Perfect Timing 19/? FRM (language)/FRAO overall
Sorry, I didn't realize it had been so long since I posted more.
"Hello?" Jim rubbed at his eyes, stifling a yawn. He spared a stray hope that it wasn't the station calling, he deserved this weekend off, he really did.
"Jim?" Bruce's voice was shaky and Jim felt a jolt of fear go through him.
"Bruce, what's wrong?" He grabbed for his keys, trying to remember where he kicked off his shoes. "Are you okay?"
"I'm, I'm," Jim heard Bruce swallow. "I'm down at Chelsea's. Can you, can you come down here? Please?" Bruce's voice cracked a bit on the please and Jim nearly pitched into the wall pulling on his shoes.
"I'm on my way, you stay there, I'll be there in twenty minutes. Fifteen. Are you safe? Do you need me to call your parents?" Jim yanked his door shut, taking the stairs down two at a time.
"No! God, please, no, don't call them, please, Jim. I'll stay here and I'm fine, I, I, just please, please I need to talk to you." Jim could hear Bruce fighting to keep his voice under control. "I'll be waiting, see you in a few."
"Wait, no, Bruce don't hang up." Jim swore as he realized Bruce wasn't on the line. He turned the key harder than necessary then pulled out. He could make it there in fifteen minutes so long as he ignored all those pesky stop signs. There had to be some perks to being the head of MCU, other than the getting shot at. He spun the wheel, taking the corner a bit faster than he should. He was tempted to call Bruce back but he needed to concentrate on driving. Chelsea's was too public for anything bad to happen, at least that was his hope. He stepped on the gas. This was Gotham, after all. No use in tempting fate.
Jim pulled the door open, barely registering the welcome scent of coffee. He glanced around, trying to find Bruce. His heart clenched when he didn't see him. He took a few steps in, just getting ready to call out for him when he spotted a dark head bent over a mug at one of the back tables. He ducked around the waiting line, then settled into the seat across Bruce.
"Hey." Jim said, reaching out to touch Bruce's arm. "I'm here."
Bruce looked up. His eyes were red and he looked miserable. "Thank you, I didn't know who else to call."
"What happened?" Jim frowned, glancing around. "Bruce, are you here alone?"
Bruce nodded shakily. "Yeah, I kind of." He waved his hand. "Took off."
"Took off? What's going on?" He looked at him closer. "Bruce, you need to tell me what's going on."
Bruce looked down at the table, hands clenching around the mug. Jim leaned back, carefully not pressing him. He'd learned a long time ago that dealing with teenagers was remarkably like trying to get suspects to talk. The more he pushed, the less information he'd get.
"Trent kissed me." Bruce finally said. "At my birthday party." Jim could see the flush on his cheeks.
"He did?" Jim kept his voice even. "What did you do?"
"Um." Bruce turned redder. "Kissed him back."
Jim bit back a smile. "I see."
Bruce glanced up. "You don't sound surprised."
"I'm not." Jim smiled slightly. "I've seen how the two of you are around each other."
"You could have told me," Bruce muttered. He took a sip of his coffee. "That would have been nice."
"That's something you needed to figure out on your own." Jim replied. "So is that why you're here? Did you fight?"
"No! No, that's, everything is great." That made Bruce smile a little. "Really great."
Jim arched a brow at him. "Do we need to have a conversation about being safe?"
Bruce looked at him, surprised. "You're not going to give me the you're too young lecture? And I, well, I know about" Bruce made vague hand gestures. "That kind of stuff."
"Here's a hint, if you can't say it, you're not ready to do it. And you're seventeen Bruce, I'm not naive. I do remember being that age. Besides," Jim's lips twitched. "I would be an enormous hypocrite if I told you that you weren't ready."
"A hypocrite? What do you, oh. Oh." Bruce's eyes went wide. "Oh. Right."
"Exactly. So if it's not Trent, then what is it?" Jim cast a wistful glance over to the counter. "And will I need coffee to deal with it?"
"When do you not? Go, get some, I'll be here." Bruce nudged him with his foot. "I don't want you to go into withdrawal."
