he couldn't find any reason for Zoom to be there. It happened again the next night, but in a different area.

Then there was nothing for the rest of the time Bruce was in Central City. He wanted to stay, he did, but Gotham was calling him home and he had obligations he couldn’t ignore, not even for Barry.

Of course, two weeks after he got back, the sensors were lighting up with the energy. But what was more worrying were the news reports of a red blur traversing the city, saving people and stopping criminals.

He ruthlessly stamped out the ember of hope that flared bright inside of him and told the League he would investigate. And though they all knew it would be easier, and faster, for Clark to check things out, no one argued with him.

What he wasn't expecting, but should have, was the call from Joan.

"Bruce, did you hear? The Flash is back."

The joy in her voice was almost painful to hear because if that was Flash, then where was Barry? He didn't quite know how to ask if she'd heard from him. Would she have said if she had? "We don't know it's the Flash, Joan. It could be Zoom."

"He's helping people," she said.

Bruce thought carefully before he responded. "Sometimes people do good things for awful reasons."

"Now you sound like Jay."

"I just think we need to be cautious about this. It could be him or it could be an imposter. Hell, it could be someone from another universe or a shape-shifting alien. We just don't know."

"Do you think the Justice League will look into it?" she asked.

"I think they probably already are." Bruce took a deep breath. "I'm sure if it is him, we'll know soon enough."

*****

Bruce spent days watching the little bursts of energy on his screen, finding the rhythm of their movements, picking the perfect spot for his ambush. They started patrolling right after dark, the pattern the same every single day. It wasn't Barry, but he didn't think it was Zoom either.

The night before he was supposed to leave back to Gotham, he put his plan into action. He dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, a knit cap on his head, so he didn't attract unwanted attention, then curled up on the ground in a alleyway, ignoring the muck seeping through his clothes and cried out softly for help. If whoever it was stayed on course, they'd be here at any moment.

Suddenly, the air cracked, and triumph surged through Bruce. An African American man wearing a red hoodie knelt next to him, face half hidden by a party store domino mask. "Are you hurt, sir? What happened?"

"Someone stole my wallet." He reached into his pocket to grab the jet injector. Then when the man was distracted, he pressed it against the man's hand and hit the trigger.

"Fuck!" The man jerked away, then three point five seconds later, collapsed into a heap.

Bruce worked quickly, pulling up the sleeve of the hoodie, and pressing a patch with the drug onto the man's arm. Then he pulled off the man's mask and – Jesus, it was a boy. A goddamn boy. He patted the kid down and let out a huff when he found a phone. He pressed the boy's thumb to the fingerprint sensor and when it opened, he did a little digging.

He pressed a hand to his mouth when he saw the pictures of Barry and Iris on the boy's Facebook page and Instagram. He did a little more spying—he was Iris's nephew. He wondered if this was another secret Barry kept from him. "Come on, Wally, looks like you have a date with Batman."

He took the kid back to base, cutting off the zip ties he used to bind Wally, and made him comfortable. Well, as comfortable as one could be on the floor.

Wally woke quickly, gasping and looking around frantically.

"Relax," he said, stepping out of the shadows; the kid stared up at him, eyes wide. "I'm not here to hurt you, Wally."

"How—" Wally swallowed hard. "How do you know my name? What did you do to me?"

"I know everything," he said; Barry would have found that hilarious. "And don't worry, the drug will wear off in twenty minutes."

"Why am I here? I wasn't doing anything wrong." The kid was shaking, wild-eyed and terrified.

"Vigilantism is a crime."

"Like you're one to talk." Wally slowly got to his feet and Bruce had to give it to him, he had guts.

"I thought you might be Zoom," Bruce said.

For a moment, it looked like Wally might cry. "Zoom's gone just like the F-Flash. I thought you knew everything."

"How long have you had your powers?"

"Are you kidding? Look, I don't care if you are Batman. You just drugged and kidnapped me. I'm not telling you shit." Wally started to slowly inch his way towards the exit and Bruce knew he couldn't let this kid out of his sight, not until he had some answers. Not until he was sure the kid wasn't going to accidentally hurt himself or others.

