Betty and the Bat
Title: Betty and the Bat (Ficlet #11)
Fandom: Batman Begins/Ugly Betty
Characters/Pairing: Betty Suarez, Bruce Wayne, and Alfred Pennyworth
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,907
Summary: A bit of mothering for early in the morning.
Notes: This is the 10th 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 the last part before the Ball.
• Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, and part 10
Betty smoothed down her wild hair, focusing mainly on her bangs. Taking the ferry over from New York that morning hadn't been the brightest idea she'd ever had. It was advertised as scenic and fast which, in Betty's opinion, had be the one of the biggest lies in the history of commercial advertising. She wanted to meet the person who'd taken a look at that particular bit of the Jersey shore and thought to themselves, 'well, this is beautiful'. She wanted to meet them and throw them into the muck that was the sewage infested waters astride Newark and Bludhaven.
Ugh, Bludhaven.
The morning had started out as such a nice one too, bright and sunny. But as soon as she'd stepped foot on the ferry down at the South Street Seaport the skies opened up and the winds kicked in. She'd been too slow to get a seat inside and so by the time the boat pulled into the Gotham port, Betty looked something akin to a wet rat. Or at least she thought so.
Oh no, Alfred did too, apparently. Betty glanced at him gratefully when he somehow produced a small cloth seemingly out of thin air. She took it and wiped at her face, abandoning all pretense of being dainty and dabbing. She swept it through her hair and tried to sponge out the remaining dripping mess. It was going to dry and be horribly poofy anyway, but she could at least try and delay some of the damage.
"Alfred, it doesn't look like it's going to let up. Do you mind going over to the train station and getting Bet-oh." Bruce had the sense to look abashed as he came out of his office looking dry and handsome and seeing Betty standing next to her desk dripping and wet.
Betty looked at him as she rang water out of the towel and into the garbage can. "It's the thought that counts," she said dryly.
"You're here early," Bruce said, watching as Alfred took her jacket.
"So are you," she retorted, pointing up at the clock. "It's only nine. You don't have anything until twelve and I thought we'd made some rules?" Betty glanced over at Alfred looking for backup.
The old butler could only shrug. He set Betty's coat on the rack next to the fireplace at the side of the office. "He's a force to be reckoned with in the mornings, but you've nothing to worry about. With three cracked ribs, he's not going anywhere tonight," he said, raising an eyebrow as he looked over at Bruce, setting him with quite the look.
"Three of them?" Betty cast her own look at Bruce who still stood, leaning against his doorframe. "What happened to him?"
"He's still dealing with our Clown infestation. It's proving to be a rather persistent problem," Alfred answered.
"He is standing right here." Bruce cleared his throat, stepping forward slightly. Betty and Alfred simply passed each other knowing looks and went on about their business. Alfred started arranging things around the coffee machine and Betty sat down behind her desk, getting ready to go through the emails and calls she'd received since the day before.
Betty looked at Bruce as she made an effort to pull her damp hair away from her face. "So today you have a lunch at twelve with the foremen from a few of your factories, then you have a meeting with Lucius, a meeting with someone named Diana Prince -you told me to just schedule her for whenever she wanted- and then dinner with Roxanna Jacobs. She's the one who'd be redesigning your factories that aren't up to Green standards once you settle on the price," she rattled off, alternating her glance between the computer screen and Bruce himself. She knew that he likely already had the schedule memorized for himself, but it was part of their routine and she wouldn't stop until he asked her to. She was his assistant after all. This was assisting. "Oh, and I've got your date problem for the ball figured out. You're going with my friend, Amanda."
"Amanda?" he asked. "Amanda. You hate her."
Damn Bruce and his near perfect memory for these things, the tiny, intimate details of her life which she babbled about not thinking they had any real consequence. She didn't talk about Amanda often, but she could only guess that she had come up at some point. Most likely she'd been talking about Christina or Marc at the time. "Hate's such a… strong word."
Bruce canted his head to look at her knowingly. "You don't like her."
"Not really, no," Betty admitted, reaching up and scratching her head nervously. She scrunched her lips to one side of her face. "She, um, has her redeeming qualities."
"List five."
"Five?"
"Of her supposed redeeming qualities," he elaborated briefly before looking at her expectantly.
Betty couldn't even think of one. She didn't think that being Faye Summers' daughter (as the blonde was now claiming) counted as a redeeming quality, and other than that, Betty couldn't think of one. This was so much harder than it was supposed to be. "She's pretty. And blonde. She's completely your fake type, Bruce. I mean, I wish Selina was going to be in town for your sake - I like her - but you need a blonde of questionable moral substance. Amanda is the epitome of a blonde of questionable moral substance."
Bruce seemed to be trying to hold back a laugh. "What bet did you lose that I'm now paying the price for?"
