(no subject)
Title: Betty, the Bat, and the Bird: (Ficlet #4)
Fandom: Batman Begins/Ugly Betty
Characters/Pairing: Betty Suarez, Marc St. James, and Amanda Sommers
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,765
Summary: Betty, Marc, and Amanda have a three way over the phone.
Notes: Thanks for the comments. And the patience.
• First Arc: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part14, and Part 15
• Second Arc: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
If Betty looked perplexed as she held the phone to her ear, it was because she honestly was. Odd, how this feeling tended to only come over her when she was forced to deal with people from Mode. Not Daniel, mind you, and certainly not Christina. Even Wilhemina never left her feeling this flabbergasted. Wilhelmina, evil and all, at least made sense in her own special, evil, and twisted sort of way.
Maybe she wasn't being fair, then. It wasn't Mode that left her feeling blindsided with nonsensical and unimportant babbling. Not, it was really just Marc and Amanda. Amanda, who wasn't even supposed to be on the phone. Except, when Betty had tried to tell her that, she'd gotten a response equivalent to, 'this is an A and B conversation so C your way out of it', from the blonde receptionist.
"Amanda, first of all, we're not in third grade any more," Betty replied, scrubbing her forehead with her free hand. Her other hand held a pen between her fingers, nearly crushing the thing to an untimely death as she tried to remain patient. "Second of all, I called you. Actually, I didn't call you, I called Marc. You're the receptionist. You're supposed to patch me through, not patch me through, listen in, and offer your opinion."
"Oh my God, she keeps talking," Amanda said, apparently not understanding that she was meant to, at some point, remove herself from the phone.
Betty could hear Marc sigh into the phone on the second Mode line. "I know, sweetie, but Willy says I have to talk to her."
"But why?" The last word was drawn out into an annoyingly high pitched whine. Betty had to hold the phone away from her ear as she waited for Amanda to finish.
"I'm trying to get her boss here for the DILF issue," Marc explained.
Betty scowled. "I'm right here, Marc. And it's not called the DILF issue. It The Most Eligible Bachelor issue."
"Aka? DILFs," both Marc and Amanda said in tandem, their giggles ringing shrilly through the phone line.
Betty was beginning to regret ever returning Marc's phone call. Granted it was her job, but still, damn her civility. She could have at least made him wait a day or two. But no, she'd come back from her lunch break, seen the message light flashing and had decided for some odd reason, that calling back Marc St. James first thing that afternoon would be a good idea.
The message left had been a rather simple one. An initial request and invitation to appear in Mode's Eligible Bachelor issue. It was the issue for single, rich, attractive, and famous men to appear in each year. There were fifty men total, but only three of the finalists received the 'honour' of a four page spread of pictures and an accompanying article usually written by some rising journalistic star of the moment. Bruce had apparently garnered one of the three spots that year, cinching it, according to Christina, with the adoption of Richard Grayson. He was a shoo-in, and they seemed to want him enough to have Marc call personally on Wilhelmina's behalf, instead of the people whose entire job it was to book these people.
As her nephew would have said, Mode wanted Bruce Wayne something fierce for their issue. That much was true, but they would have to go through Betty first, and though Daniel was still someone she'd do anything for, Amanda's presence on the phone was not helping Mode's case in the least.
No lie, she did maybe enjoy this moment of power over Marc, Amanda, and everyone else at Mode who'd ever given her the stinkeye for actually eating more than a piece of spinach for lunch.
"My boss is not a DILF, Marc," Betty said, at the same time glancing over her shoulder to make sure Bruce's office door wasn't open. This was not a discussion she thought he really needed to hear.
Amanda snickered into the phone. "He's definitely a dad I'd like to fu-"
"Amanda!" Betty buried her face in her hands, just not needing the excuse think of Bruce and Amanda doing anything together. She'd been so glad when after the ball in December, a second date had never been arranged. Betty was firm in her approval of Selina, and so far no one else had met the bar.
It was hard to understand why, when really, the bar consisted of having more than three brain cells and being able to read sentences more complex than, 'see Jane run'. She would never understand where Bruce met these women.
She took a breath. "Marc, I'm really busy today. When you're ready to discuss this like an adult you can call -"
"Betty!" Marc interrupted, his tone rising nearly an octave it seemed like. Betty looked sufficiently shocked on her end, but held her fire. "Betty, wait. Willy really wants this, so let's get serious here. How much for the sexy DILF and the kid on the cover?"
"If you say DILF one more time, I'm hanging up," she warned.
"Fine. How much?" he asked again.