Bruce cursed softly and removed his cowl. "Give me a break, kid. I didn’t know who you were."

Wally stared at him, open-mouthed. "Bruce Wayne. Dammit, I owe Linda twenty bucks. She said you were probably some rich asshole."

He snorted. "Are you hungry? I have some leftover Big Belly Burger in the mini-fridge." Wally didn't move, just continued to stare at him warily. "Zoom killed Barry, Wally."

Wally took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then he headed for the fridge, taking out the fast food bag and a can of soda. "Man, everyone knows you don't put Big Belly burgers in the fridge."

Bruce waited until Wally was settled on the floor, eating cold fries and then he asked, "How did you get your powers?"

"The day of the attack, me and my aunt went down to the station to see if my grandpa and Barry wanted to go grab some breakfast. Some stuff was going down, I guess Barry was getting fired because of that video that came out with you two; Grandpa and Auntie were pissed. They were both arguing with the captain, I think Barry just wanted to go home. Then the first bombs went off. Grandpa and Barry told us to go downstairs to the lab." Wally shook his head. "Auntie dropped me off, told me to keep my ass there, and then went to go find Barry or something."

"She's a reporter, they're always getting into trouble."

Wally snorted and grinned, then the smile slipped away. "She's still in the hospital. They said her recovery might take months." He shuddered, then continued, "Anyway, I was in the lab, hanging with the guys. They're nice, and sometimes they help me with my chemistry homework, so I stayed put. Then everything around us exploded and the ceiling caved in. There were chemicals all over the place and live wires. I think one of the wires must have touched the chemicals because it felt like I was on fire. I must have blacked out because the next thing I know, someone was pulling me out of the rubble and the sun was setting."

Barry had told Bruce a similar story. "Did you notice your powers immediately?"

"No, not until a few days later." Wally stared down at his burger. "I didn't know what to do at first, but then I thought about Barry, about how he used his powers."

"You knew," Bruce said.

"Man, Barry was not good at keeping secrets." Wally shook his head. "He was always good to me. Whenever I needed to talk to someone about my parents or school, he'd listen. He never judged. When he died, when the Flash died, it was like something in Central City died, too. And I can't let that happen. Barry loved this city and he wanted to keep it safe. That's what I want to do, too. You're not going to try to stop me, are you?"

"No." He should try at least, that's the responsible thing to do, but won't. "But you need training. Or a suit at least. What are you calling yourself?"

"Kid Flash," Wally said and Bruce's chest tightened in grief.

"I'm going to give you Nightwing's cellphone number. I want you to call him and tell him I said to set you up with a training regime. He'll be pissed at me, but he'll help you. I'm also going to give you my cell number. You call me if you need anything. Anything at all."

"Why are you helping me?"

"Because if you don't get some training, you're going to hurt someone. And because I owe Barry, too." Bruce sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Can I give you some advice? Tell someone. It doesn't have to be your grandfather or your aunt, but someone you trust should know. If only to call for help when you need it."

Wally nodded. "This has been a weird night."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

*****

"You're an asshole," Dick said, as soon as Bruce answered his phone. "I want you to know that I wholeheartedly hate your guts right now."

"Wally called you?" he asked, though he knew the answer already.

"I'm not looking for a side-kick or a mentee or… Why the hell did you give him my number?"

"Because he needs someone to help him and I can't." Every time he looked at the kid, his chest hurt and he just couldn't. He knew he wasn't in the right frame of mind to take in another kid.

"Bruce—"

"You're good with kids, Dick." Bruce was silent for a moment. "Look, if you don't want to do it, I can ask Clark or Diana, but I really think you're the best option. Please."

"God, you're such an asshole." Dick's voice was thick with emotion. "Fine, I'll do it, but you're paying for his suit."

Bruce smiled. "Just send the specs to Alfred."

