(no subject)
Title: Betty and the Bat (Ficlet #9)
Fandom: Batman Begins/Ugly Betty
Characters/Pairing: Betty Suarez and Bruce Wayne
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,828
Summary: Betty doesn't at all understand Bruce's habit of dating dumb blondes.
Notes: This is the ninth 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.
• Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, and Part 8
Betty glanced up when a skinny shadow fell over her desk. "Hey, aren't you that girl who used to work for Daniel Meade?" The girl speaking was way too skinny, Betty decided immediately. She could see her ribs through her loose dress and her head was much too big for her body as a whole. She looked like the Jose Reyes bobble-head on her nightstand at home. Except… female. And definitely not a baseball player. "You so did, didn't you? You always ate those pastrami sandwiches. I totally remember… you were the chubby one."
Betty blinked at the woman, pushing a bit of hair out of her face and trying not to look too offended by the comment. She, at least, was a professional. "Do you have an appointment with Mr. Wayne?"
"It's not an appointment," the woman said, smiling down at her with overly white teeth and bright red lips. "It's a date."
It was November. November 20th, to be exact. Six months since she'd started working for Bruce. She'd learned his favourite foods, memorized his daily schedule, learned how to forge his signature, bossed him around like a second Alfred (a high compliment coming from Alfred himself), and been given access to perhaps one of the biggest secrets she would ever keep. She liked to think that she and Bruce were relatively close in the employee and employer sort of way, maybe even in some sort of friend-like way. She was good at anticipating his wants and needs. She liked to think that she knew him.
But she would never ever understand his choice in girlfriends.
"Right, a date. One moment, please." Betty looked back down at her desk, reaching for the day planner she kept Bruce's schedule in.
Red lacquered nails invaded her vision. "Are you?" The woman tapped the day planner, whether trying to catch her attention or simply be annoying, Betty didn't know. "You so worked for Danny!"
Betty counted to ten as she dragged her own bitten nails down the times in the book until she came to somewhere between six and seven in the evening. It was six fifteen. "I was Daniel's assistant until last May," she said briskly. "Are you… Darla?"
"Mmhmm," the woman drawled, finally removing her hands from the planner. Betty closed the book and set it back to the side of the desk. "I was hooking up with Danny when you were working there and now Bruce while you're working here! Isn't that ironic?"
"Actually, no," Betty couldn't help but answer. She met the woman's rather blank features and wondered how well she could have possibly known Daniel if she was calling him Danny. "It's more of a coincidence. It'd be ironic if- actually, why don't I just tell Mr. Wayne you're here?"
Darla let out a noise that could only be described as a high pitched squeak of some sort. If Bruce hadn't already known the woman was here (and he probably did; Betty had finally come to accept the fact that Bruce had better hearing than most) he most certainly did now. "Not yet. Let me… you know." She pointed to her face and then to her chest before fishing into the expensive purse over her shoulder and pulling out two or three compacts and two jelly looking things. Betty had absolutely no desire to see where those were going, none at all. She couldn't help but wonder how much more makeup Darla could possibly apply to her face.
"What?" Darla asked.
"Nothing," Betty said quickly. "Take your time." She really had to watch the whole thinking aloud thing. One of these days someone was going to hear something and it wasn't going to go over well.
The clock on her computer read a nice round six twenty. As hard as it was and as much as it pained her, Betty forced her eyes away from Darla (did she have a last name?) and bent over in her chair, starting the slow process of gathering her things together. It had started to get cold out, what with winter approaching, and so her pile of things had started to grow. There was her knockoff Prada bag which held her gloves and scarf and her separate personal planner for her own appointments. She slipped her journal inside as well along with a pen for a bit of writing on the train home. She had no idea whether or not anything would actually be written that evening, but it was always worth the try. Next in went the evening edition of the Daily Planet. If she couldn't write, Betty liked to at least read the articles by her favourite journalists.
Betty brushed her skirt off when she stood up and walked happily over to the hook where she'd hung her puffy blue winter coat. She glanced over her shoulder to watch Darla for a quick moment before walking back over to her desk.
There was the all too familiar sound of the snap of a closing compact mirror. "Oh my God, I am so ready now! Can you go get him?"
She couldn't help herself. "Like, totally!" Betty was a professional, but she too had her limits.