"You're not any funnier than your mother when you say that." Jim pushed back. "Don't go anywhere." Bruce nodded and Jim headed up to get coffee. He rubbed a thumb over the back of his phone, considering calling Thomas to tell him that Bruce was with him. He glanced over to the table, noticing how Bruce was still huddled in the corner, trying to make himself invisible. Maybe in a few minutes, when he found out what was going on. He took his coffee, grateful that they knew exactly how he liked it by now. He headed back to the table, tugging the chair over so that he was blocking Bruce from being seen by the rest of the room. Bruce tended to forget how much attention he drew simply by who he was. "Okay, I'm properly caffeinated. Talk."
"Is that your interrogation look? It's kind of intimidating." Bruce drew circles on the table with the tip of his finger. "I told Mom and Dad about Trent."
Jim waited for Bruce to continue. Bruce didn't say anything more and Jim frowned. "And?"
"And Dad freaked out." Jim barely heard it, Bruce's voice was so low. "He completely freaked."
Jim stared at Bruce, trying to determine if he'd heard him wrong. "He what?"
"He freaked out." Bruce bit his lip, voice beginning to shake. "He told me that I was just confused and that I mistaking what I felt for Trent with something else and that I was too young to know what I wanted and that," Bruce stopped, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter."
The wave of anger that washed through Jim took him by surprise. He struggled to keep it from showing, to keep it from his voice. "Bruce, what else did he say?"
"It doesn't matter!" Bruce looked up, eyes bright. "It was wrong and stupid and I don't understand. I don't get it, why did he say those things, he's the one who always told me that there was nothing wrong with, with," Bruce swallowed, "with being gay and that people are who they are and that it was fine. I don't understand."
"Is that why you're here?" Bruce gave a small nod. "Bruce, you can't run like that, it won't solve anything."
"He told me." Bruce bit his lip. "He told me that he didn't want to look at me right now."
It took all of Jim's self-control not to let the rage he was feeling leak into his voice. "Bruce, you know he loves you."
"Yeah, sure. As long as I'm his perfect little straight son." Bruce's voice was as angry as Jim felt. "I hate him right now."
"Don't say that, you don't mean it." Jim put a hand on Bruce's arm. "This will work out, Bruce, I'm sure he was shocked was all."
"I don't know why, apparently everyone in the world knew it but me. Mom smiled at me and said it was about time." Bruce shook his head. "I thought Dad would understand, I mean, you're his best friend and he likes Phil and he's never said anything like that before."
"It's different when it's your child." Jim took a long drink, stalling for time. The coffee helped wash the bitter taste of defending Thomas from his mouth. "Bruce, how long have you been gone?"
"I don't know, a few hours. I kind of drove around for awhile and then I ended up here and then I called you." Bruce finished his coffee, spinning the mug on the table. "Do you think I'm too young to know? Honestly, do you?"
"I'm not the best person to ask," Jim said wryly. "I knew when I was fourteen."
"Really?" Bruce stared at him. "I didn't know that."
"No reason why you should." Jim shrugged. "I think that you need to figure this out in your own time. Everyone is different."
"I guess. Do you, you like Trent, right?" Bruce said anxiously. "He's really great and nice and smart and, you know, he's" Bruce went red and Jim couldn't resist the urge to push the issue.
"He's what, interesting, well read, a great dancer?" Jim nudged Bruce's foot. "You like his etchings?"
"Jim!" Bruce sounded shocked then started laughing. "That was so lame."
"Maybe," Jim grinned at him. "Seriously, Bruce, don't do anything that you aren't ready to do. There's nothing wrong with taking your time."
Bruce nodded, flushing bright red. "We haven't, we aren't, we've only," Bruce made more vague hand gestures and Jim felt himself flush.
"Trust me, I don't need details." Bruce looked relieved to hear that. "So, you like him?"
Bruce nodded, "Yeah. I like him a lot."
"Good, you could do worse." Jim leaned back, taking another drink. "My first boyfriend? Brain dead jock."
"He was not!" Bruce pointed at Jim. "There is no way that you dated someone stupid."
