Fic: A Prior Engagement
Title: A Prior Engagement
Fandom: Batman (Nolanverse)
Characters/Pairings: Bruce Wayne/Batman
Rating: PG
Word Count: 473
Disclaimer: I don’t own Batman.
Notes: Gracious thanks to my dear beta readers, someplacetobe & olde_fashioned.
Summary: He has better places to be. Set between Batman Beings and The Dark Knight
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The room is bright, far too bright for his liking. His eyes squint against the harsh light, scanning the large open space for shadows to get lost in. There are none. Every corner is bright and filled with shiny people, every inch of airspace loud with mindless chatter; it bounces off the walls and clutters his mind. Everything here is glittering and pointless and, for Bruce Wayne, utterly unavoidable.
He’d been in some of the darkest, most hellish corners of the earth, but this shiny ballroom with its pretty collection of Gotham’s elite is the closest thing to hell he can imagine.
He wanders about the room on autopilot with smiles and useless words; no one notices there is nothing behind them. No one ever does. A dance here, a witty retort there; these people adore the charming shell of Bruce Wayne. It wears the man inside thin.
Eventually he breaks free of the throng and finds himself staring out the window down into the vast city below. The sun is beginning to set; streams of golden light filter between the high-rises, casting alternating shadows across the cityscape. He watches as the sky around the buildings slowly darkens from blue to pink to purple and finally to inky starless black. He feels anticipation tingle in the tips of his fingers. They flex ever so slightly around a glass full of champagne he never intends on drinking.
A friendly hand rests heavily against his shoulder, pulls his mind back into the harsh bright room; Bruce has to consciously curb the impulse to throw its owner to the ground.
“Well, Wayne, you look like you have somewhere else you’d rather be.”
Bruce turns to the man addressing him; he knows the name that matches this face, but he doesn’t bother to place it. It doesn't really matter. An easy smile comes to his lips, a smile that practice has made perfect.
“What makes you say that?” His response is automatic and full of that friendly sort of warmth he never feels.
“This party’s a complete bore,” the man says, waving a hand, “A man like you must have some hot date waiting for you somewhere.”
Unbidden, the silhouettes of endless buildings flash before Bruce’s eyes. He feels the chill in the air, the rush of the fight, the crunch of bone against his fists. He feels the calm that always comes after, hears the perfect silence of the breaking dawn. He doesn’t realize he’s smiling.
“Actually, I do,” Bruce answers after a moment. His smile is not unnoticed.
“She must be quite a lady.”
Bruce turns back to the window, looks out at the points of light glittering in the newly fallen darkness. His city coming alive before his eyes. He feels himself leaning closer. Gotham, like gravity, pulls him in.
“She certainly is.”
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