(no subject)
Title: Betty and the Bat (Ficlet #5)
Fandom: Batman Begins/Ugly Betty
Characters/Pairing: Betty Suarez and Bruce Wayne
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2,390
Summary: Bruce is late for a meeting and Betty begins to have a mild panic attack. But everything is solved with makeup.
Notes: This is the fourth part in a rather unusual crossover which takes place after Season one of Ugly Betty and the end of Batman Begins; it's AU from there. This is probably my favorite one so far.
• Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4.
Maybe he was more like Daniel than she'd thought (Daniel had done this all the time, and she'd find women's panties in his waist band to boot). Maybe he really was just a playboy millionaire (he had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, never a responsibility in the world). Maybe this was going to be more like Mode than she'd expected (she remembered this feeling, pacing in front of her desk as she fretted about why her boss was late for a meeting scheduled weeks in advance). Maybe she really was going to spend all her time covering for and irresponsible man who couldn't act his age (as much as she loved him, she knew Daniel hadn't even been able to buy his Christmas gifts on his own).
Maybe one bad day out of God knew how many since she'd begun working didn't warrant judging and fretting over Bruce Wayne the way Betty knew she was now.
"I'm sure he's on his way now and I really apologise for the delay. Can I get you anything?"
The question was becoming repetitive and Betty's fingernails were chewed down to the very quick. Instead of biting them she'd started drumming them against her desk top, but because she'd bitten away the nails, the effect was lost. She didn't look or sound impatient and cool. She just looked nervous and worried, which she was.
At Mode, Wilhelmina would have at least jumped at the opportunity to walk in and take over where Daniel had failed by not showing up. She would have swept into the room looking fabulous as always and taken all attention completely away from Betty as she calmed the tempers of whoever Daniel had kept waiting with his lateness and then she likely would have held the meeting herself. There was no Wilhelmina at Wayne Industries and Betty couldn't believe that she was actually missing the woman, even in this context. But the presence of someone older and who knew what to do was sorely missed at this point. Oh yes, there was Lucius Fox and Betty would have happily run off to find him, except he was in a meeting of his own.
"Thirty minutes," one of the suited men muttered, looking down at the very nice watch on his wrist. Betty made every effort in the world to look busy behind her desk, but it was hard. She'd been busy all morning, from the time she'd arrived to the office which was when all of this trouble had started to begin with.
The commute from New York to Gotham was relatively short at only about thirty minutes by train. It meant Betty was able to come in bright an early at eight thirty, though she wasn't really required to be there until nine. She'd always found though, at Mode, that arriving before everyone else allowed for a certain focus that was only achievable when she'd arrived before Amanda was already seated at her reception desk and ready to hurl snide remarks as she walked by. Amazing how much better one's day went when it didn't start with being insulted.
While there was no one hurling insults at her in Gotham, Betty still found that she liked to arrive at least somewhat early. Much to her surprise in the first two weeks, she didn't always arrive before Bruce. She'd been shocked to see him already sitting in his office and working diligently at eight thirty one morning. In turn she'd surprised him the mornings on which she was the first to arrive, having coffee, a bagel, and the three major papers - the Daily Planet, the Gotham Gazette, and the New York Times - sitting on his desk by the time he'd come into the office. It was no less than she'd done for Daniel, but, it seemed, more than Bruce's last assistant had done for him. Alfred had heartily approved, later confiding in Betty that it was, "a chore to convince Master Bruce to eat a proper breakfast in the mornings." Something was better than nothing.
Betty had come to enjoy those early mornings. They weren't anything overly special, but Bruce seemed to know how much she enjoyed articles by a certain Lois Lane and made and effort to discuss them with her each morning. She'd purposely not given away anything about her writing aspirations, wanting to keep that to herself for fear of… well, she wasn't sure what. It just wasn't something she was bringing up.
She'd arrived at work that morning and upon finding that Bruce hadn't arrived yet, had gone on about her normal routine. She'd called down to the front desk to ask for the day's papers to be sent up. Then she'd turned on the coffee maker on the table at the side of the room and left Bruce's mug sitting next to it so she would know where it was when she returned. By the time the papers had been delivered and the coffee was ready nine o' clock had rolled around. Bruce was nowhere to be seen.
She wouldn't have been worried if it had been Daniel. Betty had been used to Daniel being late to… well, almost everything. Bruce, on the other hand, was in the office before her more often than not and Betty was rather sure she could set her watch by him when it came to punctuality. Lateness just wasn't like him, especially when the meeting had been on the schedule for weeks now. With not a call from Alfred or an answer to her calls to the Manor, she was becoming worried.