It would have been too much trouble to spare the woman another glance, so Betty chose not too. Instead, she knocked shortly on the door to Bruce's office, grabbed a plain black planner from her desk, and slipped inside the office as quickly as she possibly could. She closed the heavy wooden door behind her and looked a bit like a cartoon as she leaned against it, letting out a heavy breath.
"Betty?" She looked over at Bruce who in turn looked up from the papers on his desk. "You're still here?"
She pushed away from the door. "I know a lot of good looking women, Bruce."
"I'm sorry?"
"I'm just saying," she said, walking towards him. "I know a lot of good looking women who would love to go out with you. I can give you numbers. Some of them even have brain cells."
Bruce stood. "Darla's here, I take it?"
Betty nodded, managing to keep her scowl at a polite level. "She put some plastic things in her chest. Try not to suffocate on them."
"It sounds like she's made an excellent impression," he said dryly. Betty scooped a pile of signed papers from his desk. She'd leave them on her own desk and send them off to their respective places in the morning. "I met her at a party a few weeks ago."
"She called me chubby," Betty raised an eyebrow, tapping the papers into order in her arms. "And you're getting Daniel's sloppy seconds. I'm almost sure she's one of the people I bought underwear for when I was working at Mode. Tell me you're not taking her to Lex's ball? I still don't understand why dating dumb blondes is part of the 'act'." She would have crossed her arms if she could have.
Bruce slipped his suit jacket over his shoulders and ran a hand through his hair. "This is the first and last date Darla and I will be having," he said after a moment of silence.
"She'll be a cheap date, at least." Betty shrugged, feeling slightly vindicated. "She's going to order the salad. Maybe a glass of sparkling water."
"Exactly how jaded did Mode leave you?" he asked with a small smile.
"Jaded enough to be able to recognize a gold-digger with an eating disorder when I see one." Her glare relaxed as she looked over at Bruce. "Not jaded enough to brood in my giant mansion and run around in giant bat costume like some people we know."
Bruce actually laughed at that and Betty grinned. He so rarely did that and Betty found that she'd grown to appreciate the fact that she was one of the few who could make him actually laugh. She didn't consider herself any great wit, but obviously she had something. Something he valued.
"Speaking of Lex's ball," he said a moment later. "I haven't seen a bill yet."
"A bill?" Betty blinked, slightly confused.
"For your dress. I meant it when I said put it the company's expense account."
Betty's mouth formed a small o when he brought up the subject of dresses. Dresses alone made her want to scratch. The thought of ball gowns still made her want to hyperventilate. "I'm, um, taking care of that." Note to self: talk to Christina this weekend. Best to hyperventilate in front of her best friend then some random store clerk. She threw Bruce a weak smile and hoped that would be the end of dress talk. For now, at least.
"I should probably go." Bruce straightened his tie. "How do I look?"
"You did a good job on the black eye," Betty said, gesturing to her own eye with a lopsided grin. "Can't tell it's there if you're not looking for it."
He smiled. "Good. Are you headed back to New York?"
"Yep. I should be able to catch the seven o'clock if I leave…" she looked down at her watch. "Now-ish. Sorry."
"It's alright. I've already kept you longer than usual." Bruce put a hand on her shoulder. "Be careful."
She laughed. "I'm a New Yorker."
"You've also been mugged and I'm… off duty, so to speak." She felt a slight squeeze from his hand. Forced to meet his eyes, she looked up and met his eyes. "Be careful."
"I'll be careful," she finally relented before smiling and ducking out of his grip.
It was a moment, Betty supposed, though it was one that was becoming a constant. Bruce was always telling her to be careful. It meant he cared. That's what Betty told herself anyway, so that she didn't become annoyed with the constant reminders. How many warnings about Gotham did one person really need, was the question. And what were the chances she was going to be mugged again?
Well, unfortunately it was Gotham. The chances were high. The chances that she'd be shot by the newest Freak-of-the-Week, as she'd taken to calling them, were higher.
Who really went around calling themselves 'The Ventriloquist' anyway?
Betty sighed as Bruce opened the door to his office, stepping aside so she could exit first. She made straight for her desk, grabbing her coat and bag. Tuning out the inane conversation between Bruce and Darla was easy enough while she put her coat on and slung her purse over her shoulder. It wasn't until she'd finished, and turned off her computer and desk light that she looked back up and waved to Bruce and Darla. "Have a good time. It was nice to meet you."
"You too," was the high pitched reply. "And… oh my God, you know your bag is a total knockoff? I hope you didn't pay full price…"
Betty chose not to reply as she rolled her eyes and walked out of the office.