"It wasn't a bet," she said, brushing hair from her face, trying to look innocent and nonchalant about the subject. "You know how you've been bugging me about finding a dress for Lex's charity ball? Well, Amanda mentioned that she knew one that was perfect for me, and, well, Christina and I were having trouble finding one that fit. Mode only has size twos and fours… sixes if you get really lucky. But, well, apparently there're about fifteen designer dresses in Faye's sex dungeon and they're all, er… plus sized, which… well, that's me. Christina and I think that Faye must have had some sort of plus sized model fetish."
"Plus. Sized. Model. Fetish?" Alfred repeated in a way which made it sound as if the concept was just absolutely foreign to him. Betty only hoped it was the concept of a plus sized model fetish and not fetishes themselves. It was less awkward that way. "I do so wonder about these people you worked for."
"Faye wasn't blood related," Bruce said. It sounded rather callous, but she supposed it was simply the truth and Bruce did know first hand that the entire Meade family wasn't completely mad,
The little red light on the coffee machine had stopped blinking while they spoke. Rather than make Alfred do something she could very easily accomplish herself, Betty stood from her desk and rushed over to the little table, two mugs in hand. "Anyway," she went on, reaching for the coffee pot despite Alfred's silent protests. "Amanda found a purple dress back there that… I tried it on and I felt like - it was really nice. She wasn't going to let me have it unless… unlessIgotyoutotakehertotheball."
"My hearing is second to Superman's, Betty," he said with the tiniest of smirks.
"See!" she exclaimed. She turned on her heels holding two mugs filled with coffee. One was shoved at Alfred and the other at Bruce. "See! Tell her that. She'll be putty at your feet. She loves a strong man. A strong, rich man. Actually, you don't even have to mention the hearing. Just talk about WayneTech the entire night."
Bruce sipped his coffee and went back to leaning against the door frame. Betty could feel his eyes on the back of her neck, which might not have been as creepy if she hadn't known that he knew about a gazilion ways to kill her using common office supplies.
"You don't have to go with her," she amended with a shrug as she poured her own mug of coffee. "But you told me to help you find someone since Selina's not going to be around. She's so much better than Darla; she should come back." Alfred made a short, disapproving grunting noise underneath his breath at that and Betty could only glance over at him, her face confused.
"She should," Bruce agreed, seemingly shooting his own look at Alfred. "Unfortunately she's in Paris for… a duration."
"That's rich-people speak for 'a ridiculous amount of time'," Betty translated helpfully for… well, only herself. She grinned innocently. "She can't be mad, though, if you go to this thing with Amanda. Just get her home before midnight. That's when she turns back into a goblin."
"As long as it's not a clown," he muttered, taking another sip of his coffee. He looked back up at Betty, giving her a short nod and smile. "Call Amanda and set everything up. You're going to have your dress. Tickets, as well. I've been meaning to ask if you wanted any. You have your sister, your nephew, and… Christina?"
Betty knew she looked rather shocked and she rather thought that Alfred may have done a bit smirking in her expense. "Really?" she asked, blushing a little at her reaction. "That's not - I mean, you don't have to. And it's… it's a school night. Justin can't-"
"It's a Friday night, Betty, and a charity ball for children. But it's your decision," he said kindly.
Christina would kill her if she found out that she'd been given the opportunity to come and she'd fallen through on it. Hilda would likely help Christina along if their father didn't stop her. Justin… well, he'd never tlak to her again, Betty suspected. Shame, because she liked talking to her nephew. Of course, she supposed if he wasn't talking to her, they could still play Dance Dance Revolution. You didn't need to talk to play DDR.
No, though, she had to be serious about this. The invitation was serious, even if she couldn't believe it was being extended. "I'll ask them, definitely," she finally answered, allowing herself to grin brightly. "Thanks. Justin loves any excuse to wear Armani."
"Justin wears Armani?" Bruce laughed.
Betty nodded, making a face. "We're really not sure where he gets it from, though last time I think either Marc or Daniel might have helped," she shrugged. Her nephew had looked so handsome that evening, she hadn't been able to ruin it by asking him exactly where the suit had come from.
"I'll set aside three tickets." Bruce looked up at the clock on the wall, built in and bordered with a rich cherry wood. He nodded. "Ten o'clock. I should start making calls."
"Not until eleven," Betty said promptly. "You and your bruised ribs can go take a nap or something until then."
"Cracked, Miss. Suarez," Alfred interjected, cutting a glare at Bruce. "Cracked."
"Cracked," Betty amended, with a smirk. "Go."
Alfred stepped forward after laying his coffee mug down on the small table. "I'll see to his rest, no worries."
"Thank you, Alfred." She beamed at the older man from her desk, watching with a pleased expression as Alfred herded Bruce into his office.
"She's supposed to be on my side," she heard Bruce say just before the door snapped shut.