The tapping of her stubby fingers was interrupted and once more Betty looked up at the sound of an impatient voice. "Miss… Suarez? Are you sure that-"
"I'm going to try calling again right now, but I'm sure his meeting earlier this morning just ran over a little bit," Betty said hastily, reaching over to grab the phone off its cradle. She hurriedly put it to her ear in hopes to cut off anymore comments from the suited men and women waiting in chairs. Her answers hadn't changed any from what they had been ten minutes ago when she'd last asked. There had been no meeting, of course, she just didn't know where Bruce was and it was better than saying that. She was sure Bruce would appreciate it, wherever he was.
Betty dialed in the appropriate number and squeezed her eyes shut, taking several deep breaths as the phone began to ring on the other end. Where was Alfred? Alfred always answered the phone. Betty was rather sure that aliens could be attacking the city and Alfred would still be at Wayne Manor, answering the phone, keeping everything calm, and perhaps polishing the silver. If he wasn’t picking up then something had to be wrong. She tried the car phone next and then Bruce's cell phone once again. There was nothing.
But then of course - because this was how things worked in her life - just the suited man again cleared his throat impatiently and she began to ponder exactly how fast she would have to run to crash through the glass window and fall to a quick escape, things somehow, miraculously, became better.
"Sorry, I kept you waiting." Betty had never been happier to hear Bruce's voice.
She immediately popped up from behind her desk, nearly knocking over her fun swivel chair. She grabbed her yellow note pad and bolted to stand in front of the door to Bruce's office. It was her own turn to look impatient as she waited for him to stop making apologies to the business men and women he'd left waiting and come talk to her.She had an entire day to go over with him, something she was supposed to have done nearly forty minutes ago. Ten minutes before that meeting had been scheduled to happen.
"Bruce?" Her turn to clear her throat as well, it seemed, but it worked. Bruce turned with a nod towards Betty and stepped back from the others. She resisted the urge to give him a look as she opened the door for him.
The thick wooden door clicked shut. "Where were you?" she blurted out, looking him up and down. "And… and why are you limping?"
"Limping?" Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow as he walked over to sit behind his own desk. She watched him walk, noticing that now he was trying to hide what she'd noticed before as he'd walked towards her and the office. It was still there, though he was doing a better job of looking completely normal now. Betty scowled.
"Limping," she accused, barely resisting pointing at him. "What happened? Are you alright?"
"Don't worry about it, Betty." Bruce reached for the mug of coffee she'd placed on his desk nearly an hour ago. It was completely cold by this point, but he seemed not to care as he sipped at it. "How long have they been waiting out there?"
"Thirty minutes. I can get you some more coffee if you want? And I've got your schedule here so-" she stopped in the middle of her words, peering down at her boss keenly. "Are you wearing makeup? Oh my God, you're wearing makeup?"
It was an uneven splotch of colour to the side and underneath his right eye that caught her attention. Bruce had perfect skin, Betty had always noticed, much like Daniel. His colouring was perfect, he didn't have blemishes, there were no uncouth scars, he had absolutely no reason to wear makeup. At Mode she wouldn't have asked about it. Everyone at Mode wore makeup, 'guy-liner' was all the rage. Even Daniel with his perfect skin had worn a bit for time to time, but she'd not have said a word. That was Mode, this was Wayne Tech. The men did not wear makeup and the women wore barely more than that. Betty had every reason to cock her head and squint oddly at the obvious cover up job around his eye.
"You're wearing makeup and you're limping," she said again. She set her pad of paper down at the edge of his desk before attempting to peer closer at him. "You're like my nephew, except I'm hoping you weren't taken down by the school bully…" Biting her lip, she stood up straight again and wondered if she could get her hands on some ice.
"You noticed that?" Betty watched as Bruce brought his hand up to feel gently around his eye. It must have been swollen underneath, but her eyes were too distracted by the discolouration the makeup provided with.
She swatted his hand away. "You're making it look worse," she said and it was true. Smudging things around wasn't helping. It just revealed a bit of the purple and blue bruise underneath the makeup. "Is this why you were late? Is Alfred alright?"
"Alfred's fine. Nothing happened," he answered her. His voice sounded completely natural, but for some reason she was reminded of the women who said they'd fallen into doorknobs when really their husbands were beating them every night. "How bad does it look?"
