[FIC] Rush Hour; PG; Avengers/Batman (Nolanverse)

Aug 05, 2012 13:51

Title: Rush Hour
Author: phate_phoenix
Pairing: Tony Stark/Bruce Wayne (Truce)
Word Count: 3146
Rating/Contents: PG for language
Summary: Written for the avengerskink prompt: Okay, I'm not much of a DC fan but I really want this for some reason. I want Tony to be hurt somehow and Bruce is in New York so when he hears he comes in. The Avengers are surprised JARVIS let him in and think he's an intruder. When they ask him what he wants with Tony he says 'he's my husband and I wanna see him.'
Disclaimer: DO NOT OWN
Author's Notes: I love this ship. Love it love it love it. I have yet to see DKR, so no spoilers here! In fact, I’d say no spoilers at all. Alas! I do not have a corresponding icon. That makes me sad.

----


Bruce Wayne leaves the conference room several minutes after the rest of the board does, trying-and failing-to hold in a yawn. He makes his way down the hallways towards his own office where his Stark-designed computer chair awaits, capable of laying practically flat for midday napping. It’s one of the few things Tony’s designed especially for Bruce instead of Batman, and the only reason Bruce accepted it was because it enabled more of his nighttime pursuits.

Also, it was ridiculously comfortable, and it had nothing to do with how wide and sad Tony’s eyes had gotten when he’d tried to deny him.

He enters his office and leans his back against the door, yawning into his fist. He blinks a few times, eyes watering, and rolls his back. There are a few papers he needs to sign for Lucius, and a meeting with a LexCorp representative he plans to conveniently forget-half because he thinks it might be an abduction attempt, and half because he needs to sleep a few hours if he’s going to be up to par for tonight.

After the fourth time Lucius caught him napping, Bruce had found a pillow and blanket in his office and a note asking if he should get with Miss Potts to take notes.

Tony has ruined him. Ruined him. It can only do wonders for his reputation.

Bruce walks toward his desk, wondering if Lucius would mind if he signed the stack of papers tomorrow, when his cellphone rings. The ringtone is deceptively generic, one that comes with the phone, but it chills Bruce’s blood and tightens his stomach. He carefully schools his body to calm indifference and pulls his cellphone free. The caller I.D. reads JARVIS.

“Hello?” he says, frozen between his desk and his door.

“Master Wayne, I have been prompted to contact you,” JARVIS says, and Bruce grits his teeth for a moment.

“What happened?” Bruce asks, tiredness gone, and heads over to his desk.

“What is your authorization code?” JARVIS asks.

“‘Merger’,” Bruce says, and grits his teeth.

JARVIS is silent for a moment. “Voice match, code match,” the A.I. says. “Bypassing SHIELD mission security protocols.” Bruce waits for a moment, going to the internet and scanning through the news pages for anything odd. “Bypass completed,” JARVIS says. “The Avengers were summoned to combat a group of HammerTech-armed mercenaries. Master Tony was injured.”

Bruce scowls, seeing nothing online, and instead sends off an email to his secretary, telling her he’ll be gone for an emergency. “How was he injured, and what is his status?”

“Bypassing SHIELD medical information protocols,” JARVIS drones, and Bruce turns around and stares out the large window of his office. “Bypass complete. A HammerTech claw-weapon damaged the lower left leg of the Mark XII. This caused a transverse fracture of the tibia, and metal cut into his anterior tibial artery.” Bruce feels his heart stutter. JARVIS barrels on. “This is the wound that prompted this alert.” JARVIS pauses, and Bruce forces himself to breathe. The sky is grey. The sky is always grey. “Master Tony is currently in surgery aboard the Helicarrier. Prognosis: full recovery.”

Bruce exhales, placing a hand against the window. “Where is he going?”

“Bypassing SHIELD security protocols,” JARVIS drones, and Bruce rolls his eyes. “Bypass completed. He will be arriving at Avengers Tower-previously Stark Tower-within the hour.”

Bruce is on his way out the door. “Upload yourself to the Aventador and calculate the quickest route.”

“Done, Sir.” There’s a pause and Bruce passes his secretary, who stares wide-eyed at him. “I find it would be remiss of me if I didn’t remind you your relationship with Master Tony is still a secret to the rest of the Avengers.” If Bruce didn’t know better, he’d say the A.I. sounded disappointed. “They will undoubtedly be there.”

“No time like the present,” he says, and rounds a corner. He nearly collides with Lucius.

Lucius raises an eyebrow. “You’re in a rush,” he says. “Sudden spelunking invitation?”

Bruce shakes his head. “Family emergency,” he says, and Lucius’s eyebrows flick up.