"Hey, I was young and he was hot." Jim grinned as Bruce flushed bright red. "See, you don't want to hear about it either."
"Shut up." Bruce wrinkled his nose. "It's weird is all, thinking about you being my age."
"Thanks, I'll go get my walker now." Jim ducked when Bruce threw a balled up napkin at him. "You started it."
"That was mature." Bruce rolled his eyes. He looked much calmer, Jim was glad to see.
"Why don't we," Jim started, then held up a finger when his phone rang. He pulled it out, frowning when he saw who was calling. "He's with me." He didn't bother trying to keep the chill from his voice.
"Jim, thank God." Thomas sounded frantic. "I didn't know what to do, I didn't want to overreact"
"I think that ship has sailed." Jim saw Bruce's eyes go wide. "I'm going to bring him home now."
There was silence for a long moment. "He told you then."
"Yes. He did. I'll see you in a bit." Jim snapped the phone shut. "Okay, it's time we got you home."
"Was he mad?" Bruce sounded scared, not that Jim blamed him.
"No, but you scared them. I know you're upset and I'm not saying you shouldn't be, but don't do that again." Jim stood, nodding towards the door. "I'm taking you home."
"But my car," Bruce stood following Jim out the door.
"We'll get it tomorrow, I don't think you should be driving right now." Jim led the way to his car, waiting until Bruce was in before climbing in himself. "I'm glad you called."
"Me too." Bruce gave him a little smile. "Even if I did get teen angst all over you."
Jim laughed, pulling out and heading for the Manor.
"Master Wayne is in the study, Lieutenant Gordon." Alfred reached to take his coat and Jim shook his head.
"I'm not staying." Jim turned to Bruce, "Can you give me a minute with your father?"
Bruce nodded. "Okay, thanks for bringing me home." He headed down the hall and Jim watched him turn the corner at the end of the hall.
"Should I prepare to scrub blood out of the carpet?" Alfred looked at Jim steadily.
"I hope it won't come to that." Jim headed for the study. "Please don't move the car, I'm planning on leaving in a minute." He didn't wait for Alfred's reply, pulling the study door open and then barely resisting the urge to slam it behind him. Thomas turned to look at him and Jim held up a hand.
"Don't you dare say a word." He leaned back against the door, keeping as much space as possible between them. "I don't know what came over you and I don't really care. Your son needed you and you failed him. Completely. If that's what you really feel, then you've done a hell of a job lying about it all these years." Jim felt his hands clench and he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Don't fuck this up, Thomas. Trust me, knowing your parents hate you for something you can't change is no way to go through life. The next time he leaves because of something you said? Don't assume I'll bring him back." Jim yanked the door open and left, trying to pretend he couldn't hear Thomas yelling "Jim! Jim, wait!" He ran down the stairs and fell into his car, pulling out as fast as he could. His hands were shaking and maybe he was the one who shouldn't be driving. He didn't care. All he knew was that he understood completely why Bruce had felt the need to get away.
Jim sat up with a start, trying to determine what woke him. He listened and there it was again, a faint knocking on his door. He shoved up from the couch, yawning widely as he padded over to the door. He looked through the peep hole and sighed, resting his forehead against the door. He waited another moment, getting his emotions under control before he opened the door. "Come on in." He stepped back, waving Thomas through the door. He headed back to the living room, dropping down heavily on the couch.
"Hey." Thomas settled in the chair across from him. "Thanks for letting me in."
Jim snorted. "I think we both know that we had maybe another twelve hours before your blushing bride dragged us both somewhere by our ears and told us to stop being assholes."
"Try six." Thomas smiled faintly. "And I aspire to being called an asshole right now."
"I bet." Jim looked at him, then pushed up. "You want a drink?"
"God, yes." Thomas leaned back, eyeing Jim's desk.
"Go on, go on, we're in trouble now, might as well go all out." Jim grabbed them both a beer, then snagged an ash tray, setting it on the table. Thomas tapped out a cigarette, then tossed the pack to Jim. Jim pulled out a cigarette of his own, lighting it then handing the lighter over to Thomas. They smoked in silence for a few moments before Thomas let out a harsh laugh.