Betty shrugged, though they couldn't see. "I don't know, I'd have to ask." Knowing Bruce, it would all be donated to charity anyway. He never seemed to keep the money that came from things like this, in the very rare instances that he took part. "You're not going to get Dick though, just tell Wilhelmina that now. It's not going to happen."
"That's cool. I don't do father-son threesomes anyway."
"Amanda!" Betty's eyes went wide and she felt more scandalized than she usually did after talking to the blonde. She wanted to cover her ears, hide under her desk, and go 'LALALALALA' for a good long time. "Mark, I swear I'm hanging up."
She could hear him sigh back in New York. "Amanda…"
"Whatever," Amanda said, obviously trying to make it sound as if she didn't care that she wasn't going to be let in on the conversation. Likely Marc would tell her everything later anyway. "Thing Two just walked by anyway. Do lunch?"
"Did you bring your rice cake?"
"Crouton."
"Splurging!"
"I had a good night."
"Omigod, you must spill."
"Over. Lunch." Betty bit out. "Marc, Wilhelmina's going to be really angry if -"
"Put a muzzle over it, Thing One. Kisses." Betty had the feeling that Amanda's last word was to Marc rather than her, and she was glad to hear the click of the other line, signifying Amanda's departure from the conversation. Maybe it would seem like less of an ordeal now.
She took a deep breath, meant to be calming. Professional time. "Alright. Now… the DIL-The Most Eligible Bachelors Issue." So much for professionalism.
"Told you so," Marc said smugly.
"When's the shoot?" she asked, flipping open Bruce's planner. It bloomed with colour, Betty's obsessive compulsive postit-note planning system coming into full view. Not many people could make heads or tails of it, not even Alfred, but she understood, and that was what mattered.
"February 12th. It's on the stands for May." Marc paused a moment before adding, "Make sure he's still a bachelor in May."
"I don't plan on when my boss falls in love," Betty said dryly, though she was rather sure that come May, Bruce would still be as single as he ever had been- he was going to middle-of-no-where Bhutan for a month, after all. She sighed slightly, shaking her head. Sometimes she wondered if there was more behind the reasons why Selina retreated to Europe so often, leaving Bruce moping around and brooding even more so than he usually did. Dick's presence seemed to have helped, but a sixteen year old boy was no substitute for a girlfriend.
No matter what the tabloids said.
She couldn't help but shudder. The worst of the newsrags had gone absolutely too far with that particular line of gossip.
Admittedly, Marc's voice made her shudder sometimes as well. "Can't you just like, stick one of those orange pieces of paper over all of March and April?"
"No, because orange stands for 'Bruce Time'." Well, it was true. She only used orange post-its on weekdays between the hours of six and eleven in the morning, and then five and six in the evening. It was all part of the Rules. "Lime green is for meetings, purple is for lunches, Lucius is blue, dates are pink, and -"
"Fine, just keep him in meetings until April 20th. That's when it comes out," Marc interrupted her.
People really didn't understand her boss, Betty found herself realizing at times. That was the way Bruce wanted it, she knew that, but it was still odd sometimes when she realized the skewed perceptions they had of his personality. He wasn't really the billionaire playboy everyone thought he was, and he didn't chase skirts like there was no tomorrow. Betty actually though he treated women pretty well… especially when she compared him to Daniel. She didn't like to compare the two, but they really did have their glaring differences.
Rubber and bat fetish notwithstanding.
"I'll ask him if he's okay with doing it," she said, finally. She was being exceptionally polite considering that this was Marc, she thought to herself. This entire conversation could have gone badly had she been in a worse mood. "The whole… magazine and photoshoot thing really isn't him."
"We're going to pay him." As if that really did solve everything.
"He's a billionaire." Betty couldn't help but roll her eyes slightly.
"It's money."
Betty raised an eyebrow on her end, shaking her head. Yeah, it was true. No one understood her boss except for her and Alfred, and even she didn't completely get him at times. Alfred had had his entire life to get what made Bruce tick. She'd only had nine months. It had been an eventful nine months, mind, but still only nine months. There were lots of things she didn't understand about him, like why he'd decided to up and adopt a kid on a month's notice.
But that was neither here nor now. Betty licked her lips. "I'm just saying, it's not definite. I'll ask."
"Willy's going to be seriously. Pissed. Off."
The smile that came to her lips and lit up her eyes was perhaps not the most innocent that had ever touched her features. It wasn't that she was trying to be mean, but there was a certain satisfaction that tinged her final words.