“Oh,” he says, and stands aside. “Your Avenger?”

Bruce just frowns grimly at him and walks by, to the elevator. As he pushes the call button, he says to JARVIS, “Make sure the Lamborghini is started when I get there.”

“Of course, Sir,” JARVIS says as the door open. Bruce steps in.

“This elevator doesn’t stop until it reaches my floor,” he says, and the elevator dings an extra time when the doors close. “Has Pepper been contacted?”

“She is contacted immediately via SHIELD,” JARVIS says. “Would you like me to tell her you’re on your way?”

Bruce thinks about it. He shakes his head after a moment. “Let her know I’ve been informed, but don’t tell her I’m staying.”

“As you wish,” JARVIS says, and Bruce knows he’s projecting his own guilt, but the A.I. sounds even more disappointed than before. The elevator dings and the doors open to the private parking garage. Bruce makes a straight shot to the chrome-colored Lamborghini Aventador-the paint name is Grigio Antares, ‘grey’ ‘heart of the scorpion, something else for him to look blankly at when asked-and is pleased to note the engine is, indeed, started.

He opens the door and looks around the dashboard. “Are you there, JARVIS?” Bruce asks. The radio turns on automatically and tunes to an unknown satellite station.

“Yes,” the speakers say. Bruce hangs up his cellphone, placing it on the dashboard, and clicks his seatbelt. Immediately, the cellphone begins to ring. “Alfred Pennyworth is calling,” JARVIS says. “Shall I connect him?”

“Yes,” Bruce says, pulling out of his parking space, and drives toward the parking ramp exit.

There’s a moment of silence. “Master Bruce?” Alfred says from the speakers. “Sir, I received a rather vague call from Lucius.”

“Tony was injured,” Bruce says. “I’m going to Manhattan.”

“I see,” Alfred says. The man has never approved of Tony, but, then again, neither has Bruce. Not that it stopped him from loving the ass. “Any word on his condition, Sir?”

“Last was he was in surgery, but expecting to make a full recovery,” Bruce says. “JARVIS, update.”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” JARVIS says, “but I do not have any new data at this time.”

Bruce exhales through his nose, turning onto the main street of Gotham. “When you do-”

“You shall be the first to know,” JARVIS says. JARVIS doesn’t really approve of Bruce, either, but as it’s an A.I. created by Tony of all people, it doesn’t surprise or bother him. Much.

“Will you be staying the night?” Alfred asks.

Bruce swallows, and zips between cars. “No.”

The silence lingers, and Bruce wonders how dead air can manage to sound so displeased. “As you wish, Master Bruce. Be sure to call if your plans change.”

“I will,” he says. “Good bye, Alfred.”

“Until later, Master Bruce,” Alfred says, and the line disconnects. Bruce taps the wheel of the Lamborghini, letting to silence press against him.

“Master Tony has been taken from surgery,” JARVIS says, and Bruce’s heart stutters without his permission. “No complications are reported. The Helicarrier is still en route to Avengers Tower. ETA: thirty-eight minutes.”

Bruce nods. “What is ours?”

“By the current flow of traffic, placement of police cruisers, and road construction, we will arrive in two hours, eleven minutes.”

Bruce frowns and presses harder on the gas. “We’ll see.”

----

Steve sits on the large couch, leaning forward, and watches the Stark Industries press conference. Pepper’s eyes show no sign of the tears that had been running down her face a mere forty minutes ago.

“-And so,” Pepper is saying, looking confident and sounding strong, “I would like to confirm that Tony Stark was injured in a classified SHIELD mission.” The room explodes with noise, but Pepper doesn’t flinch. She pulls herself taller. “He is currently resting,” she says over the crowd, and they begin to calm, “and he is expected to make a full recovery. The injury was not to either his head or his hands, so I expect he’ll be working before I’ve finished with is conference, no matter what his doctors say.” The room is a mash of whispers and chuckling. Pepper smiles to her left, at Agent Coulson. “Any further questions about the mission the Avengers were on, or Mister Stark’s injury will have to be directed to SHIELD. Thank you.”

Clint shakes his head. He’s sitting on the other end of the couch, closer to the window. Natasha, the only other person in the room, is lurking behind the minibar by the elevator entrance to the room.

“Who managed to post pictures of that fight, anyway?” Clint asks as Coulson takes the podium and politely refuses to answer a single question thrown his way.

Natasha leans against the vivid red Pyrolave countertop. “Probably one of Hammer’s men,” she says. “I’m sure this fight was a test-run.”

Clint scratches at the long white bandages running down his throat and under his shirt-a lucky miss. “If that was a test, then I hope we’re ready for the real thing.”