"Thanks for not punching me in the throat. I kind of deserved it." He tapped off some ash, then twisted the cap off his beer. He took a long pull, then tipped the bottle in Jim's direction. "I would have."
"Don't think the idea didn't cross my mind." Jim opened his beer. "I'm not sure I still won't."
"Yeah." Thomas held the beer to his forehead. "Bruce told me that he told you what I said."
"That he did." Jim took another drag on his cigarette. "You're damn lucky he called me and didn't keep running. I did."
"I know." Thomas shook his head. "I don't know how to explain it, Jim. It was, I don't know what came over me."
"Me either." Jim knew he sounded hostile but he couldn't help it. "For fuck's sake, if you've felt this way all along why the hell are we friends?"
"I don't! I swear, I don't think any of that and we are friends and I just, I freaked out, that's all." Thomas stubbed out his cigarette, leaning forward, hands clasped between his legs. "I was shocked and I reacted without thinking and I know, believe me, I know that I handled that about as badly as I could. That's not an excuse, I swear, it's not, but it's not like I planned it."
"See, here's the thing," Jim took another drink. "It's what people say when they don't plan to that reveals how they really think."
"Maybe you're right." Thomas dropped his head, staring at the floor. "I'll admit it, I don't want Bruce to be gay."
Jim closed his eyes tightly. "Yeah. I picked up on that. So did he, you of all people should know how smart he is."
"I know, I know, but it's. I've seen how difficult it is for you and how terrible things still are out there." Thomas waved a hand in the direction of the door. "I don't want things to be harder on him and it will be and I don't want that for him."
"Don't you put this on me." Jim pointed at Thomas, anger clear on his face. "Don't you dare blame me for what you said. For fuck's sake, Thomas, anyone with half a brain knows that Phil's not just a friend. So I'm not marching in Pride, so what, I've never lied to you or Bruce or anyone who matters about who I am."
"I'm not blaming you!" Thomas stood, pacing back and forth, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not, I didn't mean for it to come out like that. All I meant is that I know it's hard on you and I know how much you hate that everything with your parents is beyond fucked up and I know that you have to be careful for all kinds of reasons. Forgive me for not wanting Bruce's life to be harder!"
"That's not up to you." Jim finished off his cigarette, blowing out a long stream of smoke. "Thomas, he's going to be whoever he is no matter what you do. It's up to you to decide if you can accept that. If you can't?" Jim shrugged. "Maybe it's better he knows that now."
"I can, I do, he's my son and I love him." Thomas grabbed his beer, downing half of it. "I wish I could take it back. Look, I don't blame either of you for being furious with me, hell, I'm furious with myself. But can you at least accept that I didn't say any it from hate?"
Jim eyed him steadily for a moment then rolled his eyes. "Oh for fuck's sake, we're the ones acting like emotional teenagers now. Of course you didn't, if you did you wouldn't be here, would you?"
"Well, Martha is very convincing." Thomas smiled a little then dropped back into his chair. "So. I was an asshole."
"Pretty much." Jim smiled a little. "I'm going to be pissed for a bit."
"Didn't think otherwise." Thomas finished off his beer, then sprawled out, head tipped back. "At least Trent's a good kid." He looked at Jim from the corner of his eye. "Not a brain dead football player."
Jim gaped at him for a moment then groaned. "I never ever should have told him that."
"No, no, I'm glad you did. How else would I learn about your really embarrassing past." Thomas sounded a bit gleeful and Jim flipped him off.
"Should I ask Alfred to show me pictures of your old girlfriends? You know he has them." Jim grinned when Thomas made a face at him. "Trent is a good kid."
"Yeah." Thomas shook his head. "Guess I get to live up to all those ideals of tolerance and acceptance I've preached at Bruce."
"I guess you do." Jim finished off his beer. "I'll let you know when you fail utterly."
"You do that." Thomas snagged the pack of cigarettes. "And hey, if Bruce ends up like you? Not exactly going to complain about that."
Jim flushed. "Shut up, Wayne. Now, I say we talk about all the ways to utterly humiliate the two of them next time I'm over." Jim grinned when Thomas threw his head back and laughed.