"Not my problem anymore, Marc." And with that, she hung up the phone.
Fandom: Batman Begins/Ugly Betty
Characters/Pairing: Betty Suarez, Marc St. James, and Amanda Sommers
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,765
Summary: Betty, Marc, and Amanda have a three way over the phone.
Notes: Thanks for the comments. And the patience.
• First Arc: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part14, and Part 15
• Second Arc: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
If Betty looked perplexed as she held the phone to her ear, it was because she honestly was. Odd, how this feeling tended to only come over her when she was forced to deal with people from Mode. Not Daniel, mind you, and certainly not Christina. Even Wilhemina never left her feeling this flabbergasted. Wilhelmina, evil and all, at least made sense in her own special, evil, and twisted sort of way.
Maybe she wasn't being fair, then. It wasn't Mode that left her feeling blindsided with nonsensical and unimportant babbling. Not, it was really just Marc and Amanda. Amanda, who wasn't even supposed to be on the phone. Except, when Betty had tried to tell her that, she'd gotten a response equivalent to, 'this is an A and B conversation so C your way out of it', from the blonde receptionist.
"Amanda, first of all, we're not in third grade any more," Betty replied, scrubbing her forehead with her free hand. Her other hand held a pen between her fingers, nearly crushing the thing to an untimely death as she tried to remain patient. "Second of all, I called you. Actually, I didn't call you, I called Marc. You're the receptionist. You're supposed to patch me through, not patch me through, listen in, and offer your opinion."
"Oh my God, she keeps talking," Amanda said, apparently not understanding that she was meant to, at some point, remove herself from the phone.
Betty could hear Marc sigh into the phone on the second Mode line. "I know, sweetie, but Willy says I have to talk to her."
"But why?" The last word was drawn out into an annoyingly high pitched whine. Betty had to hold the phone away from her ear as she waited for Amanda to finish.
"I'm trying to get her boss here for the DILF issue," Marc explained.
Betty scowled. "I'm right here, Marc. And it's not called the DILF issue. It The Most Eligible Bachelor issue."
"Aka? DILFs," both Marc and Amanda said in tandem, their giggles ringing shrilly through the phone line.
Betty was beginning to regret ever returning Marc's phone call. Granted it was her job, but still, damn her civility. She could have at least made him wait a day or two. But no, she'd come back from her lunch break, seen the message light flashing and had decided for some odd reason, that calling back Marc St. James first thing that afternoon would be a good idea.
The message left had been a rather simple one. An initial request and invitation to appear in Mode's Eligible Bachelor issue. It was the issue for single, rich, attractive, and famous men to appear in each year. There were fifty men total, but only three of the finalists received the 'honour' of a four page spread of pictures and an accompanying article usually written by some rising journalistic star of the moment. Bruce had apparently garnered one of the three spots that year, cinching it, according to Christina, with the adoption of Richard Grayson. He was a shoo-in, and they seemed to want him enough to have Marc call personally on Wilhelmina's behalf, instead of the people whose entire job it was to book these people.
As her nephew would have said, Mode wanted Bruce Wayne something fierce for their issue. That much was true, but they would have to go through Betty first, and though Daniel was still someone she'd do anything for, Amanda's presence on the phone was not helping Mode's case in the least.
No lie, she did maybe enjoy this moment of power over Marc, Amanda, and everyone else at Mode who'd ever given her the stinkeye for actually eating more than a piece of spinach for lunch.
"My boss is not a DILF, Marc," Betty said, at the same time glancing over her shoulder to make sure Bruce's office door wasn't open. This was not a discussion she thought he really needed to hear.
Amanda snickered into the phone. "He's definitely a dad I'd like to fu-"
"Amanda!" Betty buried her face in her hands, just not needing the excuse think of Bruce and Amanda doing anything together. She'd been so glad when after the ball in December, a second date had never been arranged. Betty was firm in her approval of Selina, and so far no one else had met the bar.
It was hard to understand why, when really, the bar consisted of having more than three brain cells and being able to read sentences more complex than, 'see Jane run'. She would never understand where Bruce met these women.
She took a breath. "Marc, I'm really busy today. When you're ready to discuss this like an adult you can call -"
"Betty!" Marc interrupted, his tone rising nearly an octave it seemed like. Betty looked sufficiently shocked on her end, but held her fire. "Betty, wait. Willy really wants this, so let's get serious here. How much for the sexy DILF and the kid on the cover?"
"If you say DILF one more time, I'm hanging up," she warned.
"Fine. How much?" he asked again.