Fandom: Batman Begins/Ugly Betty
Characters/Pairing: Betty Suarez and Bruce Wayne
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,828
Summary: Betty doesn't at all understand Bruce's habit of dating dumb blondes.
Notes: This is the ninth 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.
• Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, and Part 8
Betty glanced up when a skinny shadow fell over her desk. "Hey, aren't you that girl who used to work for Daniel Meade?" The girl speaking was way too skinny, Betty decided immediately. She could see her ribs through her loose dress and her head was much too big for her body as a whole. She looked like the Jose Reyes bobble-head on her nightstand at home. Except… female. And definitely not a baseball player. "You so did, didn't you? You always ate those pastrami sandwiches. I totally remember… you were the chubby one."
Betty blinked at the woman, pushing a bit of hair out of her face and trying not to look too offended by the comment. She, at least, was a professional. "Do you have an appointment with Mr. Wayne?"
"It's not an appointment," the woman said, smiling down at her with overly white teeth and bright red lips. "It's a date."
It was November. November 20th, to be exact. Six months since she'd started working for Bruce. She'd learned his favourite foods, memorized his daily schedule, learned how to forge his signature, bossed him around like a second Alfred (a high compliment coming from Alfred himself), and been given access to perhaps one of the biggest secrets she would ever keep. She liked to think that she and Bruce were relatively close in the employee and employer sort of way, maybe even in some sort of friend-like way. She was good at anticipating his wants and needs. She liked to think that she knew him.
But she would never ever understand his choice in girlfriends.
"Right, a date. One moment, please." Betty looked back down at her desk, reaching for the day planner she kept Bruce's schedule in.
Red lacquered nails invaded her vision. "Are you?" The woman tapped the day planner, whether trying to catch her attention or simply be annoying, Betty didn't know. "You so worked for Danny!"
Betty counted to ten as she dragged her own bitten nails down the times in the book until she came to somewhere between six and seven in the evening. It was six fifteen. "I was Daniel's assistant until last May," she said briskly. "Are you… Darla?"
"Mmhmm," the woman drawled, finally removing her hands from the planner. Betty closed the book and set it back to the side of the desk. "I was hooking up with Danny when you were working there and now Bruce while you're working here! Isn't that ironic?"
"Actually, no," Betty couldn't help but answer. She met the woman's rather blank features and wondered how well she could have possibly known Daniel if she was calling him Danny. "It's more of a coincidence. It'd be ironic if- actually, why don't I just tell Mr. Wayne you're here?"
Darla let out a noise that could only be described as a high pitched squeak of some sort. If Bruce hadn't already known the woman was here (and he probably did; Betty had finally come to accept the fact that Bruce had better hearing than most) he most certainly did now. "Not yet. Let me… you know." She pointed to her face and then to her chest before fishing into the expensive purse over her shoulder and pulling out two or three compacts and two jelly looking things. Betty had absolutely no desire to see where those were going, none at all. She couldn't help but wonder how much more makeup Darla could possibly apply to her face.
"What?" Darla asked.
"Nothing," Betty said quickly. "Take your time." She really had to watch the whole thinking aloud thing. One of these days someone was going to hear something and it wasn't going to go over well.
The clock on her computer read a nice round six twenty. As hard as it was and as much as it pained her, Betty forced her eyes away from Darla (did she have a last name?) and bent over in her chair, starting the slow process of gathering her things together. It had started to get cold out, what with winter approaching, and so her pile of things had started to grow. There was her knockoff Prada bag which held her gloves and scarf and her separate personal planner for her own appointments. She slipped her journal inside as well along with a pen for a bit of writing on the train home. She had no idea whether or not anything would actually be written that evening, but it was always worth the try. Next in went the evening edition of the Daily Planet. If she couldn't write, Betty liked to at least read the articles by her favourite journalists.
Betty brushed her skirt off when she stood up and walked happily over to the hook where she'd hung her puffy blue winter coat. She glanced over her shoulder to watch Darla for a quick moment before walking back over to her desk.
There was the all too familiar sound of the snap of a closing compact mirror. "Oh my God, I am so ready now! Can you go get him?"
She couldn't help herself. "Like, totally!" Betty was a professional, but she too had her limits.
It would have been too much trouble to spare the woman another glance, so Betty chose not too. Instead, she knocked shortly on the door to Bruce's office, grabbed a plain black planner from her desk, and slipped inside the office as quickly as she possibly could. She closed the heavy wooden door behind her and looked a bit like a cartoon as she leaned against it, letting out a heavy breath.