*****

It was hard to hold on to revenge fantasies when the person you wanted to murder was gone. Bruce didn't know if Zoom had died or if he'd gone back to his own universe, but he wasn't anywhere Bruce could touch him. It was infuriating. It kept him up nights.

The anger and the pain congealed into a ball and lodged itself in his chest so that every time he breathed it hurt.

Two months passed, then four, and then seven.

It was supposed to get better as time went on, but depression swallowed him up instead and refused to spit him out.

*****

Alfred was moving around the kitchen, pulling together breakfast while Bruce stared listlessly at the newspaper. "Master Bruce, why don't we go on a trip?"

"A trip?" Bruce took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "A trip where?"

"Anywhere. It's been ages. When was the last time we went London or Paris or Marrakesh, you love Marrakesh." Alfred set an omelet in front of him. "Eat it all, please."

"We can't go to Marrakesh, Alfred. I have too many things to do here," he said, picking up his fork and stabbing at his food.

"Bruce. Look at me, please."

He did and he saw the worry etched on Alfred's face. "I know. I'll snap out of it; I just need some time."

"Talk to Dr. Thompkins," Alfred said softly.

"Just give me two more months and if I can't crawl out of this myself, I will." Bruce cut up his omelet and stuck a piece into his mouth. "I will."

*****

Seven months, three weeks, and five days after Barry died, Bruce was shaken awake by Alfred. He let out a low groan and tried to bury his head under his pillow. He'd had a late night and he knew he hadn't been asleep that long. "Give me one more hour."

"I would love to give you several, but Mr. Garrick is here to see you, sir. And he's been quite insistent that he talk to you immediately."

"Did something happen to Joan?" His body protested when he climbed out of bed, but, as always, he ignored it. "I'll be right down." He splashed water on his face to wake himself up, then headed to the kitchen.

Jay stood up when he entered the room. "I know I should have called before I dropped by but I was afraid you wouldn’t see me if I told you over the phone."

"It's fine." Bruce gestured for him to sit down again, then settled into a chair himself. "What's going on?"

There was a thick file folder in front of Jay that he kept running his hands over, like a touchstone. "I considered going to Wonder Woman about this, but I wasn't sure she'd believe me. So I thought maybe… Do you know how to get in touch with Batman?"

"Batman?" Bruce squinted in confusion. "Why would I know how to get in touch with Batman?"

"Maybe you know someone who can. Bruce, please, this is important." Jay's voice trembled.

"Why don't you tell me what's so important first."

Jay let out a harsh breath and rubbed his eyes. "Okay, that's fair. I think Barry's alive."

"Jay," Bruce said softly, and touched Jay's arm. He felt exhaustion wash over him. "I want Barry to be alive, too."

"No, do not speak to me like that." Jay pulled his arm away. "I am not just some grief-stricken father making up scenarios in my head. There are things about Joan and I that you don't know. That Barry didn't know."

"What's that?" he asked.

"Joan and I are from an alternate universe, one where I'm the Flash. Or I was."

Bruce tried to hide his disbelief, but he must not have done a very good job.

"Call S.T.A.R. Labs if you don't believe me. Talk to Burton Thompson, he'll tell you the truth. I was fighting my own version of Zoom, he'd kidnapped Joan, when we created a sort of portal. Joan and I were thrown into it and we found ourselves here, in this universe. I tried to get us back but… I'd lost most of my powers."

Which was very convenient, but Bruce didn’t say that; Jay needed help. "Okay. What does this have to do with Barry?"

"Barry was the Flash." Jay slapped his hand against the table. "Dammit, I'm not crazy!"

"I know you're not crazy. So tell me, why now? Barry's been gone for over eight months."

"Iris just got out of the hospital, and she came to us, said she had a secret she couldn’t keep any longer. That she wanted us to know what really happened that day, what really happened to Barry. She said she didn't know all of it, but that we deserved to be told what she did know. Zoom had managed to put a device on Barry's wrist; it penetrated his skin and went through bone. He said it would open up a portal to the speed force if Barry vibrated at the right frequency, if not it would explode. He thought he could harness the speed force's power."