Betty shrugged, though they couldn't see. "I don't know, I'd have to ask." Knowing Bruce, it would all be donated to charity anyway. He never seemed to keep the money that came from things like this, in the very rare instances that he took part. "You're not going to get Dick though, just tell Wilhelmina that now. It's not going to happen."
"That's cool. I don't do father-son threesomes anyway."
"Amanda!" Betty's eyes went wide and she felt more scandalized than she usually did after talking to the blonde. She wanted to cover her ears, hide under her desk, and go 'LALALALALA' for a good long time. "Mark, I swear I'm hanging up."
She could hear him sigh back in New York. "Amanda…"
"Whatever," Amanda said, obviously trying to make it sound as if she didn't care that she wasn't going to be let in on the conversation. Likely Marc would tell her everything later anyway. "Thing Two just walked by anyway. Do lunch?"
"Did you bring your rice cake?"
"Crouton."
"Splurging!"
"I had a good night."
"Omigod, you must spill."
"Over. Lunch." Betty bit out. "Marc, Wilhelmina's going to be really angry if -"
"Put a muzzle over it, Thing One. Kisses." Betty had the feeling that Amanda's last word was to Marc rather than her, and she was glad to hear the click of the other line, signifying Amanda's departure from the conversation. Maybe it would seem like less of an ordeal now.
She took a deep breath, meant to be calming. Professional time. "Alright. Now… the DIL-The Most Eligible Bachelors Issue." So much for professionalism.
"Told you so," Marc said smugly.
"When's the shoot?" she asked, flipping open Bruce's planner. It bloomed with colour, Betty's obsessive compulsive postit-note planning system coming into full view. Not many people could make heads or tails of it, not even Alfred, but she understood, and that was what mattered.
"February 12th. It's on the stands for May." Marc paused a moment before adding, "Make sure he's still a bachelor in May."
"I don't plan on when my boss falls in love," Betty said dryly, though she was rather sure that come May, Bruce would still be as single as he ever had been- he was going to middle-of-no-where Bhutan for a month, after all. She sighed slightly, shaking her head. Sometimes she wondered if there was more behind the reasons why Selina retreated to Europe so often, leaving Bruce moping around and brooding even more so than he usually did. Dick's presence seemed to have helped, but a sixteen year old boy was no substitute for a girlfriend.
No matter what the tabloids said.
She couldn't help but shudder. The worst of the newsrags had gone absolutely too far with that particular line of gossip.
Admittedly, Marc's voice made her shudder sometimes as well. "Can't you just like, stick one of those orange pieces of paper over all of March and April?"
"No, because orange stands for 'Bruce Time'." Well, it was true. She only used orange post-its on weekdays between the hours of six and eleven in the morning, and then five and six in the evening. It was all part of the Rules. "Lime green is for meetings, purple is for lunches, Lucius is blue, dates are pink, and -"
"Fine, just keep him in meetings until April 20th. That's when it comes out," Marc interrupted her.
People really didn't understand her boss, Betty found herself realizing at times. That was the way Bruce wanted it, she knew that, but it was still odd sometimes when she realized the skewed perceptions they had of his personality. He wasn't really the billionaire playboy everyone thought he was, and he didn't chase skirts like there was no tomorrow. Betty actually though he treated women pretty well… especially when she compared him to Daniel. She didn't like to compare the two, but they really did have their glaring differences.
Rubber and bat fetish notwithstanding.
"I'll ask him if he's okay with doing it," she said, finally. She was being exceptionally polite considering that this was Marc, she thought to herself. This entire conversation could have gone badly had she been in a worse mood. "The whole… magazine and photoshoot thing really isn't him."
"We're going to pay him." As if that really did solve everything.
"He's a billionaire." Betty couldn't help but roll her eyes slightly.
"It's money."
Betty raised an eyebrow on her end, shaking her head. Yeah, it was true. No one understood her boss except for her and Alfred, and even she didn't completely get him at times. Alfred had had his entire life to get what made Bruce tick. She'd only had nine months. It had been an eventful nine months, mind, but still only nine months. There were lots of things she didn't understand about him, like why he'd decided to up and adopt a kid on a month's notice.
But that was neither here nor now. Betty licked her lips. "I'm just saying, it's not definite. I'll ask."
"Willy's going to be seriously. Pissed. Off."
The smile that came to her lips and lit up her eyes was perhaps not the most innocent that had ever touched her features. It wasn't that she was trying to be mean, but there was a certain satisfaction that tinged her final words.
"Not my problem anymore, Marc." And with that, she hung up the phone.