"Betty?" She looked over at Bruce who in turn looked up from the papers on his desk. "You're still here?"
She pushed away from the door. "I know a lot of good looking women, Bruce."
"I'm sorry?"
"I'm just saying," she said, walking towards him. "I know a lot of good looking women who would love to go out with you. I can give you numbers. Some of them even have brain cells."
Bruce stood. "Darla's here, I take it?"
Betty nodded, managing to keep her scowl at a polite level. "She put some plastic things in her chest. Try not to suffocate on them."
"It sounds like she's made an excellent impression," he said dryly. Betty scooped a pile of signed papers from his desk. She'd leave them on her own desk and send them off to their respective places in the morning. "I met her at a party a few weeks ago."
"She called me chubby," Betty raised an eyebrow, tapping the papers into order in her arms. "And you're getting Daniel's sloppy seconds. I'm almost sure she's one of the people I bought underwear for when I was working at Mode. Tell me you're not taking her to Lex's ball? I still don't understand why dating dumb blondes is part of the 'act'." She would have crossed her arms if she could have.
Bruce slipped his suit jacket over his shoulders and ran a hand through his hair. "This is the first and last date Darla and I will be having," he said after a moment of silence.
"She'll be a cheap date, at least." Betty shrugged, feeling slightly vindicated. "She's going to order the salad. Maybe a glass of sparkling water."
"Exactly how jaded did Mode leave you?" he asked with a small smile.
"Jaded enough to be able to recognize a gold-digger with an eating disorder when I see one." Her glare relaxed as she looked over at Bruce. "Not jaded enough to brood in my giant mansion and run around in giant bat costume like some people we know."
Bruce actually laughed at that and Betty grinned. He so rarely did that and Betty found that she'd grown to appreciate the fact that she was one of the few who could make him actually laugh. She didn't consider herself any great wit, but obviously she had something. Something he valued.
"Speaking of Lex's ball," he said a moment later. "I haven't seen a bill yet."
"A bill?" Betty blinked, slightly confused.
"For your dress. I meant it when I said put it the company's expense account."
Betty's mouth formed a small o when he brought up the subject of dresses. Dresses alone made her want to scratch. The thought of ball gowns still made her want to hyperventilate. "I'm, um, taking care of that." Note to self: talk to Christina this weekend. Best to hyperventilate in front of her best friend then some random store clerk. She threw Bruce a weak smile and hoped that would be the end of dress talk. For now, at least.
"I should probably go." Bruce straightened his tie. "How do I look?"
"You did a good job on the black eye," Betty said, gesturing to her own eye with a lopsided grin. "Can't tell it's there if you're not looking for it."
He smiled. "Good. Are you headed back to New York?"
"Yep. I should be able to catch the seven o'clock if I leave…" she looked down at her watch. "Now-ish. Sorry."
"It's alright. I've already kept you longer than usual." Bruce put a hand on her shoulder. "Be careful."
She laughed. "I'm a New Yorker."
"You've also been mugged and I'm… off duty, so to speak." She felt a slight squeeze from his hand. Forced to meet his eyes, she looked up and met his eyes. "Be careful."
"I'll be careful," she finally relented before smiling and ducking out of his grip.
It was a moment, Betty supposed, though it was one that was becoming a constant. Bruce was always telling her to be careful. It meant he cared. That's what Betty told herself anyway, so that she didn't become annoyed with the constant reminders. How many warnings about Gotham did one person really need, was the question. And what were the chances she was going to be mugged again?
Well, unfortunately it was Gotham. The chances were high. The chances that she'd be shot by the newest Freak-of-the-Week, as she'd taken to calling them, were higher.
Who really went around calling themselves 'The Ventriloquist' anyway?
Betty sighed as Bruce opened the door to his office, stepping aside so she could exit first. She made straight for her desk, grabbing her coat and bag. Tuning out the inane conversation between Bruce and Darla was easy enough while she put her coat on and slung her purse over her shoulder. It wasn't until she'd finished, and turned off her computer and desk light that she looked back up and waved to Bruce and Darla. "Have a good time. It was nice to meet you."
"You too," was the high pitched reply. "And… oh my God, you know your bag is a total knockoff? I hope you didn't pay full price…"
Betty chose not to reply as she rolled her eyes and walked out of the office.