Fic: The Raven And The Nightingale Book III: Cherry Blossoms (20/22)
Title: The Raven And The Nightingale Book III: Cherry Blossoms (20/22)
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters (this chapter): Bruce/Dick, Patrick/Donna (Patrick does not appear in this chapter), Theodore/Edith (Edith does not appear in this chapter), Nicholas/Alice (Nicholas does not appear in this chapter), Mirabelle Daystrom
Genres: Angst, AU, Drama, Historical, Mystery, Romance
Rating (this chapter): NC-17
Warnings (this chapter): None
Spoilers: None
General Summary: Bruce and Dick get caught up in political intrigue during a business trip to Washington City.
Chapter Summary: A White House Dinner ends in a different kind of feast for Bruce and Dick. ;)
Date Of Completion: May 8, 2020
Date Of Posting: June 7, 2022
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1813
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Note: The entire series can be found here.
XX
WHITE HOUSE DINNER
“White House dinners are like drawing room parties…you never know who’s going to stab you in the back with the butter knife.”
Opal Resta
Washington, D.C.
High Society
Doyenne
April 1, 1901 C.E.
Dick danced across the East Room stage in his gaudy costume as Donna met him halfway. The Arabian costumes were brocaded gold with a rainbow of jewels sewn into the heavy fabric. They looked real but were really rhinestones, but no one cared. The audience was captivated and the rest of the cast danced their supporting roles with dash and color. The music from the company’s orchestra swelled and reached a thrilling crescendo.
The White House audience stood and applauded. The company smiled and bowed and dashed off the stage. A chamber trio took the stage next.
Bruce relaxed as he listened to the music. Brahms was a good choice.
It had been three days since he, Patrick and Dick had caught the robbers at the lab and a call to the White House had brought the Secret Service to collect the robbers. Not a word was printed in the papers, and Lionel Luthor suddenly left town.
When the trio finished, there was mingling in the Blue Room, and Theodore quietly led Bruce to his office. “Close the door,” he said. He went to his desk and sat down. Bruce sat in the chair in front of the desk. “There’s going to be a fancy new office opening next year, something called the Oval Office. Hope it’s Bill Taft who gets to enjoy it.”
“I heard Lionel left town,” said Bruce.
“He did, one step ahead of the Secret Service.” Theodore folded his hands on the desk.
“We searched the room. We couldn’t find any notes.”
“The robbers already had photographs of the formula. My agents found the camera stashed in the room they were ransacking. The papers were in a wall safe.”
“What were they searching for when we got there?”
“Either Lionel wanted them to see what else was around, or they decided to do a little freelancing.”
“Lucky for us.”
Theodore nodded. “One of the men talked and told us Lionel was going to sell the information.”
“To whom?”
“We don’t know. Our canary was found dead in his cell at Iron Gate.”
Bruce leaned forward. “Hanged himself?”
Theodore nodded. “So they say.”
Bruce stroked his chin. “Lionel tidying up.”
“Possibly.” Theodore removed his pince-nez and rubbed his nose. “Any idea who he was going to sell to?”
Bruce pondered the question. “Any of the European countries we found on that list. I’d vote for Germany since Victor Fries was born in Prussia.”
“I’ll pass it along.”
“I need to get back to Gotham, Uncle.”
“So soon?”
“I’ve got to get back.”
“You did a great job.” Theodore held out his hand and they shook.
“Thank you. I’m leaving Thursday. The Gotham Ballet’s last performance here is Wednesday night.”
Theodore stood. “Better get back to my guests. Dinner will be served soon.”
Bruce and Theodore left the Executive Office and enjoyed pre-dinner drinks. The dancers and musicians from the company also mingled. Bruce noticed that the dancers had kept their eye make-up on.
Wonder if Dick and his colleagues want to make a little statement about their flamboyance? Like Oscar Wilde, they wouldn’t be welcome in polite society.
He wondered about people who admired showfolks’ skills but refused to socialize with them except at events like these tonight. He had been born in High Society and there were times even he could not figure them out.
Bruce felt pride as he watched Dick charm the stuffed shirts of official Washington. Like a bird of bright plumage, he flitted from group to group with his glittering eyeshadow and infectious laugh, and somehow people forgot he was wearing make-up with evening clothes.
They should have seen him fighting wit that robber. A Nightingale with punch!