"Like Courtney Love's makeup stylist got a hold of you." His blank reaction at her attempt of a joke reminded her once more that she was no longer at Mode. "Never mind. I can fix it. Except, they're all waiting out there and -"
"They can wait a little longer."
"Right. Um… one second."
On the one hand, this wasn't nearly the oddest thing she'd done during her time as an assistant for either of the two men she'd worked for. Chasing a pair of underwear across the city surely took that prize. But she was about to fix her male boss' makeup and no matter which way one chose to spin that, it was weird. Betty dug around in her purse looking for her small, budget bottle of foundation and grabbed a water bottle from the cooler next to her desk. After reassuring those waiting that Bruce would only be another few moments she dashed back inside the office.
"We should probably keep this between us," Bruce said a few minutes later as Betty used her thumb to rub a mixture of foundation and water over his black eye. She couldn't tell whether he was making a joke or being absolutely serious.
"I won't tell if you won't." She flashed him a sheepish grin before going back to biting her lip in concentration. She was darker than he was and it was a bit of a trick getting the makeup to blend in properly, but Amanda would have been proud. She finally got it to work, all the while wondering why should couldn't do the same great job on her own face. "So are you going to tell me why you're limping and wearing makeup? Or do I get amuse myself while you're in that meeting by making up really cool stories about it in my head."
"I hope you have a good imagination." He smiled at her before standing up. "I'm sorry about this morning."
Betty shrugged and smiled back. She screwed the top back onto the tube of makeup and stuck it into her pocket- she would have to remember to take it out later, because with her luck it would explode in there. "It's your office. You can be as late as you want. I mean, technically you don't have to be here."
He laughed shortly, notable only because Betty didn't often see him laugh. "Even so, it won't happen again, and if it does, I'll at least call or be sure to have Alfred."
She liked that Bruce was as considerate as he was. It was… different, to say the least. "Are you sure you don't want any ice? The accident I'm seeing in my head says you probably need some ice."
"A very over active imagination, obviously," he laughed again to her surprise. "You can let them in now."
Betty did as he asked and she found that she was the one with the last laugh as she listened to him explain his lateness to his guests as a 'spelunking accident'. Betty couldn't help the smothered snickers that slipped from her lips as she settled back in at her desk.
Fandom: Batman Begins/Ugly Betty
Characters/Pairing: Betty Suarez and Bruce Wayne
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2,390
Summary: Bruce is late for a meeting and Betty begins to have a mild panic attack. But everything is solved with makeup.
Notes: This is the fourth part in a rather unusual crossover which takes place after Season one of Ugly Betty and the end of Batman Begins; it's AU from there. This is probably my favorite one so far.
• Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4.
Maybe he was more like Daniel than she'd thought (Daniel had done this all the time, and she'd find women's panties in his waist band to boot). Maybe he really was just a playboy millionaire (he had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, never a responsibility in the world). Maybe this was going to be more like Mode than she'd expected (she remembered this feeling, pacing in front of her desk as she fretted about why her boss was late for a meeting scheduled weeks in advance). Maybe she really was going to spend all her time covering for and irresponsible man who couldn't act his age (as much as she loved him, she knew Daniel hadn't even been able to buy his Christmas gifts on his own).
Maybe one bad day out of God knew how many since she'd begun working didn't warrant judging and fretting over Bruce Wayne the way Betty knew she was now.
"I'm sure he's on his way now and I really apologise for the delay. Can I get you anything?"
The question was becoming repetitive and Betty's fingernails were chewed down to the very quick. Instead of biting them she'd started drumming them against her desk top, but because she'd bitten away the nails, the effect was lost. She didn't look or sound impatient and cool. She just looked nervous and worried, which she was.
At Mode, Wilhelmina would have at least jumped at the opportunity to walk in and take over where Daniel had failed by not showing up. She would have swept into the room looking fabulous as always and taken all attention completely away from Betty as she calmed the tempers of whoever Daniel had kept waiting with his lateness and then she likely would have held the meeting herself. There was no Wilhelmina at Wayne Industries and Betty couldn't believe that she was actually missing the woman, even in this context. But the presence of someone older and who knew what to do was sorely missed at this point. Oh yes, there was Lucius Fox and Betty would have happily run off to find him, except he was in a meeting of his own.
"Thirty minutes," one of the suited men muttered, looking down at the very nice watch on his wrist. Betty made every effort in the world to look busy behind her desk, but it was hard. She'd been busy all morning, from the time she'd arrived to the office which was when all of this trouble had started to begin with.