"What's the speed force?" Bruce had never heard that term before.

"It's what gives us speedsters our powers. It's hard to explain, it's a plane of being, a universe of pure speed. If that device worked, Barry might be there now. I'd try to get there myself, but like I said, I lost my powers. Burton thought it might have been all the energy I had to expend to get us here." Jay gave him an imploring look. "Bruce, maybe I am crazy, but maybe I'm not. Don’t you owe it to Barry to check before dismissing me?"

Bruce should send him home, but was Jay's story any more outrageous than an alien brought up by Kansas farmers or a woman from an island of Amazons or even a boy who lived his whole life in a lighthouse suddenly finding out he was the king of Atlantis? "Let me make a few calls, but Jay, if this doesn't check out, you have to promise me you'll see someone."

"It will," Jay said.

"Alfred will stay with you." Bruce patted Jay's arm, then got to his feet. "I'll try not to be too long."

*****

Bruce hung up with Director Thompson and just sat there, staring at his blank computer screen, his breath coming in harsh gasps. Barry might— No. No, he could not let himself hope because if he hoped and Jay was wrong, then he'd shatter into a million pieces and no one, not anyone would be able to put him back together. He took off his cowl and gauntlets, then texted Alfred to bring Jay to the Bunker.

He turned the chair so he would be the first thing Jay saw when he entered the room.

Jay took a few steps back when he saw Bruce, eyes wide, then he laughed. "Oh. Oh, that makes so much sense. The story about how you and Barry met was awfully unbelievable, Bruce. But you're Batman, of course you're Batman. I guess this means Burton confirmed my story."

"Yes, but that doesn’t mean that Barry's alive, Jay." He had to say it aloud.

Jay straightened up and lifted his chin. "But you'll help me anyway, on the off chance he is."

"How?" he asked gruffly.

"The same way I think Zoom did, by modifying one of those Mother Boxes and creating a boom tube." Jay handed him the files. "I have some initial ideas, but maybe one of your friends can take a look at them? I'd really prefer we not blow anything up."

"I think we'd all prefer that, Mr. Garrick," Alfred said.

*****

Bruce called Vic in for a consult, and Alfred's lasagna, and he seemed so flattered about it that Bruce couldn't help but feel a little bad. While Jay told his story and gave Vic the files, Bruce went upstairs for coffee.

He sat out on the patio, watching as the fog rose up from the lake, so thick that it muted the noises from the animal nightlife. At exactly thirty point six minutes, Vic strode outside and took a deep breath.

"This is dangerous," he said.

Bruce nodded slowly and took a sip from his cup of coffee. "This is Barry. If there's even a chance that he's alive, we have to take it."

"That's what Mr. Garrick said, too, Bruce, but you and I know that it's not that simple. We could punch a hole in the fabric of time and space; we could start a chain reaction that destroys our universe. Hell, we could connect to the wrong place." Vic let out an angry huff. "So why am I thinking about doing this?"

"Because Barry was a friend and if we don't help Jay, you know he's going to find someone who will. That person may not be as scrupulous as you. Or as careful."

"I'm going to have to get my father's help with this. God, I think I hate that most of all."

"Vic, your dad—"

"Don't." Vic pointed at him and glared. "Do not try to explain my father to me, Bruce. That's not your place and it's none of your goddamn business."

Bruce held up his hands in surrender. "You're right, I’m sorry."

Vic rubbed his eye and said, "I'm taking Mr. Garrick back to Metropolis with me. I want to talk more about the speed force and run some tests. Give me a couple of weeks to see if this is even possible."

"Keep me in the loop."

"Yeah," Vic looked out over the water. "I hope he's right."

"He is," Bruce said, giving in to hope, just this once.

*****

Bruce sent over all the information he had on Barry's abilities, then he offered up a few suggestions of his own on the modifications to the Mother Box. After about a week, Silas told him, politely, to fuck off.

Three weeks, two days, eighteen minutes, and forty-one seconds after Vic had taken Jay to Metropolis, Bruce's communicator beeped in his ear and he had to excuse himself from a board meeting.