Alice Longworth was suddenly at Bruce’s elbow as she sipped champagne. “Consider yourself lucky that Lemonade Lucy Hayes is no longer First Lady.”
“How did her husband feel about banning alcohol in the White House?”
“Ol’ Rutherford B.? He was probably still paying off the politocos who put him in office after that disaster of an election in 1876.”
Bruce smiled. “The Southern states were happy.”
“Why wouldn’t they be? Part of the deal for putting Hayes in was pulling the Federal troops out of the former Confederacy. Reconstruction was over.”
“They’re still fighting the War down there.”
“Oh, yes. The ghost of Robert E. Lee roams Virginia. I’m surprised people haven’t seen him at Arlington Cemetery. That used to be his land, including the Custis-Lee Mansion.”
“Maybe a spiritualist has seen him.”
She laughed. “Maybe so.” She looked at him approvingly. “How goes the work on the committee?”
“Actually, my work there is done.”
“So soon?”
“Time to go home.”
“To gloomy Gotham?” She clucked her tongue.
“I call it home.”
“Poor dear.” She turned and watched Dick. “You and your star dancer should come to Oyster Bay sometime.”
“I’m sure it’s utterly charming.”
“Oh, yes, much livelier than Hyde Park. Aunt Sara rules that place with an iron fist in a velvet glove. Cousin Franklin doesn’t get much say, and Cousin Eleanor certainly doesn’t. It’s all Aunt Sara.”
Bruce had heard that but let Alice talk. You could always pick up tidbits through conversation.
“I heard Lionel Luthor left town.”
Bruce paused in bringing his champagne glass to his lips. “Oh?”
“Yes. Just up and left.”
Alice’s tone indicated that she knew something was up. She shot a piercing gaze at Bruce.
“Don’t look at me. I’m not his appointments secretary.”
Alice’s diamond earrings glittered as she tossed her head. “How droll, Bruce! I suppose it’s no great loss. This city has more than enough alpha males.”
Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Someone’s been doing some heavy reading.”
She smiled. “The 20th Century has such delicious ideas.”
Bruce noticed that Dick had a group of admirers laughing. He sipped champagne and said, “With thinkers like Freud and Havelock Ellis, it should be an interesting century.”
“Freud is sex-obsessed, and Havelock Ellis is even worse.” She shook her head. “Anyone who publishes a book called Psychopathia Sexualis has problems.”
Bruce laughed. “Maybe so.”
Alice’s attention was captured by someone else,so he walked over to Dick, who detached from a group and smiled at Bruce.
“Aren’t you the life of the party,” Bruce said.
“Better than being a wet blanket.” Dick leaned in and whispered, “Some of these people are sopping wet.”
Bruce chuckled. “Guilty as charged.”
“I hope the food’s good.”
As if on cue, Roscoe the butler announced, “Dinner is served.”
The State Dining Room was lit by chandeliers and the tables were set with gleaming china and silverware. The effect was baronial, with dark wood paneling and tapestries on the walls. A massive stone fireplace and oversized mantel fit the grandeur of the room. The famous architectural firm of McKim, Mead and White had overseen the 1902 White House renovations and were still the talk of Washington. Place cards indicated where the guests should sit. A female guest was seated between Bruce and Dick.
“Now, Mr. Wayne, how do you find Washington?” asked the young lady, a long string of pearls off-setting a cobalt-blue dress with white camellias in her hair. Blond hair shone in a pompadour with tiny curls making a festive set of ringlets to frame a heart-shaped face.
“It’s an unusual town.”
“’Town’ is right. Provincial as Grand Rapids.”
“There’s never anybody wide-eyed in this town,” Bruce said in amusement.
“If they are they don’t last long, or they become in-the-know.”
A light consommé was served and Bruce said, “Engaging, Miss…”
“Miss Mirabelle Daystrom.”
“Daystorm? Are you related to Senator Russell Daystrom?”
“I’m his daughter.”
“Glad to meet you, Miss Daystrom.” Bruce glanced around. “Is your father here?”
“No, he was invited, but he declined.”
“That’s a shame.”
“He had too much work to do. One good thing, his latest paramour is probably very peeved. She likes the social whirl of Washington.”
Bruce was tempted to ask more about Selina, but Dick was in earshot. Better lo let sleeping cats lie.