"Hello?" Jim rubbed at his eyes, stifling a yawn. He spared a stray hope that it wasn't the station calling, he deserved this weekend off, he really did.
"Jim?" Bruce's voice was shaky and Jim felt a jolt of fear go through him.
"Bruce, what's wrong?" He grabbed for his keys, trying to remember where he kicked off his shoes. "Are you okay?"
"I'm, I'm," Jim heard Bruce swallow. "I'm down at Chelsea's. Can you, can you come down here? Please?" Bruce's voice cracked a bit on the please and Jim nearly pitched into the wall pulling on his shoes.
"I'm on my way, you stay there, I'll be there in twenty minutes. Fifteen. Are you safe? Do you need me to call your parents?" Jim yanked his door shut, taking the stairs down two at a time.
"No! God, please, no, don't call them, please, Jim. I'll stay here and I'm fine, I, I, just please, please I need to talk to you." Jim could hear Bruce fighting to keep his voice under control. "I'll be waiting, see you in a few."
"Wait, no, Bruce don't hang up." Jim swore as he realized Bruce wasn't on the line. He turned the key harder than necessary then pulled out. He could make it there in fifteen minutes so long as he ignored all those pesky stop signs. There had to be some perks to being the head of MCU, other than the getting shot at. He spun the wheel, taking the corner a bit faster than he should. He was tempted to call Bruce back but he needed to concentrate on driving. Chelsea's was too public for anything bad to happen, at least that was his hope. He stepped on the gas. This was Gotham, after all. No use in tempting fate.
Jim pulled the door open, barely registering the welcome scent of coffee. He glanced around, trying to find Bruce. His heart clenched when he didn't see him. He took a few steps in, just getting ready to call out for him when he spotted a dark head bent over a mug at one of the back tables. He ducked around the waiting line, then settled into the seat across Bruce.
"Hey." Jim said, reaching out to touch Bruce's arm. "I'm here."
Bruce looked up. His eyes were red and he looked miserable. "Thank you, I didn't know who else to call."
"What happened?" Jim frowned, glancing around. "Bruce, are you here alone?"
Bruce nodded shakily. "Yeah, I kind of." He waved his hand. "Took off."
"Took off? What's going on?" He looked at him closer. "Bruce, you need to tell me what's going on."
Bruce looked down at the table, hands clenching around the mug. Jim leaned back, carefully not pressing him. He'd learned a long time ago that dealing with teenagers was remarkably like trying to get suspects to talk. The more he pushed, the less information he'd get.
"Trent kissed me." Bruce finally said. "At my birthday party." Jim could see the flush on his cheeks.
"He did?" Jim kept his voice even. "What did you do?"
"Um." Bruce turned redder. "Kissed him back."
Jim bit back a smile. "I see."
Bruce glanced up. "You don't sound surprised."
"I'm not." Jim smiled slightly. "I've seen how the two of you are around each other."
"You could have told me," Bruce muttered. He took a sip of his coffee. "That would have been nice."
"That's something you needed to figure out on your own." Jim replied. "So is that why you're here? Did you fight?"
"No! No, that's, everything is great." That made Bruce smile a little. "Really great."
Jim arched a brow at him. "Do we need to have a conversation about being safe?"
Bruce looked at him, surprised. "You're not going to give me the you're too young lecture? And I, well, I know about" Bruce made vague hand gestures. "That kind of stuff."
"Here's a hint, if you can't say it, you're not ready to do it. And you're seventeen Bruce, I'm not naive. I do remember being that age. Besides," Jim's lips twitched. "I would be an enormous hypocrite if I told you that you weren't ready."
"A hypocrite? What do you, oh. Oh." Bruce's eyes went wide. "Oh. Right."
"Exactly. So if it's not Trent, then what is it?" Jim cast a wistful glance over to the counter. "And will I need coffee to deal with it?"
"When do you not? Go, get some, I'll be here." Bruce nudged him with his foot. "I don't want you to go into withdrawal."