He locked himself in his office and tapped at the earpiece. "Batman here."

"Hey, Bats," Cyborg said. "We think we have a working prototype. The S.T.A.R. Lab boys are still running a few tests, but we should be ready to go by the end of the week."

"When and where?"

"This Saturday, six am, at the Lab's testing site in New Mexico."

Where it all began, or ended. Bruce sighed and rubbed his temples. "I'll be there."

"B—"

"I'll be there," he said and his tone brooked no argument. "Batman out." He cut off the call and pressed his shaking hands against his desk. Four days, ten hours and— dammit. He needed a drink.

*****

It was unbearably hot, even at six o'clock in the morning. Bruce wished he'd been able to come up with some sort of cooling system for the suit, but every time he tried it threw off his balance.

It helped that everyone else looked uncomfortably hot, too, except for Superman. Some days Bruce really did want to punch him in the face.

"Man, you'd think with all the scientific advancements, we could find a costume fabric that breathed," Wally said, who was vibrating slightly and staring up at Superman with a look of absolute adoration—it was embarrassing.

"You get used to it," Superman replied, as if he knew a damn thing about it. "Just stay hydrated."

Bruce glared at him. "Why is he even here?"

Vic rolled his eye. "Things could go south pretty fast. Superman should be able to get Mr. Garrick to safety. Batman, are you sure you don't want to watch from the lab?" Bruce stared at him and Vic sighed. "Right. We should get started." Vic whistled to get everyone's attention. "All right, we all know our parts of the plan, let's get this over with."

It was simple as plans went: Superman was on standby in case of catastrophic failure, Cyborg, along with Silas in the lab, was monitoring the output, Wally would vibrate the modified Mother Box to the right frequency, and Jay…

"Are you sure you about this, Jay?" Bruce asked. "What if you get lost, too?" What if Jay disintegrated or had a damn heart attack?

"I'll be fine. It won't be the first time I've gone into the speed force and even without my powers, it will recognize me."

Bruce wasn’t too sure about that, but that was why he was here—to go in after Jay if things started to go sour.

Vic handed Wally the modified Mother Box and the boy held it between his hands. "Just like in the lab, okay? Vibrate as fast as you can."

"Chill, Vic, I remember. Now stand back." Wally smiled with all the bravado of a fifteen-year-old boy. Once they'd moved back a safe distance, Wally closed his eyes and began to vibrate, slowly at first, then building speed. He blurred, kicking up dirt, the vibrations hitting Bruce like waves.

Two point five minutes in, and the Mother Box began to glow, brighter and brighter until Bruce had to adjust the lenses on his cowl so that he could see. Then there was a flash of brilliant light from the Mother Box and when it dimmed, there was the portal, a wavering gold.

Jay gasped, a look of longing on his face, then he ran towards it, his body blurring as he grew closer, then he jumped the last few feet and was sucked in.

Bruce tensed, his hands clenched, gritting his teeth, eyes never leaving the portal. Next to him, Superman shifted, waiting. Five minutes, Jay had said to give him five minutes, but each second felt like an eternity. Bruce wondered which one of them would break first.

Four point five minutes after Jay went in, he came zipping out, his nose bloody, cheek swollen, a man in his arms. "Close it down now," he yelled, "before he gets out."

Wally stopped abruptly, the Mother Box tumbling out of his hands, and fell to his knees, gasping harshly. "I'm okay, I'm okay."

Jay wavered and Superman broke, running to his side and taking the man from him.

"Batman," Cyborg barked and it was like a rubber band snapping.

He darted over to them, putting an arm around Jay, before glancing over at Superman. He breath caught in his throat—Barry was horribly gaunt and still in Superman's arms. It didn’t look like Barry was breathing. "Superman?"

"He's alive," Superman said, then shifting Barry more comfortably in his arms, he zipped towards the lab.