“We gathered just as much intel,” Steve says. “Tony’ll have something-” He pauses, swallows, and looks down at his hands. He feels Natasha’s rage, and almost pities Justin Hammer, wherever he hides.

“He’s fine,” Clint says, and Steve thinks he’s trying to shake himself out of it as much as they are. “Hell, he was bitching us out twenty minutes ago when we wouldn’t let him into the lab.”

“SHIELD medical tech is top-notch,” Natasha says, walking across the room and stopping beside the television. “Tony was never in any danger.”

Steve nods, taking a breath, and meets Natasha’s eyes. “I know.” Then he raises his head and speaks to the ceiling. “Um, JARVIS?”

“Yes, Master Rodgers?”

Steve winces, rubbing the back of his neck. “Are you sure you can’t call me Steve?”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” JARVIS says, sounding anything but, “but the only other name I am programmed to call you is ‘Capsicle’.”

Steve frowns and Clint nearly falls off the couch, laughing.

“Do it, do it,” Clint begs. Steve turns resolutely from him.

“That’s fine, JARVIS,” he grumps. He raises his eyebrows. “So, how is Tony?”

“He has reprogrammed the EKG to beep AC/DC at him.”

“Of course he has,” Steve says, and leans back against the couch.

Then the ‘public access’ elevator starts up and moves to the first floor. Steve pushes himself to his feet while Clint looks his way.

“Bruce is in his lab, right?” Clint asks, and Natasha nods. He smiles blankly. “And Thor doesn’t come in from the bottom.”

“Could be Pepper,” Steve offers. He’s tense, though, on edge from having an injured friend and teammate so nearby.

He sees Natasha shake her head. “The drive is too long.”

The elevator moves back up. Steve knows that to get to Tony-and the other classified floors-the elevator has to stop here, and then another elevator through the hallway beside the minibar goes to the labs and medical bay.

The elevator doesn’t stop until it reaches their floor. Steve regrets leaving his shield in his room. Neither of the assassins give an outward sign of battle-preparedness, and Steve envies them.

The doors open and Steve can’t help but blink. “Bruce Wayne?”

The Prince of Gotham trots forward and even Natasha looks startled by his random appearance. Bruce Wayne looks frazzled, and he locks wide, panicked eyes on Steve.

“Pepper called me,” Wayne says, hands twisting, and walks forward. “Is Tony alright?”

“How did you get past JARVIS?” Natasha asks, voice cool. Wayne flinches as if she’d slapped him instead of just asked a valid question.

“He… let me in,” Wayne says, blinking. “I have full access. Well,” he pauses, “not full access. Anything for SHIELD eyes only I don’t have access to. I can get into Tony’s labs, and well,” Wayne smiles a little, wickedly, “our bedroom.”

Steve can feel his ears burn as Wayne’s not-so-subtle implications ram into his brain. Clint makes a noise like a strangled cat.

“He’s having a secret Billionaire-affair,” Clint practically cackles. “Why doesn’t the press know about this?”

“This just in!” the TV cries, and Steve spins to look. As if summoned, the news anchor adjusts her blonde hair and says, “We now have video footage of Bruce Wayne, majority holder of Wayne Enterprises, entering the Manhattan-based Avengers Tower.” The image changes to a video of Wayne rushing up the front steps, beyond the security gate, and into the building with barely a passing glance to the security terminal just inside the glass door.

Steve glances back at Wayne, who’s frowning at the television. He sees Clint give him a thumb’s up. “A-plus stealth skills.”

“Sources close to Wayne say he left his office earlier today, with little warning, around the time Tony Stark was said to be injured.” The anchor folds her hands on her glass desk. “The two corporate owners have been seen together multiple times since Stark and Wayne agreed on a deal to bring Arc Energy to Gotham. Could this be a sign that Stark’s injuries are more severe than we were led to believe, or simply a visit by a friend?”

Wayne huffs, his expression dark. “I can’t believe it,” he says. “I was trying to be subtle.”

“By driving that?” Clint says, pointing to the TV when footage of Wayne driving an obviously high-end silver car comes up. Steve nearly complains about how fast Wayne was going, but just shakes his head.

Wayne frowns, brow furrowing. He blinks. “But I didn’t take my helicopter.”

Steve raises his eyebrows, and Clint blinks back at him. “Right,” Clint says. “So, I guess a Lambo can be a subtle touch.” He looks at Natasha. “Who knew?”

Wayne just smiles blindingly at them and then looks toward the ceiling. “JARVIS!” he calls, like JARVIS is in another room instead of everywhere all the time-must be from living with a butler. “Is Tony awake?”