"You're not any funnier than your mother when you say that." Jim pushed back. "Don't go anywhere." Bruce nodded and Jim headed up to get coffee. He rubbed a thumb over the back of his phone, considering calling Thomas to tell him that Bruce was with him. He glanced over to the table, noticing how Bruce was still huddled in the corner, trying to make himself invisible. Maybe in a few minutes, when he found out what was going on. He took his coffee, grateful that they knew exactly how he liked it by now. He headed back to the table, tugging the chair over so that he was blocking Bruce from being seen by the rest of the room. Bruce tended to forget how much attention he drew simply by who he was. "Okay, I'm properly caffeinated. Talk."
"Is that your interrogation look? It's kind of intimidating." Bruce drew circles on the table with the tip of his finger. "I told Mom and Dad about Trent."
Jim waited for Bruce to continue. Bruce didn't say anything more and Jim frowned. "And?"
"And Dad freaked out." Jim barely heard it, Bruce's voice was so low. "He completely freaked."
Jim stared at Bruce, trying to determine if he'd heard him wrong. "He what?"
"He freaked out." Bruce bit his lip, voice beginning to shake. "He told me that I was just confused and that I mistaking what I felt for Trent with something else and that I was too young to know what I wanted and that," Bruce stopped, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter."
The wave of anger that washed through Jim took him by surprise. He struggled to keep it from showing, to keep it from his voice. "Bruce, what else did he say?"
"It doesn't matter!" Bruce looked up, eyes bright. "It was wrong and stupid and I don't understand. I don't get it, why did he say those things, he's the one who always told me that there was nothing wrong with, with," Bruce swallowed, "with being gay and that people are who they are and that it was fine. I don't understand."
"Is that why you're here?" Bruce gave a small nod. "Bruce, you can't run like that, it won't solve anything."
"He told me." Bruce bit his lip. "He told me that he didn't want to look at me right now."
It took all of Jim's self-control not to let the rage he was feeling leak into his voice. "Bruce, you know he loves you."
"Yeah, sure. As long as I'm his perfect little straight son." Bruce's voice was as angry as Jim felt. "I hate him right now."
"Don't say that, you don't mean it." Jim put a hand on Bruce's arm. "This will work out, Bruce, I'm sure he was shocked was all."
"I don't know why, apparently everyone in the world knew it but me. Mom smiled at me and said it was about time." Bruce shook his head. "I thought Dad would understand, I mean, you're his best friend and he likes Phil and he's never said anything like that before."
"It's different when it's your child." Jim took a long drink, stalling for time. The coffee helped wash the bitter taste of defending Thomas from his mouth. "Bruce, how long have you been gone?"
"I don't know, a few hours. I kind of drove around for awhile and then I ended up here and then I called you." Bruce finished his coffee, spinning the mug on the table. "Do you think I'm too young to know? Honestly, do you?"
"I'm not the best person to ask," Jim said wryly. "I knew when I was fourteen."
"Really?" Bruce stared at him. "I didn't know that."
"No reason why you should." Jim shrugged. "I think that you need to figure this out in your own time. Everyone is different."
"I guess. Do you, you like Trent, right?" Bruce said anxiously. "He's really great and nice and smart and, you know, he's" Bruce went red and Jim couldn't resist the urge to push the issue.
"He's what, interesting, well read, a great dancer?" Jim nudged Bruce's foot. "You like his etchings?"
"Jim!" Bruce sounded shocked then started laughing. "That was so lame."
"Maybe," Jim grinned at him. "Seriously, Bruce, don't do anything that you aren't ready to do. There's nothing wrong with taking your time."
Bruce nodded, flushing bright red. "We haven't, we aren't, we've only," Bruce made more vague hand gestures and Jim felt himself flush.
"Trust me, I don't need details." Bruce looked relieved to hear that. "So, you like him?"
Bruce nodded, "Yeah. I like him a lot."
"Good, you could do worse." Jim leaned back, taking another drink. "My first boyfriend? Brain dead jock."
"He was not!" Bruce pointed at Jim. "There is no way that you dated someone stupid."
"Hey, I was young and he was hot." Jim grinned as Bruce flushed bright red. "See, you don't want to hear about it either."