The commute from New York to Gotham was relatively short at only about thirty minutes by train. It meant Betty was able to come in bright an early at eight thirty, though she wasn't really required to be there until nine. She'd always found though, at Mode, that arriving before everyone else allowed for a certain focus that was only achievable when she'd arrived before Amanda was already seated at her reception desk and ready to hurl snide remarks as she walked by. Amazing how much better one's day went when it didn't start with being insulted.
While there was no one hurling insults at her in Gotham, Betty still found that she liked to arrive at least somewhat early. Much to her surprise in the first two weeks, she didn't always arrive before Bruce. She'd been shocked to see him already sitting in his office and working diligently at eight thirty one morning. In turn she'd surprised him the mornings on which she was the first to arrive, having coffee, a bagel, and the three major papers - the Daily Planet, the Gotham Gazette, and the New York Times - sitting on his desk by the time he'd come into the office. It was no less than she'd done for Daniel, but, it seemed, more than Bruce's last assistant had done for him. Alfred had heartily approved, later confiding in Betty that it was, "a chore to convince Master Bruce to eat a proper breakfast in the mornings." Something was better than nothing.
Betty had come to enjoy those early mornings. They weren't anything overly special, but Bruce seemed to know how much she enjoyed articles by a certain Lois Lane and made and effort to discuss them with her each morning. She'd purposely not given away anything about her writing aspirations, wanting to keep that to herself for fear of… well, she wasn't sure what. It just wasn't something she was bringing up.
She'd arrived at work that morning and upon finding that Bruce hadn't arrived yet, had gone on about her normal routine. She'd called down to the front desk to ask for the day's papers to be sent up. Then she'd turned on the coffee maker on the table at the side of the room and left Bruce's mug sitting next to it so she would know where it was when she returned. By the time the papers had been delivered and the coffee was ready nine o' clock had rolled around. Bruce was nowhere to be seen.
She wouldn't have been worried if it had been Daniel. Betty had been used to Daniel being late to… well, almost everything. Bruce, on the other hand, was in the office before her more often than not and Betty was rather sure she could set her watch by him when it came to punctuality. Lateness just wasn't like him, especially when the meeting had been on the schedule for weeks now. With not a call from Alfred or an answer to her calls to the Manor, she was becoming worried.
The tapping of her stubby fingers was interrupted and once more Betty looked up at the sound of an impatient voice. "Miss… Suarez? Are you sure that-"
"I'm going to try calling again right now, but I'm sure his meeting earlier this morning just ran over a little bit," Betty said hastily, reaching over to grab the phone off its cradle. She hurriedly put it to her ear in hopes to cut off anymore comments from the suited men and women waiting in chairs. Her answers hadn't changed any from what they had been ten minutes ago when she'd last asked. There had been no meeting, of course, she just didn't know where Bruce was and it was better than saying that. She was sure Bruce would appreciate it, wherever he was.
Betty dialed in the appropriate number and squeezed her eyes shut, taking several deep breaths as the phone began to ring on the other end. Where was Alfred? Alfred always answered the phone. Betty was rather sure that aliens could be attacking the city and Alfred would still be at Wayne Manor, answering the phone, keeping everything calm, and perhaps polishing the silver. If he wasn’t picking up then something had to be wrong. She tried the car phone next and then Bruce's cell phone once again. There was nothing.
But then of course - because this was how things worked in her life - just the suited man again cleared his throat impatiently and she began to ponder exactly how fast she would have to run to crash through the glass window and fall to a quick escape, things somehow, miraculously, became better.
"Sorry, I kept you waiting." Betty had never been happier to hear Bruce's voice.
She immediately popped up from behind her desk, nearly knocking over her fun swivel chair. She grabbed her yellow note pad and bolted to stand in front of the door to Bruce's office. It was her own turn to look impatient as she waited for him to stop making apologies to the business men and women he'd left waiting and come talk to her.She had an entire day to go over with him, something she was supposed to have done nearly forty minutes ago. Ten minutes before that meeting had been scheduled to happen.
"Bruce?" Her turn to clear her throat as well, it seemed, but it worked. Bruce turned with a nod towards Betty and stepped back from the others. She resisted the urge to give him a look as she opened the door for him.
The thick wooden door clicked shut. "Where were you?" she blurted out, looking him up and down. "And… and why are you limping?"