"Zoom was there, too," Jay said, clinging to Bruce. "That's why it took me so long, he was trying to escape with us. But I stopped him. The speed force let me stop him. I can feel it fading away." His voice trembled, and then broke as he began to cry.

Bruce let him for a few minutes, then said gruffly, "We should check on Barry. Then you need to call Joan."

"Yes, you're right." Jay wiped his eyes and took a few deep breaths. He tried to step away, but Bruce wouldn't let him.

"We're heading in. Kid Flash, you need some help?" Bruce asked.

Wally was cramming a candy bar into his mouth. "Nope, I'm all right. Just need to bring up my sugar levels."

"We'll have pizza waiting. What about you, Vic?"

Vic was carefully dismantling the Mother Box, then smashing the components. "I want pineapple on mine."

"Gross," Wally said.

Vic stared at him. "Says the kid who's drooling chocolate onto his suit."

"Hey, I was a conduit to another universe." Wally wiped at his mouth.

"Let's get you inside," Bruce said to Jay. "You look like you need some food, too."

"I miss it." Jay stared at where the portal had once been, then shuddered and looked away. "I miss it every day, but I'd rather have Joan and Barry. They're more important than anything."

*****

Jay was swarmed by medical staff once they entered the building and Bruce let them have him, then went in search of Barry. He found Superman and Silas talking outside of Barry's hospital room, both frowning and gesturing at the clipboard in Silas's hands.

"Well?" he asked gruffly and Silas gave a put-upon sigh.

"As I was telling Superman, I'm still not sure how he survived all this time in that other universe. He's dangerously malnourished and underweight. All his tests are telling us he's baseline human, but a baseline human would be dead with these numbers."

"It could be the speed force," Superman said.

"Whatever that means." Silas rubbed his head.

"It means he's alive. Once he's stable, I want him moved to Central City Hospital." Bruce could see the protests forming on Silas's lips and he cut the man off. "Your medical staff will still oversee his recovery, but I want him in a civilian hospital. His family will want to see him." And it would be easier to create a cover story for Barry's return.

Silas wanted to fight him, but with both Batman and Superman staring him down, he quickly acquiesced. "All right, if that's what you want."

"It's what we want," Superman said, then he gently nudged Bruce. "Why don't you look in on him, B."

"Yes." There was still a lot of activity going on Barry's room, but he found a spot where he wouldn’t be in the way and watched as they fitted him with breathing tubes and set IVs. Barry was so damn thin that Bruce was afraid the needles would slip right through his limbs, but the medical staff seemed unaffected.

He stayed until he couldn't anymore; the room seemed to close in on him, squeezing the oxygen from his lungs. He slipped out of the room and strode towards the exit, medical staff parting for him, but being outside didn’t help either. The sun was blazing and there were no shadows for him to hide. It hurt to breathe and his eyes stung and he was afraid he was going to shake apart right there.

"Hey," Superman said, putting an arm around him. The next thing Bruce knew, the ground was falling away as they flew upward.

"What are you doing?"

Superman leaned in. "Just say 'thank you', Bruce."

"I hate you." He curled against Superman as the wind carried away his sobs.

*****

Bruce was glad when they finally moved Barry to Central City because his uniform really wasn't meant for wearing all day, every day, and his body made him well aware of that fact.

His suits were easier to live in, although people still stared at him in the hospital waiting room. Barry was in a coma, had been in a coma since the beginning and Joan made it clear that she wanted someone with Barry at all times. It's how Bruce met Iris and her father, Wally's grandfather, Joe.

"You paid my hospital bill." Iris looked him up and down, sizing him up.

He slouched a bit more and gave her a bland smile. "That was supposed to be anonymous."

"I'm a reporter. Why? Trying to soften me up?"

"Yes," he said. "You're Barry's best friend. I want you to like me."

Iris crossed her arms over her chest. "You broke up with him."

Of course she knew; Barry told her everything. He hunched his shoulders and looked away. "I made a mistake."

"Yeah, you did." She poked Bruce in the chest. "Barry forgives easily, but I expect you to grovel."

"I will." Bruce looked at her and gave a tiny smile.