"Shut up." Bruce wrinkled his nose. "It's weird is all, thinking about you being my age."
"Thanks, I'll go get my walker now." Jim ducked when Bruce threw a balled up napkin at him. "You started it."
"That was mature." Bruce rolled his eyes. He looked much calmer, Jim was glad to see.
"Why don't we," Jim started, then held up a finger when his phone rang. He pulled it out, frowning when he saw who was calling. "He's with me." He didn't bother trying to keep the chill from his voice.
"Jim, thank God." Thomas sounded frantic. "I didn't know what to do, I didn't want to overreact"
"I think that ship has sailed." Jim saw Bruce's eyes go wide. "I'm going to bring him home now."
There was silence for a long moment. "He told you then."
"Yes. He did. I'll see you in a bit." Jim snapped the phone shut. "Okay, it's time we got you home."
"Was he mad?" Bruce sounded scared, not that Jim blamed him.
"No, but you scared them. I know you're upset and I'm not saying you shouldn't be, but don't do that again." Jim stood, nodding towards the door. "I'm taking you home."
"But my car," Bruce stood following Jim out the door.
"We'll get it tomorrow, I don't think you should be driving right now." Jim led the way to his car, waiting until Bruce was in before climbing in himself. "I'm glad you called."
"Me too." Bruce gave him a little smile. "Even if I did get teen angst all over you."
Jim laughed, pulling out and heading for the Manor.
"Master Wayne is in the study, Lieutenant Gordon." Alfred reached to take his coat and Jim shook his head.
"I'm not staying." Jim turned to Bruce, "Can you give me a minute with your father?"
Bruce nodded. "Okay, thanks for bringing me home." He headed down the hall and Jim watched him turn the corner at the end of the hall.
"Should I prepare to scrub blood out of the carpet?" Alfred looked at Jim steadily.
"I hope it won't come to that." Jim headed for the study. "Please don't move the car, I'm planning on leaving in a minute." He didn't wait for Alfred's reply, pulling the study door open and then barely resisting the urge to slam it behind him. Thomas turned to look at him and Jim held up a hand.
"Don't you dare say a word." He leaned back against the door, keeping as much space as possible between them. "I don't know what came over you and I don't really care. Your son needed you and you failed him. Completely. If that's what you really feel, then you've done a hell of a job lying about it all these years." Jim felt his hands clench and he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Don't fuck this up, Thomas. Trust me, knowing your parents hate you for something you can't change is no way to go through life. The next time he leaves because of something you said? Don't assume I'll bring him back." Jim yanked the door open and left, trying to pretend he couldn't hear Thomas yelling "Jim! Jim, wait!" He ran down the stairs and fell into his car, pulling out as fast as he could. His hands were shaking and maybe he was the one who shouldn't be driving. He didn't care. All he knew was that he understood completely why Bruce had felt the need to get away.
Jim sat up with a start, trying to determine what woke him. He listened and there it was again, a faint knocking on his door. He shoved up from the couch, yawning widely as he padded over to the door. He looked through the peep hole and sighed, resting his forehead against the door. He waited another moment, getting his emotions under control before he opened the door. "Come on in." He stepped back, waving Thomas through the door. He headed back to the living room, dropping down heavily on the couch.
"Hey." Thomas settled in the chair across from him. "Thanks for letting me in."
Jim snorted. "I think we both know that we had maybe another twelve hours before your blushing bride dragged us both somewhere by our ears and told us to stop being assholes."
"Try six." Thomas smiled faintly. "And I aspire to being called an asshole right now."
"I bet." Jim looked at him, then pushed up. "You want a drink?"
"God, yes." Thomas leaned back, eyeing Jim's desk.
"Go on, go on, we're in trouble now, might as well go all out." Jim grabbed them both a beer, then snagged an ash tray, setting it on the table. Thomas tapped out a cigarette, then tossed the pack to Jim. Jim pulled out a cigarette of his own, lighting it then handing the lighter over to Thomas. They smoked in silence for a few moments before Thomas let out a harsh laugh.