After the cleansing-palate consommé, crab cakes were next. Lemon slices were arranged on beds of parsley and Mirabelle squirted lemon juice on her cakes. She took a small fork and knife and cut up the seafood, sampling a bite.
“Mmm, this White House chef is exemplary,” she said.
“I agree,” said Bruce, tasting his portion.
Dick was enjoying his food, too. He always ate up life with gusto, Bruce thought. Everything about him was full of life.
The dancers and musicians were a big hit, Bruce was glad to see. Alice was chatting with Donna and Theodore beamed. A successful White House Dinner was always a feather in his cap, not to mention his wife’s.
After dinner there was dancing, and Bruce wished that he could dance with Dick openly. He waited as patiently as he could, and finally he and Dick were on their way back to the Willard Hotel.
They went up to Bruce’s suite and he locked the door behind them. Dick took off his cloak and draped it over a chair as he walked toward the bedroom and Bruce followed after removing his hat and overcoat.
Dick was disrobing as he walked toward the bed. He was very sure of himself. He was stripped down to his BVDs and said, “I saw you watching me all evening.”
“How can I help it?”
Dick wiggled as he pulled off his underwear and stood with his back to his lover. Bruce did his own disrobing and approached Dick, putting his hands on the dancer’s hips. He feasted his eyes on the most incredible set of buttocks he had ever seen. He brushed his erection against their lushness.
Dick pushed back, exciting Bruce even more. He pushed Dick down on the bed, scrambling for the jar of cream in the nightstand. He prepared them expertly and Dick got up on all fours. Bruce kissed the nape of his neck and positioned himself behind his lover, easing inside the supple body. Dick clutched the sheets and moaned as Bruce began to thrust.
Bruce had waited all evening for this, and he reveled in the sensation of warm flesh surrounding his cock. Dick tossed his head back. “Faster! Harder!” he growled.
Bruce complied and could feel himself reaching the edge. His strokes were clean and deep, and Dick cried out as he came, with Bruce climaxing right after him. They both collapsed in a heap on the bed, Bruce curling up around his lover in a protective embrace
“So happy,” Bruce murmured and Dick wiggled under him.
It was a night he would remember for a long time as his world shattered around him.
This entry has been cross-posted from Dreamwidth. Comment on either entry as you wish. :)
This chapter can also be read on AO3.
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters (this chapter): Bruce/Dick, Patrick/Donna (Patrick does not appear in this chapter), Theodore/Edith (Edith does not appear in this chapter), Nicholas/Alice (Nicholas does not appear in this chapter), Mirabelle Daystrom
Genres: Angst, AU, Drama, Historical, Mystery, Romance
Rating (this chapter): NC-17
Warnings (this chapter): None
Spoilers: None
General Summary: Bruce and Dick get caught up in political intrigue during a business trip to Washington City.
Chapter Summary: A White House Dinner ends in a different kind of feast for Bruce and Dick. ;)
Date Of Completion: May 8, 2020
Date Of Posting: June 7, 2022
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1813
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Note: The entire series can be found here.
XX
WHITE HOUSE DINNER
“White House dinners are like drawing room parties…you never know who’s going to stab you in the back with the butter knife.”
Opal Resta
Washington, D.C.
High Society
Doyenne
April 1, 1901 C.E.
Dick danced across the East Room stage in his gaudy costume as Donna met him halfway. The Arabian costumes were brocaded gold with a rainbow of jewels sewn into the heavy fabric. They looked real but were really rhinestones, but no one cared. The audience was captivated and the rest of the cast danced their supporting roles with dash and color. The music from the company’s orchestra swelled and reached a thrilling crescendo.
The White House audience stood and applauded. The company smiled and bowed and dashed off the stage. A chamber trio took the stage next.
Bruce relaxed as he listened to the music. Brahms was a good choice.
It had been three days since he, Patrick and Dick had caught the robbers at the lab and a call to the White House had brought the Secret Service to collect the robbers. Not a word was printed in the papers, and Lionel Luthor suddenly left town.
When the trio finished, there was mingling in the Blue Room, and Theodore quietly led Bruce to his office. “Close the door,” he said. He went to his desk and sat down. Bruce sat in the chair in front of the desk. “There’s going to be a fancy new office opening next year, something called the Oval Office. Hope it’s Bill Taft who gets to enjoy it.”
“I heard Lionel left town,” said Bruce.