"I believe she is, sir."
Click.
Fandom: Batman Begins/Ugly Betty
Characters/Pairing: Betty Suarez, Bruce Wayne, and Alfred Pennyworth
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,907
Summary: A bit of mothering for early in the morning.
Notes: This is the 10th 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 the last part before the Ball.
• Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, and part 10
Betty smoothed down her wild hair, focusing mainly on her bangs. Taking the ferry over from New York that morning hadn't been the brightest idea she'd ever had. It was advertised as scenic and fast which, in Betty's opinion, had be the one of the biggest lies in the history of commercial advertising. She wanted to meet the person who'd taken a look at that particular bit of the Jersey shore and thought to themselves, 'well, this is beautiful'. She wanted to meet them and throw them into the muck that was the sewage infested waters astride Newark and Bludhaven.
Ugh, Bludhaven.
The morning had started out as such a nice one too, bright and sunny. But as soon as she'd stepped foot on the ferry down at the South Street Seaport the skies opened up and the winds kicked in. She'd been too slow to get a seat inside and so by the time the boat pulled into the Gotham port, Betty looked something akin to a wet rat. Or at least she thought so.
Oh no, Alfred did too, apparently. Betty glanced at him gratefully when he somehow produced a small cloth seemingly out of thin air. She took it and wiped at her face, abandoning all pretense of being dainty and dabbing. She swept it through her hair and tried to sponge out the remaining dripping mess. It was going to dry and be horribly poofy anyway, but she could at least try and delay some of the damage.
"Alfred, it doesn't look like it's going to let up. Do you mind going over to the train station and getting Bet-oh." Bruce had the sense to look abashed as he came out of his office looking dry and handsome and seeing Betty standing next to her desk dripping and wet.
Betty looked at him as she rang water out of the towel and into the garbage can. "It's the thought that counts," she said dryly.
"You're here early," Bruce said, watching as Alfred took her jacket.
"So are you," she retorted, pointing up at the clock. "It's only nine. You don't have anything until twelve and I thought we'd made some rules?" Betty glanced over at Alfred looking for backup.
The old butler could only shrug. He set Betty's coat on the rack next to the fireplace at the side of the office. "He's a force to be reckoned with in the mornings, but you've nothing to worry about. With three cracked ribs, he's not going anywhere tonight," he said, raising an eyebrow as he looked over at Bruce, setting him with quite the look.
"Three of them?" Betty cast her own look at Bruce who still stood, leaning against his doorframe. "What happened to him?"
"He's still dealing with our Clown infestation. It's proving to be a rather persistent problem," Alfred answered.
"He is standing right here." Bruce cleared his throat, stepping forward slightly. Betty and Alfred simply passed each other knowing looks and went on about their business. Alfred started arranging things around the coffee machine and Betty sat down behind her desk, getting ready to go through the emails and calls she'd received since the day before.
Betty looked at Bruce as she made an effort to pull her damp hair away from her face. "So today you have a lunch at twelve with the foremen from a few of your factories, then you have a meeting with Lucius, a meeting with someone named Diana Prince -you told me to just schedule her for whenever she wanted- and then dinner with Roxanna Jacobs. She's the one who'd be redesigning your factories that aren't up to Green standards once you settle on the price," she rattled off, alternating her glance between the computer screen and Bruce himself. She knew that he likely already had the schedule memorized for himself, but it was part of their routine and she wouldn't stop until he asked her to. She was his assistant after all. This was assisting. "Oh, and I've got your date problem for the ball figured out. You're going with my friend, Amanda."
"Amanda?" he asked. "Amanda. You hate her."
Damn Bruce and his near perfect memory for these things, the tiny, intimate details of her life which she babbled about not thinking they had any real consequence. She didn't talk about Amanda often, but she could only guess that she had come up at some point. Most likely she'd been talking about Christina or Marc at the time. "Hate's such a… strong word."
Bruce canted his head to look at her knowingly. "You don't like her."
"Not really, no," Betty admitted, reaching up and scratching her head nervously. She scrunched her lips to one side of her face. "She, um, has her redeeming qualities."
"List five."
"Five?"
"Of her supposed redeeming qualities," he elaborated briefly before looking at her expectantly.
Betty couldn't even think of one. She didn't think that being Faye Summers' daughter (as the blonde was now claiming) counted as a redeeming quality, and other than that, Betty couldn't think of one. This was so much harder than it was supposed to be. "She's pretty. And blonde. She's completely your fake type, Bruce. I mean, I wish Selina was going to be in town for your sake - I like her - but you need a blonde of questionable moral substance. Amanda is the epitome of a blonde of questionable moral substance."
Bruce seemed to be trying to hold back a laugh. "What bet did you lose that I'm now paying the price for?"