"Thanks for not punching me in the throat. I kind of deserved it." He tapped off some ash, then twisted the cap off his beer. He took a long pull, then tipped the bottle in Jim's direction. "I would have."
"Don't think the idea didn't cross my mind." Jim opened his beer. "I'm not sure I still won't."
"Yeah." Thomas held the beer to his forehead. "Bruce told me that he told you what I said."
"That he did." Jim took another drag on his cigarette. "You're damn lucky he called me and didn't keep running. I did."
"I know." Thomas shook his head. "I don't know how to explain it, Jim. It was, I don't know what came over me."
"Me either." Jim knew he sounded hostile but he couldn't help it. "For fuck's sake, if you've felt this way all along why the hell are we friends?"
"I don't! I swear, I don't think any of that and we are friends and I just, I freaked out, that's all." Thomas stubbed out his cigarette, leaning forward, hands clasped between his legs. "I was shocked and I reacted without thinking and I know, believe me, I know that I handled that about as badly as I could. That's not an excuse, I swear, it's not, but it's not like I planned it."
"See, here's the thing," Jim took another drink. "It's what people say when they don't plan to that reveals how they really think."
"Maybe you're right." Thomas dropped his head, staring at the floor. "I'll admit it, I don't want Bruce to be gay."
Jim closed his eyes tightly. "Yeah. I picked up on that. So did he, you of all people should know how smart he is."
"I know, I know, but it's. I've seen how difficult it is for you and how terrible things still are out there." Thomas waved a hand in the direction of the door. "I don't want things to be harder on him and it will be and I don't want that for him."
"Don't you put this on me." Jim pointed at Thomas, anger clear on his face. "Don't you dare blame me for what you said. For fuck's sake, Thomas, anyone with half a brain knows that Phil's not just a friend. So I'm not marching in Pride, so what, I've never lied to you or Bruce or anyone who matters about who I am."
"I'm not blaming you!" Thomas stood, pacing back and forth, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not, I didn't mean for it to come out like that. All I meant is that I know it's hard on you and I know how much you hate that everything with your parents is beyond fucked up and I know that you have to be careful for all kinds of reasons. Forgive me for not wanting Bruce's life to be harder!"
"That's not up to you." Jim finished off his cigarette, blowing out a long stream of smoke. "Thomas, he's going to be whoever he is no matter what you do. It's up to you to decide if you can accept that. If you can't?" Jim shrugged. "Maybe it's better he knows that now."
"I can, I do, he's my son and I love him." Thomas grabbed his beer, downing half of it. "I wish I could take it back. Look, I don't blame either of you for being furious with me, hell, I'm furious with myself. But can you at least accept that I didn't say any it from hate?"
Jim eyed him steadily for a moment then rolled his eyes. "Oh for fuck's sake, we're the ones acting like emotional teenagers now. Of course you didn't, if you did you wouldn't be here, would you?"
"Well, Martha is very convincing." Thomas smiled a little then dropped back into his chair. "So. I was an asshole."
"Pretty much." Jim smiled a little. "I'm going to be pissed for a bit."
"Didn't think otherwise." Thomas finished off his beer, then sprawled out, head tipped back. "At least Trent's a good kid." He looked at Jim from the corner of his eye. "Not a brain dead football player."
Jim gaped at him for a moment then groaned. "I never ever should have told him that."
"No, no, I'm glad you did. How else would I learn about your really embarrassing past." Thomas sounded a bit gleeful and Jim flipped him off.
"Should I ask Alfred to show me pictures of your old girlfriends? You know he has them." Jim grinned when Thomas made a face at him. "Trent is a good kid."
"Yeah." Thomas shook his head. "Guess I get to live up to all those ideals of tolerance and acceptance I've preached at Bruce."
"I guess you do." Jim finished off his beer. "I'll let you know when you fail utterly."
"You do that." Thomas snagged the pack of cigarettes. "And hey, if Bruce ends up like you? Not exactly going to complain about that."
Jim flushed. "Shut up, Wayne. Now, I say we talk about all the ways to utterly humiliate the two of them next time I'm over." Jim grinned when Thomas threw his head back and laughed.