“He did, one step ahead of the Secret Service.” Theodore folded his hands on the desk.
“We searched the room. We couldn’t find any notes.”
“The robbers already had photographs of the formula. My agents found the camera stashed in the room they were ransacking. The papers were in a wall safe.”
“What were they searching for when we got there?”
“Either Lionel wanted them to see what else was around, or they decided to do a little freelancing.”
“Lucky for us.”
Theodore nodded. “One of the men talked and told us Lionel was going to sell the information.”
“To whom?”
“We don’t know. Our canary was found dead in his cell at Iron Gate.”
Bruce leaned forward. “Hanged himself?”
Theodore nodded. “So they say.”
Bruce stroked his chin. “Lionel tidying up.”
“Possibly.” Theodore removed his pince-nez and rubbed his nose. “Any idea who he was going to sell to?”
Bruce pondered the question. “Any of the European countries we found on that list. I’d vote for Germany since Victor Fries was born in Prussia.”
“I’ll pass it along.”
“I need to get back to Gotham, Uncle.”
“So soon?”
“I’ve got to get back.”
“You did a great job.” Theodore held out his hand and they shook.
“Thank you. I’m leaving Thursday. The Gotham Ballet’s last performance here is Wednesday night.”
Theodore stood. “Better get back to my guests. Dinner will be served soon.”
Bruce and Theodore left the Executive Office and enjoyed pre-dinner drinks. The dancers and musicians from the company also mingled. Bruce noticed that the dancers had kept their eye make-up on.
Wonder if Dick and his colleagues want to make a little statement about their flamboyance? Like Oscar Wilde, they wouldn’t be welcome in polite society.
He wondered about people who admired showfolks’ skills but refused to socialize with them except at events like these tonight. He had been born in High Society and there were times even he could not figure them out.
Bruce felt pride as he watched Dick charm the stuffed shirts of official Washington. Like a bird of bright plumage, he flitted from group to group with his glittering eyeshadow and infectious laugh, and somehow people forgot he was wearing make-up with evening clothes.
They should have seen him fighting wit that robber. A Nightingale with punch!
Alice Longworth was suddenly at Bruce’s elbow as she sipped champagne. “Consider yourself lucky that Lemonade Lucy Hayes is no longer First Lady.”
“How did her husband feel about banning alcohol in the White House?”
“Ol’ Rutherford B.? He was probably still paying off the politocos who put him in office after that disaster of an election in 1876.”
Bruce smiled. “The Southern states were happy.”
“Why wouldn’t they be? Part of the deal for putting Hayes in was pulling the Federal troops out of the former Confederacy. Reconstruction was over.”
“They’re still fighting the War down there.”
“Oh, yes. The ghost of Robert E. Lee roams Virginia. I’m surprised people haven’t seen him at Arlington Cemetery. That used to be his land, including the Custis-Lee Mansion.”
“Maybe a spiritualist has seen him.”
She laughed. “Maybe so.” She looked at him approvingly. “How goes the work on the committee?”
“Actually, my work there is done.”
“So soon?”
“Time to go home.”
“To gloomy Gotham?” She clucked her tongue.
“I call it home.”
“Poor dear.” She turned and watched Dick. “You and your star dancer should come to Oyster Bay sometime.”
“I’m sure it’s utterly charming.”
“Oh, yes, much livelier than Hyde Park. Aunt Sara rules that place with an iron fist in a velvet glove. Cousin Franklin doesn’t get much say, and Cousin Eleanor certainly doesn’t. It’s all Aunt Sara.”
Bruce had heard that but let Alice talk. You could always pick up tidbits through conversation.
“I heard Lionel Luthor left town.”
Bruce paused in bringing his champagne glass to his lips. “Oh?”
“Yes. Just up and left.”
Alice’s tone indicated that she knew something was up. She shot a piercing gaze at Bruce.
“Don’t look at me. I’m not his appointments secretary.”
Alice’s diamond earrings glittered as she tossed her head. “How droll, Bruce! I suppose it’s no great loss. This city has more than enough alpha males.”
Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Someone’s been doing some heavy reading.”
She smiled. “The 20th Century has such delicious ideas.”
Bruce noticed that Dick had a group of admirers laughing. He sipped champagne and said, “With thinkers like Freud and Havelock Ellis, it should be an interesting century.”