"Limping?" Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow as he walked over to sit behind his own desk. She watched him walk, noticing that now he was trying to hide what she'd noticed before as he'd walked towards her and the office. It was still there, though he was doing a better job of looking completely normal now. Betty scowled.
"Limping," she accused, barely resisting pointing at him. "What happened? Are you alright?"
"Don't worry about it, Betty." Bruce reached for the mug of coffee she'd placed on his desk nearly an hour ago. It was completely cold by this point, but he seemed not to care as he sipped at it. "How long have they been waiting out there?"
"Thirty minutes. I can get you some more coffee if you want? And I've got your schedule here so-" she stopped in the middle of her words, peering down at her boss keenly. "Are you wearing makeup? Oh my God, you're wearing makeup?"
It was an uneven splotch of colour to the side and underneath his right eye that caught her attention. Bruce had perfect skin, Betty had always noticed, much like Daniel. His colouring was perfect, he didn't have blemishes, there were no uncouth scars, he had absolutely no reason to wear makeup. At Mode she wouldn't have asked about it. Everyone at Mode wore makeup, 'guy-liner' was all the rage. Even Daniel with his perfect skin had worn a bit for time to time, but she'd not have said a word. That was Mode, this was Wayne Tech. The men did not wear makeup and the women wore barely more than that. Betty had every reason to cock her head and squint oddly at the obvious cover up job around his eye.
"You're wearing makeup and you're limping," she said again. She set her pad of paper down at the edge of his desk before attempting to peer closer at him. "You're like my nephew, except I'm hoping you weren't taken down by the school bully…" Biting her lip, she stood up straight again and wondered if she could get her hands on some ice.
"You noticed that?" Betty watched as Bruce brought his hand up to feel gently around his eye. It must have been swollen underneath, but her eyes were too distracted by the discolouration the makeup provided with.
She swatted his hand away. "You're making it look worse," she said and it was true. Smudging things around wasn't helping. It just revealed a bit of the purple and blue bruise underneath the makeup. "Is this why you were late? Is Alfred alright?"
"Alfred's fine. Nothing happened," he answered her. His voice sounded completely natural, but for some reason she was reminded of the women who said they'd fallen into doorknobs when really their husbands were beating them every night. "How bad does it look?"
"Like Courtney Love's makeup stylist got a hold of you." His blank reaction at her attempt of a joke reminded her once more that she was no longer at Mode. "Never mind. I can fix it. Except, they're all waiting out there and -"
"They can wait a little longer."
"Right. Um… one second."
On the one hand, this wasn't nearly the oddest thing she'd done during her time as an assistant for either of the two men she'd worked for. Chasing a pair of underwear across the city surely took that prize. But she was about to fix her male boss' makeup and no matter which way one chose to spin that, it was weird. Betty dug around in her purse looking for her small, budget bottle of foundation and grabbed a water bottle from the cooler next to her desk. After reassuring those waiting that Bruce would only be another few moments she dashed back inside the office.
"We should probably keep this between us," Bruce said a few minutes later as Betty used her thumb to rub a mixture of foundation and water over his black eye. She couldn't tell whether he was making a joke or being absolutely serious.
"I won't tell if you won't." She flashed him a sheepish grin before going back to biting her lip in concentration. She was darker than he was and it was a bit of a trick getting the makeup to blend in properly, but Amanda would have been proud. She finally got it to work, all the while wondering why should couldn't do the same great job on her own face. "So are you going to tell me why you're limping and wearing makeup? Or do I get amuse myself while you're in that meeting by making up really cool stories about it in my head."
"I hope you have a good imagination." He smiled at her before standing up. "I'm sorry about this morning."
Betty shrugged and smiled back. She screwed the top back onto the tube of makeup and stuck it into her pocket- she would have to remember to take it out later, because with her luck it would explode in there. "It's your office. You can be as late as you want. I mean, technically you don't have to be here."
He laughed shortly, notable only because Betty didn't often see him laugh. "Even so, it won't happen again, and if it does, I'll at least call or be sure to have Alfred."
She liked that Bruce was as considerate as he was. It was… different, to say the least. "Are you sure you don't want any ice? The accident I'm seeing in my head says you probably need some ice."
"A very over active imagination, obviously," he laughed again to her surprise. "You can let them in now."
Betty did as he asked and she found that she was the one with the last laugh as she listened to him explain his lateness to his guests as a 'spelunking accident'. Betty couldn't help the smothered snickers that slipped from her lips as she settled back in at her desk.