Iris rolled her eyes at him. "Thank you for paying the hospital."

"You're welcome." He would have said more, but his phone beeped at him. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting with my CEO." There was really no place to conduct a meeting at the hospital, not even when he offered to build a hospital wing, and the Starbucks across the street was always busy, so he climbed into the backseat of his Bugatti and video conferenced via his tablet. "Hey, Lucius, how are things holding up?"

Lucius frowned at him. "Better than you. When was the last time you slept?"

Bruce laughed and leaned back against the leather seat. "I'll have you know that the hospital waiting room has a lovely couch that is big enough to stretch out on." Even if he did have to hook his legs over the armrest.

"Yes, that sounds very comfortable," Lucius said wryly.

"Every few days, Joan makes me go to my hotel room and won't let me back to see Barry until I've showered, eaten, and had six hours of sleep."

"Well, she certainly sounds like a woman with her head on right." Lucius tilted his head. "When are you coming home, Bruce? Not that this isn't fun, but people are starting to talk."

"Friday, but only for a few days." While he appreciated all the help Clark and Diana were giving him, some things needed the Bat's touch. "Barry could wake up at any minute."

"At least stay for Tuesday's meeting with the technology team."

Bruce wanted to say no, but he felt guilty. Lucius asked for so little and Bruce had been neglecting his responsibilities for months. "All right. I'll come in on Monday and Tuesday."

"Great, now did you get the financial report I sent last night? There was a dip in the third quarter numbers."

Bruce shook himself, pulled up the numbers, and lost himself for a while in Wayne Enterprises.

*****

Of course, Barry woke up while Bruce was gone, because that's usually how these things went for him. And as much as he wanted to fly back immediately, he still had meetings to attend to, and faces to punch.

He didn't make it back to Central City until late Wednesday, so he slept in his hotel room and went to the hospital first thing the next morning.

"Bruce, we're glad you're back." Joan hugged him and kissed his cheek. Jay was sprawled in a chair, half asleep. "Jay and I need a break, do you mind?" She always asked even though he'd been with them since the very beginning.

"Not at all. Anything I should know?"

"Remind Barry that he's safe if he wakes up confused." She smiled brightly and hugged Bruce again.

"I will. Now go on. Take a cab; Jay's in no shape to drive." He squeezed her gently, then stepped back. He waited until they left, then slipped into Barry's room settling on the chair next to the bed.

Barry was still extremely gaunt, and it would take months before he was a healthy weight, but his skin no longer felt dry and paper-thin and there was color in his cheeks. The doctors had also taken out the feeding tube.

Bruce took Barry's hand, carefully, so as not to disturb the IVs.

Barry sighed and his eyes fluttered open. He looked around in confusion, brows knit.

"You're safe," Bruce said. "I'm here and you're safe."

"Bruce?" Barry's voice was a rough whisper and Bruce blinked rapidly.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here. I'm right here." He brushed his thumb along Barry's knuckles. "Where else would I be?"

Barry looked like he was struggling to stay awake. "Gotham."

"Nothing is more important than you." That wasn’t quite true, and Barry knew it, but Barry was in no position to argue. Bruce could feel the words he wanted to say linger at the back of his throat, but he wasn't sure this was the right time for big revelations.

Then Barry gripped his hand and screwed everything up, because even after all he'd been through, he still wore his heart on his sleeve. "I still love you."

Bruce stared at him in exasperation. "Barry."

Barry gave him a sleepy, knowing smile. "Almost died."

"That is blatant emotional manipulation." He shook his head when Barry's smile broadened. He pushed away the fear that soured his mouth, and said, "I love you, too. You know I do. Now stop fighting how tired you are and sleep."

Barry hummed, closing his eyes, the smile still lingering on his lips. "Next time, wear panties."

"Shut up." Bruce kissed his knuckles. "How do you know I'm not?"

"Hmm." Barry drifted off.

There was still a lot talk about, things, Bruce knew, could still shatter this fragile happiness, but he'd worry about it later.

Just this once.