“Freud is sex-obsessed, and Havelock Ellis is even worse.” She shook her head. “Anyone who publishes a book called Psychopathia Sexualis has problems.”
Bruce laughed. “Maybe so.”
Alice’s attention was captured by someone else,so he walked over to Dick, who detached from a group and smiled at Bruce.
“Aren’t you the life of the party,” Bruce said.
“Better than being a wet blanket.” Dick leaned in and whispered, “Some of these people are sopping wet.”
Bruce chuckled. “Guilty as charged.”
“I hope the food’s good.”
As if on cue, Roscoe the butler announced, “Dinner is served.”
The State Dining Room was lit by chandeliers and the tables were set with gleaming china and silverware. The effect was baronial, with dark wood paneling and tapestries on the walls. A massive stone fireplace and oversized mantel fit the grandeur of the room. The famous architectural firm of McKim, Mead and White had overseen the 1902 White House renovations and were still the talk of Washington. Place cards indicated where the guests should sit. A female guest was seated between Bruce and Dick.
“Now, Mr. Wayne, how do you find Washington?” asked the young lady, a long string of pearls off-setting a cobalt-blue dress with white camellias in her hair. Blond hair shone in a pompadour with tiny curls making a festive set of ringlets to frame a heart-shaped face.
“It’s an unusual town.”
“’Town’ is right. Provincial as Grand Rapids.”
“There’s never anybody wide-eyed in this town,” Bruce said in amusement.
“If they are they don’t last long, or they become in-the-know.”
A light consommé was served and Bruce said, “Engaging, Miss…”
“Miss Mirabelle Daystrom.”
“Daystorm? Are you related to Senator Russell Daystrom?”
“I’m his daughter.”
“Glad to meet you, Miss Daystrom.” Bruce glanced around. “Is your father here?”
“No, he was invited, but he declined.”
“That’s a shame.”
“He had too much work to do. One good thing, his latest paramour is probably very peeved. She likes the social whirl of Washington.”
Bruce was tempted to ask more about Selina, but Dick was in earshot. Better lo let sleeping cats lie.
After the cleansing-palate consommé, crab cakes were next. Lemon slices were arranged on beds of parsley and Mirabelle squirted lemon juice on her cakes. She took a small fork and knife and cut up the seafood, sampling a bite.
“Mmm, this White House chef is exemplary,” she said.
“I agree,” said Bruce, tasting his portion.
Dick was enjoying his food, too. He always ate up life with gusto, Bruce thought. Everything about him was full of life.
The dancers and musicians were a big hit, Bruce was glad to see. Alice was chatting with Donna and Theodore beamed. A successful White House Dinner was always a feather in his cap, not to mention his wife’s.
After dinner there was dancing, and Bruce wished that he could dance with Dick openly. He waited as patiently as he could, and finally he and Dick were on their way back to the Willard Hotel.
They went up to Bruce’s suite and he locked the door behind them. Dick took off his cloak and draped it over a chair as he walked toward the bedroom and Bruce followed after removing his hat and overcoat.
Dick was disrobing as he walked toward the bed. He was very sure of himself. He was stripped down to his BVDs and said, “I saw you watching me all evening.”
“How can I help it?”
Dick wiggled as he pulled off his underwear and stood with his back to his lover. Bruce did his own disrobing and approached Dick, putting his hands on the dancer’s hips. He feasted his eyes on the most incredible set of buttocks he had ever seen. He brushed his erection against their lushness.
Dick pushed back, exciting Bruce even more. He pushed Dick down on the bed, scrambling for the jar of cream in the nightstand. He prepared them expertly and Dick got up on all fours. Bruce kissed the nape of his neck and positioned himself behind his lover, easing inside the supple body. Dick clutched the sheets and moaned as Bruce began to thrust.
Bruce had waited all evening for this, and he reveled in the sensation of warm flesh surrounding his cock. Dick tossed his head back. “Faster! Harder!” he growled.
Bruce complied and could feel himself reaching the edge. His strokes were clean and deep, and Dick cried out as he came, with Bruce climaxing right after him. They both collapsed in a heap on the bed, Bruce curling up around his lover in a protective embrace
“So happy,” Bruce murmured and Dick wiggled under him.
It was a night he would remember for a long time as his world shattered around him.
This entry has been cross-posted from Dreamwidth. Comment on either entry as you wish. :)
This chapter can also be read on AO3.