"It wasn't a bet," she said, brushing hair from her face, trying to look innocent and nonchalant about the subject. "You know how you've been bugging me about finding a dress for Lex's charity ball? Well, Amanda mentioned that she knew one that was perfect for me, and, well, Christina and I were having trouble finding one that fit. Mode only has size twos and fours… sixes if you get really lucky. But, well, apparently there're about fifteen designer dresses in Faye's sex dungeon and they're all, er… plus sized, which… well, that's me. Christina and I think that Faye must have had some sort of plus sized model fetish."
"Plus. Sized. Model. Fetish?" Alfred repeated in a way which made it sound as if the concept was just absolutely foreign to him. Betty only hoped it was the concept of a plus sized model fetish and not fetishes themselves. It was less awkward that way. "I do so wonder about these people you worked for."
"Faye wasn't blood related," Bruce said. It sounded rather callous, but she supposed it was simply the truth and Bruce did know first hand that the entire Meade family wasn't completely mad,
The little red light on the coffee machine had stopped blinking while they spoke. Rather than make Alfred do something she could very easily accomplish herself, Betty stood from her desk and rushed over to the little table, two mugs in hand. "Anyway," she went on, reaching for the coffee pot despite Alfred's silent protests. "Amanda found a purple dress back there that… I tried it on and I felt like - it was really nice. She wasn't going to let me have it unless… unlessIgotyoutotakehertotheball."
"My hearing is second to Superman's, Betty," he said with the tiniest of smirks.
"See!" she exclaimed. She turned on her heels holding two mugs filled with coffee. One was shoved at Alfred and the other at Bruce. "See! Tell her that. She'll be putty at your feet. She loves a strong man. A strong, rich man. Actually, you don't even have to mention the hearing. Just talk about WayneTech the entire night."
Bruce sipped his coffee and went back to leaning against the door frame. Betty could feel his eyes on the back of her neck, which might not have been as creepy if she hadn't known that he knew about a gazilion ways to kill her using common office supplies.
"You don't have to go with her," she amended with a shrug as she poured her own mug of coffee. "But you told me to help you find someone since Selina's not going to be around. She's so much better than Darla; she should come back." Alfred made a short, disapproving grunting noise underneath his breath at that and Betty could only glance over at him, her face confused.
"She should," Bruce agreed, seemingly shooting his own look at Alfred. "Unfortunately she's in Paris for… a duration."
"That's rich-people speak for 'a ridiculous amount of time'," Betty translated helpfully for… well, only herself. She grinned innocently. "She can't be mad, though, if you go to this thing with Amanda. Just get her home before midnight. That's when she turns back into a goblin."
"As long as it's not a clown," he muttered, taking another sip of his coffee. He looked back up at Betty, giving her a short nod and smile. "Call Amanda and set everything up. You're going to have your dress. Tickets, as well. I've been meaning to ask if you wanted any. You have your sister, your nephew, and… Christina?"
Betty knew she looked rather shocked and she rather thought that Alfred may have done a bit smirking in her expense. "Really?" she asked, blushing a little at her reaction. "That's not - I mean, you don't have to. And it's… it's a school night. Justin can't-"
"It's a Friday night, Betty, and a charity ball for children. But it's your decision," he said kindly.
Christina would kill her if she found out that she'd been given the opportunity to come and she'd fallen through on it. Hilda would likely help Christina along if their father didn't stop her. Justin… well, he'd never tlak to her again, Betty suspected. Shame, because she liked talking to her nephew. Of course, she supposed if he wasn't talking to her, they could still play Dance Dance Revolution. You didn't need to talk to play DDR.
No, though, she had to be serious about this. The invitation was serious, even if she couldn't believe it was being extended. "I'll ask them, definitely," she finally answered, allowing herself to grin brightly. "Thanks. Justin loves any excuse to wear Armani."
"Justin wears Armani?" Bruce laughed.
Betty nodded, making a face. "We're really not sure where he gets it from, though last time I think either Marc or Daniel might have helped," she shrugged. Her nephew had looked so handsome that evening, she hadn't been able to ruin it by asking him exactly where the suit had come from.
"I'll set aside three tickets." Bruce looked up at the clock on the wall, built in and bordered with a rich cherry wood. He nodded. "Ten o'clock. I should start making calls."
"Not until eleven," Betty said promptly. "You and your bruised ribs can go take a nap or something until then."
"Cracked, Miss. Suarez," Alfred interjected, cutting a glare at Bruce. "Cracked."
"Cracked," Betty amended, with a smirk. "Go."
Alfred stepped forward after laying his coffee mug down on the small table. "I'll see to his rest, no worries."
"Thank you, Alfred." She beamed at the older man from her desk, watching with a pleased expression as Alfred herded Bruce into his office.
"She's supposed to be on my side," she heard Bruce say just before the door snapped shut.
"I believe she is, sir."
Click.