“He’s just finished making the EKG into a radio, and is now trying to make it broadcast Morse code,” JARVIS says, and Wayne just smiles, shaking his head. JARVIS is quiet for a moment more, then, “Shall I inform your husband you’ve arrived?”

Steve’s brain short-circuits. Natasha’s face goes utterly blank. Clint finally falls off the couch.

“What?” Clint bleats.

Wayne offers a weak smile, but there’s nothing pleasant in his eyes. “It was a secret wedding, to keep me safe from the type of people Tony’s work brings around. SHIELD even officiated,” he babbles. Then he turns dark eyes onto the ceiling. “And, no, JARVIS. Let’s keep it our little secret.”

“Of course, Sir,” JARVIS says. “I know how you love secrets.”

Wayne’s smile goes thin. “Indeed.”

“What?” Clint bleats again. Steve can’t articulate that much.

Wayne gives them a wave and starts down the small hallway between the bar and living room. Steve can see him enter the elevator with a quick word he doesn’t catch, and then Wayne’s gone between closed doors. Steve looks over at Natasha, who has leaned against the wall and is peering at the elevator with confused curiosity.

Steve… sits down.

“What?”

----

“Tony,” Bruce says as he storms into the white and blue medical bay, “your damned A.I. just outed us to the Avengers.”

Tony’s eyes light up. “Bruce!” he says, shoving the mess of wires he’d been playing with off the side of the bed. Bruce stares at him, seeing how pale Tony looks against white sheets. An IV is in his right arm, and his left leg is wrapped in a cast, hidden beneath the sheets. His chest, as always, glows. Tony grins wider. “You came!”

Bruce swallows, walking around the side of the bed. Tony’s eyes remain bright, pleased. Like a puppy. “Tony,” Bruce says, softer.

Tony’s blinding grin dims a bit, to a simple smile, and he takes Bruce’s hand. “Hey, I’m still here.”

Bruce nods, taking the chair left at his bedside. He looks away from Tony, to the room around them instead. “I know,” he says. The TV has somehow been pulled off the wall, pieces of it are at the foot of the bed and floor. The EKG is dead, guts trailing down, bits of plastic everywhere. It makes the room feel more alive, more home. “Knowing that never helps, though.”

“It’s the business,” Tony says unnecessarily. Bruce glares at him, and Tony shrugs. “Now you know how I feel after every one of your… polo-slash-spelunking injuries.”

Bruce hums, looking at where the TV should have been. “I know,” he says again. He looks at where their hands are joined. “I love you,” he says, soft. Tony’s hand clenches around his-a tell, and it’s so good to love someone who isn’t so tightly bound, like Bruce is. He wonders how Tony does it, stays with him. “I don’t say it enough, don’t show it. But I do.”

“Bruce,” Tony says, and Bruce lifts his eyes to Tony’s. Tony smirks, but his eyes are so open, it takes any bite out of it. “I know.”

Bruce can’t help the chuckle that rolls from him, and Tony draws him into a kiss. Bruce buries a hand into Tony’s hair, his heart flutters as he deepens the kiss, slowly. Tony breaks away, panting, and Bruce leans their foreheads together.

“Sorry,” Tony murmurs, breath fast against Bruce’s cheek, “can’t hold my breath that long right now.”

Bruce shakes his head and presses a kiss to the underside of Tony’s jaw. “By all means, continue to breathe.”

Tony chuckles as Bruce pulls away. His eyes are bright, a playful edge to them. “When you first came in here,” he starts, and Bruce groans, “I believe you said JARVIS outed us?”

“Well, I did the original outing,” Bruce admits, and then scowls at the empty air beside him, “but JARVIS felt the need to let the Avengers know we’re married.”

“If I may, Sir,” JARVIS, the bastard, begins, “I was concerned the rest of the Avengers would not let Master Bruce through.”

Bruce gapes at the ceiling. “He’s lying,” he says, turning to Tony’s too-amused face. “You taught your A.I. to lie?” He holds up a hand and blinks. “No, wait, of course you did.”

Tony laughs at him. “I would never,” he lies, pulling Bruce back in. Bruce scoffs, but lets himself be kissed again. Tony raises an eyebrow when they part. “So, are you… staying, or…?”

Bruce hesitates, and watches the light go from Tony’s eyes. “Yes,” he says, and Tony brightens immediately. He thinks he can feel both JARVIS and Alfred radiating smugness. “But only for one night.”

Tony doesn’t stop smiling, and Bruce thinks Tony’s a horrible influence on Batman, too. Right now, he finds it hard to care.

character: bruce wayne (batman), fandom: avengers, character: tony stark (ironman), fic: rush hour, genre: crossover, pairing: tony stark/bruce wayne, type: fanfiction, pairing: truce, fandom: batman (nolanverse)

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